I paused my braiding to look at him. “Even if that is completely counter to the mother’s wishes?”
“The law doesn’t see it that way.” He tapped his fingers lightly on the cover of the book in his hand. “You’d trust me to decide the best for our children, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course I would,” I said. “I do. But you are not Mr. Church.”
He smiled. “Nor are you Angelica.”
I wished he wouldn’t smile, not about this. “But according to the law, then, the only right a mother has to her child is to give it life. That isn’t fair, Alexander.”
“Perhaps it’s not,” he said patiently, “but it is the law, and I’m afraid it’s your misfortune to be married to a lawyer who will tell you so, even if it pertains to a woman I regard as my sister as well as yours.”
No argument with the law was ever tolerated in our house, nor, if I were honest, anywhere else. The laws weren’t fair to Angelica or any other mother like her, but it could not be helped, no matter how much I wished otherwise.
I knelt beside the bed and put aside my frustration before I said my evening prayers, making sure to include an extra plea for Angelica’s happiness and Mr. Church’s understanding. As always, I wished that Alexander would join me, but he claimed that Sunday service was sufficient for him, and instead returned to his book until I was done.
When at last I climbed into bed beside my husband, he was yawning as he reached out to snuff the candlestick on the table beside the bed.
He put his arm over my waist, and I moved closer to him. “You know I would never do what Angelica has done.”
He grunted drowsily, clearly wishing our conversation was over so he could sleep. “In what sense, angel?”
“I would never board a ship and sail so far and be away from you and our children for months and months,” I said, lowering my voice to a whisper. “I couldn’t. I love you too much to be apart for so long like that.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” he said softly. “But that’s the difference between you two, isn’t it? I may love Angelica as a sister, but I love you as my dearest wife.”
I smiled and he kissed me in the dark, and then, finally, we slept.
*
On April 30, 1789, General Washington swore the most solemn of oaths to become President Washington, the first for our country. He took the oath standing on the balcony of Federal Hall, now the home of Congress, and in plain view of the thousands of people who thronged the streets nearby. Not wishing to be crushed in the crowds, Alexander, Angelica, and I instead stood on our own little balcony, and peered down Wall Street to make out what we could of the momentous event.
The new president had consulted Alexander as one of his most trusted advisors on the details of the ceremony, and so my husband could describe what we weren’t able to see. The swearing of the oath was as simply done as possible, without crowns, trains, scepters, or any other of the empty trappings of royalty. Instead our new leader was clearly regarded by all as first gentleman of the country, a man of unimpeachable honor and courage chosen for his merits rather than his bloodlines. The new president even wore a plain suit of clothes for his inauguration, fashioned from cloth of American manufacture and without so much as a hint of regal ermine.
Who could not be an avid patriot on such a day? From our little balcony, we cheered as lustily as we could, and afterward together drank a toast to our new president, and to the success and prosperity of our brave new country.
Inspired perhaps by the general excitement and celebration that vibrated through New York, Angelica was able to keep true to her word to put aside her unhappiness. Although we spoke often of her children and her husband, she showed no more of the misery that she’d revealed on the first night. I didn’t doubt that it remained buried deep within her breast, and it saddened me that she’d become so adept at hiding her true thoughts and sorrows, especially from those who loved her most. Still, I reveled in her company, and while her family doubtless missed her presence in London, mine in New York were delighted to have her in their midst.
It seemed as if there were some new entertainment—a ball, a supper, a patriotic play—every night in honor of the president, but the greatest of them all was the Inauguration Ball, given during the first week of May at the Assembly Rooms on Broadway, not far from our house. Like every other lady who’d been invited, I’d a new gown for the ball, and at Alexander’s insistence, it was the most expensive I’d had since we’d been married. Cut from pale blue silk that shimmered by candlelight, the gown followed the newest fashion, and was so light and airy that it floated like a silken cloud around me as I walked or danced. With the gown I wore a sheer embroidered kerchief crossed over my breast and a darker blue sash at my waist, white plumes in my hair, and the gold necklace that Angelica had given me.
As had always been the case, my sister outshone me in a brilliant red dress edged with a Roman pattern of gold embroidery with a patriotic sash of red-, blue-, and white-striped silk, and the largest pearls New York had ever seen around her throat. She wore no kerchief, instead presenting her bosom framed by a daringly low neckline edged with a stiffened lace collar.
Pinned on her bodice was a brooch with a miniature portrait of Mr. Church, framed in diamond brilliants. As she explained to anyone who’d listen, she’d promised him to wear it to the ball so he could attend in painted spirit, if not in person. It was a wise thing to do, too, for there were many people acquainted with Mr. Church who wondered why she was in this country whilst he remained in England, and would be quick to taint her visit alone with slanderous speculation.
But the most stylish member of our trio was my handsome husband. If my gown had been costly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if his French tailor’s bill was even greater. His coat was green-striped silk, cut away at the waist in the newest style, and worn over a heavily embroidered waistcoat and close-fitting black silk breeches. He’d both the confidence and the bearing to wear such fashionable attire with elegance, and he was without doubt the most dashing gentleman in the room. I didn’t doubt that he set numerous female hearts fluttering, and I was glad that the only one that mattered to him was my own.