An Elusive Peace, Chapter 5
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Rated: T
Summary: For Hamilton and Eliza, peace was supposed to mark the end to their separation and the beginning of domestic bliss. But Hamilton's ambition and the challenges facing the new nation quickly interfere. Happily ever after may not be as easy to attain as they once hoped.
Lafayette comes for dinner, and Ham gets just a little tipsy...
December 1784
Turkey juices sizzled and splattered as Eliza squeezed the baster over the bird’s browning skin. She hissed and growled with frustration when some of the splatter hit her uncovered hand and the arm of her dress, leaving little grease dots on the expensive material. Shaking out her hand, she placed the baster down and used her apron to wipe the sweat from her brow. The kitchen was unmercifully hot and so heavy with the scent of roasting meat and spices that she was fast developing a headache.
A little mewling sound caught her ear. Her shoulders tensed as she peeked over the edge of the bassinet, nestled safely beside the long island in the middle of the kitchen currently covered with ingredients and half-finished baked goods. Angelica’s tiny fists stretched over her head, but her eyes remained closed. Eliza sighed with relief. She couldn’t deal with a fussy infant on top of everything else.
It was her own fault she was so pressed so for time, she reminded herself as she hunted around the crowded counter-tops for the rosewater to add to the cake batter. With the new baby to care for, she’d fallen behind on returning calls, and she’d spent far too long trying to remedy the lack paying visits this morning. Mrs. Burr had been especially grateful for the company, the poor lady wan and listless, lacking even the energy to read as she stretched out on a lounge chair. She didn’t regret her attempt to cheer her friend, but now she was left with hardly any time to finish preparing the grand dinner they were hosting in honor of Lafayette’s return to the city.
Failing to find the rosewater, she turned and reached up to open the cabinet where it was usually stored. Not seeing it at the front, she rose up on her tiptoes to try to see further back into the shadowy cavern. Footsteps echoed in the stairway behind her as she looked, and she craned her neck around to see her husband emerging into the kitchen.
“Here you are,” Alexander remarked, smiling weakly. He was still dressed immaculately in the tailored gray suit he’d donned for court. “I was looking all over the house.”
“Well, Sarah’s polishing the silver and airing the good table linen while she watches Pip, and I sent Polly out to purchase some fresh candlesticks for the table. That left me to see to the dinner,” she explained, turning back to the cabinet again. “Could you help me? I can’t find the rosewater. I think it’s back here somewhere.”
“Of course,” he agreed. She moved aside as he came up beside her and reached easily into the cabinet, pulling out the bottle and handing it down to her. How much easier life would be if she were only a few inches taller, she thought ruefully.
“Thank you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Has Lafayette told you how many to expect for dinner tonight yet?”
“No, I haven’t heard from him today. I’m sure he’s caught up in some celebration or other.”
“He knows we can’t fit more than six, right?” she confirmed. As much as she loved the little townhouse they’d selected at the far end of Wall Street, their dining room and parlor didn’t allow for much in the way of guests. She hadn’t even bothered hiring a musician, given they had no space for dancing. After the grand parties and reception balls Lafayette had enjoyed over the past months, she feared he’d be sadly disappointed with the humble fare they had to offer.
“I told him,” Alexander promised.
She nodded, still feeling distracted. Finally noting how odd it was for her husband to be tarrying in the kitchen, she asked, “Did you need me for something?”
He shrugged. “Not really. I just thought I’d stop in for a few minutes when I finished in court. I feel like we never see each other anymore.”
That was very true. He was so pressed with business—managing his legal practice, working as a director for the newly formed Bank of New York, and acting as business manager for John Church’s American assets when he and her sister were abroad—that it wasn’t unusual for him to work into the wee hours of the morning and then rise before sun-up to start again. She was exhausted herself from caring for their two children and attempting to run their household on an extremely tight budget. Despite all the hours her husband was billing, his clients were often too poor to pay in a timely manner, which left Eliza struggling to pay the grocer. Even on their anniversary a few nights ago, when Eliza was sure they’d make time for each other, they’d ended up doing little more than sharing a quiet meal and falling into bed at an uncommonly early hour, both asleep almost as soon as their heads hit the pillows.
“I know,” she sighed, pecking him on the lips this time. “But I’m a little busy right now, darling.”
He smirked and held a hand to his chest. “Oh, am I interrupting you while you’re working? How terrible of me. Why, whatever does that feel like?”
He thought he was so cute, she thought as she glared. And he was, which was the problem. Eliza could never get properly annoyed at him, even when he deserved it. She gave him a warning tap on the chest before turning back to her cake batter. “Your legal work won’t suffer from a brief distraction. The same can’t be said for our dinner. I’d hate to serve our dear Marquis burnt turkey and uncooked baked goods tonight.”
