Alex and Eliza: A Love Story(85)
Alex listened intently as Eliza recited the familiar vows: “I shall love you and give myself up for you, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up.” The minister nodded for Alex to repeat the words.
He began true enough:
“I shall love you and give myself up for you, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up”—then Alex looked into Eliza’s shining eyes and added a twist of his own—“and I shall serve you with tenderness and respect, and encourage you to develop the gifts that God has given you.”
Eliza’s eyes were so fastened on Alex that it was as if the words came directly from his mind to hers. The minister stood between the two of them with a perplexed look on his face. He drew in a deep breath and looked out over the affectionate expressions on the guests’ faces. He must have decided the groom’s choice of words would more than suffice.
“Therefore,” the minister intoned, “what God has joined together, let no man tear asunder. By the authority invested in me under God and state, I now pronounce you, Alexander and Elizabeth, husband and wife.” Eliza beamed at Alex, who exhaled heartily. “You may now kiss the bride, Alexander.”
Eliza fairly flew into Alex’s arms, and they kissed so sweetly and for so long that it drew cheers all around.
General Schuyler tossed his head back and roared with the gusto of a contented man. He marched across the entrance hall, eager to congratulate the newlyweds with a hearty handshake for his son-in-law and a kiss on the cheek for his daughter.
“Eliza, my sweet girl, you have chosen well!”
The general rubbed his hands together and shouted to the musicians to play on. “Let’s liven things up a bit around here!” They kicked off with a boisterous Old English wassailing song. “That’s it, boys—now that’s the spirit!”
Alex grabbed his beautiful bride for a reel that was more of a jog—and the house was suddenly full of life and laughter, music and food, children and dogs.
CATHERINE SCHUYLER STOOD in the middle of her crowded parlor rocking herself, surrounded by all the joys such a large happy family had brought her. Behind her in a swirl of activity, the servants were bringing out the largest quantity of foods in the best manner the Schuylers could afford.
Throughout the day and well into the evening, General Schuyler’s valet, Rodger, presided over the busy kitchen staff, hard at work doling out clam chowder, stewed oysters, roasted pig, venison, potatoes, baked rye bread, Indian cornbread, and pumpkin casserole. Trays of nutmeats and candy dotted the parlor. Coffee and tankards of spiced hard cider were set up on fine linens in the library.
Even Aunt Gertrude’s Morristown cook had been put to service to bake the wedding cake—a thick, rich, spiced fruitcake, made heavy with alcohol and nuts. A round table covered in a beautiful damask cloth was carried into the great hall for the ceremonial cutting of the cake.
As was the custom, the cook had baked a piece of nutmeg inside. Whoever received the slice with the nutmeg was supposed to be the next to marry.
Catherine Schuyler nearly fainted when it turned out to be Peggy.
38
Happiest They’ve Ever Been
Honeymoon Suite
Albany, New York
December 1780
The large, gabled mansion on the Hudson seemed eerily quiet after such a long, raucous day of celebration. The last of the guests had gone and the Pastures’ kitchen had been returned to its everyday readiness. Dot banked the hearths high and headed off to sleep with a well-deserved hot toddy.
By midnight, every room in the house was dark except for the firelight coming from the secluded guest bedchamber at the top of the stairs. Covered from neck to knee in a ruffled white linen nightshirt, Alex stood beside the canopied four-poster bed, waiting impatiently for his bride to join him.
On the other side of the bath chamber door, Eliza passed the end of a fresh candle over the wall sconce’s flame to soften the wax. Steadying her nerves as she waited for the slow dripping to begin, she pressed the pliant base of the warmed candle into the candelabrum and held it in place until the wax hardened.
She ran the candle’s wick through the flame of the sconce and saw her reflection alight in the mirror above the washbasin. She liked how her white satin nightgown created a soft sheen against her skin. But something was still amiss. She reached behind her head to tug the pearl-handled barrette from her hair and let her thick dark curls fall loose around her shoulders—Ah, that’s it. I’m ready now.
Eliza opened the door to the bedroom and went to meet her husband.
She stepped lightly toward the edge of the bed and kissed Alex full on the lips for the second time this night. Frank and tender all at once.
As gently and as slowly as he could, while feeling more impatient than he had ever been in his life, Alex took the candelabrum out of her hand and set it on the mantelpiece over the crackling fire.
Eliza stood in front of the hearth, luxuriating in the heat against her nightgown. The modest girl was not so modest anymore.
Cupping her chin gently in his hands, Alex bent forward to kiss her and inhaled her sweet scent. In an effort to slow himself down, he reached for her hand and took one step back for a good long look at his new bride—from head to toe. “Turn around, my angel,” he managed to say. “Let me see you in the firelight.”
Eliza pivoted in a dainty circle, excruciatingly slow. When she came back around, her dark eyes sparkled and a knowing smile played over her lips. She ran her fingertip down his freshly shaven cheek, playacting the role of a saucy little charmer. “Although I am inexperienced, Alex, I am not na?ve. But, tell me true, do you love me?”