The Age of Hamilton

Chapter 11

Elizabeth sat across from her husband, evident bags were revealed under the flickering candlelight. A pen was in his hand, Elizabeth lowered her gaze. She was fiddling with the hem of her dress. Why was she so nervous? He twirled it around his thumb and index finger. His leg bounced to the rhythm of a silent song. A pile of fliers for his candidacy occupied one corner of his desk. "Alexander?" His name fell from her lips so delicately. She noticed his lower lip twitched, as if a smirk was tugging at his lips. She returned her gaze to the hem of her dress, the incessant silence palpable. The room grew warm, the sound of the crackling of the fire in the fireplace increasing the temperature rapidly. Finally, like molasses, his voice cracked the silence, shattering it as though it had been glass.

"I hadn't noticed you were still in here? Where is Angelica?"

Elizabeth had grown accustomed to his silence. To his apparent disregard for their children, Elizabeth could only notice how his work continued to consume him. She had paid close attention to the court cases that were filed and paid for but he seemed to grow increasingly annoyed with the work load. The pay was decent enough, perhaps that was why he worked so much"Angelica is up in her bedroom reading and writing. She's been studying without a break. She hasn't eaten in three days-"

Neither have you. She mused, watching as his cheeks darkened to a light shade of crimson. His chair squealed in protest as the legs scraped against the hardwood panel flooring of the office. She watched as he rose from his chair, his muscles cracking in response to his sudden movement. Amber liquid swirled in a glass on the other end of his desk. The quill sat beside its inkwell, motionless. Picking up the glass, Elizabeth watched as he extended his arm, offering her the liquid. Once again, silence fell between the two. Bowing her head, Elizabeth felt the alcohol burn in the back of her throat. Nonetheless, she watched as Alexander lowered the glass to the desk once again. Soon, his footsteps clicked against the floor. She listened as his footsteps ascended the stairs. She heard a gentle knock emanate from Angelica's bedroom. She heard a frustrated groan and then the door slamming. Alexander returned to his office, hand covering his mouth.

Elizabeth stood up, departing from his office. Their shoulders brushed but Alexander's hand caught her wrist. Shocked at the contact, Elizabeth stood, silent and confounded. His head moved towards hers. Their lips brushed another hesitantly. His voice registered in her head, barely above a whisper but held bass that Elizabeth failed to even properly recognize. He, too, seemed shocked at his oddly equally leveled voice. "She's not ready to have a full fledged conversation with either of us, yet."

Elizabeth remained silent and calm as Alexander's fingers uncurled from her wrist. Their breaths intermingled, eyes refusing to leave the other. Finally, after two more minutes of tantalizing silence, Elizabeth spoke. "What do you mean by that?"

Alexander pointed to the top of the stairs and said, "Find out for yourself."

Elizabeth closed her eyes, briefly. Her lips twitched downward as she stepped over the threshold towards the vacant hallway, portraits of her family occupied the wall. Slowly, she climbed up the narrow wooden stairs. Facing Angelica's room, she noticed the door was shut. Eyeing the top of the door for the key, Elizabeth grabbed it and put it into the lock. Jingling it around, she heard the satisfying click of the door unlatching. Closing her eyes briefly, she listened for any sign of life. "Angelica?" She asked, her voice gentle.

Languidly, the door creaked open. Stepping over the threshold, Elizabeth heard soft muffled sobs. "Mother? Is it true?"

Pain was flowing out of her child's voice. "Is what true? Angelica, what did your father tell you?"

"When he went into town-" Angelica paused, her voice uneven and quaking.

"Angelica?

"He claimed to have seen Philip. Alive and "well". I find it fascinating but perhaps the guilt is eating Father alive."