He chuckled, and shoved aside some ingredients so he could heave himself up to sit on the counter. The bowl beside him held the gingerbread cookie mix she intended to roll out once she’d started the cake baking. Examining it, he stuck his finger into the bowl and brought a glob of dough to his lips. “Mm, actually, uncooked baked goods wouldn’t be so bad.”
“That has raw egg in it. You’re going to give yourself food poisoning,” she scolded lightly, measuring the rosewater into the mixing bowl and beginning to stir briskly.
He wrinkled his nose playfully and looked down at the infant asleep on his other side.
When he started to reach down, she said more forcefully, “Don’t you dare. I just got her to go to sleep.”
His shoulders slumped and he heaved a put upon sigh, but he left the baby to her nap.
Still mixing, she looked at him more carefully now and noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the lack of color in his face. Softening at his obvious exhaustion, she asked, “How did your case go this morning?”
“I won, unfortunately.”
“Unfortunately?”
“I told you about the judge appointing me to represent the young lady accused of grand larceny?”
Eliza nodded, recalling a late night conversation they’d had a few months ago. The poor creature was innocent, or so she claimed, but she hadn’t a scrap of evidence to present in her own defense. “That’s good, though, isn’t it? You thought she was innocent.”
“I did. I do,” he granted. He braced his elbows on his knees and rubbed at his eyes. “But I had nothing to counter the circumstantial evidence against her. So I…I argued women were weak and in need of man’s protection, and that so sweet and beautiful a young lady couldn’t possibly be guilty of grand larceny.”*
She raised a brow. “That worked?”
“Yes,” he practically whined. His face was still covered by his hands. “According to that revered group of gentlemen, being a beautiful girl is a valid defense to criminal activity. I can’t believe I actually put that forward as her defense.”
Really, she thought it reflected more poorly on the group of men so witless as to believe such an argument, than on her husband who’d put it forth out of desperation. He looked genuinely distressed, though, so she placed the bowl down and moved closer. “You did what was necessary to get justice for your client,” she assured him.
“I’m never doing that again,” he vowed, expression serious as he let his hand fall down between his knees. “I won’t make an argument that will disgust me to see carry the day. I’ll withdraw from the case first.”
She reached out to loop her arms around his neck and said sincerely, “You’re an excellent attorney, and a good man.” She believed that with all her heart. He prided himself on his principles, and he’d spent most of the past year fighting to defend citizens who’d remained loyal to the crown during the war from the rather disturbing witch-hunts the New York Assembly had invited when they passed the Trespass Act. Reconciliation was required to heal from the long years of warfare, he kept insisting—they should be rebuilding their city, not dragging out the pain and misery of the war.
He smiled weakly again and leaned in to the embrace, his head resting on her shoulder and his hand stroking along her hips. His breathing evened as he rested against her, his weight growing heavy in her arms, as though he were falling asleep right there in the kitchen. She kissed his temple and rubbed his back tenderly, suggesting, “Why don’t you go lie down for a little while, sweetheart? You seem tired.”
He shook his head against her and pulled back with some reluctance. “I need to go back to my office. I’m in the middle of drafting a motion craving oyer for one of my contract cases, and I want to file it today so I have a chance of actually getting the contract before the Christmas holiday.”
“Sometime I wonder if you just make up words when you’re talking to me about your work,” she commented with a teasing smile. When his brow furrowed, she repeated, “A motion craving oyer?”
He laughed and some of the fatigue lifted from his face. With a wink, he said, “Only sometimes. For the record, that one was real.”
When he slid off the counter, she gave him a lingering kiss. “Don’t be too long,” she said, combing her fingers through his hair lovingly. “Lafayette’s due in a few hours.”
“I’ll be back before he arrives,” he promised. Then, with mischievous smirk, he reached back and scooped another glob of gingerbread dough before retreating from the kitchen.
**
Alexander had finished his motion and sent one of his clerks to file it long before she’d finished in the kitchen. She found him wrestling with Pip in the parlor when she finally escaped upstairs, red faced from working so near the fire and with a pounding headache. Even so, the sight of her husband and son playing so joyfully brought a smile to her lips.
“I got you, Papa!” Pip was declaring with excitement when she paused in the entry to the parlor, Angelica resting heavily in her arms. The wooden toy rifle her father had given him last time he’d visited was lying on the floor nearby, along with an array of little soldiers; she suspected they’d been pretending some sort of battle before it degenerated into rolling about on the floor.
“You boys are going to need to change if you keep rolling around like that,” she observed, with no real heat.
“I’m planning to anyways,” Alexander replied, and, winking at her again, added, “And I’m losing too soundly for Pip to get dirty.”
“I’m going up to get ready now,” she told him. The apron had done little to protect her dress from the turkey splatter, flour, and dough, and she’d sweat off her makeup hours ago. “Would you watch Angelica while I change?”
