Sharing Hamilton

by Diana Rubino

  He drank his brandy and the tip of his tongue skimmed his lips, back and forth, more than once. Why did I notice this?

  “Many times I've offered James assistance, but he always refused,” Jacob said. “His pride gets in the way, I realize, but a small exchange between friends is nothing. He's never asked. I even offered him employment at the end of the war. At war's end, he felt like a lost soul with no direction.”

  “Yea, that was the nadir of his existence.” I lowered my head as James's pathetic image evoked a pitiful memory. “I remember his drunken bouts. I could never comfort him when he droned on about his failures, how useless he felt.” The memory evoked a sob I couldn't hide. “Poor James. His luck never turned.” My heart ached, but still swelled with love for my husband.

  “You seem to be better off financially as of late,” Jacob remarked, but I needed to change the subject. I searched my mind for the most compelling play I'd attended or book I'd read to date. Should I bring up politics? I knew he was a Jeffersonian, so we couldn't discuss politics without mentioning the inevitable: Alex. He went on, “I see you're both wearing tailored new raiment, popping corks on vintage wines, riding in luxurious carriages—and James had a larger bundle than usual at the last several card games. Did one of his 'schemes' as you call them pay off recently?”

  Our recent good fortune, of course, was all due to Alex's generous payments to James, which now would end. But I wasn't about to discuss this with Jacob. “He may have made good on a deal. He doesn't discuss the particulars with me.”

  “Well, if the funds run low, please come to me,” he offered. “I'm more than happy to help.”

  “I appreciate that, Jacob,” I gave my sincere thanks. “You have a heart of gold. Mayhap I will. It's comforting to know I have a benefactor if I need one. For now we seem to be on even footing.”

  “Then why do you still look so miserable?” He sat forward.

  I sensed his eyes penetrating me as I focused on my snifter. “Jacob, are you one of those spiritualists, and you haven't told me?” My eyes met his. He stroked my hand. Sudden desire stirred within me.

  I pulled away and settled my gaze on the dancing flames in the hearth.

  “I know that Hamilton has been helping you financially,” he said. “Tis all right, that's nothing to be ashamed of.”

  My eyes flew back to meet his. “What—how did you know that?” I hadn't meant to sound so accusatory. But this hit me like lightning.

  He lowered his eyelids. “My former superior at the Treasury Department, Oliver Wolcott. It seemed to have come out when James gave those congressmen the information they wanted, in exchange for his release from jail.”

  I took a sharp breath and sat up straight. “Very well, Jacob. James did borrow some money from Secretary Hamilton to pay our debts. He also told James he made thirty thousand in speculation. But I'm telling you this in the strictest of confidence.”

  He placed his glass on the table and took my free hand in both of his. “My dear, I would never betray a confidence, you know that. But I know James didn't simply borrow money from Hamilton. It started out as a blackmail scheme. James got you to seduce Hamilton in exchange for hush money. Tis no secret anymore. I was hoping you'd share this with me, so I could comfort you. But I must inform you: now these congressmen know about it. Being Republicans and political foes of his, tis a matter of time before it becomes public.”

  “Oh, no.” That sickened me. Sweat beaded on my forehead. The sip I'd taken now came rushing back and I had to swallow several times to force it back down. “No, tis not true. That's a fabrication of Secretary Hamilton. James had joined in it, he told me so, and he had given Secretary Hamilton receipts for money and written letters, so as to give countenance to the pretense.” Dizzy and faint, I gasped for air. Jacob stood and tugged on the service rope.

  The servant bustled in. “Fetch the lady a glass of water,” Jacob ordered, turned and knelt beside me, as he had in his bogus marriage proposal.

  “All right, I believe you.” He held the water glass to my lips. I took a refreshing gulp. “Even if it were true, I wouldn't think any less of you. You were simply a pawn in one of James's schemes to extort money, and so was Hamilton. But it's over now. Put it behind you, and look to the future.”

