by Diana Rubino
“I am proud of my Scottish lineage that includes royal titles. I have viscounts, barons and dukes among my forebears, and will not let the good fortune of my father's birth diminish that.”
I looked into his eyes, my heart heavy. “I am at a loss for words, Secretary Hamilton. My plight is naught compared to what you suffered as a boy, ten years younger than I am now. Yet I'm an abandoned wife, as James proved unfitting as a husband.”
Confidence and strength blossomed inside me during this heartfelt talk; if Alexander could begin a new life at thirteen, I certainly could do the same at twenty-three. At that moment, I vowed to better myself, to stand up as Maria Lewis Reynolds, rather than “et ux.”
My future, bright and with promise, awaited me. I gazed into those smoldering eyes and longed for his embrace. How badly I wanted to share my future with my new-found kindred soul!
As if he'd read my thoughts, he reached forward, grasped my hand and said what I'd never dreamt in my fleeting fantasies, “I believe I have found my equal in every way, Maria.” The next thing I knew, we both stood. He met my lips with his. My arms slipped round him as our kiss deepened. He embraced me, pulling me to him so our bodies met and melded.
His growing arousal pressed against me as fireworks exploded behind my closed eyes. He ended the kiss and pulled away, running his fingers over my cheek. “I want you, Maria.” I knew the husky sound of desire, and his voice conveyed it.
If not now, then never. “What about your wife?” I whispered before I knew it was out of my mouth.
“We hardly see much of each other. We have next to naught in common to begin with. A mutual respect. A household. And five young ones.”
Then how did you sire those five young ones and the expected sixth? I thought, but dared not say another word. I ached for his touch.
He closed and locked the door behind us. He clasped his fingers round mine and beckoned me toward the bed. I glanced at the open window as if his wife could peek in on us. The breeze cooled my heated body.
“Are you agreeable to this?” he asked.
I nodded. After tonight, my life would never be the same. Without another word, he slid my dress from my shoulders and it spilt to the floor. I stood before him in my chemise and petticoat.
His nimble fingers unbuttoned his linen shirt and he shucked it off. He was now half naked. “Hotter in here than at my house, is it not?” he whispered into my ear.
I forced a light laugh. “I am sweating buckets if you must know the truth, Secretary Hamilton.”
He smiled, slipping out of his shoes. “Let us dispense with the formalities. Those close to me call me Sandy. Or Alex if you prefer.”
“Oh, Alex sounds much more…” I sighed as he trailed kisses along my most receptive spots: the tips of my earlobes, the hollow of my neck. “…majestic.” I lost my senses and let his exquisite lovemaking carry me away.
Afterwards, we lay in each other's arms, our mingled breaths slowing, calming. “Alex, how did you learn all this? You know just what to do.” I gave him a lazy smile.
“Here and there.” He wiped his brow. “Trial and error.”
“I was a virgin when I married James,” I confessed, my nervousness easing into the comfort shared by lovers. I'd wanted someone like Alex all my life, and now that he was here in my arms, I never wanted to let him go. James faded into a vague entity, although come morn, I knew not where to go next. “I've never been loved this way.”
“Such a sweet, beautiful lady deserves it.” He gazed at me as if I were the only woman he'd ever loved.
“I've always admired you and believed you a visionary, Alex, as well as a strikingly handsome man. And I'm sure you don't remember, but the first time we met was five years ago. I played violin at Aaron Burr's soirée,” I prattled on, but needed him to know I wasn't simply soliciting sex for money, and the most important truth—I had feelings for him before I ever saw his naked body tonight.
“Of course I remember. Except for a single sentence, all our exchanges were with our eyes.” He gazed at me that same way.
“I hope you don't think I'm that kind of woman,” I blurted.
“What kind of woman?”
“A not respectable one.” What did he think I meant?
“Not at all.” Then he said what I didn't dare voice out loud. “You and I both know there's an attraction that couldn't be denied any longer. Now that we've had a chance to share our common beliefs, our wounds and our feelings, I hope it will be much more.”
