Within moments of her writing it, Angelica's letter is sent off via one of the Livingstone's many servants. The Livingstone family told my sisters and me that they expected Hamilton will receive the letter in the morning, and him and his friends will arrive the following afternoon. This left the five of us women the whole morning tomorrow to enjoy each other's company.
Enjoy. Ha.
Now, Kitty shows us to our rooms for the nights we're staying-- I wasn't aware we were staying for several nights. In the end, we all get our own room, which doesn't surprise me in the slightest since the Livingstone's house is practically a mansion in eighteenth century standards.
After Kitty gives Angelica and Peggy a cheery goodbye at their bedroom doors, she leads me to my room at the far end of the hall. Here, she gives me a distant, but civil 'good night' before heading to her own room. I don't miss the stark difference in her attitude between me and my sisters.
I exhale a heavy sigh as I close my bedroom door behind me before sliding to the floor with my back against the door. How lonely I feel in this house.
Angelica and Peggy are the only familiar, friendly faces here, but they've both been preoccupied with entertaining Kitty and that young woman, and the two hosts have both been paying my sisters extra attention the whole evening. To put it simply, I've been third wheeled-- or I guess technically five-wheeled-- and I can only assume that this is only a prelude to what is to come in the next few days during our stay here.
At least Hamilton is coming, so he can keep me company, even if he is still sick.
A rush of guilt courses through me at how I was practically forcing him to come here, even if it wasn't necessarily me who had written the letter inviting him. I was the one who had mentioned he was at The Pastures to the Livingstone family. I should've thought they would want to invite him to their home if they knew he was available.
Awash in relentless guilt, I drag myself over to my bed and fall into a fitful sleep.
The next morning, the house is a flurry of motion. Servants dash to and fro, and I almost run smack into several of them when rounding the blind corners of the hallways or when walking into a room.
At around ten o'clock, Angelica finds me sitting outside on the side porch of the house, gazing out at the surrounding forest, and she says in greeting, "Well, there you are, Eliza. I've been looking all over for you. Have you been here all morning?"
I nod and watch as Angelica walks around my chair to stand in front of me. Her shadow falls across my chair, shielding me from the bright sun. Placing her hands on her hips, she tells me, "The four of us are going to go walk around the gardens. Come with us."
I can only assume 'the four of us' includes Angelica, Peggy, Kitty, and the other woman, who have yet to learn her name.
When I'm silent, Angelica adds in a pleading voice, "Please."
With a sigh, I give a reluctant nod, and Angelica lets out a squeal of happiness. "Oh good!" she exclaims as she grabs my hands and helps me up from my chair.
As we walk arm in arm towards the back of the house where we are to meet Kitty, Peggy, and the other woman, I ask, "Who is that woman that was with Kitty when we arrived?"
Angelica chuckles a little as she replies, "Oh, that's Kitty's older sister, Susanna, but you can call her Suky. That's what her friends call her, at least."
I blink. "Oh."
Angelica laughs again before quickening our pace. When we reach the back of the house, the three women are already waiting outside. A beam slides onto Kitty's face when she spots our approach, and she chirps, "Perfect! We're all here now."
We begin walking along a gravel pathway that winds through the Livingstone's beautiful, massive garden. As we walk, Kitty chatters about the new dresses that she received a couple of days ago from a seamstress in New York City, a surprising feat considering the British have taken hostage of the city.
Kitty turns to me as she remarks, "I'm sure you can borrow one of my dresses, Eliza." Her eyes dip down and along my body to survey my shape, and she adds, "If you can fit into them, that is."
I have to resist the urge to retort something back. Kitty and I are easily the same shape and build. I might be a tiny bit shorter, and she more willowy, but our trim is basically the same.
Instead, I reply coolly, "I'll pass. I brought my own dresses, and, well, your tastes are much different from mine." To be honest, our tastes are similar, but I wasn't going to admit that. But then again, Kitty prefers glittery, showy dresses. I'm more modest, I suppose.
Angelica elbows me a little in the side and leans into me to whisper in my ear, "You ought to step up your game, Eliza, so that when Hamilton arrives, he won't be able to keep his eyes off of you. That will surely get on Kitty's nerves. You can borrow one of my dresses. I might have brought one just for this occasion." She winks conspiratorially at me.