  “Oh, Jacob.” Emotionally and physically drained, I couldn't tell him how I felt. What had transpired between me and Alex wasn't a casual affair, we loved each other deeply. But I had to keep up the pretense. No one could ever know about my secret life with Alex—not till we divorced our spouses, free to proclaim our love to the world.

  I leant into Jacob and wound my arms round his sturdy shoulders. “Jacob, please never mention any of this to anyone. I pray those congressmen will keep quiet about it, and Mrs. Hamilton will continue to think you and I are marrying, just as we pretended.”

  He brought my head to his chest and stroked my hair, loose from the jeweled combs I'd so carefully arranged. They slipped from my hair and fell to the rug. He gathered my hair in bunches and planted kisses on my neck, my cheeks, and finally, my lips. I responded, for Jacob was my rock, my savior, rescuing me from all that blighted me.

  “Not to worry, my darling.” As he whispered, his nearness made me shiver with a mixture of desire and trepidation, for I knew not what I truly felt and wanted to keep it at bay. “But now I am not pretending.” Once again his lips found mine. Our tongues mingled in an exquisite rhythm, his technique flawless. A better kisser than Alex? I couldn't compare at the moment, my head too cloudy, my thoughts a jumble of emotions that rendered me senseless. I still cannot say whether I'd have followed him upstairs if he'd beckoned me.

  The door opened. A servant rang the dinner bell, then backed out and shut the door.

  Jacob broke our kiss, cupped my face in his hands and slanted his lips over mine once more for a light peck. “Supper is served. You must eat.”

  “You're right, of course. I haven't eaten more than a morsel all day.” My stomach rumbled with hunger. Savory cooking aromas wafted into the room. My mouth watered.

  Jacob led me into the dining room and we feasted on a sumptuous Italian meal of trucha frita, “trout seasoned with lemon pepper on a bed of onion and tomato slices drizzled with olive oil,” he told me as he cut off a piece and fed it to me. I found that so sensual. Dessert was a luscious custard-like mixture of vanilla, cream, figs and Frangelico liqueur. “It's called panna cotta con ficci.” The Italian rolled off his tongue as I savored the rich sweetness. “It's made by monks in Canale, Italy. Every woman should see Canale in her lifetime—with a lover.”

  During the meal we emptied two bottles of a fancy Italian wine I'd never heard of, “Brunello di Montalcino, Tuscany's rarest and longest-lived wine,” he informed me. To me, this meant the most expensive.

  I remembered telling Alex that we should share an Italian meal someday—how I hoped that someday would come before we grew too old.

  After that satisfying meal, my waistband bit into my engorged tummy. Not only was I full, I could barely keep my eyes open. I stifled a yawn, then another. “I'm so sorry, Jacob…” I covered my mouth, cringing in embarrassment.

  “We'll talk more tomorrow if you care to.” He helped me into his carriage, slid into the seat next to me, and I dozed all the way back to my house.

  “It's not you, you're fascinating company, I'm just so sleepy…” I apologized over and over to the dismissive wave of his hand.

  After a light kiss goodnight, he saw me in. Without removing my clothes, I fell asleep on the sofa, cradling the pillow Alex and I had lain on.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Maria

  Next morn as I washed and dressed, I pushed it all from my mind. I stayed busy and did not think about it till I absolutely needed to.

  As Maggie brewed coffee, I settled in at the table to read the Gazette. James took the cup Maggie poured for him and went to fetch the post. “Look at this. A newspaper in Britain, the Observer, has begun publishing on Sundays,” I read fro
m a column on the front page.

  “Bah! Blasphemy. Leave it to Mad George to let them get away with it.” He bent down to retrieve a letter fallen through the mail slot. “As I live and breathe, a missive from king of the Feds himself.”

  My heart thrashed about. James approached the table and slit the letter open with a knife. I tried not to appear anxious, but held my breath as he took his time reading it.

  He finished it, tossed it onto the table, and grabbed a piece of the newspaper. “Ah'm gooin' to the readin' room.” He headed for the back door.

  “James, what did he say in the letter?”

