Chapter Text
“Though I am not sanguine in expecting it, I am not without hopes this Winter will produce a peace and then you must submit to the mortification of enjoying more domestic happiness and less fame. This I know you will not like, but we cannot always have things as we wish.” –Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler, August 1780.
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July 1782
Eliza opened the door to the linen closet and paused, face hidden as she took a deep breath. Peace, once her most ardent prayer, was beginning to feel like little more than a beautiful dream that slipped further away the harder she clung to it. She brushed her fingertips over the corners of her eyes to wipe away the gathering moisture.
When Hamilton first came home from Yorktown, he’d been so worn and ill that he’d taken to bed on and off for nearly a month. As much as she hated to see him unwell, all those long hours she’d spent simply holding him in her arms while he’d rested beside her had felt like a gift from heaven. Of course, she’d known that she couldn’t keep him all to herself forever. His health improved and he began to set his sights on the future, studying for the bar and taking up the post of Receiver of Continental Taxes for New York. The first task had been expected; the second had been more concerning.
“It hardly even qualifies as a government appointment,” Hamilton had assured her. “It’s just a way to earn a little money while I finish my studies, so we won’t be so dependent on your family.”
She’d tried to believe him, but she knew he could do nothing by halves. Sure enough, within weeks of accepting the post, he was off to Poughkeepsie to argue for tax reforms to a committee of assemblymen. The committee had been so impressed by his passionate and persuasive appeal that they’d voted to appoint him as a delegate to the Continental Congress that very day.
He’d hesitated in accepting, telling her, “I want nothing but you and our baby, Betsey. I couldn’t bear to be away from you, all the way in Philadelphia, for months at a time.” She’d thought that was the end of it, that he would refuse the appointment and stay with her here in New York, until today, when a letter from John Laurens had arrived.
“I was flattered with an account of you being elected a delegate from N. York,” Laurens wrote from South Carolina. “I must confess to you, that, at the present state of the War, I sh[oul]d prefer your going into Congress…Your private affairs cannot require such immediate and close attention; you speak like a pater familias surrounded with numerous progeny.”*
Hamilton showed her the letter after dinner, expression conflicted. “Maybe Jack is right. I could do a lot of good as a delegate, and it’s not going to get easier to take an appointment in the future, when I’ve a practice to manage and our family has grown. What do you think?”
She thought she’d very much like to strangle Jack.
“Pip and I can manage, if this is something you feel you need to do,” she’d answered instead.
He’d given her a wide, sunny smile. “Thank you.”
She sighed, straightened her spine, and reached for the extra towels she’d come to collect from the linen closet. Their new country needed her brilliant husband; she supposed she should be proud. But was it so much to ask to keep even a fraction of him for herself?
The sound of breathy, squeaky baby giggles grew more audible as she approached her bedroom. She paused in the open doorway, leaning against the doorjamb with her arms full of towels as a smile blossomed across her face. Pip splashed happily at the soapy, bubbly water in his shallow bath basin while her husband ducked down behind the edge.
“Where’s Pip? Where’d he go?” Hamilton asked, tone light and happy. He jumped back up into Pip’s line of sight and clapped his hands. “There he is!”
Pip laughed even harder and splashed at the water again so that more of it sloshed over the side of the basin onto the floor. Shaking her head at the growing puddle on the wooden floorboards, she stepped into the room and laid one of the towels down over it. Her husband’s shirt and breeches were also soaked, she noticed. “Are you trying to give Papa a bath, Pip?” she asked.
Hamilton looked down at his dripping shirt and grinned at her. “I don’t mind. It’s so hot out, I probably could use another one.”
She gave him an exaggerated sniff, then made a face. His laughter prompted another fit of giggles from their son. “You might be right. But at this rate, there won’t be enough water left to clean our son,” she added lightly.
“We’re having fun,” he replied, voice still pitched up to keep Pip’s attention. His fingers reached to tickle Pip on his pudgy little tummy. Pip twisted in on himself, face red as he gasped more breathy giggles. She couldn’t help smiling at her son’s pure delight.
