“He’ll change his mind in time,” I said. “My brothers always did.”
“As they should have.” He smiled warmly at me, then looked back down at the baby. “Perhaps our girl will be a bluestocking like her aunt Angelica, and surround herself with books.”
“If she does, she’ll be as much like you as my sister.” Alexander continued to read voraciously, but I wondered if Angelica still found the time with four children of her own. “She’ll certainly have enough books to choose from.”
My eyes begin to drift shut. Now that the first excitement of greeting our daughter had passed and all was well with her, exhaustion was sweeping over me. I was tired, and I was sore, too, as could only be expected.
“How selfish of me to keep you awake, my dearest,” whispered Alexander, so contritely that I forced my eyes open once again to gaze at him.
I was thankful that I did. Our daughter was asleep in his arms, and he was smiling at me, his handsome face so full of love that it was more than enough to bring the sting of tears.
“If our Angelica possesses even half of your grace, wisdom, and beauty, my angel,” he said softly, “then she will be a most fortunate woman.”
“She’ll be who she’s fated to be,” I said wistfully, and touched our daughter’s cheek with my fingertip. “I only wish Angelica were here now to see her.”
In truth, I wished my sister were here for me, the way she’d been when Philip had been born. Over a year had passed since she and her family had sailed away to Paris, and I still missed her dreadfully.
“I wish she were here, too,” Alexander said. “Perhaps Church will relent and bring her back to New York in time for Twelfth Night.”
But while I knew that Alexander had written to both Angelica and her husband, urging them to return (as had I) for our daughter’s birth, Mr. Church did not share the same impetus to return to America. There was always one more bit of business that detained him in Paris, or one more event at the French court that he considered important to attend.
The fall changed to winter, and winter into spring and summer. Our daughter cut her first teeth, and soon could not only sit on her own, but had learned to pull herself upright with the help of any nearby chairs or table legs, or, more often, her brother, Philip. After his initial disappointment at Angelica’s birth, Philip had embraced his role as her brother, and though they were not so far apart in age, he was without doubt her protector and her idol. Already Philip showed a generosity of spirit that was rare in three-year-old boys, yet reminded me of his father, and the gentleness he displayed toward his infant sister was a special joy to me.
There was one more event that solidified our household, and pleased me greatly, too. By early 1785, we had lived more than two years at our house on Wall Street, and I thought of it as our home. We lived there at the mercy of a lease, however, an arrangement that was what we could afford in those first years. Having never lived in a property that had been truly his, the fact that we rented made Alexander uneasy, and he longed for the security of ownership and the respectability that came with it.
He was on occasion called to courts out of the city and farther to the north. From one of these distant locations, I received a hastily written note from him in March. The subject was one of great importance to us, and of great urgency, too. Our house was being offered for sale, for the substantial sum of ￡2100. The owner wished to sell promptly, and given both the house and the pleasant neighborhood in which it was situated, he would likely receive many offers. As the present tenants, we were being offered the first opportunity to purchase the house, but likewise, we couldn’t wait until Alexander returned to town to make our offer. Instead, he left it to me to attend the seller’s agent as soon as I could, and agree to a purchase that was acceptable to all parties.
The owner’s agent in New York was another attorney well known to both of us: Colonel Aaron Burr. We had, of course, known Colonel Burr since our early days in Albany, and because he and Alexander were often in court together, and because we’d many acquaintances in common, we frequently saw the Burrs at suppers, assemblies, and other social engagements. The colonel was in attendance far more often than his wife, who suffered so greatly from a recurring ailment as to be nearly an invalid, poor lady.
But this was to be a business call, not a social one. I dressed in a sober habit of blue worsted with silver buttons and a black silk hat with a curving black plume, and though Colonel Burr’s office was not far away, at the end of Wall Street near City Hall, I had myself driven to make a good show.
Most importantly, I had directions from Alexander to take the greatest care whilst speaking with Colonel Burr. I was well aware that the colonel and Alexander were together considered the most skilled and successful of the younger lawyers in New York, and to say that they were rivals was not so far from the truth. Because Alexander had taken time away from his office to serve in the legislature and in Congress, Colonel Burr had risen more quickly, but most in the city believed my husband to be the more gifted in the courtroom.
To Colonel Burr’s credit, he did not keep me waiting.
“Mrs. Hamilton, good day,” the colonel said, rising from his desk as soon as I was ushered into his office. As was his custom, he was dressed in gray so dark as to be black, in keeping with his dark brows and eyes. Some people said he did this purposefully to distance himself from my husband, who did like to wear strong colors to favor his fair complexion.
“Good day to you, Colonel,” I said, holding out my hand to him. “How does your wife?”
His smile of greeting turned solemn. “She is not as well as either of us could hope,” he said. “I pray that the warmer months will prove kinder to her. I will convey your regards to her.”
“Please do,” I said, taking the chair beside his desk. “And how does Miss Burr?”
“Ah, my sweet Theodosia,” he said, his smile warm with paternal pride. It was no secret that his daughter was the joy of his life, all the more so after his poor wife had struggled to bear him any further children who’d survived.
“My daughter does very well, thank you,” he continued, sitting across from me. “She thrives. She blossoms. I trust that in time she and Miss Hamilton shall become the most genial and devoted of acquaintances.”