  “Read it yourself. If he's as rotten a bluffer as he is at whist, no wonder I cleaned out the poor sod's pockets that night,” he called over his shoulder as the door opened and shut.

  James thinks Alex is bluffing? What about? I nearly tore the paper to shreds in my haste to snatch it up and read it.

  Dear Mr. Reynolds, The recent course of events has led Congressman Muhlenberg and Senator Monroe to take this a step further, that is, to bring it to Pres. Washington's attention. As our arrangement will soon be public, I see no further reason to provide you with payments as I have been giving you, and deem to terminate our association. I hold receipts for sums remitted to you, and shall retain them as proof of payment should the occasion arise that you plan to inquire of the sums in question…

  I skimmed the rest, searching for my name, but it all read like a legal document. This was Mr. Hamilton, Esq. the attorney writing this, not my lover. Shattered, I cradled my head in my hands. It was bad enough Jacob had heard about it through the loose-lipped Wolcott, but now it was on its way to President Washington. I longed for Alex at this moment, to comfort him, for him to comfort me, as Jacob had last night. But a flurry of relief tickled at me. His arrangement with James was over.

  What did this mean for Alex and me? Would a similar letter fall through the slot onto the floor, carrying words to end our affaire that had bloomed into passionate love?

  No! I must get to him first.

  Where would he be now? A glance at the clock told me he'd arrive at his place of work an hour or so from now. I would be waiting when he got there.

  James came back in and washed his hands in the basin, flicking drops all over the floor. “I should'a brung more paper with me. At least leave some out there for me, willye? Men like to wipe theirselves, too, you know.”

  “James, this letter.” I held it up and waved it under his nose. “This means it is all going public now that President Washington will know about it.”

  He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Tisn't grounds for deportation. Washington's no doubt the biggest speculator of all. He's got naught on me.”

  “Those letters that Alex—that Secretary Hamilton wrote you. Why would he ever tell you he'd been speculating?” On pins and needles, I had to know.

  “He didna use the exact term.” James sat at the table. “He said he had information that netted him great sums. Of course he had. He's Treasury Secretary. If he hadn't used inside knowledge to profiteer from, he'd be a bigger fool than I give him credit fur.”

  “But—incriminate himself in writing?” I shook my head, unable to believe Alex would do such a thing.

  “He wrote that he had information, not where he'd obtained it.” He poured sugar into his coffee. “Tis up to Washington, Monroe, Jefferson, and their cohorts to interpret as they see fit and jump to whichever conclusions they care to.”

  “But Secretary Hamilton is President Washington's pet. He'd never let his pet's reputation suffer, would he?” I fervently prayed that Washington would never betray Alex. But this was politics.

  James cocked a brow. “Washington's only one man, compared to how many of Hamilton's enemies chomping at the bit to take him down?”

  “Secretary Hamilton obviously trusted you,” I stated.

  “Why should he not? He knows my father.” James slurped his coffee. “When he had Wolcott arrest me, he didna think the whole thing throo. I'd be a pillick not to show those letters to assure my release. I reckon when he was devising this plot, not all the blood was in his brain—if you know what I mean.” He gave me a wink.

  “Now you'll have to find another way to make pin money.” I took Alex's letter at face value, mentally counting how much cash I'd stashed away. Would it outlast the length of James's next scheme?

  “Twas good whilst it lasted.” He left the table and began cleaning his teeth with a small cloth. I cringed…it was a piece I'd torn off Alex's shirt when we stripped each other in our last frenzy. Shakespeare would have reveled in the irony.

  “He hasn't written me off, James,” I reminded him. “Only you.”

  “Hmmf. Why would he continue seeing you? Our arrangement has ended. There's no need.” He spat into the basin.

  Oh, there's need, I wanted to blurt out. Of course I couldn't tell James that Alex's and my “arrangement” originally to keep James and me from starvation, had evolved into the great love of my life, and I felt half alive without him near me. But of course I daren't tell James this. From now on, I had to see him behind James's back.

