I, Eliza Hamilton. Susan Holloway Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ Aunt Gertrude’s perspective. Fed only by a memory and an impression, I had come this far through snow and ice. I needed to learn if Colonel Hamilton was not only special for this country, but special for me. If he proved he was, if love grew between us, then I would do whatever I must for the sake of that love. In a land full of soldiers, this would be my battle.

      And I would win.

      * * *

      “Lady Washington is eager to meet you, Elizabeth,” Aunt Gertrude said as we rode together in a sleigh to the general’s headquarters the next morning. “Bound as we are in our little community, we all welcome a new face, especially one as pretty as yours.”

      “It will be an honor to meet her,” I said, with one hand holding my wide-brimmed hat from blowing away. Dr. Campfield’s house was less than a mile from headquarters, so our drive wouldn’t be long. For a change, the sun was bright on the snow and the sky a brilliant blue overhead. The air was clear and sharp, and on such a day it was difficult not to be in fine spirits. I had risen early to bid farewell to Papa, returning to his duties with Congress in Philadelphia, and now the centerpiece of my day was being presented to His Excellency’s wife. I would be honored—and a bit intimidated—to meet her, for she was the first lady of the country, and widely regarded as worthy of that title.

      I’d dressed with great care for this presentation. I wore a blue silk Brunswick jacket, close-fitting and edged with dark fur, and a matching petticoat, both quilted with a pattern of diamonds and swirling flowers. My gloves were bright green kidskin, and on my head I wore the one extravagant hat I’d brought, the sweeping brim covered in black velvet and crowned with a profusion of scarlet ribbons. I had a weakness for tall hats, for I felt they added height to my small stature, and kept me from being overlooked in a crowd. Aunt Gertrude had assured me that Lady Washington was a lady of fashion, and that before the war, she’d ordered the finest of everything from London. She would appreciate the effort I’d made in her honor to dress with fashion and taste, even in the middle of a military encampment.

      But I’d other reasons, too. The general’s aides-de-camp were quartered in the same house, and followed the general’s orders from his office. There was an excellent possibility that I might encounter Colonel Hamilton—or so Aunt Gertrude had assured me—and I wished him to take note of me.

      “It seems that we are all crowded together with the Campfields,” she said, “but I assure you that there are far, far more people squeezed into headquarters. The General’s Family, his Life Guard, officers and messengers and diplomats of every color coming and going day and night so that Mrs. Ford must wonder what has become of her household. That’s a true lady-patriot for you—giving over her fine house to His Excellency and half the army, it seems, and living below in two rooms with her own brood of children. There’s nothing more melancholy than a young widow, poor lady, but she honors her husband’s memory and patriotism in the best way possible.”

      “How many aides-de-camp does His Excellency employ?” I asked.

      “A half dozen, I believe,” Aunt Gertrude said. “They are all part of what His Excellency refers to as his military family, and a close-knit family they are, too, with him of course as the father. But Colonel Hamilton is the one held in highest regard, with the most responsibility. I wonder that His Excellency could accomplish half of what he does without the colonel by his side. That’s Mrs. Ford’s house, there, the large white one before us on the hill.”

      It would have been difficult to overlook. The house was large and imposing, nearly as large as our Albany house, and by far the largest that I’d yet seen in Morristown. It was two stories with tall chimneys at either end, and an ell to one side where I guessed the kitchen stood. The doorway was elegant indeed, with a prettily arched door flanked by rich carvings and pilasters, and a half-moon window above and two more on either side. Nearby were a number of rough log huts that quartered the general’s Life Guard, his most trusted soldiers in charge of protecting him, and to the rear of the house were several more log buildings, squat and temporary.

      But what I noticed first was the bustle of activity around the house, like a bee skep surrounded by swarms of the busiest of bees coming and going. Soldiers and horses, wagons and sleds and sleighs, and all of them moving briskly on the army’s business. The cold air was filled with the sounds of orders given, of barked conversations, and the jingle of harnesses and the creak of wooden wheels over the packed snow. There were several small fires with men clustered about them for warmth, and bright flags on staffs that proclaimed that this was in fact the army’s headquarters.

      We climbed down from our sleigh before the house, and I followed my aunt up the steps to the sentry. Among so many dark cloaks and uniforms, I felt like a gaudy parrot in my bright clothes. I also felt acutely female in the midst of so many men, and though I held my head high and pretended to take no notice, I sensed every eye upon me as I stood there on the whitewashed steps, my skirts swaying in the breeze and the bright ribbons of my hat dancing around my face. I might be short, but no one was overlooking me now.

      The sentry recognized my aunt, and mercifully we were soon ushered inside the house. But the wide hallway was likewise filled with men as well as the same bustle, with a scattering of tradesmen and waiters hurrying among them. The Washingtons’ personal servants stood out among the others, for they were all Negroes, and wore the red and white livery of Mount Vernon, His Excellency’s mansion in Virginia. Yet every man, white and black, stepped aside to open a path for my aunt and me to pass, bowing and lifting their hats to us as well. It was respectful, I suppose, especially since I was sure that the word had moved swiftly among them that I was General Schuyler’s daughter, but I was still happy to be ushered up the stairs to the door of the single room that formed the Washingtons’ private quarters.

      A neatly dressed black woman in a linen cap (doubtless another of the Washingtons’ servants, who had traveled north with them) told us Lady Washington would receive us in a moment. My aunt sat on the bench beneath the hall window, but I preferred to stand, glancing into the room across the hall. Once another bedchamber for the Ford family, it now appeared to be an officers’ barracks with a half dozen small camp beds, each with its own low-arched linen canopy, and the owner’s belongings stacked neatly beneath. To me it looked more like a children’s nursery than a room for grown gentlemen, and I craned my neck a bit farther from curiosity, amusing myself by imagining the men all tucked snug beneath their coverlets for the night.

      “Miss Elizabeth?”

      It had been over two years, but I recognized that voice immediately. Startled, I turned about, and there before me was Colonel Hamilton.

      He stood with a sheaf of papers beneath his arm, doubtless important orders and letters from His Excellency’s desk, and tucked into the top buttonhole of his coat was a gray and black pen cut from a turkey’s quill. He’d aged since I’d seen him last, more manly, his blue uniform more neatly tailored and his boots polished and gleaming. His hair was sleeked back in a tidy queue that couldn’t quite contain its fiery red-gold, and his gaze was keen with the intelligence—and the warmth—that I remembered. To me he looked like a man who carried great responsibility and trust with ease and confidence, exactly the sort of man a commander-in-chief would rely upon. But then, I’d sensed that when we’d met before, an intangible quality that made me long to trust him as well.

      I cannot say how long it took me to make this studied appraisal, for it seemed as if time itself had ceased to matter as I stood before him. Yet somehow I managed to recover my wits, and dipped a quick but graceful curtsey to him even as he bowed to me, and to Aunt Gertrude as well.

      “Good day, Colonel Hamilton,” I murmured. “I trust you are well.”

      “Very well, Miss Elizabeth, very well indeed,” he said, and I realized he’d been studying me just as I’d СКАЧАТЬ