“You know I’ll be content with less,” I said, tucking the blossom into the front of my bodice between my breasts. “So long as I have you and Philip, I’ll always be happy.”
“You are the best of wives, my love,” he said, taking off his hat to kiss me. He was smiling afterward, looking down into the crown of the hat in his hand, and I smiled, too, never suspecting what he’d say next.
“Robert Morris has asked me to become the continental tax-receiver for the state of New York,” he said, tracing a finger along the inner band of his hat. “He asked me once before in May and I turned him down, but then last week he wrote again to state that if I could be persuaded to take the position, he’d see that I’d earn a quarter of one percent of all the monies owed. I accepted.”
I stared at him with dismay. Mr. Morris was the Superintendent of Finance for Congress. I’d known Alexander had continued to correspond with him after he’d first written to him last year, but I hadn’t realized it had progressed to this.
“You’ve agreed to be a tax-receiver, Alexander?” I asked carefully, wanting to be sure I’d understood. “Now, when you’re studying so hard for the bar?”
“It brings an income,” he said, finally raising his glance to meet mine. “I want you to have that fine house, Betsey, and I don’t want you to have to wait for it, either.”
“But not this way,” I said. “I listen to you, Alexander, and I’ve heard you say how the states—even New York—do not wish to give any moneys to Congress, and how they hold funds back as long as they can. Taxes or customs, it makes no difference, does it? And with New York City still occupied by the enemy, there won’t be any collecting to be done in those counties. I do not pretend to your skills in finance and mathematics, but I am certain that a quarter of one percent of nothing is still nothing, isn’t it?”
His smile had turned lopsided, the way it did when he was hedging.
“That is unfortunately true, yes,” he admitted. “But it’s also the reason why I’ve agreed to assist Morris by approaching the state legislature in Poughkeepsie to explain why the enforcement of federal taxation is so necessary.”
“But consider your law studies, and how you have only until July to make yourself ready for the exam!” I exclaimed, my unhappiness with his impracticality growing by the moment. “How can you prepare yourself to represent Mr. Morris, and go before the legislature, and then act as a tax collector for Congress, too?”
“This is important, Betsey,” he said firmly. “I fought in the war for a new country. If men like me don’t continue to fight in other ways to create a government that is worthy of our first and truest ideals, then the entire war will have been for nothing.”
“All I care for is you,” I said softly, almost pleading. I didn’t wish to quarrel with him, but I could see nothing good coming from this. “I know you can do so much, my love, but there must be a limit, even for you. Recall how only a few months ago you were so weak and grievously ill that you were forced to take to your bed.”
“I assure you that won’t happen again,” he said confidently, and smiled. “You see how thoroughly you’ve restored me. Besides, no one expects me to storm the legislature with a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other.”
“Pray be serious, Alexander,” I said, placing my palm on his arm in tender restraint. “If you work yourself to exhaustion, you’ll achieve nothing.”
“I am serious, Betsey,” he said, finally settling his hat once again upon his head. “I’ve no intention of making myself ill. But when opportunities present themselves for the betterment of my family and for the country as well, I will not look away.”
He leaned forward to kiss me again, but I was too agitated for affectionate display, and turned my face so his lips found only my cheek. I stepped back, and swiftly began to walk toward the house, pointedly not looking to see if he followed.
But he had, and in a few quick steps he was beside me again.
“Betsey, my angel,” he said, coaxing. “My own sweet girl.”
When I didn’t stop, he caught my arm and drew me to him, turning me so I’d no choice but to meet his eye.
“Eliza, please,” he said gently. “Please. From the moment I wed you, my dearest, every choice I’ve made has been with you and our future in mind. You must remember that. Everything I do is for you and Philip.”
I searched his eyes, longing to believe that this, then, was the truth. From all he’d said and done since he’d resigned his commission last February, I’d thought that he would complete his studies and become an acclaimed and successful lawyer. I’d thought that we’d move from my parents’ house into a home of our own, and that our lives together would begin in earnest. Most of all, because he’d told me so, again and again, I’d thought that Philip and I were enough to make him happy.
I’d never foreseen difficult government appointments that would be impossible to fulfill, or journeys to Poughkeepsie that could last for weeks at a time. I hadn’t realized that he still wanted to be so much a part of the government in Philadelphia that he’d always claimed to despise, or that the beckoning of powerful men like Robert Morris would be so sweet to his ears.
I hadn’t known, because he hadn’t told me.
But Angelica had, long ago before Alexander and I were wed.
“Your Hamilton may not lie to you outright, Eliza, but I assure you that in the course of your marriage there will be omissions that he’ll justify and half-truths that he’ll dismiss. Some shall make you laugh and others, alas, may make you weep.”
I could not laugh now, and I would not weep.
With the back of his fingers, he lightly stroked my cheek.
“I love you so much, Betsey,” he said, and I vow there were tears in his eyes to match my own. “You must know that there has never been another husband who loved his wife as I do you.”
I did know, for that was the one truth that I’d never question. With a shuddering sigh, I gave myself over to his embrace, and the love that would always be mine as his wife. If he did choose to do these things for me and for Philip, then I must trust him that it would be for the best for us all. I must not doubt, but love.
And for the first months of summer, it seemed my trust in him could not be better placed. He passed the bar exam in July, exactly six months after he’d requested his extension, and exactly as he’d promised me he would, too. He was now an attorney with a fine title to prove his considerable accomplishment, though he jested he’d only become licensed in the art of fleecing his neighbors and acquaintances. No matter: I was exceptionally proud of him, and prouder still when he qualified as a counselor a short time later.