10

Lean in to Me

Near the Cochran Residence

Morristown, New Jersey

February 1780

The moon slipped under a blanket of clouds as the first snowflakes landed on Hector’s shoulders. It had taken the big bay a mile or so to get used to the current arrangement on his back. While a warhorse is able to withstand the roar of cannon fire without flinching, tolerating the tickle and swish of petticoats behind any horse’s head is something altogether different. This brave gelding could neither see them nor shake off their bothersome lacy itch. But he quickly came to trust that the lightweight human perched on his back had the sort of skilled hands he could put up with.

Eliza reached out and patted the bay’s strong neck. “Walk on, Hector.”

A mile or so back, the young colonel had pointed out final directions to the encampment before lapsing once more into an abashed silence. Thankfully it wouldn’t be long before this nightmare was behind her.

The soft clip-clop of Hector’s hooves beat quarter time to the racing march of her thoughts. It riled her to think about how Alex had accused her of the basest harlotry. The absolute cheek of the man—to think she of all people would have acted in such a way. To think he had believed her the type of girl who would send a boy notes outside of an approved courtship, with a tryst in a hayloft of all places!

And yet the memory of taking his handkerchief was clearer now . . . the saucy way she, Angelica, and Peggy had cut the legs out from under the young aide-de-camp—that is, secretary—who was busy putting on airs in front of a posse of second-rate society girls, who were only flirting with him because they had neither fortune nor beauty enough to attract a more prestigious suitor. It was easy to see how her words could be misconstrued as flirting—pretending to cut down a boy to test his mettle. She had even felt the same thrill she got when she flirted with other boys. So maybe she had been flirting with him. Still, that gave him no right to make such gross presumptions about her.

But he said there had been a note that he believed was from her hand. So they weren’t really presumptions, were they?

He seemed quite disappointed that she had not met this assignation. Until he realized his mistake.

It was bewildering. Eliza knew that she should think less of Alex for this and assume him to be the sham of a gentleman that her mother claimed he was.

But Eliza had met true roués before—men who pretended to be respectable in public and then indulged in the most repulsive behaviors in private. Alex hadn’t behaved like a man who was removing a mask or like he was trying to entice Eliza into something illicit or nefarious. No, his behavior seemed natural. Grateful even, as if she had given him a rare but not unusual gift—an exquisitely wrought charcoal sketch, say, or the first crocus of spring.

Still, Eliza couldn’t let it go. The fury she felt was not near enough protection from the horrid cold, although the realization that for two years he’d kept the handkerchief she’d once stuffed into her bodice had a peculiarly warming effect of its own.

But this was still February in New Jersey. An uncontrollable shiver raced down her spine, shaking her from her reverie. The nice thing about anger was that it distracted you from the cold. But it didn’t actually make you any warmer, and now Eliza’s teeth began to chatter. She grabbed a hunk of Hector’s thick black mane, hoping to find some warmth there, and didn’t let go. Her body ached with fatigue from the cold and she wasn’t sure how long she could hold her seat.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered. “Lean in to me and let me take the reins from here.”

Eliza had no willfulness left in her. The cold had stripped it away. She closed her eyes and let go of the reins, melting into the warmth of his chest and shoulders as they closed in around her.

In a feverish dream-like state, she was suddenly at home again in the warmth of her family’s parlor. The young colonel was there, twirling her in his arms as he turned a reel with a graceful step. His hand on the small of her back and his breath against her neck made her feel as if she were floating in time and space. She had once found a young lady’s delight in his arms. Now the closeness of the man hemmed in behind her brought solid comfort.

The steady clip-clop of horse hooves and the mournful hoot of an owl lulled her toward a deeper calm. And somehow, she slept.

Later, in the arms of the man she had told never to speak to her again, Eliza opened her eyes and looked into his face.

“But how could it be that you were on the road today, just as we approached?”

“Shhh,” Alex whispered. “Shhhh. It won’t be long before we’ll have you sitting in front of a fire with a hot bowl of broth. For the moment, just lean back, close your eyes, and let Hector do his job.”

“Yes, yes. That sounds fine. So lovely and warm.”

Eliza looked up into the clouded night sky, no longer sure of her whereabouts. As she nodded off in Alex’s arms, she mumbled one last thought, “But where on earth did you come from?”

THROUGH A FAR-OFF stand of pine trees, the first traces of campfire light appeared. Shadows played over the soldiers’ tents in the slant of the moonlight. As they crossed a crusted field of stubble, the gelding picked up the scent of familiar horses in a nearby pasture and began to dance in place with excitement. Alex tightened the reins to keep the horse from sprinting back to his field mates. Lifting his head with nostrils flared, Hector roared his magnificent neigh, announcing his return to the encampment.

It was only a short ride away from the center of the town, where the Cochrans’ white two-story house stood, not too far from army headquarters.

“Ease up there, fella. This is the place.”

Alex nudged Eliza’s cheek. “Miss Schuyler? Are you yet awake? We have reached our destination.”

Sensing that she was strong enough to sit up in the saddle, he leapt off Hector’s rear and came around to his left side. “Here we are, once again, m’lady. May I offer some assistance?”

He laced together his fingers to aid in Eliza’s dismount, aware of how dainty her foot felt in the cradle of his hands.

But when she slid from the saddle she nearly collapsed in the snow, possibly because her feet were frozen numb. Indeed, she did fall, but Alex caught her in his arms. Caught her and, when it was clear that she couldn’t walk, carried her up the walk to her aunt and uncle Cochran’s house.

A butler opened the door with Mrs. Cochran close on his heels, elbowing him out of the way to get to her niece. She guided Alex to a sofa inside the parlor where he laid Eliza down with care.

“Oh dear! Eliza! Is she quite all right?” she fussed worriedly. “Mrs. Jantzen returned to us hours ago!”

Piling her niece high with blankets, Mrs. Cochran directed the servants to fetch hot broth and bank the fire higher in the grate, while she herself undertook the task of rubbing Eliza’s poor feet.

In the confusion, Alex quietly slipped out, even as he wished he could stay.