“So this isn't—this won't end with tonight?” His wife and my husband forgotten, I wanted to know one thing: “When will I see you again—and how often?”
“I shall find time for you, I promise.” He traced my arm with his fingertips. My entire body tingled.
After that, I floated down the stairs to see him out. I dropped to my knees, bowed my head and clasped my hands. “Almighty Lord, thank you for bringing Alex into my life.” My eyes slid shut. “I vow to become a significant part of his.”
“Some conversation ensued from which it was quickly apparent that other than pecuniary consolation would be acceptable.” –Alexander Hamilton on 'The Reynolds Affair'
A stiff prick has no conscience. – Benjamin Franklin
Chapter Seven
Eliza
Thurs. Eve, Half Ten
“Alex,” I approached my husband sitting at his desk. “I'm sorry to interrupt.”
He peered at me over his specs. “What is it, Betsey? I have loads of work to do.”
“That's what I have to tell you.” I stood in the doorway, never entering until invited. No invite was forthcoming, so I plowed on. “I know you're far too busy for me. But I am too ailing for you. I do not belong here now. At such a crucial time in our nation's growth, I am simply in the way. Your talents are in too much demand for me to expect your affection. President Washington and the nation need you more than I do. Besides, the children are still at Albany, and I miss them.”
Pen still poised over the paper he'd been writing on, he nodded. “Tis probably best. I haven't time for much else besides work.”
Still standing in the doorway, I added, “I instructed the servants to feed you three nourishing meals a day and a light repast before bedtime. I shall leave in the morn.”
Next morn, I couldn't bear to turn and gaze at him as the carriage pulled away. We exchanged a brief wave and parted.
As the carriage jostled over the bumpy road out of town, I gazed out the window at the passing landscape, already missing Alex. A slender young woman came out of a shop. Maria Reynolds? I brought my hand up to wave, but stopped when the carriage drew near. It wasn't she. But I now wondered how she'd fared. I hoped Alex was able to help her. From what I knew about her shifty husband, she was well rid of him. I'd never heard much good about him besides his losing bid for the congressional seat Dayton now held, but we didn't need his kind in our government. I did know that he earned and lost money as if playing a game, and his poor wife suffered his failings with him. Perchance Alex and I could invite Maria to our home and cheer her up with a good meal and some lively discussion. I trust Alex wouldn't mind—no doubt he'd leave us ladies to our own devices anyway. I doubted someone as young as Maria could hold his interest.
As we traveled the placid countryside, the blue sky streaked with clouds, the green and rolling Catskill Mountains to our left, I looked ahead to the birth of our next child. All I'd wanted were six children, but if Alex wanted more, I'd gladly oblige him. I lived to do his bidding.
Maria
With coin jingling in my purse, I walked on air. After a hearty breakfast in the Old London Coffeehouse, I rummaged through the Chestnut Street bookstore for more books to discuss with Alex. As we reclined in love's afterglow last eve, he told me he was an omnivorous—a new word I learnt—reader, ranging from the classics to novels. He especially enjoyed Shakespearean plays. Entwined in each other's arms, we'd discussed Shakespeare and the books we'd read. I was proud to sustain my end of the co
nversation, and my knowledge of these books and plays seemed to greatly impress him.
He was mighty eager to discuss Winn's History of America and The Letters of Socrates. I'd read Socrates as a young girl. It made me love Greeks and their history. He'd raved about Hume's Essays, which I looked for now. I couldn't find it, but purchased Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations, one of Alex's favorites. I hesitated before splurging. The book was over 1100 pages and heavy as a brick, but well worth the investment.
I walked down Chestnut Street, a mere two blocks from where Alex lived, looking for a house with rooms to let, but dwellers in this neighborhood did not need to let rooms. Discouraged from this paradox, I took a left turn and went into Nathan Shepard's tavern for my midday meal. Women weren't allowed in taverns unescorted. We had to use the “snug,” the women's section in back.
