19
Match Point
The Mount Pleasant Ballroom
New York, New York
August 1785
While unbeknownst to her, Alex was in the company of a strange woman not his wife, Eliza was at the Beekman estate preparing for a ball.
She didn’t know at what point the evening turned into a party. First Elias and Amy Van Huysman showed up, then Frederick and Constance Swanson, then a half dozen other guests whose names rang a bell, but whom Eliza had never met.
Even before the first guests arrived, though, Eliza knew something was afoot, because Betty Van Rensselaer had hooked her arm through Drayton’s and was hustling him upstairs. Eliza had indeed hoped for Betty to see Drayton as a suitor, but this seemed rather . . . rushed.
“Betty? Where are you taking my footman?” she said, trailing after them.
“Footman?” Betty called without slowing. “What footman? I see only Drayton Pendleton, elegant, eligible bachelor from the wilds of . . . Kentucky, is it?”
“Ohio, madam,” Drayton said uncertainly. “And it’s Pennington, not Pendleton.”
“Ohio! Even better! Half the people here will have never even heard of it, and no one will have been there! Ohio!”
“Begging your pardon, madam, but I don’t—”
“And there’ll be none of this ‘madam’ business tonight. Tonight we are all equals. Nay, you are our superior, for rumor has it that the Pendletons’ Ohio holdings are as big as the New York estates of Livingston and Van Rensselaer combined!”
“Betty, what are you going on about?” Eliza said as she followed them down the second-floor hallway. She was only just showing, but she felt a half step slower than normal. “Drayton has been driving all day. I’m sure he’s quite tired and would like to get a bite to eat and rest.”
“Food he’ll have a-plenty, and none of that servant’s grub, either. As for rest, alas, there’ll be no rest for anyone tonight. Tonight we dance!”
She threw open a door and pushed Drayton into what appeared to be a man’s bedroom. “Out of that uniform, my good man!”
“Miss Van Rensselaer!” he protested.
“There’s a wash basin and towel. Feel free to avail yourself of it. And don’t stint on the lavender water. We can’t have you smelling of horse.” She pulled the door closed and then, to Eliza’s surprise, locked it.
Eliza took her sister-in-law’s arm. “Betty! What is going on here? Why have you taken Drayton prisoner?”
A hesitant knock came from the other side of the door. “Miss Van Rensselaer? I’m really quite confused.”
Betty smiled wickedly as she dropped the key in her cleavage.
“What’s there to be confused about?” she said in a voice loud enough for Drayton to hear. “Tonight, as per your mistress’s wish, we are doing a little experiment in class mobility. We are going to introduce you to a half dozen eligible bachelorettes and see if your innate charm is enough to woo them despite the—forgive me for being so blunt—the circumstances of your birth. Mr. James Beekman has been kind enough to lend you one of his suits for the evening to help with the charade. You are rather broader in the shoulder than he is, but the fashion is for men to wear their jackets open, so it should be suitable. Suitable!” she repeated. “Oh! I made a pun!”
“But this is absurd!” Eliza exclaimed. “Even if he does manage to fool everyone, what happens when they learn who he really is?” Eliza could not for the life of her understand how they had reached this pass. She had meant for Betty to take an interest in Drayton herself, not to introduce him to all of society as its most eligible bachelor!
“I thought he was a Pennington,” Betty joked. “Look, Eliza, no one’s going to propose to anyone tonight. And besides, I do not intend to let any of these hussies steal him from me. I am the real prize here, after all. Am I not?”
“I’m not sure prize is the word I’m thinking of right now,” Eliza said drily.
“Mrs. Hamilton?” Drayton’s voice came through the door. “What am I to do?”
“Come on,” Betty cajoled. “If nothing else it will be a night of adventure for him and Emma. And maybe something will come of it.”
“Emma?” Eliza repeated.
“Well, of course. Drayton is my project, and Emma is John’s. You are set on your brother making Emma Trask your new sister-in-law and have been giving me more than a few nudges in Drayton’s direction. Now’s your chance to see if your matchmaking will catch flame. Matchmaking! Catch flame! Oh! I did it again!”
Eliza paused. Well, first she groaned at Betty’s second bad pun, then she paused. She didn’t think it was right to treat Drayton like a plaything, but if it meant that Emma and John could be drawn closer together, it might be worth it. And Betty may have been right: This could be an adventure that her footman would look back on later in life, if not fondly, then at least with amusement. And who knew? Betty was a flesh-and-blood girl, and Drayton possessed of undeniable physical charms. Maybe something would at last spark between them. Betty seemed hung up by Drayton’s station and his uniform. Perhaps if he was dressed as a gentleman she would consider him as such and Eliza’s plan could really take off?