Pip bounced up before Alexander could move and ran over, staring up at the baby.
She smiled down at her sweet boy. She’d worried he’d feel displaced by another baby, and he had grown a little clingy since the baby arrived, especially with his father. She suspected that may have more to do with Alexander’s long hours than with Angelica, however. So far, he’d seemed entirely enthralled with his little sister.
“You want to hold her, Pip?” Alexander asked as he pushed himself up.
Pip’s head bobbed happily. “I can do it.”
Alexander scooped him up and plopped him on the sofa. Her husband’s face turned impossibly tender as he approached and smiled down at their little girl, awake now and rolling her head on Eliza’s arm to look around. She passed the baby over carefully, and waited while Alexander situated Pip on the sofa so he could hold his sister.
“Here you are,” he said softly, adjusting Pip’s arms as he knelt down in front of him by the sofa. He pulled a pillow over so Pip could rest his arm while he supported the baby’s weight. “Support her head. That’s my boy.”
“Hi baby,” Pip whispered. He bent his head down to press a sloppy kiss to her forehead. Angelica’s big, curious eyes widened in surprise at the sensation. “I love you.”
Alexander looked back at her with an utterly lovesick expression. She was sure her expression mirrored his exactly, her frustration and cares from earlier melting away as she watched her darling little babes. With great effort, she pulled herself away to go ready for the evening.
They both just had time to change when a knock came on the front door. Eliza was frantically tossing Pip’s toy soldiers and spinning tops into a bin while one of the maids went to open the door. Alexander looked blithely unconcerned with all the loose toys.
“He knows we have babies,” he shrugged, pushing up from the sofa to go greet his friend. She fought down the urge to growl at him in frustration, trying to remind herself he made up for his abysmal housekeeping abilities in other ways.
“My dearest Marquis,” she heard Alexander say when he stepped out into the foyer. The sound of crushed breath and back slapping told her the two men were embracing.
“Hamilton,” Lafayette replied fondly. “How I’ve missed you, mon frère. The General and I spoke of you often during my stay at Mount Vernon.”
Eliza hung back, finishing up in the parlor and letting the two old friends reunite uninterrupted. When the last of the little wooden soldiers was put away, she rose, and was surprised to find the Marquis alone in the foyer. Lafayette scooped her into a tight embrace on sight, before she could so much as utter a greeting.
“And my dear Mrs. Hamilton. It has been far too long,” he said softly.
“It has,” she agreed, a little breathless as she patted his back fondly. Indeed, almost four years had passed since she’d last seen the Marquis. While Alexander had at least seen Lafayette at a dinner party while he’d been in New York that September, she’d still been recovering from giving birth at the time.
“Is the rest of your party following separately, Fayette?” Alexander asked when Lafayette had loosened his hold on her.
“Non,” he replied. “I came alone. It is good to be away from all the fuss and fanfare for an evening.”
Alexander smirked. “You love fuss and fanfare.”
Lafayette grinned. “Oui, I do. But I love you more, and I did not wish to share you with company tonight.”
Alexander’s smirk melted into a more genuine smile. “Well, I’m honored to have you all to myself. It’s been an age since we’ve enjoyed a quiet dinner together.”
“I hope you did not go to too much trouble, Mrs. Hamilton,” Lafayette added, looking at her. “I should have told you I’d not be accompanied by guests, and that a simple family meal would suffice.”
Perhaps she wouldn’t have made quite so much food, but she found it hard to be cross when he looked so earnest and eager to spend time with them alone. “Please, don’t think of it, my dear Marquis. With you here with us to enjoy our meal, my efforts were hardly in vain. And it’s for the best we’ll not have too many mouths to feed, with the amount of cookie dough my darling husband consumed this afternoon.”
Alexander gasped in mock-offense as Lafayette burst out laughing. “I had two bites,” he defended. “It wouldn’t have even made a cookie.”
“Uh huh,” she agreed, laughing herself when he stuck his tongue out at her.
“Shall I give you a tour of the house?” Alexander offered when Lafayette had stopped laughing at his expense. He waved his arm towards the parlor in invitation. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”
Something about that statement made Lafayette’s eyes brighten, she noticed, as he slung his arm around her husband’s shoulder and bid him to lead the way.
**
Eliza sang softly as she patted Angelica’s back in the dark, trying to stifle a yawn. Though she hadn’t looked at the clock when she got up to feed the baby, she knew she’d knew she’d been asleep for a while. It must have been close to midnight. Given how late it was, she’d been surprised not to find her husband asleep beside her.
The evening had been a joyous occasion, full of laughter and old memories. Lafayette spent almost an hour before dinner playing with Philip and holding Angelica, until the children had to be taken upstairs for bed. As he’d cooed at the baby, he’d confessed to her how dearly he missed his own little ones. Then, after they’d eaten dinner and enjoyed some of the cake she’d spent so long making, Alexander had taken Lafayette into his office for a brandy and some private conversation. Which was not at all unusual, although the conversation didn’t usually last so late into the night.
