I, Eliza Hamilton. Susan Holloway Scott

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      We’d been traveling together for three weeks, yet it had taken Papa until now to speak those words to me. But because I’d been half expecting this from the beginning (and even long before), I managed to keep my voice even and my reply measured and truthful.

      “Aunt Gertrude did relay the colonel’s compliments to me, yes,” I said carefully. “And yes, I have not forgotten him. But he has never written to me directly, Papa, nor presumed upon our acquaintance.”

      Papa frowned, his brows drawing tightly together beneath the cocked brim of his hat.

      “I would expect that as an officer, Colonel Hamilton has been far too occupied with his duties to write love letters,” he said. “It’s your aunt who has been the presumptuous one in regard to the man.”

      “You liked Colonel Hamilton when he called on us two years ago,” I said, daring greatly. “You said he had great promise, and you said he was intelligent, resourceful, and courageous.”

      “And you, daughter, have an excellent memory.” He shifted on the sleigh’s seat to face me. He had tied a scarf around his black beaver hat to keep the wind from carrying it away from his head, yet long wisps of his hair had pulled free from the ribbon around his queue to whip in the breeze beside his weathered cheek. I don’t know why I took notice of his hair at that moment; perhaps my thoughts would rather have concentrated on his unkempt hair than on the seriousness of our conversation. “So the colonel did catch your eye when he last visited us. I thought as much.”

      My cheeks warmed, even in the cold air. “One evening’s acquaintance is scarcely enough to judge him, Papa,” I said. “He made himself agreeable to me, that was all.”

      “You needn’t be so coy with me, Eliza,” he said. “I knew within moments of meeting your mother that I would marry her.”

      “Papa, please,” I exclaimed. My parents had never made a secret of the warm devotion and love they held for each other, and although they had been wed for nearly twenty-five years, the nursery on the uppermost floor of our house was still frequently required for another new little brother or sister. Yet it made me feel uncomfortably rushed to hear my father speak of me and Colonel Hamilton in the same fashion. “It’s far too soon for that.”

      He shook his head, making it clear that he believed my objections to be nothing more than over-modest rubbish.

      “Such matters are inclined to move more swiftly during times of war, Eliza,” he said. “I realize that your aunt may be as enthusiastic as Cupid himself, especially where Colonel Hamilton is concerned. It cannot be denied that he has certain impediments, however. The man has no fortune or family, and his origins are questionable at best.”

      “I know his family wasn’t Dutch, like ours,” I began, “and I know he wasn’t born in New York, but—”

      Papa cut me off. “It’s not where he was born, Eliza, but how,” he said. “His mother left her lawful husband to live sinfully with her lover. That man was Hamilton’s father. He is illegitimate, a bastard, and all the world knows it.”

      All the world might have known his parentage, but I hadn’t, and in confusion I looked down to my lap. I’d never known anyone who’d been born outside a lawful marriage, and although it was shocking, I was still unwilling to abandon Colonel Hamilton.

      “But that is not his fault, Father,” I said earnestly. “None of us has the ability to choose our parents. That is God’s will, not ours. I was fortunate in my birth, and he was not, and he should no more be blamed for that circumstance of his fate than I should be praised for mine.”

      “What republican sentiments for a lady, Elizabeth,” Papa said, so dryly that I couldn’t tell if he agreed with me or not.

      “They’re Christian sentiments as well,” I said firmly. “You cannot quarrel with that.”

      “Nor with you, daughter,” he said more gently. “Permit me to continue. You should know that regardless of Colonel Hamilton’s lack of a respectable family, I remain impressed with his zeal, his courage, and his determination. By his own merits, he has achieved far more than he should have by rights of his low birth, and I’ve little doubt he’ll continue on that path. He will do well in this world. He already has. He has won the favor of His Excellency, and therefore mine as well.”

      “Then you—you do not find him objectionable?” I asked uncertainly.

      “Not at all, Eliza,” Papa said. “If you discover that the fellow continues to be agreeable to you, why, then, I want you to understand that neither your mother nor I would object if he presses his suit. I would not object at all.”

      I bowed my head, my thoughts spinning. That was as good as a blessing, better than I’d expected. But I understood what Papa wasn’t saying, too: that I was twenty-two-years old, that he worried for my future, that he was relieved that a reasonably acceptable man was showing interest in me, and that he didn’t want me to waste away as a spinster.

      I didn’t want to perish as a spinster, either. But it had been over two years since I’d last seen Colonel Hamilton, and even that had been for only a few hours’ time. After so many months, I wasn’t sure I could even recall his face, handsome as it had been, with real clarity.

      Yet I had liked him; he’d impressed me in all the ways that mattered most. That was what I remembered, that he’d been so different from other gentlemen. He’d been special.

      If I’d married someone from Albany or New York as had always been expected of me, a young gentleman who was from a family similar to my own, I would know exactly what my life would be. I would oversee a large house in the country and another in the city of New York, with children and servants and a respectably dull and dully respectable husband. It would all be predictable and safe and without a whit of excitement, and the longer I considered such a life, the less appeal it held for me. Yet even after only one meeting, I knew that life with Alexander would always be exciting, because he was exciting.

      So yes, I’d liked him. But as much as I respected my parents’ wishes, I wanted this decision to be mine, not theirs, and I wanted to be sure.

      Papa, however, misread my silence.

      “Of course, I wouldn’t expect you to go against your heart, Elizabeth,” he said with another awkward pat to my knee. “If your mother and I are mistaken and he doesn’t please you, then you’re sure to find many other fish in the sea, yes? Above everything else, we wish you to be happy. There will be officers by the score here at this encampment, and perhaps there will be another who will better—”

      “He didn’t die, Papa,” I said, my head still bent. “Colonel Hamilton wasn’t killed in battle or by illness or anything else. You and I both feared he would be, and yet instead he was preserved.”

      “He’s lucky that way,” Papa said easily, an explanation that I expected was popular among soldiers. “Some men simply are.”

      “Perhaps Colonel Hamilton was kept from danger for a purpose, Papa.” I looked up to meet his gaze. “Perhaps he was meant to do great things, for this country, and nothing will stop him until he does.”

      Papa only smiled indulgently.

      “I suspect the colonel would agree with you, Elizabeth,” he said, glancing past me to the houses we were passing. “Ahh, finally, there are your aunt’s СКАЧАТЬ