But getting out of his uniform seemed to be exactly what Drayton was worried about. “Mrs. Hamilton?” he called again.
Eliza couldn’t resist the intrigue of such an evening and decided it was worth a try. “If you don’t mind, Drayton, please don the suit Miss Van Rensselaer has provided for you. I gather tonight is going to be a bit of a . . . masquerade.”
“And let’s not forget about you,” Betty said. “Jane’s mother just got back from Paris with the most sumptuous fabrics you’ve ever seen. Jane’s got a dozen new dresses and she’s promised us each one—your adorable Emma will have to put aside her Pilgrim gray for the evening, I’m afraid. I’ve picked out a dress for her that is of a golden hue so rich you could think it had been hammered out by smiths rather than sewn by seamstresses. And there’s some precious metal for you too: the most stunning pink frock with real silver thread in the piping. It’s like that dress you wore in that lovely portrait of you over your fireplace, but the forte version.”
Eliza frowned. “Doesn’t forte mean loud?”
Betty winked. “Just like the evening!” Then she turned and skipped off to her own room to change.
THREE HOURS LATER, Betty’s prediction had come true. Jane had impressed a trio of servants into musical duty, and though they weren’t particularly adept at their instruments, they produced a lot of noise and managed to keep (mostly) on tempo. A succession of somewhat strained minuets, more comical than graceful, gave way to livelier jigs and reels, and the Beekmans’ airy ballroom was soon toasty with the heat of bouncing bodies. The dancers were arranged longways, in two facing lines that spanned the length of the room, and partners were passed around liberally.
Before the first hour was up, everyone had danced with everyone else. Emma and John danced elegantly, if a little mechanically—no one would ever accuse her brother of grace on the boards—and at a certain point Eliza was pretty sure that Emma was leading him rather than the other way around. Drayton, however, had clearly had lessons out in Ohio, and he had a natural swagger as well, which had Betty beaming from ear to ear. Eliza was not surprised to discover that Drayton was a good dancer, despite growing up in a cabin in the Ohio wilderness, but it was somewhat more amazing to see Emma bob and bow and twirl, all with a radiant smile on her face. Pru Schlesinger was fond of a good party, and clearly she had not deprived her poor niece of the pleasure of accompanying her out and about.
When it was her turn to dance with him, Eliza tried to ask Drayton if he was enjoying himself, but his gracefulness came at price: He concentrated so hard on the steps to their quatrain that he was barely able to acknowledge Betty’s “amiability as a partner” as he twirled and turned Eliza around the floor. But when it was time for a second go-round, she begged off. She would never say it aloud, but Eliza was tired already. She didn’t know whether it was the long day traveling or the dancing or the added weight of pregnancy, or some combination, but her feet ached as if she been on them all day.
The boys protested, but she patted her stomach and was left alone, watching the revelry with a sigh. She remembered the first ball when she had met her husband, and how he had annoyed her, only because she was so attracted to him and did not want to admit it. Alex cut such a dashing figure and was a terrible flirt—she had been quite jealous of all the girls who clung to his side like burrs. Like Aaron Burr, she thought, a literal burr on his side as they often clashed in court and traded insults in the press. Eliza always thought they were more like enemies than friends, although Alex assured her it was all in good fun.
She turned back to the present and was pleased to see Betty sweep Drayton back out on the floor, and even more pleased to see John return to Emma. The footman and the houseguest had balked at the onset of the party, but Betty and John were not to be put off, and liberal doses of the Beekmans’ homemade wine, which packed the punch of a good brandy, soon lowered their inhibitions, to Eliza’s delight. Drayton whirled Betty around as though she were weightless. Emma gamboled about like a lamb in a meadow.
It was especially nice to see Emma shed her usual reserve. Her childhood had made her steady but perhaps too serious, and Eliza delighted in seeing her let loose for once and laugh like the girl she was. And why not? She was a beautiful, graceful, poised young woman. Though too withdrawn to ever be the center of a party, she was an amiable conversationalist and even better listener. Tonight, her golden gown was every bit as resplendent as Betty promised, with emerald and turquoise embroidery that only heightened its luster. There hadn’t been time for wigs, much to everyone’s relief (or at least Eliza’s), but one of Jane’s maids had managed to do some simple but lovely plaiting of Emma’s hair, which coiled around her head in elegant loops and bows. A little powder highlighted the porcelain quality of her skin, et voilà: the “poor relation” Mary Murray had turned up her nose at was now as regal as a duchess.
