Phillip, my eldest child and son, all grown up.
Tears spring to my eyes at the sight of him before me, and I drop to my knees, my skirts billowing around me, as I hold my arms out.
"Are you not going to give your mother a hug?" I ask, trying to make my voice sound lighthearted, but it's hard when I have so many emotions coursing through me.
This is the very child that had me throwing up nearly every morning for the first few months, and then exhausted me in the later months. Phillip was the one I had labored over for seven and a half months.
If only I had stayed in Philadelphia in 1781 for one and a half more months instead of time traveling forward, I might have been able to hold him properly as a baby. Instead, I have to settle for the brief hug he gives me before he draws back.
"Are you crying, mom?" he asks, his wide, innocent eyes filling with worry.
I shake my head and try at a smile. "No, I'm just happy to see you."
Phillip only nods before turning to Angelica and volunteering, "I'll play piano with you."
Angelica beams and exclaims eagerly, "Yes! Come on, come on!"
She grabs his hand and begins tugging him to the room behind Hamilton and me where the piano is located. I rise to my feet and smile at them as they pass, trying to memorize their young faces in case— or when— I travel again.
I had only traveled twelve years, so I still have eight more years to go.
Hamilton's hand finds mine, and he whispers in my ear, "Come outside with me. We can walk around downtown."
I nod and together we head down the stairs. "Who will watch the children?" I ask, glancing around the house in search for any servants or other adults as we reach the front door.
"We have a couple of servants," Hamilton tells me as he shrugs on a black coat that ends mid-thigh.
He hands me a coat of my own that's a light blue color, and I put it on before we go outside.
When I step out the door, I freeze in my tracks at the sight before me. We're still in Philadelphia because I can spot Independence Hall from here, but it's certainly not the same Philadelphia as the one from 1781.
For one, there are more buildings surrounding us. Philadelphia used to be four blocks, but now it has to be at least eight or even ten blocks. In addition, the city appears to be even wealthier. The buildings are nicer, the streets are a bit cleaner, and the people are all dressed in their finest.
I look closer at one particular building that has a sign that reads Chamber of Congress.
That's when it hits me: Philadelphia is the new capital. All of a sudden a sentence from one of my notes on Hamilton resurfaces, and I can picture the sentence written down on the paper in my mind as if the notes were right in front of me.
Hamilton secretly met with Thomas Jefferson and James Madison to negotiate a deal. The deal was that Jefferson and Madison would support Hamilton's banking plan if the capital was temporarily moved from New York City to Philadelphia while the new capital by the Potomac River was being built. The new capital would be farther south, which would please the Virginians.
I don't realize I've stopped on the first step in front of our front door until Hamilton prompts from the bottom step, "Eliza?"
I move my eyes away from this new city to his face and say as I walk down the rest of the steps to him, "You negotiated with Jefferson and Madison didn't you? That's why Philadelphia is the new capital."
His nose wrinkles in distain at the mention of Jefferson and Madison, and he replies stiffly, "It's also why our nation has an efficient financial system."
I nod and loop my arms through his. "My genius husband," I grin, looking up at him, and he smiles back tentatively.
"Come on. Let me show you the city," he says, tugging me forward, and I allow him to lead us through the streets.
It's only when we've begun walking that I realize the city is more crowded, too. The sidewalks are full of people and the streets crowded with carriages and horses. I'm watchful as we walk, my focus split between studying the new Philadelphia and ensuring I don't run into anyone or anything.
I'm casually looking across the street when I spot the three men. Hamilton must see them at the same time as I do because I feel him stiffen beside me.
My hand tightens on his jacket where my arm is looped through his, the wool of his jacket scratching lightly against my fingers. I dare a look at Hamilton's face to see him glaring daggers at the three men, not even bothering to hide his distaste.
I jostle his arm and murmur, "You can at least try to appear cordial towards them."
Hamilton's gaze slides to mine, eyes softening somewhat, but I can tell he's still irked by the sight of the men.
"I can't help it, my dear Eliza. Jefferson and Madison have been holding a grudge against me since I became Secretary of Treasury. Their views are the exact opposite of mine. They're too focused on their own state of Virginia than the union of our nation. They just want more money for their state. It's why they wanted the capital farther south, and it's also why they didn't want to assume state debts. It would've meant that Virginia would end up paying off a lot of the national debt."
"Then what did Burr ever do to you?" I ask, eyeing the colonel from where we've stopped on the side of the sidewalk.
Last I checked, Hamilton didn't really like Burr, but now it seems as if he holds a personal grudge against the man.
