Love & War (Alex & Eliza #2)(82)

“I just want to make sure that I understand you fully. You’re telling me that Mrs. Childress ran Ruston’s as an establishment for anyone who chose to enter, loyalist or patriot, but generally speaking more of her clientele were American patriots rather than redcoats.”

For the first time, Frye seemed to realize what he’d done. His face fell, and he craned his neck to find Burr’s eyes.

“Mr. Frye?” Alex prompted. “Did you understand the question, or do I need to repeat it?”

“I, um, I believe you have described the place accurately,” Frye said, trying to sound formal, as if that would undo the damage of his testimony.

“Oh no, sir,” Alex said. “I believe you have described Ruston’s Ale House accurately.” He turned to Burr. “No further questions.”

As he returned to his seat, his eyes found Governor Clinton’s where he sat in the back row. The governor’s eyes were two tiny seething slits, all but lost inside his plump cheeks, but you could still see the bile from fifty feet away.



* * *





ALEX’S CROSS-EXAMINATION MARKED a turning point in the trial. After two and a half days of hammering, Burr’s spirits seemed to sag. He was barely halfway through his list of witnesses, but he called subsequent ones with less obvious glee. He put them through their paces quickly, even cutting them off when they waxed on about the loyalist crowds swilling Ruston’s ale, knowing that Alex was just going to get the witness to confess that he had rubbed shoulders with all the loyalists he had just been maligning. Peter Goldman, a cooper, admitted he had sold barrels and baskets to redcoats. Matthew Landesmaan, a smith, had shod their horses and sharpened their swords. Frederick Karst, a fisherman, had sold them cod and clams, and so on down the line. After running through five more witnesses in the time he had previously spent on one, Burr rose from his seat.

“If it please, Your Honor, I would like to skip witnesses eighteen through thirty-one and proceed directly to witness number thirty-two.”

Alex glanced at the list of witnesses. Thirty-two was the last witness. He kept his face as still as possible, but inside he was crowing.

Judge Smithson, however, didn’t try to hide his relief. “By all means, Mr. Burr. It grows tiring watching your witnesses make your opponent’s case for him.”

Burr visibly paled. He took a moment to compose himself.

“Thank you, Your Honor. The State calls Antoinette Le Beau.”

Caroline sat up. “Mr. Hamilton!” she hissed.

Alex tried to reassure her as best as he could. He had told her Miss Le Beau was going to be testifying, but she was still trembling.

“Take strength, Mrs. Childress,” he said. “Remember, the Le Beaus are not your enemy.”

The doors opened and a girl of no more than seventeen entered the courtroom. She was dressed in smart but shabby clothing, as if, like Caroline herself, she had once enjoyed prosperity, but those days were even longer past than were Caroline’s. She walked down the aisle without looking to the left and took her seat in the stand. Her hand on the Bible was unshaking as she took her oath. Even Alex started to feel a little nervous.

Burr rose from his seat.

“I want to thank you, Miss Le Beau, for joining us here today. I know the court is not convenient for you.”

“Indeed, it is not,” Miss Le Beau answered. “I live in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Passage by mail carriage and ferry is quite dear, and the cost of an inn is a burdensome expense to one such as myself.”

As if she paid for her own trip. Alex had no doubt Burr had brought her over himself and paid for her room and board out of his own pocket.

“Have you always lived in Harrisburg, Miss Le Beau?”

“Oh, good heavens, no. I’m a New York lass through and through.”

“Ah, so you lived in the city then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“May I ask where?”

“At Seventeen Baxter Street.”

A murmur in the courtroom. Burr had set the stage perfectly.

Burr retrieved a piece of paper from his table.

“Your Honor, here is a copy of the property deed for Seventeen Baxter Street dated April eighteenth, 1769. It shows the property belonging to one Jacques Le Beau, having been paid for in full over the course of the previous ten years.”

The judge glanced at the document and set it aside.

“Miss Le Beau,” Burr continued. “Would you please tell the court your relationship to Jacques Le Beau.”

“He was my father, Your Honor.”

Burr grinned in feigned modesty. “I’m just Mr. Burr. Judge Smithson is the honorable one.”

Antoinette turned to Judge Smithson. “Jacques Le Beau was my father, Your Honor. He died at the Battle of Monmouth.”

Alex twitched. He had already known Le Beau had died during the war, but he didn’t realize it was at Monmouth, where he himself had nearly been killed.

I may very well have been the person who wrote her informing her of her father’s death, he thought.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Miss Le Beau,” Burr said. “And just so we’re absolutely clear, your father died fighting in the Continental army, yes?”

Antoinette nodded. “Yes, sir. He was a corporal in the Fourth New York.”

“His sacrifice will not be forgotten,” Burr said solemnly. “Now, Miss Le Beau, may I ask you why you left Seventeen Baxter Street, where you had lived since you were born?”