When the baby drifted back to sleep, and Eliza gratefully set her into her cradle and made her way into the hall, pausing at the top of the stairs to listen. She didn’t hear anything, but then, she hadn’t expected to. They’d been speaking in hushed tones since they’d disappeared into Alexander’s office. Not that she minded. Who knew when the two would get a chance to speak in person again? And at least Alexander could sleep in a bit tomorrow, it being Saturday.
Just as she was beginning to drift off, the door to the master bedroom cracked open, and Alexander slipped inside. He was clearly trying to sneak in so as not to wake her, but his attempt failed miserably, when he stumbled straight into her vanity on his way to the dressing room. “Shh,” he whispered, as though trying to hush the toppling objects.
“Are you all right, honey?” she asked, pushing herself up in the bed.
“You’re still up,” he observed, without answering her question.
“I just fed Angelica.” Reaching over to the nightstand, she lit a candle so he wouldn’t need to undress in the dark. “Did Lafayette leave?”
“Mm, just now,” he replied, blinking in the light of the candle.
His voice had a slightly slurred quality to it, and she felt a smile curling on her lips as she started to put the pieces together. “Are you drunk?”
“I’m not, I’m…” He paused, considering, then admitted, “Maybe a little bit.”
"Aww," she cooed as she slid out of bed and made her way towards him. Unlike many women of her acquaintance, she never worried about Alexander overindulging in spirits. He rarely drank to excess, and on the very few occasions she’d witnessed him actually drunk, he’d gone from silly to sleepy in fairly quick succession, as far from violent or angry as it was possible to be.
The sweet, strong scent of brandy was heavy in his breath as she got closer. He was still leaning on her vanity, apparently in need of a steadying surface. She placed her hands on his chest gently and asked, “Do you want some help getting undressed?”
He swallowed and nodded.
Peering up at him in the dim light, she noticed with a pang that his eyes were a little red and slightly damp. It could have been just from the alcohol, but when she reached up to brush her thumb over his cheek, her suspicion was confirmed. “Were you crying, sweetheart?”
“We were…talking,” he answered with a delicate sniffle.
“About Laurens?” she guessed immediately, surprised the thought hadn’t occurred to her sooner. Neither man had spoken about their fallen friend during dinner, each memory they shared carefully selected to keep his name from coming up in the conversation, she realized. Of course they’d waited until they were alone to speak of him. She knew he still thought of his friend often, even when he didn’t speak his name aloud. Who better to understand her husband’s profound and lingering grief than Lafayette?
He made a sound deep in his throat, nearly a whimper, and his face seemed to crumple in the candlelight.
“It’s all right, honey,” she assured him quickly, stretching up to give him a comforting kiss. “We don’t need to talk about it.”
“Thank you,” he whispered. He curled forward into her arms, going almost limp. She grunted as she struggled to keep him up.
“Sweetheart, you need to hold yourself up a little longer, all right? Come on, let’s get you changed and into bed,” she urged. When he had his feet under him again, she had him lean against the vanity and hurried into the dressing room to pull out his nightshirt. With her help, he shed the expensive coat, waistcoat and breeches, and finally pulled his shirt over head to be replaced with his looser nightwear.
She helped him over to the bed, and knelt down as he sat heavily, so she could remove his stockings for him.
“We didn’t…we didn’t just talk about Jack,” he told her softly when she looked back up at him.
She smiled and arranged the blankets over him while he swung his legs up onto the bed and flopped back against the pillows. “No?”
He shook his head, his eyes steady on her as she crawled over to the other side of the bed. He didn’t elaborate further. She pulled the blankets up around herself and scooted closer to him.
“Do you want to tell me what else you talked about?” she prompted.
He smiled, and, apropos of nothing, remarked, “You’re pretty.”
“Thank you,” she chuckled. Giving him a kiss on the forehead, she leaned over to blow out the candle, leaving the room dark but for the firelight glowing outside the bed curtains.
“Home,” he muttered as she snuggled down into her pillows.
“Hm?” she hummed.
“We talked about home.”
It was a simple, expected topic, but he said it as if he were making a grand confession. And the way he clutched at her as he spoke the last word, the reverence in his voice as he said it…her memory went back to Lafayette, the way his eyes had brightened when Alexander claimed their little townhouse as his home. There was something there, something significant.
She caressed his cheek and kissed him, slow and deep, heedless of the alcohol on his breath. His lips were pliant against hers, responsive but too sleepy to be insistent. He tugged her closer, right up against him, squeezing her in a way that reminded her of Pip and the stuffed cloth rabbit Peggy had made for him. She squeezed him back, wanting to him to feel safe and secure here in her arms.
