Love & War (Alex & Eliza #2)(36)
“It is a lovely house,” the first man said finally, the fight drained out of him. “And one way or another, I’m sure the general will be returning to it soon. Suffice to say I look forward to making his acquaintance.”
“I am sorry to say that I cannot affirm General Schuyler would feel the same way. Nevertheless, you may be sure that if you do return, he will have an appropriate reception prepared for you.”
A smile flickered over the man’s face.
“You are a formidable woman, Miss Schuyler. I thank God you were not born a man.”
“As do I,” Eliza agreed. “Every day. And it is not Miss Schuyler to whom you speak. It is Mrs. Hamilton.”
* * *
THE GARRISON AT Albany dispatched four soldiers to the Pastures in case the enemy raiders returned. They arrived the following morning and came with more than guns. “The siege at Yorktown was victorious!” one of them exclaimed, sweeping Mrs. Schuyler up into a hug as though she were his own mother. “Cornwallis has surrendered! The British are done for!”
The family—even Mrs. Schuyler—burst into cheers. Everyone but Eliza, who felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. This was partly to do with the appearance of the officer who had made the proclamation. He was roughly of the same age and height as Alex, though his hair was darker (and thinning noticeably on top) and his complexion more sallow. He had the same sharp nose as her husband’s, and piercing, lively eyes. His chin was rakishly pointed, giving his mouth a pouting appearance. Eliza could not help but feel she was looking at her husband’s apparition, perhaps even his shade, if not quite as handsome.
“Pardon me, Colonel—”
“Burr, Mrs. Hamilton. Lieutenant Colonel Aaron Burr,” said the soldier.
Eliza had heard the name, though she could not remember the context. Perhaps from Alex, perhaps from her father.
“I wonder, Colonel Burr, if you have received any letters from Yorktown intended for—”
The soldier cut her off when he reached into a pocket and pulled out a letter. “There was chaos for some days, as you can imagine, but we received quite the cache of mail in yesterday’s post coach. Wives and mothers all over Albany will be breathing easier today.”
Eliza took the letter with a trembling hand. She recognized her own name on the outside, written in Alex’s hand, but it was entirely possible that the missive had been penned before the battle, and constituted the last words of a man who no longer walked this earth.
She unfolded it anxiously, surprised at how few words were written inside. Alex’s letters were rarely shorter than two or three pages, but there were barely that many lines scrawled here.
My darling Betsey—
Does Wall Street mean anything to you? No? Well, my dearest, I beg you to familiarize yourself with it, for it is the most fashionable street in all of New York City, and as a defeated General Cornwallis is my witness, it is the street where we shall raise our family and conquer New York society. Pack your bags, my dearest. We are moving to the city!
A.
Eliza’s heart pounded in her chest harder than it had yesterday, when she faced a dozen enemy soldiers. Alex was alive! Her dearest, most-beloved husband had survived! She couldn’t contain her glee.
Dropping the letter to the floor, she threw her arms around the officer’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to his startled cheek. “Oh! Colonel Burr! Thank you! Thank you! You are nothing but a lifesaver!”
The In-Between Years
1781–1783
Even before General Cornwallis handed the white flag to General Washington, Alex had already written Eliza from the battlefield, letting her know that he survived the assault unscathed and that he was on his way home.
Now, at last, their life together in New York City was going to start.
But war refuses to accommodate anyone’s schedule, even America’s (future) first Secretary of the Treasury, and the woman who founded New York’s first private orphanage . . .
After the Battle of Yorktown, Cornwallis was so humiliated by his defeat that he refused to attend the formal ceremony of surrender, claiming to be ill with malaria. Ever conscious of decorum and rank, General Washington had in turn refused to accept the sword proffered by General Charles O’Hara, a Cornwallis subordinate, and instead directed him to hand it to Major General Benjamin Lincoln, his second in command at the battle. Alex was equal parts impressed by Washington’s majesty and appalled by his rigidity. This, indeed, was a man who could be king, if that’s what he desired. He only hoped America could resist the temptation to call on him in that capacity.
Afterward, Alex submitted another letter to General Washington: his resignation from the army. Washington commended him for his bravery and leadership on that fateful evening, telling Alex that he could add “war hero” to his list of accomplishments, and happily (or at any rate sanguinely) accepted Alex’s resignation, which capped five years of service to the cause of independence in general, and to Washington in particular. He alluded that he, too, was eager to shrug off the mantle of leadership and return to Mount Vernon, his great estate on the Potomac River in Virginia. He didn’t ask what Alex planned to do with the next phase of his life; though, he did say that he hoped Alex would not “turn his back” on the country he had, with his “bravery and brilliance,” helped create. Alex assured him he would not, saluted him one final time, and took his leave.