I, Eliza Hamilton. Susan Holloway Scott
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Название: I, Eliza Hamilton
Автор: Susan Holloway Scott
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Биографии и Мемуары
isbn: 9781496712530
isbn:
“Thank you, Colonel,” I said, not objecting at all. The bright colors of my attire had done what I’d hoped, and I pointed playfully at the pen in his buttonhole. “I admire your turkey-standard.”
He frowned, not understanding at first, and then sheepishly pulled the pen from the buttonhole. “I fear that it’s the standard of my lowly position here as a clerk,” he said ruefully, twisting the quill between his fingers. “Hardly the field of glory, is it?”
Too late I recalled how much he’d longed for battle, and chafed beneath his current duties for the general.
“The fields are all covered in snow at present, Colonel,” I said softly, repairing my unfortunate jest as best I could. “It’s hardly the season for glory, and I am sure that the work you do here for His Excellency is of great importance. Spring will come soon enough, and opportunities with it.”
“You are kind, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. His gaze locked with mine, the warmth of it wonderfully intense, and I thought this the finest compliment I’d ever received from a gentleman.
To our right, the door to Lady Washington’s room opened, and her servant reappeared to usher us inside.
“Excuse us, Colonel,” said my aunt as she rose and came to stand beside me, “but as you can see, Lady Washington expects us.”
“Of course, Mrs. Cochran,” he said, stepping back to let her pass, yet still looking at me.
My aunt smiled broadly. “My niece is residing with me at Dr. Campfield’s house, Colonel, between here and the town.”
“I know it well, Mrs. Cochran,” he said with a small bow to her while still not looking away from me.
“If His Excellency can part with you, Colonel, we would welcome you for a dish of tea,” my aunt said with what I thought was remarkable boldness. “In the evening, perhaps, after Dr. Cochran and Dr. Campfield have finished their final rounds. I’m sure they would welcome your conversation.”
I’ll credit my aunt for discretion, for that was neatly done, and I glanced quickly at my aunt in gratitude.
Colonel Hamilton smiled, and from the amusement in his eyes it was clear he, too, realized how deftly my aunt had put a gloss of respectability on her invitation. I’d be there, of course, and the colonel knew it, too, but this way none of us could be accused of being too forward.
“I shall be honored to join the gentlemen, Mrs. Cochran,” he said, bowing. “I shall do my best to attend this evening, if my duties permit.”
My aunt nodded in acquiescence and looped her arm into mine to draw me away with her. “We shall hope to see you then, Colonel Hamilton.”
“Good day, Colonel Hamilton,” I said, sorry to be leaving but realizing it was necessary.
“Good day, Mrs. Cochran, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bowing. “And perhaps Miss Elizabeth would enjoy the conversation of the medical gentlemen as well?”
I smiled over my shoulder as we entered the room. “Perhaps, Colonel,” I said. “Perhaps.”
CHAPTER 3
I’d thought that Aunt Gertrude had been speaking lightly when she’d invited Colonel Hamilton to call upon us to converse upon the health of the army with Uncle John and Dr. Campfield. I thought it was more polite subterfuge, for the convenience of all parties. I thought it was understood that the colonel would be calling upon me, not the surgeons, and from the colonel’s parting words to me at headquarters that afternoon I was certain he believed the same.
If he did, then we both were sadly, even woefully, mistaken.
Before the evening had fair begun, I learned to my dismay that Aunt Gertrude expected me to receive the colonel in the parlor, a small room made even smaller with the presence of Dr. and Mrs. Campfield as well as my aunt and uncle, all seated in a half circle of chairs before the fire. There was a chair reserved for me at one end of the row, and another for the colonel at the opposite end, with the two of us separated as far as was possible in the small room.
Nor would I have an opportunity to play or sing to display my talents, for Mrs. Campfield possessed neither a pianoforte nor a harpsichord. Instead Aunt Gertrude handed me a skein of rough-spun wool and a set of knitting pins with the suggestion—a suggestion I’d no choice but to obey—that I begin making Monmouth caps for the poor soldiers who had none against the cold. I told myself it was the proper thing to do, that such caps were much needed and would be welcomed, that I’d be selfish to think of myself first, yet still I couldn’t help but be disappointed.
How could the colonel and I ever become better acquainted in such dismal circumstances? How was this supposed to attract a gentleman who’d had as many sweethearts as there were days in the month?
But I’d dutifully begun to cast on stitches on my needles when the colonel was announced. I looked up eagerly, for he’d arrived with a punctuality that I soon learned was his by nature. His blue uniform was freshly brushed and his boots polished, his buff-colored breeches immaculate, his hair carefully combed and his jaw newly shaved. He wore his dress sword, too, appropriate for both a warrior and a gentleman, and which was likely at his side to make me forget that I’d seen him earlier with the turkey-feather pen. It was clear that he wished to make the best impression possible on me, just as I’d tried to do the same for him.
Yet as a soldier, he understood rank and precedence, and greeted each of the others in the room first with perfect civility. I was reminded of how respectful he’d been to my father when he’d come to our house, and this, too, impressed me, perhaps even more than his dress sword. By the time he finally reached me, I was smiling warmly and happily. I never was able to play the coy coquette, no matter how it might have helped my cause.
“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bending slightly over my chair with one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “Once you gave me leave to call you Betsey, but I wouldn’t presume—”
“Of course you may call me Betsey,” I said quickly, so quickly that I winced inwardly at my own lack of guile. “You’re not presuming, not at all.”
He smiled, too, and I basked in the charm of it.
“Very well, Betsey,” he said easily, as if he’d been calling me that all our lives. “What are you making?”
“I’m knitting a cap for a soldier in need,” I said, holding up my needles with only a few dozen stitches cast on. “I’ve just started.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw my aunt lean forward to draw the colonel’s attention.
“Eliza is known for her charitable acts, Colonel Hamilton,” she said, more loudly than was necessary. “In Albany, she and her mother stitch clothing for the poor, and will offer comfort and food to any needy person who appears at their kitchen door. She hasn’t been here in Morristown but a day, and yet already she has found a way to ease the suffering of the men in the camp.”
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