Alex and Eliza: A Love Story(36)

“Larpent, isn’t it?” Eliza spoke briskly. “The building is not so large that it will take two of you to gather everyone, Mr. Larpent, so why don’t we start with you? Peggy, fetch me a pitcher of water from the kitchen.”

Larpent glanced desperately at Weston, but his friend was making a grand show out of leading Peggy to the kitchen, despite the fact that she had just walked through it.

“Of course, Miss Schuyler,” Larpent said in a resigned voice. “What should I do?”

“You need do nothing but remove your jacket, roll up your left sleeve, and have a seat here.”

Larpent took off his jacket, unbuttoned the lace flounce from his cuff, and began to roll up the sleeve.

“Is there any reason why it’s the left arm?”

“The procedure will cause a slight rash that can make writing a bit uncomfortable.”

“And suppose I am left-handed? Oh, well, it’s a pity. Perhaps I’ll come back another day.” Larpent jumped up in relief.

Eliza grabbed his sleeve. “Please relax, Mr. Larpent. The treatment is just as effective on the right arm as the left.”

Larpent sat down. “It doesn’t matter,” he said dejectedly. “I’m not actually left-handed.”

“Mr. Larpent!” Eliza said with a laugh. “Are you nervous about the procedure? I assure, there’s nothing to worry about. I have had it myself, along with my entire family, including my seven-year-old brother, and both of my sisters.”

“A remarkably courageous act for such a young boy,” said Angelica. “Of course, he was holding on to Mama’s petticoats at the time.” She delivered Larpent a tight smile packed full of derision.

Peggy returned from the kitchen, sloshing water from a full pitcher.

Eliza began to prepare the paste, measuring conservatively. Though there were only a dozen or so treatments to administer and more than enough medicine, she didn’t’ want to waste any of it. She could feel the young soldier’s nervous eyes on her as she mixed the powder and water. At length he cleared his throat. “I-I’ve heard that the treatment doesn’t work for everyone.”

“If it doesn’t work, we’ll administer it again.”

“But how do you know if it doesn’t work?”

“As I said before, if it takes, there will be a rash, as if you had been exposed to itch ivy.”

“Will it itch like itch ivy? I had that once when I was a boy and my mother had to sew socks on my hands to keep me from scratching myself to bloody pieces.”

“I assure you, Mr. Larpent, the pox itches far, far worse.”

“It’s Lieutenant Larpent, actually.”

“Of course,” Eliza said. “I apologize. So young to be an officer!”

Larpent shrugged. “It doesn’t mean much in a new army. They hand out ranks like apples in October around here. There are even colonels my age—Colonel Hamilton for one—but he earned it the hard way, didn’t he, fighting at Brandywine Creek one year, and the next alongside Washington himself at the Battle of Monmouth.”

Thrilled to hear Colonel Hamilton’s name come up so naturally in the conversation, Eliza wished he would say more. But Larpent had moved on from the subject and was complaining about the lack of rations.

“Buck up, Lieutenant Larpent,” said Eliza. “Surely the blockade will be over soon. I’m just happy to be able to do my small part for the cause. Now, if you will extend your arm, please.”

Larpent gave her his left arm as though she were going to chop off the hand. Eliza grasped it firmly by the forearm and reached for the rake. “This may sting a bit,” she said, and before he could react she dragged the rake across his wrist. Larpent groaned.

“Lieutenant!” Eliza chided. “It is just a scratch!”

“It’s not the cut that bothers me,” Larpent said. “It’s just—I’ve heard some people get sick from the treatment.”

“There will be a rash, as I said, and a light fever—”

“I’ve heard some people die,” Larpent cut her off.

“Lieutenant, would it put your mind at ease to know I have just this week given an inoculation to your colonel Hamilton? And not for a moment did he doubt its worth or question its aftereffects. He merely said that if the inoculation was good enough for his general, and good enough for his general’s men, then it was certainly good enough for him. General Washington would be proud of the example of this brave man. Do you not agree, sir, that we are all fighting the same battle?”

Larpent dropped his chin to his chest. “If you say so, miss, but Colonel Hamilton is awful brave. If there was ever anyone among the officers I admire more than the colonel, it could only be the general.”

“Brave, is he?” said Angelica, exchanging a look with Peggy. “Pray, tell us more about this brave young colonel.”

“I heard all about it from the boys, ma’am. Yes, indeed! It was at Monmouth—the day Colonel Hamilton had his horse shot out from under him. With redcoats swarming over the hill, he was charged head-on by a pistol-wielding cavalryman. So what did he do? He stood his ground. He cut the man down with his sword, swung himself into the empty saddle, and galloped away. At least that’s the way it was handed down to me . . .”

Angelica rolled her eyes. “Ah, so the legend begins!”