Burr walks to the side of Jefferson and Madison. To be honest, he looks like he's being third wheeled and desperately wants to be included. It's mainly Jefferson and Madison talking to each other with Burr occasionally trying to get his piece in. Except, every time Burr opens his mouth, Madison and Jefferson glance warily his way, maybe saying a word or two, before going back to their conversation.
I almost feel sorry for Burr.
That is until Hamilton says, "A couple of years ago I tried to fund a sanitation project here in Philadelphia. It was to help reconstruct and build a sewage system so that the spread of yellow fever wouldn't be as rampant in the summer."
I glance at the sun at his words. It's definitely warmer, now. It's September, so it's a little late for a yellow fever outbreak, but not too late. It can definitely still happen.
Hamilton continues, "Burr helped me fund it by creating a company called the Manhattan Company. Except, it turned out to be a new bank that caters mostly to Democratic-republicans. To make matters worse, he'd also covertly added a statement in the bank's contract that essentially put the bank into his control, and in the process lost all the money to fund the new sewage system."
He sighs with irritation before continuing, "It turns out Burr only wanted to create a Democratic-Republican bank to counter my own, not even carrying that he was ruining a chance to benefit the city and save people's lives."
Hearing this, I look at Burr with a glare equal to Hamilton's earlier one. Hamilton laughs at the sight and gives me a fond kiss on my cheek.
Suddenly, the three men all look our way, and Hamilton and I both suck in a breath. I catch sight of Hamilton tipping his hat in greeting out of the corner of my eye. Jefferson only smirks and tips his hat, too, but it's almost mocking. Madison tips his hat as well, but Burr only stands there, his eyes boring holes into Hamilton.
Jefferson makes a gesture that reminds me of someone bringing a finger across their neck. Suddenly, Hamilton tugs me forward, and I have to look forward away from the three men as I stumble a little, trying to keep upright, before I manage to regain my balance. I match Hamilton's quick stride.
"What was that all about?" I ask, and Hamilton only shakes his head.
"Nothing," he says, but he averts his eyes from me, which tells me that something is wrong.
Remembering something, I ask, "Hey weren't you and Mr. Madison friends? He helped you write the Federalists Papers."
Hamilton had recruited James Madison and John Jay to write a series of eighty-five essays unanimously supporting a strong national government. John Jay wrote five essays, James Madison wrote twenty-nine, and Alexander Hamilton wrote the other fifty-one.
I can't help but feel a surge of pride towards my husband upon remembering this.
Hamilton huffs a laugh and responds cynically, "So I thought. He and I were on the same page on how the government should be run until Thomas Jefferson came along and manipulated him to his agenda. Now, the two of them are as close as can be, and Jemmy supports strong state power."
Jemmy as in James Madison, I suppose.
After that, we slip into comfortable silence. He doesn't slow his fast pace until we're in sight of our house. I hadn't even realized we'd made a loop back.
"I'm sorry you didn't get a full tour," Hamilton tells me apologetically as we walk up the front steps. "I just realized I have some work to do."
"That's okay," I say, clasping my hands in front of me. "You go do your work. I'll keep Angelica and Phillip occupied if they aren't already doing something."
Hamilton smiles a little and replies, "We have three more."
I frown at him, confused. "Three more?" I parrot, tilting my head to the side.
"Alexander Jr, James, and John," Hamilton elaborates. "Our other three sons."
Without waiting for me to respond, he swings open the door. The sounds of children playing greet me as I step inside, and suddenly two boys around four or five come running around the corner. A moment later, a three-year-old comes stumbling into the room after them.
One of the boys, who looks the exact copycat of Hamilton with his auburn hair and blue eyes, tags the boy who looks his same age— or at least around his age— and shouts, "You're it!" before bounding away gleefully.
The boy who had just gotten tagged pouts and shouts, "Alex! You did not tag me! You only got my shirt! You're still it!"
"Nuh uh! I definitely touched your arm, John!" Alex argues back, his head popping around a corner to peer at the other boy, waiting to see if John would accept this fact.
Sensing a fight stirring, I quickly intercede. "Boys," I greet loud enough for them to hear, and all three of their heads turn.
"Mama, Papa!" they shout in almost perfect unison before running up to us and throwing their arms around our waist. I smile down at them and pat their backs since it's hard to wrap my arms around all of them.
Hamilton says, "Go upstairs and play tag there. We have guests arriving later."
The boys nod and run upstairs without protest. Once we're alone again, I turn to him and say with a grin, "They're so precious."
Hamilton returns my grin and exclaims, "They've all managed to inherit their mother's beauty!" He wraps his arms around my waist and, lifting me up, spins me around.
I grab his shoulders and release a joyous laugh as he spins me in a circle. He sets me back down a moment later, and we're left staring at each other with matching smiles.
