Love & War (Alex & Eliza #2)(52)
“Eliza!” Peggy returned the hug with as much enthusiasm as her sister. “How are you, darling?”
“Good, now that you are here!” Eliza felt a rush of joy at seeing her beautiful sister once more, and so unexpectedly. She ushered Peggy in and closed the door against the frigid air. “It’s so nice to have company after being alone in the house for weeks and weeks.”
“What? Weeks? Where’s Alex?” Peggy asked, frowning from underneath her rather fantastic hat with a profusion of ostrich feathers.
“Oh, you know. Seeking out clients and trying to understand all the new statutes Governor Clinton keeps passing has Alex quite busy.” An image of Mrs. Childress’s pretty blond-ringed face flashed in her mind, but she banished it immediately. “What with the vagaries of establishing a law practice in a city and state that is daily rewriting its laws, he is practically there day and night.”
Peggy peered into the house, as if she might see Alex hard at it. “But surely you can just pop in to see him for coffee now and then to make sure he pays attention to you?”
Eliza looked where Peggy was looking. “Oh, you think Alex’s office is located in this house? My dear, have you never been in a city home before? Only the wealthiest of the wealthy can afford that kind of capacious residence. Here the rooms are stacked on top of each other like dovecotes, with the kitchen in the basement and the bedchambers on the top floor, and all the receiving rooms sandwiched between. He maintains a study here, but it would be inappropriate for seeing clients, as they would have to tramp through the front parlor.”
“You mean this is . . . all . . . of the house?” Peggy seemed to think Eliza was putting her on.
“Peggy! This is considered a very fine home in New York City! It’s not large, but we have three floors. And come summer, the garden in back will be lovely. We can’t all marry Rensselaers, after all. Speaking of which—where is Stephen? And, forgive me for being abrupt, but, what are you doing here?”
Peggy looked simultaneously confused and coquettish, as if she had scored some kind of secret victory. “Didn’t you get my note? I wrote nearly two weeks ago to say that we were coming down.” As she spoke, she unbuttoned her cloak and held it out absently for a footman who never materialized. Eliza took it herself, hanging it in the small wardrobe they’d acquired, and led her sister into the living room. She took Peggy’s amazing headgear as well, and marveled at the towering creation.
Eliza shook her head. “I know that New York is supposed to be a cosmopolitan city, and we live but one block from City Hall, but I’m afraid it is only half domesticated. The British left it in such a state of disrepair as boggles the mind, and it is still very early in the redevelopment process.”
Peggy followed all this with a frown of confusion. “I take it you mean that my letter didn’t arrive,” she said when Eliza was finished.
Eliza laughed. “Only messenger-delivered mail has arrived for the past three weeks.” She indicated a sofa, which Peggy ignored, taking in the whole of the room with a few sweeping glances that made Eliza acutely conscious of the smallness of the room as compared with the great salons of the Pastures and the Van Rensselaer manor house. “But the city has other charms.”
“Like fine china, I see,” Peggy said, walking from the drawing room into the dining room. “This piece is lovely,” she said, holding up a fluted gravy dish covered in lilacs so lifelike you could almost smell them. She glanced at the empty china cabinet. “Rearranging?”
“It’s tricky,” Eliza said. “We have not quite enough pieces to fill the cabinet the way Mama does, but we still want things to look nice.”
“Well, I think they look nice on the table. You should leave them there.”
“On the table? But how would we eat?”
“Why, with them, of course.”
Eliza shook her head. “I know you are the unconventional sister, but this is a little . . . je ne sais quoi, even for you.”
“And you’re the smart sister, but you are not following my meaning. Leave them on the table because we’re having a dinner party!” said Peggy.
“A dinner par—you mean, tonight?”
“Why not? Stephen and I have no other plans. We’re staying with Helena and John Rutherfurd. Do you know them? Helena is the daughter of Lewis Morris of Morrisania, just north of Manhattan. I guess they used to own New Jersey or something? They sold much of it to the Rutherfurds, so I guess Helena is bringing it back into the family. And Helena’s uncle Gouverneur Morris is visiting. I say ‘uncle’ but he’s her father’s half brother and is not even thirty. He’s quite handsome. If I were still single, or you were . . .”
“Peggy! You scandalize me.” Eliza was looking around the dining room with its dishes scattered everywhere, wondering how it could possibly be readied for dinner. “But Rowena has already gone to market,” she protested weakly. “She will not have shopped for such a large party, if there is even that much food to be found.”
“Not to worry. I’m a Van Rensselaer now. Stephen knew about the shipping interruptions in New York, and brought along, oh, I don’t know, a lot of food. Like a whole cow and a whole pig and chickens and turkeys and ducks, and, well, pretty much anything an invading army might need. Oh, that was a bit crass of me. Too soon?”