“So many clothes, Eliza!” she said with unabashed approval as she sat in the ladder-back chair that was the only one in the room. “But you’re wise to have brought them, my dear. Wartime or not, the young ladies here dress to captivate the officers. The competition will be very fierce.”
I laughed uneasily, and sat across from her on the edge of the bed. I hoped she was exaggerating. I didn’t possess the necessary cattiness for ballroom skirmishes with other ladies, and I didn’t enjoy them.
“I cannot imagine that the competition will be very heated when the men so outnumber the ladies.”
“Yes, yes, they do,” my aunt admitted, picking up a mother-of-pearl fan edged with sequins from my trunk. “But there are men, and there are gentlemen, and then there are the best gentlemen, if you take my meaning. My, this is a pretty thing!”
She spread the fan and held it over her mouth, mimicking a coquette.
“It’s French,” I said, not really interested in the fan. “Which gentlemen do you mean, Aunt?”
“There are the ones to be avoided at all cost,” she said, clicking the fan shut blade by blade. “The gentlemen who are intemperate, for whom strong drink is their mistress. The gentlemen with fiery tempers, and the ones who play too deeply at cards. The gentlemen who seek a mistress for the winter, not a wife for a lifetime. The worst, of course, are the married gentlemen who conveniently forget their wives and children at home when they come to winter encampment, and act as if they were bachelors. And then there is Colonel Hamilton.”
Rose was holding a folded bundle of shifts and stockings, waiting for my decision. I nodded, grateful for the distraction, and pointed to the small chest of drawers beside the window.
“Why would you mention the colonel with those other ill-favored gentlemen?” I asked as carelessly as I could. “Or has he earned a place among them whilst here in Morristown?”
“I don’t believe General Washington gives him sufficient time to be a wastrel, even if he wished it,” my aunt said. “The colonel is as fine a gentleman as can be, Eliza, but I will be honest with you: he has not been pining alone beneath the moon and waiting for you to arrive.”
I blushed, for that was painfully close to what I’d been imagining. It wasn’t that I had expected him to be as chaste as a monk in his cloister while away from me. I’d no right to hope for that. But in my thoughts I’d always pictured him as stoic and solitary, his heart pure and devoted to liberty. I realized now how foolish this was, and how unrealistic, too, which only made me feel more the perfect fool. After all, the colonel was young and handsome and a soldier, and soldiers were notoriously free with their affections; my aunt’s catalog of rogues in the camp was likely entirely accurate.
To my relief, my aunt continued without noticing my discomfort.
“Since he has been in town this winter, the gossips have claimed the colonel to be hopelessly in love with at least three different ladies,” she said. “Or rather women, not ladies, for I should not describe any of them that nicely. Along with the colonel’s other qualities, he does have the reputation of being something of a gallant—but then, what young man isn’t?”
“They all do,” I said, striving to echo her nonchalance. Striving, but not entirely succeeding, though again she took no notice.
“Exactly so,” my aunt said, nodding sagely. “But I do believe he is intelligent enough to realize the difference between a passing infatuation at a camp assembly, and the honorable and loving life he might have with a lady like you. In that brief meeting in Albany, you must have pleased him with your kindness, your intelligence, and, of course, your beauty. He would not have asked after you if you didn’t.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” I said faintly.
“No, indeed,” my aunt said shrewdly. “Nor would I have invited you to come here, either. But I tell you all this with a purpose, Eliza. If you decide that the colonel is the gentleman for you—or even if you wish the opportunity to decide—then you must act. You are a prize, yes, but he will not wander your way willy-nilly. You must plot and wage a campaign to capture the colonel’s heart, and be prepared to defend your prize once it is yours.”
This was a far different conversation than the one I’d had earlier with Papa. He clearly believed that Colonel Hamilton would in fact be mine for the taking, like an apple that dropped from the tree into my hand of its own accord. Aunt Gertrude, however, expected me to climb to the highest branches of the apple tree, reach for the fruit, and tug it free if I wanted it.
And yet I found I preferred 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 been doing with him. “And you?”
“Quite well,” I said, smiling, “and grateful that my journey here is done.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that,” he said. “Travel is never easy at this time of the year. But changes of scenery and diversion afforded by travel must agree with you, Miss Elizabeth. If I might be permitted, I’d say that you are looking not only quite well, but even more beautiful than I recall.”
“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 conve
nience 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.
I, Eliza Hamilton Page 4