I cast Angelica a grateful look with a smile in thanks, to which she returns with a smile of her own.
"Are we to have a ball?" Peggy speaks up from beside me.
"Yes, we're planning on it. We might as well have a ball with all of the officers at our house," Susanna replies with a lilting smile.
"Is that why there are so many servants everywhere? They're preparing for the ball?" I ask before mentally going over my question to test it for any ridiculousness that Kitty could use as ammunition to ridicule me.
In the end, I find nothing wrong with my question, and Kitty answers, "Yes, they're busy preparing the ball and feast. We're to have the feast and ball tonight when all the young men arrive."
We all murmur our delight at this idea, especially Peggy and me since we haven't had a social event in what seems like forever. It isn't that I'm an especially social person; It's just that balls are fun.
"So, who is this James Monroe?" Angelica speaks up curiously, and everyone perks up at this new topic.
Kitty laughs bashfully as she replies, "Oh, he's this sweet, southern officer." She pauses before adding, "He's from Virginia," as if that somehow adds to his appeal. She continues, "He arrived a couple of days ago. You should see him later today, I believe."
The three of us Schuyler sisters all nod thoughtfully at this, curious to meet the officer we've already heard so much about. By then, we're back at the house, having made a full circle around the gardens, so we can't say much else.
When the five of us enter into the house for refreshments, we're immediately intercepted by Mrs. Livingstone, who informs us gleefully, "Alexander Hamilton has agreed to come to visit! He's to arrive at five o'clock today. He has promised to bring his friend, John Laurens, and another young man I've never heard of before. McHenry, is it?"
I nod knowingly at this name, having met McHenry before. "That's wonderful," I manage to say in a relatively cheerful voice despite my anxiety over Hamilton and his health.
How is he going to manage? The last I saw him, he was stuck in bed with exhaustion.
The four other young women cheer their agreement at my words, and we all whisk away to our rooms to get ready for the dinner and ball tonight.
After an hour of lazing around in my room doing absolutely nothing but procrastinating, I finally make myself get ready. Except right as I'm about to take a look at the dresses I'd packed, Angelica barges in with several dresses in hand.
She stumbles to a stop as she gapes at my state of unreadiness before exclaiming in disapproval, "Eliza! What have you been doing this whole time?"
I blush a little as I reply guiltily, "Nothing."
Angelica tsks with a shake of her head before strutting forward and laying out her dresses on my bed. She draws back to stand beside me to examine them. "Which do you prefer?" she asks me as we both stare at the gowns.
"Which would look the best on me?" I counter, and we both make hmm sounds as we study the gowns for a few moments longer.
Finally, Angelica steps forward and grabs a dark green gown. "This will look the best on you," she tells me as she hands it to me. "Try it on."
Since I had already wasted away much of the day, I don't waste any time in changing into the gown. When I finally turn to look at myself in the mirror, I find myself gaping at how I look. The gown hugs my waist tightly before flaring out delicately at my hips. The bodice has a square, but relatively low neckline that will certainly bring eyes to my chest. The green of the dress offsets the tiny bit of red in my hair, bringing new dimension to my otherwise brown hair.
I've never felt so beautiful.
Angelica parrots my thoughts when she says, "You look gorgeous in that dress. You must keep it now. I couldn't wear that dress any more without imagining you in it every time."
I give her a smile that she returns. I swear her eyes look a little teary.
Angelica moves behind me and fingers my hair as she muses, "Now, what to do with this thick hair of yours." She deliberates my hair for a moment before deciding, "We'll curl it and leave it down. I'll be right back." She hurries out of my room, leaving me standing by the mirror before she comes back in with curlers in hand.
"I brought these just in case," she tells me as she begins curling my hair around them. She clips each of them into place so that my hair can set into a curl. "We'll take the curlers out when it comes closer to the evening," Angelica instructs me, and I nod dutifully.