I remember, then, what he had told the boys, and I ask a little breathlessly, "We have guests coming?"
He smiles and nods as he tells me, "You'll like them, too." A mischievous glint lights in his eyes.
Seeing this, I demand with a smile, "Tell me who it is."
"Angelica," Hamilton answers without hesitation as if he couldn't contain the secret any longer in his excitement, and I let out a shout of delight before throwing my arms around his neck.
"She's finally come back from England!" I cheer.
When I pull away, Hamilton is smiling softly at me. His smile fades, though, and a frown begins to inch its way onto his face as if he'd just remembered something terrible.
"Eliza, there's something I need to tell you. But later. I'll wait until tonight after Angelica and John have left to tell you."
"Why not tell me now?" I ask, tilting my head to the side, "Is it something bad?"
He looks at me grimly before nodding. "Later, though. I want you to enjoy your evening."
***
When I hear the front door knock, I let out a squeak of excitement and dash for the door. I swing it open to reveal Angelica and John Church on the front steps.
"Angelica!" I greet.
"Eliza!" she exclaims before throwing her arms around me. She pulls away and smiles at me before her gaze slides over my shoulder. "Alexander," she greets fondly.
"Hi," I hear him answer.
"It's good to see your face," Angelica singsongs before swooping inside. I smile at John in greeting as he passes me.
"I've missed you so much, Angelica," I say as I follow them into the dining room where I've set the table with china and laid out the food.
"And I, you," Angelica replies, giving me a warm look. She sits down in one of the chairs, and John follows to sit beside her. Hamilton and I sit opposite them.
I'd told the children to stay in their rooms for the night, having fed them dinner earlier, so it could be just us adults. Phillip had been a little disgruntled by it, claiming he was old enough to eat with us, but eventually, he had accepted it.
"Have you heard the news?" Angelica asks, glancing between Hamilton and me. When she sees our blank looks, she informs us, "There has been talk of a yellow fever epidemic. They say it's going to be the worst one yet."
"Here?" I ask though it's a stupid question.
Of course it's here in Philadelphia, what with this being a very populated city. Angelica nods solemnly.
"John and I are considering moving out of the city for a month in case the rumors are true. You'd be wise to do the same," Angelica tells us matter-of-factly, the perfect portrait of an older sister advising her younger sister; all sternness and superiority.
It's only then that Hamilton speaks up, "I'm afraid I can't leave Philadelphia. I have too much work in the Treasury to do. It's a critical time now in the government. To leave would be unwise," he says, looking only at Angelica. I notice his use of her wording. "But," he continues, "Eliza and the children should go."
"No," I say almost immediately, "I will stay and the children will go. I can't possibly leave you by yourself."
At my objection, sudden tension fills the room. It's as thick as molasses and every bit as hard to wipe away, despite Angelica's small, answering laugh to ease the air.
"The rumor might be what it is; a rumor. So, there is no need to be worried just yet," she says placatingly, but I find myself doubting her words.
Cities are notorious for diseases, especially yellow fever, in the summer. I doubt this rumor is a lie.
But I nod anyway and say, "Indeed."
For the rest of the evening, Hamilton is quiet beside me, and every time I glance over at him, his shoulders are stiff with tension. It must be his work bothering him. Maybe that's what he wanted to talk to me about earlier. Or perhaps it's this talk of yellow fever— he's never liked the disease since he'd had it in the Caribbean as a young boy. He must be worried over our children's health.
I make up for his quietness by talking almost constantly, asking Angelica questions about everything under the rainbow. Eventually, the conversation turns to Peggy, who to my surprise, had three children. Two of them died a few months ago. Angelica says it was scarlet fever.
I wish I could comfort my younger sister, but I figure that I had already done so when the tragedy happened, so to do so now would be strange.
Eventually, the Church's make to leave, and I give a heartfelt goodbye to Angelica before she steps out of the house. The door shuts behind her, leaving Hamilton and I standing there, staring at the closed door.
I twist to face him and smile as I sashay towards him. I loop my arms around his neck and kiss him. He responds and kisses me back, a desperate edge to his kiss.
But then he pulls away and says with apparent anguish, "I need to tell you something, Eliza. I don't know what my enemies will do with the information, so I need to tell you before they do."
My brow furrows at his words and his obvious distress. "What is it?" I ask, "How does it concern me? Did you do something I would disapprove of? Is it your work?"
He only nods and, taking my hand, leads me into a room. It's his office. I can tell because there's a large desk with several papers spread across it, almost in disarray. A bookshelf stands behind his desk against the wall. I catch sight of a book on the shelf that I had once borrowed from him so long ago.