As I pushed open the snug's door, a hand clamped down on my shoulder. Startled, I turned to face my husband.
“Maria, where in hell were you the last four days?” His tone was more pleading than demanding. His eyes betrayed gratitude rather than anger.
“I found a room. I've been on my own and surviving quite nicely,” I informed him. My tone reflected my confidence. Yet I fought the urge to tell him how pleased I was to see him. Now that the initial rage of the insult had time to fade, I was almost—but not quite ready—to entertain his plea for forgiveness—if any was forthcoming.
“Maria, come home. This has gone on long enough.” His hand slid down my arm to clasp my fingers. I clasped back, cementing an unsaid bond between us as a husband and wife of seven years.
“Do you still consider me your prostitute?” I challenged, wanting him to beg, to plead, to grovel.
“Nay, I ne'er did. Twas only a way to make money. But we needn't pursue it. I realized I canna live without you. I procured employment as Josiah Bank's assistant. He even advanced me a week's wages.” He added a smug grin to that.
“The largest goldsmith in town? How did you convince him you are worthy of employment—and to advance you money? You must have sweet-talked the very britches off the man.” I tilted my head with a saucy smile.
“Remember that gold chamber pot Tom Jefferson commissioned? That he said was so exquisite, he couldna even piddle in? Well, Mr. Bank paid a visit to Monticello, and he spotted the pot in his guest bedroom. Seems Bank also thought it too fine for piddling into, and begged Jefferson for the craftsman's name. Bank called on me to make a matching set for him and his wife.” He sported a satisfied smirk. “I told him I'd be obliged if he'd provide steady employment. He took my offer on the spot. Imagine—all this from a piss pot!”
“I am happy for you, James. You must thank Mr. Jefferson—perhaps make him a gold cuspidor.” I itched to tell him what I'd accomplished. That the great Alexander Hamilton had become my kindred soul, and declared me his equal—and not because of any scheme of James's. But I kept quiet—for now.
“Now will you come home?” He squeezed my hand, pleading in his eyes.
“Very well, James, I shall go home with you.” For now, I added silently as I linked my arm through his.
Together we walked to Mrs. Norris's, where I gathered my few belongings. Heading back home with James, I knew I could accomplish anything, I still loved my husband—but did not need him.
When he pushed open our door and stood aside to let me enter the house, a strange mix of comfort and detachment washed over me. Being alone and pennies away from starvation changed me. I gazed at my familiar surroundings: my sagging sofa, my cozy throw, my beloved violin lying atop a stack of music. I breathed in the aroma of coffee and baked bread. Yet something was missing.
He poured each of us a goblet of wine and we settled on the sofa.
“I could not deny that I still love you, James.” I enveloped his free hand in mine.
“Don't vanish inna thin air like that again, Maria,” he said over a weary sigh. “You scared the shite outta me if you want to know the truth.”
My eyes downcast, I promised, “I won't. But we do have some things to iron out.”
He moved closer and brushed my lips with his. These teasing feathery kisses of his always made me tingle. “We kin iron later.” He embraced me. My ardor for him came rushing back as his nimble hands unlaced my blouse. We lay back on the cushions and made languid, comfortable love. But I sensed a detachment.
We lay together in a familiar embrace, my head resting upon his chest. After a long silence, he inquired. “What is it, Maria? It seemed you were elsewhere.”
So I told him. I told him everything that had ensued in the last four days. Including my entreaty to Alex, and his visit with financial assistance. But I ended the story at that exact spot.
James blanched, as if I should have negotiated more out of him. “Thirty dolls? That's all he could spit up?”
“That's all he had available. I wasn't about to force his hand. Your problem, James, is that you know not how to be subtle,” I chided. “I'm sure you'd succeed at many more ventures if you knew how to cultivate people. One of Franklin's sayings 'a spoonful of honey will catch more flies than a gallon of vinegar' is true, and believe me…” I tossed my head. “…if Alexander Hamilton were a fly, he would have drowned in my honey.” I let the double entendre hang in the air. But James didn't so much as give a 'hmmph.'