When the time is four thirty, everyone is hurrying around, making last minute changes and touches to their outfits. Well, all the women are doing this; The men only watch us fret with amusement. And when I say men, I mean only Mr. Livingstone. All the military officers are arriving in fifteen minutes, so they aren't here to witness our undignified panic.
Angelica has already taken out the curlers in my hair, so my dark hair falls in soft, tumbling waves down my back. She is presently wearing a red-pink gown with buttons on the bodice, while Peggy wears a soft yellow, and Kitty a deep purple gown. I haven't seen Susanna yet.
When the clock hits four forty- five, officers begin streaming inside. Soft, lilting music begins playing downstairs, and Angelica and I decide to venture down to scope everything out before our entrance. We haven't been downstairs in two hours, so we haven't seen all the decorations up.
We follow the music and murmuring of voices to a large ballroom. A quartet of musicians play in the far corner, and roughly thirty people are already inside the room. I'd guess twenty of those thirty people are men.
Suddenly, someone grabs one of my shoulders from behind, and I flinch in surprise before turning and finding Kitty behind Angelica and me, peering over our shoulders with a grin.
"This is delightful, isn't it?" she whispers from where the three of us peek into the room. "I can't wait to show you two James Monroe. Oh, and I can't wait to see Alexander, too!" she says this last part with more enthusiasm.
"He's to arrive soon, isn't he?" I ask aloud, and Kitty nods eagerly.
We stand there for a moment, hovering by the door and watching, but before long I can't stand the weight of Kitty's hand on my shoulder, or her overbearing presence at my back, so I quickly excuse myself. I make a beeline outside, eager to breathe in the fresh air.
I burst outside through the front door and inhale a deep breath of the heated air. Since it's July and therefore only gets dark at eight, it's still light outside as I step out of the house. I'm busy observing the orange, pink, and blue sky when I hear a carriage come rolling up to the house.
I dip my gaze down to peer at it, trying to discern if Hamilton is in the carriage or not. I catch the flash of auburn hair underneath a hat as a young man steps out of the carriage, and I instinctively know it's Alexander. Laurens and McHenry step out of the carriage after him, and the three young men stand there for a moment as if unsure what to do next.
I notice Hamilton brace a hand against the carriage.
Unable to simply stand there motionless, I clamber down the steps and begin jogging over before remembering myself and slowing to a walk. Laurens spots me approaching, and I notice his eyes widen at my appearance before he discreetly nudges Hamilton, whose back is to me.
Hamilton turns, his eyes going directly to me as a smile blossoms on his face. He meets me halfway about twenty feet from his friends, and he grasps my hands as he says with a smile, "Eliza, you look so beautiful tonight."
I duck my head a little as I reply, "And you look very handsome as well, Alexander." I notice the way his eyes lighten at the use of his first name, and I realize I don't call him Alexander very much. I usually call him Hamilton.
I lean a little closer and whisper, "Are you still sick?"
He smiles again, but I can tell it's a little forced. "Only a little," he teases, but I notice the circles under his eyes and the way he holds himself carefully.
Has he been sleeping well since I've been gone? I've only been gone one night, so he couldn't have lost too much sleep. Besides, I'm fairly certain he's capable of sleeping well without my presence.
I survey him carefully, and he seems to notice my critical eye because he pulls me into his arms. "I wish so badly I could kiss you right now," he whispers roughly into my ear, and goosebumps pebble my arms as a tingle shoots down my spine.
"Getting sick would be worth it," I whisper, and he bites back a smile.
"I can't bear the thought of you having to endure what I am having to endure," he says softly as he takes my hand and twines his fingers through mine. He stares at me for a moment longer before saying in a lighter tone, "So, what's the plan for tonight? What have you suckered me into?"
I laugh as we begin leisurely walking towards the house. Laurens and McHenry had already gone inside, having slipped past us without us noticing.
I swing our hands between us as I answer, "Well, there's to be a dinner and then a ball. Beware Kitty. I have a feeling she has her eyes on you."
Hamilton chuckles at this. "I was expecting as much," he replies, gazing down at me with a warm look in his azure eyes.
I raise a brow as I remark, "I heard some things from Mr. Livingstone about when you lived here. I didn't know about some of the things he was saying, like how you were apparently girl crazy?" I laugh to show him I'm just teasing him.
