Love & War (Alex & Eliza #2)(60)
“Over a dozen now,” Alex said.
“Over a dozen new clients,” Eliza amended. “As these cases go to trial and Alex’s name makes the rounds of official circles, he will no doubt have even more business.”
“That sounds like quite a load,” Gouverneur said. “Anything interesting?”
“Oh, all interesting, in their own way,” Alex said. “And related to each other as well.” He quickly outlined the details of Mrs. Childress’s story and the loyalist conundrum.
“Oh, this vexing issue!” Helena said quickly. “It is so distressing to read all the nasty columns in the papers, but it is even sadder when you hear how it affects real people. A widow ought not to be disrespected so, no matter which side her husband fought on!”
“It is a topic that divides families as well as countries,” Gouverneur agreed. “Why, my own mother gave our estate over to British forces willingly, to use as billet and depot.”
Alex had known this, of course, but had chosen not to mention it.
“My great aunt!” Helena wailed. “And her husband’s brother a signer of the Declaration, too!”
“And yet, now Mrs. Morris is as American as you or I,” Gouverneur said in a calming tone.
“American, yes,” Helena said. “As American as me? I am not so sure.”
“But she is.” Eliza felt she had to chime in. “Why, that is the very nature of our country, is it not? A place where people from all over the world gather to form one new country.”
Alex looked admiringly at his wife, and Eliza flushed at his approval. She had missed him so, missed his quick wit and passionate conversation. Part of her wished their guests away so that they might be able to talk more intimately. She always had to share her husband with so many people, it seemed.
“That is a somewhat idealized version of the story,” Gouverneur said. “We would do well to remember that this land was won from people who already lived here through the violence of war. And many of the people we call Americans were brought here unwillingly, either as indentured servants who sold themselves to pay their debts, or as slaves. And many of them have not been granted citizenship, and thus live without the rights we take for granted.”
“Oh, we have our flaws, all right,” Alex said. “We are creatures of flesh, after all. We make mistakes. But my wife articulates the truth of the American dream. We have our eyes fixed on an earthly ideal, and though we fall short of it, we should ever strive in that direction. Indenture has already been done away with, and though it may take some time, I have no doubt that slavery as an institution will eventually be banished from these shores.”
“Yes, and women will be granted the right to vote, too,” Peggy said. “One can only hope.”
“It will happen,” said Alex. “I don’t know if woman’s intelligence is different from man’s, but the idea that it is somehow inferior is increasingly hard to maintain. Why, if King George had had half Queen Elizabeth’s diplomatic skills, I dare say we would have never revolted in the first place, let alone won the war.”
“I, for one, would like to vote,” Eliza said, “but there are a few women—and a few men—who I wouldn’t mind taking the vote from. I feel there should be some kind of test. People should demonstrate a basic understanding of the issues before they are allowed to cast a ballot.”
“Oh, heaven forbid!” Helena said. “I am busy enough as it is! I cannot be learning how the world works.”
Eliza did her best not to roll her eyes. And here she had thought Helena a woman of her own ideas. Perhaps John wasn’t the only one in that marriage who was rich and stupid.
“Never you fear, darling,” he said now. “My ignorance shall serve for both of us!”
“Thank you, dear. Sometimes oblivion is so much easier. Certainly,” she said, raising her glass, “it’s much more festive.”
Alex could see that the Rutherfurds’ jokes were upsetting Eliza, who disliked intellectual incuriosity under the best of circumstances, but positively despised it in her own sex, because she felt it contributed to their second-class status in society. Nevertheless, this was a party, and it was nearly midnight as well, and he had been up since 5:00 a.m. He caught Eliza’s eye and winked at her. She winked back, and then he grabbed his glass and clinked it against Helena’s.
“Let us let Mrs. Childress’s ale do the talking for us,” he said, and emptied his glass down his throat.
* * *
IT WAS NEARLY three in the morning by the time Alex and Eliza saw off the Rutherfurds and Van Rensselaers and exhaustedly climbed the stairs to bed. Eliza went straight to the fireplace to bank the coals. The activity had become part of her daily routine since moving to New York. For some reason, she had fallen in love with the task, and even after she’d removed the excess ash and added a log and narrowed the flue to a sliver, she knelt before the open grate, staring into the flickering coals.
Alex, who was about to change into his nightshirt, couldn’t resist walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around Eliza’s back. She reclined into them eagerly and accepted his kisses on her neck with gentle, contented sighs.
“I’ve missed you,” she said, still staring into the coals.