“When will he make his next appearance?” was all he wanted to know.
“I have no plans to see him again.” Which was the truth. He hadn't given me an exact date. I could only hope that I'd be part of his life from now on.
“It was generous of him to offer you assistance without expecting aught in return,” James commented. “In fact, ah'm quite surprised. After what I've heard of him and his romps outside of his marriage—and outside of his britches.”
“He expected naught in return.” Which was also the truth. Our attraction that culminated in a frenzy of passion had nothing to do with the $30 he'd given me to keep starvation at bay. If Alex never gave me another penny, I would still cherish his company.
James grabbed his britches off the floor and stepped into them. “Ah'm off to a card game over at Congressman Wynkoop's house. I believe Madison is attending, and you can rest assured ah'll walk out with moore than Hamilton sputtered up last night. Ah'm always able to lighten Madison's wallet.” He shrugged into his shirt and buttoned it. “He may as well hand it to me on a silver salver when he challenges me. That will earn me enough to pay back some debt with a bit left over for flub-dubs, along with my advance from Josiah Bank until I begin this new employment.”
“Bring some more Madeira home. I plan to read my new book tonight, so I shall be busy.” Donning my wrap, I followed him down the stairs and into the parlour.
“What in bloody hell is this?” He lifted my Wealth of Nations book, glanced at the cover and dropped it as if it'd grown horns. “I'd have to smoke a poond of opium to get throo a single page. Are you sure you can sustain interest in this codswallop for more than three seconds?”
I bounced on the balls of my feet and cocked a brow. “Unlike the drivel you read, tis on a level higher than that of a six-year-old. This is a book Alexander recommended. It seems I've appealed to him as his intellectual equal. Something he lamented he does not get from the missus.”
“Nay, he only got six wee ones from the missus.” He smoothed his wavy hair down with water from the basin and adjusted his queue ribbon. “Dinna believe everything a married man whispers in yur ear. Specially if he's shaggin' you.”
I had an inkling James knew what took place last night after all the talk about politics and books. I ignored his remark and opened to page one of Wealth of Nations. It would take me a while to finish this thick tome. But I'd always wanted to learn more about economics and capitalism. The more I read, the more I agreed with Adam Smith—and grew excited knowing Alex and I would have many engrossing discussions about it. I became so absorbed in the book, I didn't hear James leave.
I took a break from reading. My mind wandered to last
eve and seeing Alex again. Knowing I was far too hasty, I fetched paper and pen and wrote him a letter, telling him I'd returned home, but I longed to see him again. With his wife out of town, I knew he'd be lonely. Busy as he was, the nights still dragged, minute by painful minute.
I slipt the letter through his the mail slot after midnight. I wondered if he was inside, poring over papers, or at a tavern in discussions with other statesmen. Was I surprised when I returned home and found James lounging on our sofa, barefoot, smoking his pipe, sipping wine. I nearly fell backward when he told me whom he'd unmercifully beat at bid whist!
“Ah, the sweet smell of success.” He stood and fanned bank notes over the table like playing cards. “The cards may as well have been marked, and none other but yur illustrious Hamilton was there—and this, my lass, come from his very pockets!”
It looked like hundreds. Alex—a gambler? I'd never heard this of him. All I'd heard was that when it came to money, Alex was tighter than—what had John Adams said a few years back? “Tighter than a crab's bum, and that's waterproof.”
“What was Alexander doing there?” He could have been spreading me instead of a hand of cards!
“Grew lonely for male company, I reckon.” James shot me a sly look, yet it gleamed with amusement. “Ye canna expect a chap to dally with the fair sex every night, now. He kin only do so much. Then he needs re-fuel.”
Not wanting to believe Alex dallied with anyone but me, I fought an ugly pang of jealousy.