He smiles a little, but his smile has an edge of nervousness to it. "Yeah, I stayed with them when I first arrived here in the colonies. It was right before college, but you already knew that. And, well, I did have a crush on Kitty, and I suppose I was a bit girl crazy." He gives me a sheepish smile.
"Oh," I reply, somehow not expecting this admission.
When he elaborates more, it's on a different topic than the one I am thinking of-- his relation with Kitty and his being girl crazy-- as if he's still stuck on the other topic. "I went to a grammar school for one year before college. They didn't have dorms, so I had to stay with someone. I didn't have enough money to rent out a place, so the Livingstone's took me in."
"Well, that was kind of them," I comment, and he nods, his eyes cast on the ground.
At that point, we've entered the bustling house, so we stop talking for a moment. People and officers mill around everywhere-- in the entryway, the sitting rooms, and especially the ballroom. The ballroom is significantly more crowded than earlier when I had caught a glimpse of it with Angelica and Kitty.
Suddenly, Kitty pops up before us out of nowhere and exclaims, "Alexander!" before throwing her arms around him. He awkwardly pats her off, his eyes glancing at me before he pulls back.
"Hi, Miss Livingstone," he replies politely, choosing to use formal terms to keep her at a distance.
Kitty waves a hand as she teases, "There's no need for formalities, Alexander. We're friends."
Hamilton looks at me sideways before smiling uncomfortably at Kitty and replying, "This is a wonderful ball. I thank you and your family for inviting me. I must say, that letter was certainly intriguing." Another glance at me, and my mouth starts to turn downwards into a slight frown.
I'd never read the letter Angelica had written with Kitty's help. What could be on it that was so intriguing to him?
I speak up, "Oh really? What was so intriguing about it?"
Kitty's smile turns pained, and I narrow my eyes at Hamilton, who diverts his gaze. "I'll tell you later," he says before saying in a louder voice as if the volume of his voice will help clear away that seemingly unsavory topic, "Where's Susanna?"
"Oh, just around," Kitty replies with disinterest, twisting around in a show to scan the room for her sister. She must have spotted someone she knows because she quickly exclaims, "Oh! I have to go say hello to someone. I'll be back soon," before bounding away.
When she's a safe distance away, I gently grab Hamilton's arm and lead him to a secluded corner. "What was in the letter?" I demand, my suspicions officially raised.
He grins as he leans forward and replies, "Someone said, and I quote, that 'Eliza is in dire need of your assistance, and to please come as speedily as you can'."
I look at him, thoroughly taken-a-back. "What?" I respond with a slight wrinkle to my nose. "That makes no sense!"
He chuckles and puts his hand on the small of my back as he draws me closer to him. His breath brushes my ear as he replies with a teasing grin, "I thought it was cute. It certainly got me out of my death bed."
"Don't joke," I tell him dryly, unamused by the morbidity of his joke, but the teasing look on his face makes me smile, and I relax into him. A sly smile slides across my face as I lean towards him and quip in a salty voice, "Maybe I do need your assistance."
His smile grows.
Suddenly, an upbeat song begins playing, and I look over to the center of the ballroom to see people beginning to dance rapidly to the music. Hamilton holds out a hand and asks gentlemanly, "May we dance?"
I grin as I place my hand in the palm of his hand. "That would be nice," I reply before he sweeps me onto the dance floor. I momentarily forget how bad I am at dancing as Hamilton twirls me around, his blue eyes gleaming with mirth.
But then I start progressively stepping on his toes, and after my fifth misstep, he let out an amused laugh. "I don't remember you being such a bad dancer, Eliza," he teases.
I blush before murmuring sheepishly, "I tried to learn, but I'm just horrible at it."
My face begins to dip into a frown, and he quickly says, "Don't worry. Just follow my lead."
How exactly did a penniless, orphan, bastard from the Caribbean learn to become a better dancer than the daughter of a wealthy, stately general in America?
The crazy thought causes a bubble of laughter to escape my lips, and soon enough, Hamilton is laughing, too. We dance the next two songs together until it becomes socially inappropriate to dance any more songs in a row. Afterwards, he leads me to the side of the room, where he promptly collapses into one of the chairs lining the edges of the room. He looks tired and pale, and I move to stand beside him, my face creasing with worry.
