Alex and Eliza: A Love Story(61)
Eliza couldn’t help but notice that the two men did not embrace each other—a brief handshake sufficed. Kitty had described Alex as almost joining their family, but this greeting was not exactly brotherly.
“What brings you to Morristown?” Alex said now. “I thought you were stationed in Connecticut. Are you on leave? Visiting family?”
“After a fashion,” Henry drawled. “The powers that be—by which I mean our mothers—have arranged for Miss Schuyler here and me to tie the knot.”
Alex’s face went blank. “Tie the knot?” he said, as if he didn’t speak English.
“You know, get hitched, jump the sword, and become one, as they say in more refined circles.” His hand slipped dangerously low on Eliza’s hip and he patted her like he was inspecting a horse at the fair. “You are looking at the dam of the next generation of the Livingston brood. Enjoy this waist now, because after eight or ten babies it will be naught but a memory.”
“I . . . I . . .” Alex shook his head, looking downright miserable. “I don’t know what to say.”
“How about commiserations? I mean congratulations, ha-ha.”
“I, um, con—” He clearly couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Miss Schuyler?”
“The news was quite as much of a shock to me as it was to you,” Eliza said, doing her best to keep her voice level. I learned of it only two days ago myself.” She forced herself to smile, but it felt like her cheeks were cracking. “You were coming to see me, you said. Had you some news you wished to share?”
“Oh, am I sensing a bit of history here,” Henry said now. “Am I spoiling the party, as it were? Never fear, Hamilton, there are plenty more in the sea—for you at least. I’m stuck with this one forever.”
Alex’s head whipped back and forth between Henry’s and Eliza’s, as if he still couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Eliza had a sudden urge to strike Henry Livingston, that oaf.
“Your news, Colonel Hamilton?” she prompted, hoping for some kind of a miracle.
Alex turned back to her. He looked at her for what seemed like an eternity, his blue eyes brimming with disbelief.
“I was coming to tell you that I’ve received a posting,” he said finally. “A command.”
“A command,” Eliza repeated. “You are going into battle?”
Alex nodded. “It is a great honor for me.” His eyes bored into hers and it seemed as if he wanted to say more, but that was all he said.
If Eliza went by what her father told her, or what she saw in certain paintings and prints, she would have thought battle was a man on horseback with a sword raised in the air and a standard flying behind him. But, though she had been sheltered from the realities of war, she knew it was a much bloodier business than that—why, think of poor Private Wallace and his missing leg. The idea that Alex was facing similar peril—or even worse—made her knees tremble inside her skirt, and she silently pleaded for Alex to tell her that he would never be in harm’s way. But of course he wouldn’t do that. He was too honest to lie to her.
Finally, because it was getting awkward, Eliza spoke. “Yes, it is a great honor. Congratulations, Colonel. Your first command, how exciting.” She stared back at him, feeling herself tremble all over at the thought of him going to war. If I cannot marry him, at least let me know that he is safe! But aloud all she said was, “When do you leave?”
“In two days,” Alex said, looking so distraught that she worried he would keel over.
“Two days,” Eliza echoed.
“What unfortunate timing!” Henry’s braying voice cut in, making both Alex and Eliza jump. “You’re going to miss the wedding!”
27
Command Performance
3rd New Jersey Regiment
Amboy, New Jersey
March 1780
Springtime! All across New Jersey, tender shoots of new grass reached for the sun. Amid the delicate green of new leaves, the purplish-pink flash of the first redbud blooms hinted at a change in the air. Birds gathering in the yellow forsythia appeared tethered to a cloud as they heralded in a glorious new season with their songs.
Along the post road, iced-over puddles cracked like broken glass beneath the wheels of wagons delivering morning goods, but by midafternoon the ice had melted into the muddy earth. The last few pockets of snow lingered in the northern shadows of barns where the cows were full of milk, and the farm wives were busy making butter and cheese. The farmers sharpened their plows and oiled their harnesses. It wasn’t time to plant yet, but soon, soon.
It wasn’t time to fight yet, either. That would come soon enough.
AFTER THREE DAYS of consideration, General Washington had announced that Alex was to be given command of the 3rd New Jersey Regiment. Its previous commander, Colonel Elias Dayton, had been wounded in a skirmish on Bedloe’s Island, when his raiding party ran afoul of a group of British soldiers making their way up the Kill Van Kull, north of Staten Island, to sabotage activities in Newark Bay. During the melee Colonel Dayton took a musket ball in his thigh. The wound festered, and gangrene set in before the leg could be taken. Lingering close to death for more than a week, Dayton finally succumbed.
But the 3rd New Jersey would prevail. It was the youngest of the three regiments of the New Jersey Line, having been commissioned on the first day of 1776, three months after the first two Jersey regiments had been formed. Never-theless, it was quite experienced, fighting in more than half a dozen campaigns, including the Battle of Monmouth, where Alex himself had been injured. It was a typical Continental regiment consisting of eight companies, each with ninety soldiers and a captain.