I, Eliza Hamilton. Susan Holloway Scott

“Which gentlemen do you mean, Aunt?”

      “There are the ones to be avoided at all cost,” she said, clicking the fan shut blade by blade. “The gentlemen who are intemperate, for whom strong drink is their mistress. The gentlemen with fiery tempers, and the ones who play too deeply at cards. The gentlemen who seek a mistress for the winter, not a wife for a lifetime. The worst, of course, are the married gentlemen who conveniently forget their wives and children at home when they come to winter encampment, and act as if they were bachelors. And then there is Colonel Hamilton.”

      Rose was holding a folded bundle of shifts and stockings, waiting for my decision. I nodded, grateful for the distraction, and pointed to the small chest of drawers beside the window.

      “Why would you mention the colonel with those other ill-favored gentlemen?” I asked as carelessly as I could. “Or has he earned a place among them whilst here in Morristown?”

      “I don’t believe General Washington gives him sufficient time to be a wastrel, even if he wished it,” my aunt said. “The colonel is as fine a gentleman as can be, Eliza, but I will be honest with you: he has not been pining alone beneath the moon and waiting for you to arrive.”

      I blushed, for that was painfully close to what I’d been imagining. It wasn’t that I had expected him to be as chaste as a monk in his cloister while away from me. I’d no right to hope for that. But in my thoughts I’d always pictured him as stoic and solitary, his heart pure and devoted to liberty. I realized now how foolish this was, and how unrealistic, too, which only made me feel more the perfect fool. After all, the colonel was young and handsome and a soldier, and soldiers were notoriously free with their affections; my aunt’s catalog of rogues in the camp was likely entirely accurate.

      To my relief, my aunt continued without noticing my discomfort.

      “Since he has been in town this winter, the gossips have claimed the colonel to be hopelessly in love with at least three different ladies,” she said. “Or rather women, not ladies, for I should not describe any of them that nicely. Along with the colonel’s other qualities, he does have the reputation of being something of a gallant—but then, what young man isn’t?”

      “They all do,” I said, striving to echo her nonchalance. Striving, but not entirely succeeding, though again she took no notice.

      “Exactly so,” my aunt said, nodding sagely. “But I do believe he is intelligent enough to realize the difference between a passing infatuation at a camp assembly, and the honorable and loving life he might have with a lady like you. In that brief meeting in Albany, you must have pleased him with your kindness, your intelligence, and, of course, your beauty. He would not have asked after you if you didn’t.”

      “No, he wouldn’t,” I said faintly.

      “No, indeed,” my aunt said shrewdly. “Nor would I have invited you to come here, either. But I tell you all this with a purpose, Eliza. If you decide that the colonel is the gentleman for you—or even if you wish the opportunity to decide—then you must act. You are a prize, yes, but he will not wander your way willy-nilly. You must plot and wage a campaign to capture the colonel’s heart, and be prepared to defend your prize once it is yours.”

      This was a far different conversation than the one I’d had earlier with Papa. He clearly believed that Colonel Hamilton would in fact be mine for the taking, like an apple that dropped from the tree into my hand of its own accord. Aunt Gertrude, however, expected me to climb to the highest branches of the apple tree, reach for the fruit, and tug it free if I wanted it.

      And yet I found I preferred Aunt Gertrude’s perspective. Fed only by a memory and an impression, I had come this far through snow and ice. I needed to learn if Colonel Hamilton was not only special for this country, but special for me. If he proved he was, if love grew between us, then I would do whatever I must for the sake of that love. In a land full of soldiers, this would be my battle.

      And I would win.

      * * *

      “Lady Washington is eager to meet you, Elizabeth,” Aunt Gertrude said as we rode together in a sleigh to the general’s headquarters the next morning. “Bound as we are in our little community, we all welcome a new face, especially one as pretty as yours.”

      “It will be an honor to meet her,” I said, with one hand holding my wide-brimmed hat from blowing away. Dr. Campfield’s house was less than a mile from headquarters, so our drive wouldn’t be long. For a change, the sun was bright on the snow and the sky a brilliant blue overhead. The air was clear and sharp, and on such a day it was difficult not to be in fine spirits. I had risen early to bid farewell to Papa, returning to his duties with Congress in Philadelphia, and now the centerpiece of my day was being presented to His Excellency’s wife. I would be honored—and a bit intimidated—to meet her, for she was the first lady of the country, and widely regarded as worthy of that title.

      I’d dressed with great care for this presentation. I wore a blue silk Brunswick jacket, close-fitting and edged with dark fur, and a matching petticoat, both quilted with a pattern of diamonds and swirling flowers. My gloves were bright green kidskin, and on my head I wore the one extravagant hat I’d brought, the sweeping brim covered in black velvet and crowned with a profusion of scarlet ribbons. I had a weakness for tall hats, for I felt they added height to my small stature, and kept me from being overlooked in a crowd. Aunt Gertrude had assured me that Lady Washington was a lady of fashion, and that before the war, she’d ordered the finest of everything from London. She would appreciate the effort I’d made in her honor to dress with fashion and taste, even in the middle of a military encampment.

      But I’d other reasons, too. The general’s aides-de-camp were quartered in the same house, and followed the general’s orders from his office. There was an excellent possibility that I might encounter Colonel Hamilton—or so Aunt Gertrude had assured me—and I wished him to take note of me.

      “It seems that we are all crowded together with the Campfields,” she said, “but I assure you that there are far, far more people squeezed into headquarters. The General’s Family, his Life Guard, officers and messengers and diplomats of every color coming and going day and night so that Mrs. Ford must wonder what has become of her household. That’s a true lady-patriot for you—giving over her fine house to His Excellency and half the army, it seems, and living below in two rooms with her own brood of children. There’s nothing more melancholy than a young widow, poor lady, but she honors her husband’s memory and patriotism in the best way possible.”

      “How many aides-de-camp does His Excellency employ?” I asked.

      “A half dozen, I believe,” Aunt Gertrude said. “They are all part of what His Excellency refers to as his military family, and a close-knit family they are, too, with him of course as the father. But Colonel Hamilton is the one held in highest regard, with the most responsibility. I wonder that His Excellency could accomplish half of what he does without the colonel by his side. That’s Mrs. Ford’s house, there, the large white one before us on the hill.”

      It would have been difficult to overlook. The house was large and imposing, nearly as large as our Albany house, and by far the largest that I’d yet seen in Morristown. It was two stories with tall chimneys at either end, and an ell to one side where I guessed the kitchen stood. The doorway was elegant indeed, with a prettily arched door flanked by rich carvings and pilasters, and a half-moon window above and two more on either side. Nearby were a number of rough log huts that quartered the general’s Life Guard, his most trusted soldiers in charge of protecting him, and to the rear of the house were several more log buildings, squat and temporary.

      But what I noticed first was the bustle of activity around the house, like a bee skep surrounded by swarms of the busiest of bees coming and going. Soldiers and horses, wagons and sleds and sleighs, and all of them moving briskly on the army’s business. The cold air was filled with the sounds of orders given, of barked conversations, and the jingle of harnesses and the creak of wooden wheels over the packed snow. There were several small fires with men clustered about them for warmth, and bright flags on staffs that proclaimed that this was in fact the army’s headquarters.