“So I see,” she agreed. She ran her hand over the mop of dark hair on Pip’s head to settle him a little. His big dark eyes turned to gaze up at her and he gave her a broad, gummy grin. She cooed softly, “My sweet boy.”
“All right, my darling boy, let’s get you cleaned up,” Hamilton said, voice softer and lower. He reached for the bar of soap and a hand towel, and dipped both into what remained of the bathwater before rubbing the soap vigorously against the towel. More bubbles appeared on the surface of the water. Pip grabbed at them curiously, frowning when they disappeared in his little fist.
“We can’t have a stinky baby in the house.” Hamilton made a silly face as he said the last sentence, which caused Pip to break out in fresh giggles.
She stood back as he finished up with Pip’s bath. The happy scene brought a renewed wave of sadness as she watched. This was how she loved him best, she thought, home and focused on her and their baby. Hadn’t she shared him enough?
**
That night found Eliza lying awake in bed, blinking slowly at the canopy above her as thoughts of Hamilton leaving that fall raced through her head. A muted hoot from an owl joined the rhythmic music of the cicadas, crickets, and her husband’s snores as she shifted uncomfortably and finally shoved the thin blanket off of her entirely. The sweltering summer heat had hardly eased at all with the setting sun. She felt sticky with sweat, her pillow damp beneath her.
The more she thought about losing him to public service for another year, the more upset she grew. She’d waited nearly a year to marry him while he fought for America. She’d lived with a nearly overwhelming fear for months while he marched off to Virginia to face the British at Yorktown. When he came home, it was supposed to be for good.
Yet, when they’d discussed it again before going to bed, she could see how much the idea of representing New York in Congress appealed to him. He used to rant and rail about Congress’s ineptitude; the chance to change it from the inside seemed to grow on him the more he considered it. As much as she wanted him home with her, she didn’t want to hold him back from doing something he truly wanted to do. Part of her recognized that her feelings on the matter were being exaggerated by the muggy, sleepless night. All she really wanted was some meaningful, quality time with her husband, away from thoughts of the war, and the law, and Congress.
She sighed and sat up. If she was to endure yet another year of separation from her beloved, she’d just have to seize what little time they did have together, she decided. And if sleep was going to continue to elude her, she may as well start now.
“Hamilton?”
He snored softly.
She leaned down and pressed her lips to his gently. His lips puckered slightly against hers in response, but he still didn’t seem awake. Caressing the soft material of his nightshirt, she asked again, “Hamilton?”
“Hm?” he hummed.
“Are you awake?”
“Mm.”
“Wake up,” she urged.
She was rewarded with one bleary eye, just visible in the moonlight.
“What?” he groaned.
“I can’t sleep,” she told him.
His hand went to her hip and soothed down towards her thigh. His open eye fell closed. When she kissed him again, he responded lazily and then whispered, “I’m sleeping.”
She shook him gently by the shoulder and pressed, “Hamilton.”
“What?” he whined, though both his eyes finally opened.
“I can’t sleep,” she repeated.
He sighed heavily and sat up, rubbing his hand over his face in the dark. Slightly more awake now, he edged closer to her and asked, “What’s the matter?”
She didn’t want to rehash her all her racing thoughts. Talking more would only make him feel bad about wanting to accept the position, which wasn’t what she wanted. She considered a moment, relishing the feeling of his hand atop hers.
An idea occurred to her, bringing a smile to her face. “I want to go on an adventure.”
“What?” He squinted at her, sleep-mussed and adorably confused.
“An adventure,” she repeated.
“Now?”
“Now,” she confirmed, sliding out of bed and tugging on his arm to encourage him to follow. “Come on.”
“You’re insane,” he groaned as he slid across the bed towards her and slowly lowered his feet to the floor.
Mood substantially improved already, she laughed and simply encouraged, “Come.”
He padded along obediently behind her as she led him out of the room towards the main staircase.
“Watch the second step,” she whispered. “It creaks.”
He chuckled, and replied sotto voce, “I have concerns about how adept you are at sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night.”