"Are you okay?" I ask him, and he silently shakes his head as he briefly closes his eyes.
After a moment he manages to say, "I feel as if I might be sick again." He releases a groan. "Why do I torture myself?"
"If you wanted to sit out of that last dance you could've said-" I start worriedly, but he waves me off with a flippant hand.
"No, I was fine until we started walking to the side of the room," he assures me as he wipes a hand across his forehead. "It hit me then."
I catch sight of Mr. Livingstone approaching us with a wide grin, and I have no time to warn Hamilton before Mr. Livingstone stops before us and greets enthusiastically, "Colonel Hamilton! A pleasure to see you again, sir. How has the war been?"
I watch Hamilton force a smile on his face before replying shakily, "A little crazy, I must admit, but I don't mind it." His face grows paler as he speaks, and I wonder if talking about the war isn't helping him feel any better.
I quickly step forward and say in an attempt to change the subject away from the war and from Hamilton, "This ball is quite amazing. Are we serving dinner afterward?"
Mr. Livingstone nods. "Yes, we are. Kitty and Susanna are looking forward to it. Speaking of them, you two should go over and talk to them. You especially, Alexander," he says pointedly, and don't miss the informal use of my husband's name. "They haven't seen you in a while."
Alexander nods and replies, "Will do, sir." Mr. Livingstone dips his head before walking away. When he's out of earshot, Alexander turns to me and whispers, "Let's get out of here. I don't think I can stand another hour of this. I might embarrass myself."
"Okay," I agree quickly, just for his sake. He slowly gets up from his chair, and I walk beside him with a hand on his arm to make sure he remains upright as we walk towards the ballroom exit to the front door. The gesture works in our favor because it could be interpreted as him escorting me around the room.
We're almost out of the house when we're intercepted by Angelica, who demands as she stops in front of us, "Where are you two going?" Her positioning is effectively blocking Hamilton and me from our destination.
I give her a pointed look towards Alexander as I say, "We have to go."
Angelica looks at him and seems to notice his declining state. Her eyes widen in alarm before she asks, "Are you alright?" She doesn't wait for an answer before she continues, "I shouldn't have written that letter. I'm sorry, Hamilton. I was suckered into it."
He only waves a hand and replies, "It's okay, but I really do need to go outside. Right now." He doesn't wait for her to respond before he quickly bolts outside, the front door slamming behind him.
Angelica and I exchange a worried look before I tell her, "I should go check on him."
Copying Hamilton's example, I don't wait for her to respond before I hurry out the front door after Hamilton. The warm air rushes at me as I step down the stone stairs leading up to the front porch of the house. I hear retching to my right, and I turn to see Hamilton bracing a hand against a tree at the bottom of the steps, wreathed in shadow, his face turned towards the ground.
I step down the remaining steps to reach his side. "You know what, you should probably go to my room," I suggest, putting a hand on his back as he doubles over, but he doesn't heave anything out.
"I honestly don't think I could make it up the stairs," he replies breathlessly when he's able to speak again. I purse my lips in sympathy and decide to just keep him company as he closes his eyes as if to wait for the nausea to go away.
After roughly five minutes, he straightens and pushes off from the tree. "Okay, I'm good," he says as he straightens his clothes. I raise a brow.
"Are we going to the ball or dinner, or to my room?" I ask as I step back to give him some room.
"Your room," he answers without hesitation.
We enter the house again, Hamilton thankfully able to make it up the stairs without much help on my part, and we've made it about three feet up the stairs to the second floor when we hear someone call out, "Eliza! Alexander!"
At the sound of our names, we both turn at the same time to find Susanna and Kitty standing at the edge of the ballroom, waving us over. There's a young man with them, and I know with certainty that this is James Monroe.
"Who's that?" Alexander asks me, and I instinctively know he's talking about Monroe.
"James Monroe. They've been wanting to introduce me to him," I tell him without taking my eyes off of the trio below.
