Alex and Eliza: A Love Story(56)
“Angelica!” Eliza called to her sister behind the privacy screen. “Are you really going to do it? Are you going to elope?”
“Keep reading,” Angelica grunted as she writhed free from her dress. “We will discuss everything when you have finished.”
“Which brings us to Elizabeth. We sent her to Morristown with the expectation that she would meet some suitable young gentleman among the many officers in General Washington’s entourage. But it has come to my attention via Gertrude that Eliza has allowed her time to be monopolized by that nameless and penniless scoundrel Hamilton, who only last year oversaw the prosecution of dear Papa for crimes against his country, even though he was exonerated on all charges. I do not wish to go into that again.
“Undoubtedly, it is a testament to your father’s goodness of character and breeding that he speaks in the highest terms of Colonel Hamilton’s intelligence and potential despite that fellow’s transgressions against him. Nevertheless, Colonel Hamilton is an unacceptable candidate.
“Suffice it to say, as a woman I judge him with my heart and my purse. My heart does not forgive him for what he did to your father, and my purse hangs empty at my side—he will not fill it.
“In short, he will not do, and since Eliza is making no attempt to find a more suitable beau, I have decided to take matters into my own hands. I have been in correspondence with Susanna Livingston, the wife of Governor William Livingston and mother to your friends Kitty and Sarah. Their brother Henry is the same age as Eliza and has served as aide-de-camp to both General Schuyler and Major General Benedict Arnold, who led our boys to victory at Saratoga and regained for us our once and future beloved estate. Though his efforts on behalf of his country are nothing less than commendable, Mrs. Livingston tells me that she has seen certain signs of restlessness in Colonel Livingston, and indeed indications of incipient waywardness that suggest he is in want of a wife to cut short these libertine tendencies before they can become true vices. To that end, Mrs. Livingston and I mutually agree that is in both families’ best interest if he and Eliza marry immediately—”
“No—!” Eliza cried out, pressing the letter into Peggy’s hands.
There were two or three more paragraphs, but Eliza couldn’t bear to read further.
“Angelica?” she called in a forlorn voice. “Is it . . . oh, can it be . . . true? Am I to marry Henry Livingston?”
It was Peggy who answered her.
“Mama’s letter says he arrives on the twenty-fourth. That is tomorrow. He will only be in Morristown for one week. She wants the business concluded before he leaves.”
The business, Eliza thought grimly, as though I were so many bushels of corn to be sold at market.
“I have not seen Henry in some years,” Peggy said, squeezing her hands, “but Kitty wrote me last winter to say that he had turned out a fine young man.”
“He pulled my pigtails,” Eliza said dazedly. “When we visited the Livingstons in Elizabethtown when I was eleven. Henry would sneak up on me and pull my pigtails from beneath my bonnet.” She looked at her sister forlornly. “That is all I know about my future husband.”
“You know he’s rich,” Angelica said, stepping out from behind the screen. “What more do you need to know?”
Eliza looked up in surprise to see that her older sister had not changed into her nightgown, but into a simple traveling dress in dark wool, without corset or bustle.
“Sister? What are you doing?”
Angelica shrugged. The look on her face was one of defiant resolution. “I am doing what Mama directed me to do: I am eloping.”
“What—tonight?! That cannot be.”
“John sends the carriage for me at midnight. We will travel to Elizabethtown, and Governor Livingston himself will perform the ceremony. Not even Papa can object, if his daughter is married by a governor. We travel thence to Philadelphia, where John is establishing a base for his business so that it can better cater to both north and south.”
“But, Angelica! You cannot marry like . . . like a milkmaid in trouble, in front of a judge in a plain wool dress! You must have a trousseau and a dowry and a wedding at home like Mama and Papa’s, in bright silks, with family gathered around you.”
Angelica smiled benignly. “That will be your wedding, dear Eliza.”
“I will not marry Henry Livingston! I do not even know him.”
“That may be so, but you won’t marry Colonel Hamilton either. Mama and Papa will not allow it. They cannot afford it.”
Eliza was aghast.
“And you can’t elope either.” This last from Peggy forlornly.
“What do you mean?” Eliza said, turning to her younger sister.
“Mama writes that she worried that you might attempt to run off with Colonel Hamilton, but Papa assures her that Colonel Hamilton’s own sense of decorum will prevent such an outcome. She says he feels too much loyalty to Papa as a fellow soldier in the cause of revolution to betray his trust in such a manner. His guilt at being forced to prosecute Papa last year will only reinforce his desire not to further harm a man whom he esteems so greatly.”
Even as Eliza turned her back to Peggy’s words, she knew they were true. Alex was too honorable to steal a man’s daughter, especially the daughter of a man he had been forced against his will to do harm. She was trapped. Besides, as Angelica pointed out at the dinner table, Alex had yet to declare his courtship or define his intentions concerning their relationship, whatever they were.