He leads me over to his chair, and I sit down tentatively, my anxiety rising with every tense second that passes. He remains standing and simply begins pacing before me as if preparing for a tough case in court.
"Alexander, stop keeping me in suspense," I say sharply when he paces for a solid minute, my distress making my words and tone harsher than intended.
He stops pacing and stands by the window. "Eliza," he says, his voice cracking on my name. "I've wronged you."
My brows furrow deeper and alarm blossoms inside me. "How?"
He takes a shaky breath and comes to stand before me. I look down at his hands and notice they're trembling slightly. I reach out on instinct and take them in my own so they stop shaking.
"I don't deserve you, my sweet Eliza," Alexander moans. "It began in the summer of 1791," he begins, and I force myself to look at his face as dread curdles in my stomach.
Except, he isn't looking at me, but at the ground.
He takes another deep breath before spilling everything. In my shock and disbelief, I can only catch a few of the words, the ones that jump out at me. Words such as 'affair', 'Maria Reynolds', 'check stubs', among others.
Adulterer.
Tears well in my eyes as he tells his story, and I know he's upset, too, because his voice is cracking, but I can only focus on my own grief. My tears begin spilling down my cheeks as if someone had broken down the dam blocking them from falling, and I wrench my hands out of his and stand up from my chair, unable to hear any more of his treacherous words.
All I can think of are his letters to me, so beautifully written, so thoughtful and eloquent, so praising. All of those secret smiles he would give me, the sweet kisses, the mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes.
Did he look at this Maria Reynolds like that? While he was kissing me, was he thinking of her? When he laid in bed with me was he picturing her beside him or sometimes even under him?
Just the thought of her name in my mind sears me with anger and grief.
While I'd been thinking all of these thoughts, his voice had been a dull background, but now his voice becomes clear as I tune into what he's saying.
"—the two of them and Monroe, the bastard, were investigating me, accusing me of fraud. They said I was taking money from the Treasury. I had to tell them the truth, that I was paying James Reynolds from my own pocket to cover the affair. Whatever they decide to do with the information, if they decide to make it public, I wanted to tell you myself—"
"You have ruined me!" I cry, bringing a trembling hand to my mouth.
Unable to just stand there, I start walking towards the bookcase before I rebound back to where Hamilton is now sitting, unable to stand.
I have to sit down again as I whisper hoarsely, "You have ruined us. How could you?" I stare at him, almost expecting him to respond, before I repeat with increased anger and volume, "How could you, Alexander!"
Hamilton looks at me with wide eyes full of heartbreak, and he whispers, "I know, and I'm sorry. You were away in Albany with the children, and I was alone here with this stressful job of mine-- damn it!" He stops talking abruptly, his voice having grown louder as he talked.
Through my grief, I know the last part he said, his anger, was directed towards himself for ruining everything.
"Stop," I gasp out, standing up from my— no his— chair. He looks at me with pleading desperation and reaches out to me, but I stumble away. "Get away from me," I snap, unable to stop the trembling in my voice.
I look at his face, crumbling with grief, and I can't help but wonder if she ran her fingers through his hair like I so often do. Was I not good enough for him? Was I not pleasing enough?
My thoughts are bitter sounding.
"Eliza," he moans again, trying to grab my hand, but I snatch it away. "I love you, Eliza," he pleads, but I don't believe it.
How could he love me and have an affair with another woman at the same time?
Suddenly, my wedding ring is a burning presence around my finger, and I fling it off and throw it at him before turning and running out of the room. I remember I'm still wearing that damn locket around my neck with the sonnet he once wrote me, and I grip the chain and yank.
I hear the delicate chain break, and I look down to see the broken necklace, his wedding gift to me, in my hand. I toss it to the floor as I race for the front door.
My breath comes out in sobs as I slam into the front door with my shoulder and shove it open. My feet scramble for purchase on the steps as I dash out onto the empty street.
I'm momentarily disorientated as I look around at the surrounding buildings, some new and some utterly different from last I remembered.
For a moment, I'm in the encampment at Valley Forge, snow in my eyes, cheek throbbing as I fall and skid on the icy ground, my mind crazed and jumbled after Angelica had told me she loved Alexander.
But then I remember again what Hamilton had told me moments ago, and it's so much worse than Angelica loving Alexander because now I'm the one who has lost his love. I'm the one left alone and despairing. At least then at Valley Forge we both loved each other, but now he no longer loves me.
I don't know if I even love him back anymore.
Now, I remember I'm in Philadelphia, and Alexander had an affair. An affair.
A sob tears free from me, and I run down the street, damning those rumors of yellow fever. If I catch the fever, so be it. My tears blur my vision as I speed down the street, needing to get far, far away.
Far from Alexander, the man who broke my heart and tore it all apart.