I turn towards him when he asks, "Why?" and I swear I hear a hint of jealousy and anger in that one word. "Don't they know we're married?"
Oh, so he thinks they might be trying to set me up with Monroe. That's where his mind went to.
I can't help my flare of annoyance at this assumption. With all of Hamilton's intelligence and observational skills, I would've thought he would be smart enough to know that one, I wouldn't leave him for any man, and two, that Kitty and Susanna would even dare to try and set me up with Monroe after I've been married.
I drop my eyes when he looks at me so he can't see the frustration in my eyes, and when I look back up, his eyes are filled with questions. "Eliza-" he begins, questioningly, his eyes filled with confusion.
"I'm going to go over; you keep going upstairs. I'll tell them you aren't feeling well," I tell him, ignoring his questioning look. I can't stand the look in his eyes. It makes me feel guilty, even though I haven't done anything wrong.
When he doesn't move, I give him a light push and order, "Go."
But then I see the determination fall into place on his face, and I know I've gone about this the wrong way. There's no way Hamilton would go upstairs if he knew some guy was down here making an impression. Before I can protest, Hamilton takes my hand and walks down the last couple of steps before walking over, me trailing behind.
When we stop before the three of them, Kitty remarks, "What were you two talking about over there? It took way too long for you two to come over." She looks imploringly at Hamilton as she says this last part.
Susanna clears her throat delicately as if she's embarrassed by her sister's forwardness before she introduces, "Alexander, Eliza, meet James Monroe. James Monroe, meet Alexander and Eliza Hamilton."
Monroe smiles warmly. "A pleasure to meet you," he greets us with a slight southern accent.
I smile back and dip my head in acknowledgment as I reply, "And you too."
Hamilton speaks up before I can get another word in, "I assume you're fighting in the war, Mr. Monroe?"
Monroe shakes his head ruefully as he responds, "I was wounded in my left shoulder at the Battle of Trenton in 1776. I've just been running my plantation since."
I see the flash of judgment in Hamilton's eyes at the plantation part before the look disappears, his thoughts on the topic hidden behind the calm mask that replaces the judgmental look. "That's unfortunate," he comments. "I'm sorry to hear it."
Monroe shrugs and replies easily, "I view it as a blessing. Since I'm no longer in the war, I can be at home more, working on the plantation."
His eyes dart to me for a second, a look of familiarity in his brown eyes, and I wonder if I'm supposed to have met him already.
Wanting to insert herself into the conversation, Kitty speaks up, "Well, Monroe was a dashing soldier in the war. He was an officer like you, Alexander. A Lieutenant Colonel."
Hamilton nods thoughtfully at this, and Monroe quickly asserts in humble fashion, "Though, I believe that I was only risen into such high ranks by my being a plantation owner in Virginia. Importance is placed on such positions in Virginia, so they probably thought me more deserving of a higher rank than a foot soldier because of that."
"It couldn't be just that," I remark with a polite smile. "You could have only risen to such a rank by doing well in your military career. You must've done something extraordinary."
Monroe blushes slightly at this before murmuring, "Thank you, ma'am."
And then I'm blushing because he called me ma'am.
Monroe clears his throat before saying as if to change the topic off of himself, "I've heard much about you, Colonel Hamilton."
Hamilton raises a brow as he prompts, "Oh?"
Monroe nods, and I have the feeling he's trying to make sure he's on Hamilton's good side. "Yes, I heard you were at the Battle of Monmouth and fought bravely. You even had a horse shot out from under you-"
I turn towards Hamilton at this, surprise etched into my features. Is that what happened to his beautiful white horse?
Monroe continues, "And I heard that you were one of the last Americans to reach safety behind our new defensive line in Philadelphia when New York fell because you wanted to make sure everyone was out of the city. You even dragged three cannons the entire way to Philadelphia with the British at your tails because you didn't want the cannons falling into enemy hands."
Hamilton laughs a little before he remarks, "So you have heard a decent amount."
"It's hard not to have heard something or another about you," Monroe replies with a small smile.
Before anyone can respond to that, the sound of a fork tapping against a wine glass rings throughout the room, and everyone quiets as the music dies down. I spot Mr. Livingstone at the front of the room, holding a glass before him.