Even the size of her dress didn’t hinder her. For some reason Jane thought that she was going to keep the hooped bustle in fashion, though it had been steadily decreasing in size over the past few years. Emma’s dress, like Eliza’s and Betty’s and Jane’s, was an architectural miracle, half as wide at the hips as Emma was tall, and flaring out into a massive skirt that could have swallowed a card table. Indeed, with so many girls in such large gowns, the footmen had had to bring in extra sofas and armless chairs to accommodate them in the parlors, and even then they had to be widely spaced to allow for the ladies’ spreading skirts. Yet Emma, who rarely wore a corset let alone a bustle, handled it with pure elegance.
If the ladies were exuberant flowers—dahlias and hydrangeas and rhododendrons—the gentlemen were handsome branches on which they leaned. Even so, Drayton stood out from the pack. The suit Betty had selected for him was lovely. It was in a particularly striking robin’s egg blue—pale but iridescent, bringing out the color of his eyes—although whenever Drayton was left alone he seemed to shrink a little into his own skin, as if he were trying to hide. Eliza was afraid this might give away his origins, but all it did was make him look like the rough-and-tumble son of a gentleman who had been impressed into ballroom finery by an older sister, which was almost true.
Eliza sipped some cool lemonade and rested her feet, proud of how well Drayton was doing at the party. He was such a naturally formal boy. Not cold or aloof, but respectful, even deferential, especially where women were concerned. Betty had dragged him off to a couple of chairs in a corner, and he sat with an attentive smile on his face while she went on and on about who knows what. Her hair, perhaps (she kept touching it), or her dress (she kept touching that as well—not to mention the curve around her cleavage). Drayton, poor boy, did all he could do to keep his eyes focused on hers. Being a boy of strong moral fiber, he succeeded.
If his eyes ever once dropped to Betty’s chest, Eliza never saw it, although she did occasionally catch him glancing about the room. Or, no, not around it, per se: just at one particular spot. Amidst the bustling bodies, Eliza followed his gaze to the opposite corner, where John and Emma were sharing their own glasses of wine.
Here John was the seducer and Emma the stoic, though the smile on her face seemed genuinely amused at whatever (no doubt bawdy) anecdote John was relating.
It was sweet that Drayton was so concerned for Emma. Such the gentleman, always, but he needn’t have worried. John seemed to be taking to his role as beau with enthusiasm. And why not? He and Emma lived in the same house, after all, saw each other every day, knew not just the social self but the more private, authentic individual. She knew he was more than the hard-partying college freshman, and he knew she had other sides to her besides the always-grateful ingénue who never wanted to offend lest she lose her place. She calmed him, he excited her: Together Eliza saw them as a more well-rounded, more interesting pair of individuals. A good match, and one she was right to have encouraged, Eliza thought with satisfaction.
The jury was still out on Drayton and Betty—who knew where tonight would lead them—but the more she saw Emma and John together, the more Eliza was convinced her instincts were correct.
“Matchmaker indeed,” she said under her breath.
“Begging your pardon, Eliza?”
She looked up to see her friend James Beekman smiling at her. He held a decanter in his hand glistening with drops of moisture. It had obviously just been pulled from a bucket of ice.
“Oh, excuse me, James. I was just musing out loud.”
“I shan’t ask what thoughts could provoke such an interesting exclamation,” he said tactfully. “I only came over to see if I could refresh your drink. My sister has, as usual, managed to fill the room with guests, and it is rather stuffy in here.”
Eliza smiled gratefully and patted the seat beside her—well, as close as she could reach over her wide hoops. “Please, join me. I am afraid I am not as light on my feet as I was four or five months ago. Amuse me.”
James sat down, refilling her glass fast with chilled perry—unfermented, as Eliza had requested—then topping off his own with the alcoholic version. “To be honest, I think it is you who have provided all the fun for the evening.”
“And how is that?”
“Your two mystery guests,” James replied, indicating Emma and Drayton. “They are charming everyone—when they can escape the orbit of Mr. Schuyler and Miss Van Rensselaer, at any rate.”
It took Eliza a moment to recall that James wasn’t in on Betty and Jane’s little scheme, and she decided to play along rather than risk the story leaking out.
“Ah, yes. Mr. Penning—Pendleton, I mean, and Miss Trask. They are but recent acquaintances, although both have become quite dear to me.”
“Betty has been telling the most outrageous stories about Mr. Pendleton. She says the family’s Ohio holdings are as big as Belgium.”
Eliza laughed. “You know how Betty likes to exaggerate. I don’t think the whole territory of Ohio is as big as all that,” though the truth was she was rather fuzzy about the size of the Ohio Territory, or Belgium for that matter. “But he is certainly a man of . . . singular wealth.”
