Alex and Eliza: A Love Story(63)

He longed for the straightforward heroism of combat. And he also wanted to be away from Morristown, with its constant reminders of Eliza and her upcoming nuptials to Henry Livingston.

But General Washington’s directive was not a request—it was an order. Alex had no choice but to delay his journey to Carolina.

So on a chilly morning in early April, accompanied by Lieutenant Larpent acting as his secretary, Alex set out on horseback for the town of Amboy, New Jersey, a bucolic hamlet at the confluence of the Raritan River and Arthur Kill, across from the southern tip of Staten Island. It was a ride of less than thirty miles, which would take no more than three or four hours on horseback, depending on the condition of the roads.

Along their journey, the crisp air was laced with chimney smoke and the smell of the morning’s bread. Housewives and maids tossed seed to chickens, gathering the eggs into their aprons; farmers set off armed with muskets for hunting or axes for felling trees. From a distance, the men and women might have been mistaken for married couples, but on closer inspection, the males were either very young or very old. Every man of fighting age was off at war.



AS THEY TROTTED past yet another frame farmhouse set back from the road, Lieutenant Larpent eyed a shapely milkmaid dragging a stool toward the cow shed. Larpent slowed his horse to a walk.

“It’s hard to believe there’s a war going on. If you ignore the fact that we’re in uniform, I mean.”

Alex spoke sharply to the listless soldier. “Were you speaking to me, Lieutenant Larpent?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Larpent sit up straighter in his saddle.

“Sir! I said, Colonel Hamilton, sir, that it’s hard to believe there’s a war going on. Everything seems so . . . peaceful, sir.”

Alex smiled out of sight of the lieutenant’s eyes. He had learned from General Washington to ignore the temptation to fraternize with those beneath his rank. It only made it that much harder for them to accept one’s orders when the time came. Though Washington often referred to Alex as “my boy,” he had never referred to him by his Christian name or offered Alex permission to call him anything other than “Your Excellency.”

Alex had adopted the policy for himself. If anything, he found it even more necessary than did General Washington, for he had not the latter’s family connections and long history to fall back on to command respect.

“Aye, Lieutenant. It’s a beautiful morning. Let’s hope the day ends on a high note as well.”

“Do you think Knyphausen is serious about exchanging prisoners, sir? It’s hard to believe, given General Clinton’s refusal to do so, that he would allow one of his subordinates to act in his absence.”

“General von Knyphausen tells me that he has full authority in this matter, and that General Clinton is eager to be rid of the headache.” He shrugged. “I’d say the chances are one in two that he’ll bother to show up, and one in ten that he’ll agree to an exchange of any consequence. But it is worth the effort, given the thousands of lives that hang in the balance.”

They mulled over the subject until it was exhausted, then lapsed into a companionable silence. Alex’s thoughts flitted back and forth between the praise he would elicit from General Washington should he succeed in negotiating the prisoner exchange, and images of Eliza’s face framed by an ivory wedding bonnet, saying “I do”—but not to him.

A half hour passed before Lieutenant Larpent cleared his throat and said, “Pardon me? Colonel Hamilton?”

Alex roused himself from his thoughts.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“I was just wondering, sir, whether you knew when we would be getting back to Morristown? That is, will it be by tomorrow night, sir?”

“I cannot say with certainty, Lieutenant. If, as I suspect, this is just another overture, our business may well be concluded by the evening, and we can return first thing tomorrow. But General von Knyphausen placed no constraints on our discussion, and if the conversation goes well, it could take several days or more to work out a large-scale exchange.”

Lieutenant Larpent sucked in a breath. Alex resisted the desire to scold him.

“Have you pressing business back in Morristown, Lieutenant?”

“Well, not exactly, sir.”

“For some reason your ‘not exactly’ sounds unerringly like ‘exactly.’”

“I—sir?” Lieutenant Larpent had clearly not understood Alex’s wit.

“What is it that you need to get back to Morristown for?”

Lieutenant Larpent opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. After a long moment, he said in a guilty voice, “Oh, it’s nothing, sir.”

“Lieutenant, don’t make me order you.”

“It’s just a, well—it’s a party, sir?”

Alex’s eyebrows raised. He had not heard of any upcoming party for the officers, junior or senior.

“Is there a birthday among the ranks?”

“Eh, not exactly, sir.”

“Lieutenant.”

Lieutenant Larpent sighed heavily. “It’s more of a, well, a send-off, sir.”

“I was not aware that any regiment beside the Third had been given marching orders. I would hate to think that a party is being thrown for my own men, and I was not invited.”