"I believe that dinner is ready," he announces. "If you would like refreshment or food, please-" he sweeps out an arm to his left "-check out our dining room table." He dips his head and everyone claps in response.
The music resumes, and the chattering of voices rises in volume once more. I notice several people move to the left where Mr. Livingstone had motioned towards for food and refreshment. Someone touches my shoulder lightly, and I turn around in surprise to find Monroe standing there with a sheepish look.
"Do you want food or drink, ma'am?" he asks, and I notice Kitty and Susanna standing just behind him. Both of them are glancing between us and the dining room area, waiting.
I frown when I notice Hamilton isn't nearby. I twist around, but I don't spot him anywhere. Where could he have possibly gone? When I look back at Monroe, his mouth is dipped down with concern, having noticed my distress.
"Where's Colonel Hamilton?" I ask him anxiously. "Did you see where he went?"
Monroe answers, "I believe I saw him slip away somewhere when Mr. Livingstone was making his speech."
My frown deepens, and I scan the room once more. But upon realizing how rude it is to leave Monroe standing there awkwardly waiting, I tell him with a forced smile, "Thank you, sir, but I'm fine at the moment. I'm actually going to go look for Colonel Hamilton. It was nice meeting you." I widen my smile so my words don't sound so harsh, and I find it isn't that hard to smile at Monroe.
He smiles back and replies, "It was nice meeting you, too." He pauses a little before saying, "I hope to see you again tomorrow."
I nod and, without thinking, respond, "And I, too. Good night, sir."
He dips his head in goodbye, a small smile on his face, and I quickly hurry away before I can embarrass myself further. It isn't until I step outside of the room and around the next corner before I allow myself to lean against the wall, my face heated and breathing uneven as I try to control my thoughts. Monroe immediately comes to the surface of my mind, but I shove all thoughts of him away in shame.
I instead focus on Hamilton, and I decide to check upstairs first. I climb the stairs quietly and notice my bedroom door is closed, which is unusual. I thought I had left it open before I'd left. But then again, I might've shut it before I went downstairs with Angelica earlier, or maybe one of the servants went in there to clean it.
I quietly ease my door open and poke my head inside, only to find Hamilton laying on my bed, eyes closed, breathing even. I watch him for a moment longer before slowly shutting the door and stepping into the hallway.
I decide to sit outside instead of going back into the crowded, stifling ballroom, and I sit out there for the rest of the night until I hear and then see people streaming outside to their waiting carriages as the ball comes to an end.
After that, I slip into Angelica's room and lay down in her bed. When she finally walks inside, she's surprised to see me there but allows me to sleep with her. Just for old times sake.
ALEXANDER HAMILTON'S POV
I'm sitting against the bed on the floor, staring out the window at the darkening sky when I hear footsteps on the stairs.
Fast as lightning, I lay down on Eliza's bed and close my eyes. It takes a few seconds longer for my breathing to slow, but when it finally evens, the door opens. I crack an eye open slightly and spot Eliza standing at the door, looking at me.
A moment later, she quietly closes the door behind her, and then I hear her footsteps on the stairs again as she goes back downstairs.
I lie there a moment longer, that crushing, familiar weight of despair closing in on me as my thoughts rewind to that moment when Eliza had seen Monroe, and then when she'd said those few lines to him. She'd stared at him with such admiration and had spoken so kindly to him.
You must've done something extraordinary, she'd said.
My breathing hitches a little, and I tell myself I have something in my eye, that's why my eyes are watering. When will I feel like I am enough for Eliza?
Unable to stand lying there motionless any longer, I get up and walk towards the window again. And then I begin feeling trapped in that dark room, so I yank the windows open. The warm, but cool breeze blows against my face through the window, and I feel my chest lighten ever so slightly as I listen to the crickets outside.
But that same feeling of despair and loneliness remains, and I can't help but think that I'll always be that same poor, bastard orphan, immigrant from the Caribbean.
I won't ever be able to shake that identify off, no matter where I go.
And I hate it.
***
Out of curiosity, who is your favorite character in the entire book? Thanks for all the votes and comments! :)
- Paradise_Palms