“Indeed. And so well-spoken. Jane said she could listen to him talk all evening.”
“Has Jane taken a bit of a fancy, then?” Eliza asked as lightly as she could, though her heart was suddenly racing. Nothing would make Betty want someone more than a little competition. And Jane Beekman could hardly be considered a bad catch herself.
“Who knows?” James laughed. “My sister falls in love almost as often as I do, and her infatuations pass almost as fast.”
“Have you fallen in love with someone then?” Eliza asked, even as James’s eyes flicked in Emma’s direction.
When James looked back at Eliza, he saw that he had been found out. He grinned sheepishly. “Oh, I think I am rather out of my depth tonight. And to tell you the truth I enjoy being a bachelor and would not sully Miss Trask by playing Lothario.”
Eliza had heard that James liked to toy with ladies’ affections, if not their honor, and appreciated this discretion on his part. “She is indeed remarkably pure. Her life has not been blessed by great fortune or the most stable of family situations, and yet all the strife she has endured seems only to have made her stronger and more benevolent.”
James turned to admire the lithe form of Eliza’s houseguest once again. “Be careful, Eliza, lest you awaken a passion in me I cannot control.”
“Oh, James!” Eliza said, patting his knee lightly. “You are such a lad! But in all seriousness,” she added, “if you trifle with Miss Trask I shall have to hurt you.”
The two shared a laugh, though James’s was a little strained. Eliza’s tone was light, but it was clear her warning was quite the opposite.
“As I said, I think I am out of my league anyway. As is, dare I say, your brother.”
Eliza looked over at the love-struck pair. John was leaning in, attempting to make eye contact with Emma, who was looking coyly away.
“Yes, they do make—” Eliza broke off. “Wait, what? John is out of his league?”
“How long have Miss Trask and Mr. Pendleton been wooing each other?” James asked in an innocent voice. “They seem quite well suited—both so steady and well-mannered. They could teach us all a thing a two.”
“Who?” Eliza asked. “You mean Emma and . . . Drayton?” Yet even as the words left her mouth, she had the nagging sensation that she had been missing something that had been right in front of her eyes all this time. Had she been so caught up in her own plans—for a family, for the orphanage, for Emma and John and Drayton and Betty—that she could have missed an entirely different romance taking shape in her own house?
No, she told herself. It’s not possible. Yet even in her mind, she heard the whinge of protest.
James sat back slightly. “You didn’t realize?”
Eliza tried to laugh off her obvious surprise as her mind spun. “I fear you are mistaken, James. Emma and my brother are quite in love, and Drayton would never presume—” She broke off at James’s confused look. “That is, it seems clear that Drayton has his sights set on uniting the Pendleton fortune with the Van Rensselaer name.” But even as she spoke she was following Emma’s averted gaze, and realized that she wasn’t avoiding John’s eyes as much as she was seeking out Drayton’s.
James chuckled. “My mother told me never to contradict a lady. Nevertheless, I have to disagree here. I have rather a little experience in these matters, and if Miss Trask and Mr. Pennington or Pendleton or whatever his name is aren’t in love, I’ll eat my hat.”
“An easy promise,” Eliza said. “You’re not wearing a hat.”
“I have twenty,” James said. “I’ll let you pick. Some of them are quite large, and the fur trim is particularly chewy.”
Eliza looked between Emma and Drayton. Though each seemed to be paying attention to their respective partner, they each glanced the other’s way every few moments, and once, when they managed to look at the same time, they exchanged shy smiles. And now that she thought of it, their eyes seemed always to be straying to each other—at parties, at table. Even when they were in the carriage earlier, when Drayton would turn around to rib Rowena, it was Emma’s eye he would catch. Emma he would wink at. Could James really be right?
“But—but this cannot be. It is not an advantageous match for either of them.” The minute Eliza said it, she regretted it. Was she as terrible a snob as Betty Van Rensselaer? She was taken aback by the notion. After all, why couldn’t Emma and Drayton be together?
James shrugged. “One is poor, the other is rich and owns all of Ohio, and both are comely. It would seem to be the most advantageous of all unions.”
Eliza stood up abruptly. “I beg your pardon, but I am suddenly feeling rather tired.” She patted her stomach. “Could I trouble you to send Emma up to my room to help me from my dress?”
“My sister has set aside a maid—”
“In my condition,” Eliza cut him off, patting her stomach rather more pronouncedly, “I prefer the assistance of a familiar pair of hands. Thank you for understanding,” she added, then turned and exited the room.