“A girl can’t reveal all her secrets.” She smiled at him mysteriously. In reality, she’d never actually snuck out of the house before; she’d learned about the creaky step from sneaking downstairs early on many a Christmas morning, when the smell of spices and sweetmeats emanating from the kitchen grew too tempting to resist.
When they made it to the foyer, she struck a match to light one of the lanterns, then reclaimed Hamilton’s hand to tug him out the door.
“Where are we going?” he asked as he eased the door shut behind them.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “That’s what makes it an adventure.”
She glanced back to see him grinning at her in the lantern light. “Lead the way.”
Holding the light out in front of her, she fit her fingers into the spaces between his and took off at a run towards the grassy hill that led to the riverbank. Her bare feet grew damp in the long, dewy grass as she ran, laughing, blessedly cool and happy in the fresh night air. Hamilton was only a mere step behind her as they raced, faster and faster, down the steep hill, until it felt like they were flying.
He let go of her hand close to the bottom. She wasn’t sure if he slipped or if he purposely went down, but he ended up rolling in the grass the rest of the way. She’d skidded to a halt when he first fell, and he’d surged ahead past her, his laughter beckoning her on towards the river. She stumbled to a stop at the bottom, dropped the lantern to the ground, and flopped down beside him.
“Would you look at that?” he asked softly.
She followed his gaze up towards the heavens, where thousands of little stars gleamed in the inky black alongside the nearly full moon, and not a single cloud obscured their view. The throaty croak of a bullfrog sounded nearby, a newcomer to the cicadas and crickets she’d been listening to all evening, with the gentle rush of the steadily rolling Hudson the perfect baseline to the song of the wildlife around them. Hamilton’s hand found hers again, their fingers entwining on the damp grass beneath them.
“It’s so beautiful,” she sighed. For a moment, the sensation of flying down the hill swept over her again, only now she was floating up into the glittering sky, just her, and her Hamilton, and the stars. The fanciful thought made her smile. She rolled over in the grass to be nearer to him. With a contented smile, she whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he replied in a soft, tender voice. His free hand came up to brush through the curls that had come free of her braid while she ran. She closed her eyes to fully enjoy the sensation.
She could lay like this with him forever, she thought, as she rested her head on his chest, just over his heart.
Eventually, Hamilton sat up and wandered over to the riverbank. He stooped down to collect some small pebbles and then began to attempt to skip them on water. She pushed herself up and drew her knees to her chest as she watched him, his shadowed face somehow both serene and serious as he concentrated. His first two attempts ended with the pebble plopping into the water and sinking straight to the bottom.
“Keep your wrist loose,” she advised.
He smiled at her and tried again, to the same end. She shook her head and stood, moving to stand behind him. Sliding one hand over his hip, she grasped the wrist holding the pebble lightly and tried to adjust his hold. “Loose,” she said again. “Aim straight ahead, not down.”
He tried again. With her hand guiding his, the pebble skipped across the water twice before sinking down to the riverbed. She nuzzled his neck lovingly as she praised, “Better.”
His head tipped back and to the side to encourage her affectionate gesture. She slid both her arms around his torso, splaying her hands out across his chest and belly as she planted a soft kiss to the spot she’d nuzzled. The next pebble sank directly down into the river again.
“I’m distracting you,” she pointed out.
“Please, distract away,” he invited. The pebbles in his hand fell to the ground as he closed his hands over hers. She hugged him closer and kissed the spot on his neck again.
“Betsey?” he asked, bringing the hand on his chest up to his lips.
“Mm?”
He turned in her arms to face her. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”
She gazed up into his eyes; they looked warm and bright in the light from the lamp behind them. “I’m…a little disappointed, I suppose, that you’re accepting the appointment to Philadelphia,” she admitted. When his face fell, she amended quickly, “It’s wonderful that you were chosen. Really. I’m so proud of you. I just...I feel like I’m losing you all over again.”
His expression was earnest and open. “I could still turn it down.”
