Love & War (Alex & Eliza #2)(19)
In the absence of their menfolk, the sisters fell back into girlhood routines, albeit with a more mature bent. Angelica had once been wont to read racy French novels and regale her sisters with titillating stories of how “Continental women” comported themselves. Now she perused French broadsheets to educate herself about America’s strongest ally, and went so far as to declare that she believed that one day soon the French would follow the American example and throw off the yoke of monarchy.
Peggy glanced at the same papers. Her French was abysmal but it didn’t matter, since she was largely concerned with the illustrations of the latest fashion trends. A few years earlier she would have harangued her mother or father with requests for this or that brocade or jacquard or watered silk, but even if their father hadn’t been absent and their mother abed, it was unlikely she would have asked for anything so profligate. Even she knew the end of the war was in sight, and every last cent of the young nation’s resources had to be channeled into the victory effort (though she did direct her maid to alter the fit of several of last year’s dresses to reflect the changes in hemlines and necklines).
Eliza, ever the practical middle sister, continued the fund-raising and fabric drives that had made her simultaneously the most admired and most dreaded girl in the capital region (Elizabeth Ten Broeck, a Van Rensselaer by birth, and aunt to Stephen—which is to say, as filthy rich as filthy rich can get—declared that thanks to Eliza’s constant “alms-gathering” she and her daughters were dressing in “cotton and rags”). Eliza threw herself into the work, not least to distract herself from thoughts of Alex and his looming battle. By now, though, most of what could be gathered had been gathered, and it was unlikely that anything Eliza procured (besides money, that is) would make it to the front before the fighting was over.
She felt a bit at a loss as to how to contribute until one day, as she was preparing to leave Mrs. Anne Bleecker’s house with the latter’s monthly pledge, she heard a small, bright voice singing in one of the parlors. She peered in, where she beheld a girl of nine or ten sitting upright on a tufted chair, singing to an otherwise empty room. Her voice was sweet and pure and sad, and Eliza remained hidden at the edge of the door, lest she interrupt the girl’s recital. At length, a hand on her arm drew her attention. It was Mrs. Bleecker, who guided her to an adjacent parlor.
“I can see you are curious about the latest member of our household. Her name is Anne. She is the daughter of our neighbors that were, the Carringtons.”
“That were?” Eliza said in confusion. “Did they move away? And if so, why did they leave such a sweet girl behind?”
“For the only reason parents would leave their children behind—six of them in total. Corporal Carrington perished in service of his country at Kings Mountain in South Carolina, and poor sweet Josephine—her parents were French, the dear thing—succumbed to fever near the end of last winter.”
“An orphan!” Eliza said, immediately thinking of Alex.
Mrs. Bleecker nodded. “Such kin as they have were unable to take in any but the two youngest. Mr. Bleecker and I could not sit idly by while the rest disappeared into the streets or the sticks, and took in Anne early this spring. God help her older siblings, for we know not what happened to them. Even in her sadness it has been a joy to have a young child in the house again, with our sons and daughters grown or . . .”
Mrs. Bleecker’s voice broke off, and Eliza took her hand. Her host had lost her only two sons in the war as well.
“You are doing the Lord’s work,” Eliza said sympathetically. “Colonel Hamilton was fostered in a similar fashion after his mother’s death, and no doubt saved from a life of penury. I wonder, though, are there many such children in poor Anne’s condition here in Albany?”
“More than you realize. Thousands of men have died in service to the great cause of independence, many leaving behind wives and children made that much more vulnerable without a man to provide for or protect them. I do not know the total number of children in the Albany area who have been orphaned by the war, but I would imagine that there are some scores of them. And Albany without even a foundlings home to take them in! It is incumbent upon those of us with the means to make sure that these children, whose parents gave their all for America, do not meet the same sad end.”
Once again Eliza reached out and took Mrs. Bleecker’s hand. “You are an inspiration to us all. I only wish there was one of you for every Anne out there.”
“She is a blessing, as I’ve said.” She was silent for a moment, then continued in a more delicate tone. “And what of you? Do you and Colonel Hamilton plan to start a family sometime soon?”
Eliza felt the color rush to her face. Thankfully, it was a warm day and the parlor stuffy; she hoped her cheeks were already a bit pink.
“Oh, we are both so young, and Alex is so busy with the war. He hasn’t even decided what he’ll do after it is completed, and thus where we will live. I would not want to cart a child like a piece of luggage as I have done in the past several months. When we are settled . . .”
This time Mrs. Bleecker put her hand on Eliza’s.
“My dear, if age has taught me one thing, it’s that, in the matter of children, one is never ‘settled.’ They will always find a way to upset the most well-managed domestic routine. And yet, even in the most chaotic of times, one always finds a way of making do.”