Love & War (Alex & Eliza #2)(79)

Cries of “Hear, hear!” were heard in the gallery. The judge, who was known to be a man of strict order, did not gavel them to silence. Alex took that as a bad sign.

Alex took a calming breath. “Does opposing counsel dispute the fact that the building located at Seventeen Baxter Street has not been in Mrs. Childress’s possession since November? Let me save you the trouble of answering,” he continued, waving a startled Burr silent. He pulled a piece of paper from his satchel. “I have here a copy of a bill of sale for Seventeen Baxter Street dated November nineteenth, 1783, transferring ownership from the state of New York to one Elihu Springer. So, as I said, Your Honor, the state has already taken the building, and sold it at a handsome profit. This proceeding, then, can have no other purpose but to determine the legality of that action.”

Judge Smithson seemed to be fighting to keep a grin off his face. He turned to Burr.

“He’s got you there, counsel.”

A chagrined Burr sat down without looking at Alex. Alex took his seat as regally as he could, hoping his face didn’t look smug.

“Well then,” Judge Smithson said. “It sounds like we are in for an entertaining couple of days. What say we—”

The door at the back of the courtroom opened. The judge looked annoyed at first, then startled. At his expression, Alex turned, along with everyone else in the room.

The figure entering the courtroom wasn’t as tall as Judge Smithson, or as big around, but he was that curious kind of fat that is almost entirely centered on the stomach, a sagging sack over a pair of comparatively spindly legs.

It was Governor George Clinton.

A wave of recognition went around the room in a series of whispers and gasps. Governor Clinton didn’t acknowledge anyone save Judge Smithson, whom he nodded at formally, but with a gleam in his eye, then took a seat in the very last pew.

Judge Smithson waited a moment, then picked up his gavel and struck it once.

“Let us begin!”





25





The Bonds of Sisterhood, Part Two


   Broad and Nassau Streets


    New York, New York


   March 1784


In a stroke of bad luck, Angelica and John’s passage over the Atlantic was pushed up by a full week. Eliza had made plans to throw her sister a fabulous send-off, and now found herself with but three days to pull it together—and all while Alex was trying the most important case of his life!

But she was determined to make it a success. For Angelica’s sake, of course, but also for her own. This was her moment to prove that she more than just an accessory to a handsome, well-regarded man, be it husband or father. She threw herself into the party preparations with a vengeance. She would avail herself of Jane Beekman’s greenhouse salad vegetables and Stephen’s honey wine, but everything else she would procure on her own, with her own hands and, more important, her own money. Or at any rate her own line of credit, as the Hamiltons’ coin was all but depleted at this point, and would be until Alex completed his case. Assuming he won, of course. If he didn’t, Eliza really had no idea what they were going to do.

“I can’t believe how much the city has changed since before the war,” Angelica said as they strolled up Broad Street toward Nassau. She had visited once in 1775, on her way to visit the Livingstons in New Jersey.

“It is a positive boom town,” Eliza answered. “When the British invaded, people fled by the thousands. They say the population of the city dropped by half that first year.” She gestured to the shuttered shops that still dotted the bustling street. TO LET. AVAILABLE. FOR SALE. PLEASE TAKE. “At first, it looked as though everything would return to normal overnight, but as you see, there are still so many empty buildings and storefronts.”

“But why aren’t people moving back in?”

They paused at a shop that was occupied, where Eliza signed a note for no less than a gross of white tapers and directed the shopkeeper to send them to 57 Wall Street.

“They’re empty,” she said when they were back outside, “but they’re not actually available. They say speculators have swooped in and snapped them up for a song, and are sitting on them until prices go up.” She paused a bit. “Have you met Sarah Livingston’s husband, Mr. Jay?”

“I have not. I was going to say that I hope they’ll be at the party, but the tone of your voice seems less . . . receptive.”

“Oh, I don’t mean to speak ill of them. I was just going to say that I have heard that John is one of the people purchasing properties for pennies on the dollar. I would say that he is going to make his fortune, but he already has one, so he will be merely adding to it.”

“Still, Sister, it sounds as if you disapprove. After all, surely it is good business sense to buy low and sell high?”

Another errand interrupted the conversation, this one at a bakery. “Rowena is a wizard, but she will not be able to provide for a houseful of revelers,” Eliza said as she ordered dozens of loaves and rolls, as well as half a dozen sweet and savory pies, again signing a note rather than paying in coin.

When they had completed their errand, though, she took up Angelica’s question immediately. It was something that had been on her mind. She had come to love New York City, or, if not to love it, then to think of it as home, and she did not like to see it ill-treated.