“No,” she sighed, leaning in to hug him properly. “I don’t want you to turn it down. I’m just going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too,” he assured her. “So much. You and Pip, you’re the most important people in the world to me. But I’ll come home whenever I can, and you’ll come to visit me, right?” His voice went a little tight at the end, almost worried, as though the consequences of his decision were only just now dawning on him.
“Of course I will,” she promised. His arms tightened around her. “We’ll work it out, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
His face tipped down and he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re so amazing. Do you know that?”
She grinned up at him. “I do.”
He laughed.
Eager to lighten the mood, she added, “I must admit, there was another reason I couldn’t sleep."
“What’s that?”
“It’s entirely too hot,” she complained. Even outside with the light breeze off the river, she was getting overheated in his arms. “I can’t even hug you without sweating.”
“Well, we can’t have that. We’ll just need to cool you off.” With no more warning than that, he swept her up into his arms.
She squealed with laughter as she hung on to his neck, her feet kicking ineffectively at the air. They splashed into the water, both still dressed in their nightwear, and when her body was partly submerged, he let her go. She released her hold on his neck and sank under the water for a brief moment; when her feet found the riverbed, she stood, sputtering.
“Better?” he asked.
She smacked him on the arm, but couldn’t contain her laughter at the stunt. The water was gloriously cool, she had to admit. “Yes, I feel better.”
He kicked off the riverbed and began stroking out further into the river, perfectly at ease in the slow current. Although she’d learned how to keep herself afloat in water, paddling along in a manner not dissimilar to her father’s favorite hunting dog, her technique looked nothing like Hamilton’s sure and athletic movements. She bit her lip, keeping her feet firmly on the riverbed as she watched him glide out along the water effortlessly, then dive underwater and shoot back towards her, his feet splashing water up along his path. He popped back up in front of her, splashing her unintentionally.
She splashed him back lightly and queried, “Where did you learn to swim like that?”
“I’m from an island. Knowing how to swim is something of a necessity,” he answered easily.
She pictured him as a small boy, paddling out into the clear turquoise water of the Caribbean sea. “Did your father teach you?”
He laughed, though there was a note of melancholy in the sound.
“No. Actually Neddy taught me.” His voice brightened at the mention of his childhood friend. “Well, sort of. He pushed me off a dock. I figured out the rest on my own.”
Her eyes widened. “He pushed you off a dock?”
“He went in right after me. I wasn’t in any danger,” he assured her, voice still tinged with amusement at the memory.
“Well, you looked very impressive,” she said.
“Did I?” he asked, a flirtatious edge sneaking into his voice. She could just make out his crooked smirk in the starlight. His arms wrapped around her again, tugging her close. She moved with him, floating off the riverbed slightly as she kissed him in lieu of responding.
Only when she’d pulled back slightly did she noticed he’d walked them out past the point where her feet could touch the riverbed below them. She tightened her arms around him. “What are you doing?”
“You’re fine,” he promised. “Trust me.”
She nodded, relaxing in his arms and letting her feet kick lazily. Glancing upwards as she floated along, she noticed again the endless inky sky above them. “I feel like we’re floating through the stars,” she remarked, then felt foolish for voicing such a silly thought aloud.
“We are,” he whispered softly in her ear.
He spun them around as though they were dancing. She smiled, desperately trying to commit this moment to memory. The moonlight shining on the water created a dreamlike quality, but Hamilton was so warm and solid in her arms. She felt perfectly at peace.
**
They snuck back upstairs as quietly as they’d left, dripping wet and nearly indecent in their clinging white nightshirts. The wood of the stairs felt cool and slippery under her bare feet. When they reached the top, she whispered, “I’ll get us some towels.”
He nodded and padded down the hall towards the nursery, no doubt intent on looking in on Pip before they both retired.
She eased open the linen closet, taking care not to let the hinges creak. Staring at the neatly folded sheets and towels for the second time that night, she felt a soft smile tug at the corners of her lips. Perhaps the delights of peace and domestic happiness wouldn’t be as easy as she’d first hoped, but their love was more than enough to carry them through whatever obstacles lay ahead. She could share that brilliant mind of his with the country for a little while, she decided.
She alone held his heart.
And that was enough.