  “If you want to write him a fare-thee-well letter, ah'll hand deliver it for you.” His tone suggested mirth, but I found nothing humorous about it.

  Not replying, I went upstairs and began dressing for my next meeting with my lover. And I'd make dead certain it wouldn't be “fare-thee-well.”

  On the way, I stopped at the general store and purchased some blue ribbons for my hair, knowing Alex favored blue.

  I reached his office doorway, walked to the corner and looked up the street, but he was nowhere in sight. I strolled up and down the street three or four times before I finally saw his black carriage and groomed gelding halt at his door. I clasped my hands to stop the trembling, quivering with excitement at the sight of him. As he turned the key in the lock I strode up to him.

  His back to me, I tapped him on the shoulder. “Alex, may we talk?” He turned to face me, startled. Yes, I was bold and daring, but how could he not understand how crucial this meeting was?

  “I'm very busy, Maria, perhaps another time—”

  I wedged myself twixt him and the doorway. “Please, Alex. We need to talk. I cannot wait another minute. I've been ill, waiting to hear from you and—” I stopped there, knowing I sounded like one of my letters. “Just for one minute. I know you're busy. Please, then I'll go away.”

  He heaved an impatient breath. Looking anything but pleased to see me, he swung the door open and gestured up the stairs.

  I almost floated to the second floor.

  He led me down the hall to his private office, which I'd never seen before. One window overlooked the street. A fireplace and mantel held a brass lantern and some pewter goblets. Papers, pens and inkwells covered his mahogany desk. Thick law books stocked the shelves lining the walls. I hugged my arms against the biting chill.

  “I haven't had time to order more wood—” He bustled about, tied back the drapes, removed a stack of papers from a chair. “Here, you can sit.” He remained standing. “Now, what do you care to discuss?”

  I reckoned he was warmer to clients. “Alex, I—I just wanted to tell you that I still love you as much as ever, and just because your arrangement with James has ended, that changes naught between us,” I blurted in one breath and gulped, my mouth so dry, my lips felt adhered together.

  “Naught has changed, except you are betrothed to Jacob Clingman.” He folded his arms across his chest, his features becalmed, almost with indifference.

  “No!” I waved my hands about. “That was a ruse to show Mrs. Hamilton I'm not interested in you. He's a great dramatic actor, I have no interest in him, you must believe that.”

  “I know not what to believe any more, Maria. At first you were destitute…your husband had left you for another woman. Then you took him back. Now you love me. I can hardly keep up with you.” His eyes wandered about and out the window, as if he cared nothing about this—or us. His voice carried
no intonations.

  “Alex—” I approached him, dying to throw my arms around him and beg him to take me. He took a step back.

  “This is the truth. I had Jacob pose as my lover so Mrs. Hamilton would think there is naught between you and me. But I didn't expect that mock-marriage proposal! It was an act, is all, an act…” I breathed in his cologne. Desire flooded me.

  “If I didn't know any better—” He hesitated, no doubt for effect, “I'd say he is quite smitten.”

  “Mayhap he is. But I am not. As long as Mrs. Hamilton believes it. I'm in love with you, Alex, you must know that!” I now fought my impulse to grab his sleeve and drag him home. I looked him straight in the eye. “I am in love with you and no one else. And to prove it to you, yes, I'll divorce James.”

  He regarded me with that detached look. “Do you truly want to divorce James, or is that an act, too?”

  “Not at all.” I shook my head. “I can never love him the way I love you.”

  He held up his hands. “I have too much on my mind now to deal with this. Monroe and Muhlenberg visited me the other night. They told me they'd called on you and confiscated my letters to James.”

  I clasped my hands round his. “I'm so sorry, Alex. I had to give them the letters. They threatened to arrest me and ransack my house. I couldn't let them find your letters to me!”

  “It wouldn't have mattered if you had. I told them the truth, so they'll know I did not embezzle. I have a reputation to defend.” He eased his hands away and thrust them into his pockets.

  “So you really did tell them—about us?” I leant back against the desk or I would've collapsed.