I, Eliza Hamilton. Susan Holloway Scott

do, Colonel Hamilton,” I said, pleased that he’d imbued me with such patriotic qualities instead of flattering me with compliments on my eyes or my complexion, the way most gentlemen would. “But I also know that these dreams and glories exact a terrible price.”

      He nodded solemnly. “They do indeed. That is why each time I am called to battle, I accept that ‘Liberty or Death’ is no empty, vainglorious slogan for me. If I die, I do so knowing that I have helped secure our country’s dearest freedoms.”

      “How terribly melancholy!” I exclaimed. “A most noble sentiment, but consider how your loss would affect your poor mother, your sisters.”

      “I am quite without family, Miss Elizabeth, or even a true home of my own,” he confessed. “My father left my mother at an early age on the Caribbean island of Nevis, and after she died I came alone to New York for my studies. I can be that most perfect soldier, free to sacrifice myself without thought of those I must leave behind.”

      I shook my head, unable to accept his grim explanation. Surrounded as I had always been by my own large and loving family, I couldn’t conceive of being so utterly alone in the world.

      “I–I shall add you to my prayers, Colonel Hamilton,” I said. “I’ll pray for your safe delivery in battle, and for God’s blessings upon you as you triumph over our enemies.”

      “I am honored by your kindness,” he said gravely, and bowed as gracefully as any French courtier might. “I cannot think of anything that would give me greater pleasure, Miss Elizabeth.”

      “Eliza,” I said impulsively. “My friends call me Eliza.”

      “Then I shall call you Betsey, to set myself apart from your other friends.” He smiled again, and added a disarming little nod that made me smile in return. “Now that you’ve honored me once again with a pledge of friendship, Betsey, I shall remain always in your debt.”

      Too late I realized I shouldn’t have smiled with such encouragement, or let him misinterpret my good wishes. I hadn’t intended to pledge friendship, and no lady ever wished to have a gentleman in her debt. But before I could demur, my sister Peggy suddenly appeared, popping up like a sprite beside Colonel Hamilton.

      “Mamma wishes you to come bid good night to our guests, Eliza,” she said pointedly, seizing me by the arm to make sure I understood. Which of course I did: I’d been too long alone in the colonel’s company, and Mamma—or worse, Papa—had noticed. “Pray excuse us, Colonel.”

      She didn’t wait for me to speak, instead pulling me forcibly away from him and from the room. As soon as we were in the hall, I shook my arm free of her grasp.

      “I don’t require you to yoke yourself to me like that, Peggy,” I said crossly. I followed her—not willingly, but because I knew I must. “That was rude of you, and you know it.”

      Peggy pursed her lips and raised her brows, a face full of smugness that I never liked to see.

      “Then you can tell that to Mamma and Papa,” she said. “I was only obeying their wishes, which is more than you were doing.”

      “I was doing nothing wrong,” I said defensively, though I knew that wasn’t quite true. “I was discussing the war with Colonel Hamilton.”

      Peggy made that face again, but by now we were in the front hall, and I slipped into my place beside my mother. One by one, carriages were drawing up before our house and our guests were taking their leave. As usual, my parents bid each of them farewell in turn, with many promises of good wishes and returning calls.

      Last of all came Colonel Hamilton. I didn’t note what he said to my parents, because I was concentrating so hard on saying nothing foolish myself.

      “Good night, Colonel Hamilton,” I murmured, all I dared say as I dipped a slight curtsey.

      “Good evening, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. He bowed, and moved on to thank my mother.

      And that was all. Four words, my full name, and perfect propriety. I should have been relieved (if, in honesty, a bit disappointed), except for how he looked at me as he spoke. His eyes crinkled at the corners and the slightest of smiles played upon his lips, as if together we shared the greatest, most amusing secret in the world. It was only there for the instant that he stood before me, and gone before he’d turned to my mother. Even as I hoped no one else had taken notice, I smiled swiftly in return, unable to help myself.

      Soon afterward, one of the footmen closed the door behind the colonel, the last guest of the evening. At once my mother began giving brisk orders to the servants so that the house would be put back to order, while my father tested the lock on the front door, the way he did every night before retiring. Peggy turned to climb the stairs to bed and I began to follow, believing I’d escaped.

      I hadn’t.

      “Eliza, a moment,” Papa said, and reluctantly I paused. Peggy stopped, too, eager to listen, but a curt nod from Papa sent her on her way up the stairs and out of hearing.

      I turned to face him, my hand on the twisting newel post. Because I remained standing on the bottom step, we were nearly eye to eye.

      “Colonel Hamilton is an agreeable young gentleman, isn’t he?” he said.

      “Yes, Papa,” I said warily.

      “A young man with great promise,” Papa continued. “Intelligent, perceptive. Resourceful and persistent, too, to hear His Excellency tell it.”

      I nodded, wishing for all the world that I’d been able to flee upstairs with my sister.

      “You appeared to enjoy Colonel Hamilton’s company, Eliza,” he said, not a rebuke, but a statement. “He’s a charming fellow, is he not?”

      “He is,” I agreed uneasily. Papa had never been one for guile or trickery, but I couldn’t see where all this was leading us. “We spoke of the war.”

      Papa smiled. “I expected so,” he said, “for war is much on his mind, as it would be for any officer. Although speaking of war is hardly the way for a gentleman to win a lovely young miss.”

      “He wasn’t trying to win me, Papa,” I said, rankling a bit at that “lovely young miss.” Among the three of us sisters, Peggy was the beautiful one and Angelica the most clever. I was somewhere in the middle, exactly where I’d been born, pretty enough and clever enough. But Papa insisted on praising my appearance whenever he’d the chance, as if repetition were sufficient to make me over into Venus herself. He meant well, I know—he always did—but still I wished he’d recognize my other qualities, too, the ones my sisters didn’t possess, such as how well I could ride a horse, or how skilled I’d become at managing the household affairs with Mamma.

      “Gentlemen don’t always make their intentions apparent at first,” Papa continued. “I saw the attention he paid toward you.”

      How many times this night had I blushed? “I assure you, Papa, that our conversation was entirely innocent of—of any intention.”

      Papa’s smile faded. “I am glad of that,” he said more seriously. “I wouldn’t want you to consider an attachment to him.”

      “Oh, Papa!” I exclaimed with dismay, my cheeks growing warmer still. “After a single conversation?”

      “I am serious, Elizabeth,” Papa said. “Colonel Hamilton is a young officer with much to recommend him. I liked him very much. He is entirely devoted to the cause and to this country. Perhaps too devoted. According to His Excellency, the colonel is brave to the point of being reckless in battle—the first to engage and the last to leave the fray.”

      Sadly, I couldn’t argue with Papa, not after all Colonel Hamilton had said to me earlier. Liberty or death, indeed.

      “I’ve seen it before in other young officers,” Papa continued, “and to my sorrow I’m certain I shall see it again. While courageous, even admirable, such men do not have long lives as soldiers.