13

There Is No Inoculation Against Love

Continental Army Headquarters

Morristown, New Jersey

February 1780

“Well, Eliza, my dear,” Dr. Cochran noted the next morning, “you seem remarkably rejuvenated.”

Her symptoms did not indicate the onset of a cold, and after a second day in bed, Eliza was pronounced fit to resume her daily activities.

An elated Eliza asked if she could assist her aunt in administering smallpox inoculations to the soldiers in camp.

“That would be a fine thing, indeed,” agreed the doctor. Aunt Gertrude would appreciate her lovely niece’s enthusiasm. She had four hundred soldiers waiting to be inoculated and she could certainly use a second pair of hands.

“You know, dear, most of the troops are quite suspicious of this newfangled hoop-de-doodle and since you’ve already been inoculated and lived to tell the tale, you’re living proof that the treatment works!”

It was true. Eliza had been inoculated three years ago when General Washington ordered that all American troops should receive the treatment. Eliza recalled that when General Schuyler found out his troops were nervous about the procedure, he had taken it first, stepping up to demonstrate its safety. When doubts still prevailed among the men, he made a great show of instructing Dr. Cochran to administer it to the entire Schuyler clan.

Eliza had never seen such a battle of wills between her parents. Tough-minded Catherine Schuyler had squabbled with her husband over using their children as guinea pigs because of doubts of her own. After all, they had lost so many friends and family to the scourge of pox. But when the general convinced her that the treatment made it all but impossible that their beloved children would fall ill, not only had Catherine Schuyler consented, she volunteered to sit for the procedure, surrounded by all of her children. Eliza and her siblings were nervous, but they were more frightened of crossing their mother than contracting a disease. There was no choice but to grin and bear it for the sake of the troops.

Eliza was surprised to find the treatment was simple enough: The family received a scratch on the wrist and then the administration of the poultice. A rash and a light fever followed. Within a week the rash had flaked away and General Schuyler declared them all immune. Although it seemed to Eliza a remarkable scheme, she took her father’s words on faith.

Eliza actually found it to be a fascinating business, shrouded in a magical aura. The treatment materials were stored in a heavy wooden box fastened with an iron lock. Aunt Gertrude kept the key in a tiny velvet drawstring purse pinned at her side. The wooden box held a dozen tightly sealed glass bottles, each one filled with an innocuous off-white powder, coarser than flour but less granular than cornmeal. There were odd tools: a mortar and pestle fashioned from locust wood that had been cured into a rich brown finish; a spatula that looked a little like a fish knife; and the most fascinating of all, a good-sized silver fork, whose tines were bent at ninety degrees to the handle, so that it looked like a miniature rake.

Eliza took note of every step of the process. She watched Aunt Gertrude remove one bottle at a time, then immediately lock the box. She mixed a dram of powder with an equal amount of water and whirled it into a paste in the mortar, which was then scraped onto a bandage with the spatula.

Next came the application. Aunt Gertrude looked up at Eliza. “Now, here’s where you will come in most handy, so pay close attention. We begin first thing tomorrow, dear, so be sure to wear your layers. The enlisted men’s medical tent can get awfully drafty!”

“WHO’S NEXT?”

Aunt Gertrude nodded toward the long line snaking out of the tent. The men stood by with their shoulders slumped, smoking and telling jokes to ward off the creeping doubt they had about the mysterious goings-on.

“Bring along the next fellow, Eliza.”

Eliza treated all of the soldiers with the exact same can-do spirit. It amused her to see each soldier’s face switch from suspicion to surprise upon being greeted by a warm smile in the cold setting. As her aunt had predicted, Eliza’s presence made the procedure go much more smoothly.

“Take a seat, if you will, sir. Remove your jacket,” Eliza said over and over, “and roll up your sleeve.”

“Happy to, miss.” “Whatever you say, miss.” “Anything else, miss?” Each one of them seemed eager to oblige. Then it was time for Aunt Gertrude to go to work.

Once the soldier had his sleeve up, Aunt Gertrude took firm hold of his arm with one hand and drew the rake across his wrist with the other. She dragged it heavily, scoring sharp red welts in the skin, sometimes drawing blood before finally announcing, “This one’s ready for you now, Eliza. You may apply the poultice.”

At first, this was the only task Aunt Gertrude allowed her niece to handle. Somehow Eliza managed it with a gentleness that moved each one of the soldiers in her care. She folded the poultice over the wound and wrapped it in place, finishing it off with a soft squeeze before the soldier was sent on his way. Every man left the tent with a smile on his face instead of the worried look he’d stepped in with, believing that gentle squeeze was only for him.

But Eliza was a quick study and by the second day was every bit as capable of handling the entire procedure as Aunt Gertrude. Working in studied tandem, they performed the repetitive task twice as fast.

Each administration took no more than five minutes, but there were upward of four hundred men to treat. It took four full days, and a good part of the fifth, to get through them all.

Early in the afternoon of the fifth day, just as they were finishing up, a ginger-haired soldier poked his head inside the tent.

“Is it too late for one last soldier?”

Busy as they were, the women didn’t bother to look up. “Come in, come in,” Eliza said, sighing. Four hundred and one, she thought, but she would treat this soldier exactly like the hundreds of others she’d assisted over the last five days. “Take a seat if you will, sir. Remove your jacket and roll up your . . .” Eliza caught her breath as she turned.

“Happy to oblige, miss.” Colonel Hamilton shucked off his jacket and was making quite a show of busily rolling up his sleeve, showing off a well-muscled forearm. “And I must apologize for the lateness of my arrival.”

Aunt Gertrude didn’t hide her amusement. “Colonel, it is never too late to be at your service. We are all quite aware of your extraordinary vigilance as to our family’s protection. As such, we are certainly bound to do all we possibly can for your well-being in return. Isn’t that right, Eliza dear?”

Eliza’s hand flew to her bonnet to tuck in a few stray tendrils of hair. “Yes, Auntie, of course. Quite right.”

She could barely maintain her composure. Without his military jacket on, Colonel Hamilton was so much more real to her than in her daydreams. She had forgotten how square and strong his shoulders were. And wasn’t that a fresh shaving cut on the swale of his jaw? Surely, the timing of this mission must’ve been carefully planned.

She avoided his gaze and it appeared he was doing the same, looking resolutely at the wall in front of him as Aunt Gertrude prepared the treatment. And the wily matron seemed to be taking her sweet time. When she’d mixed the paste and readied the spatula, she handed the application to Eliza and smiled. “Here we are, Eliza, will you do the honors?”

“I would be glad to, Auntie.”

“B-but . . . ,” Alex stammered, “I had assumed the good doctor’s wife would be doing this.” He showed his teeth in a nervous smile. “Are we quite sure Miss Schuyler, ah, well, that she knows what she’s doing?”

“Quite certain indeed, sir,” said Aunt Gertrude. “And I’m confident the two hundred troops who have already sat in this same chair for her would attest to it as well.”

“Well, if it’s good enough for my men, then I suppose it’s good enough for me, too.” Alex swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple playing along with his doubt.

“Ah, Colonel. Shall we say, ahem, this is not my first time in the . . . saddle. Now, if you’ll just give me your forearm and relax, it will all be done in no time at all.”

Unconvinced but steeling himself like the dutiful soldier he was, Alex extended his arm with a face full of misgiving.

“Are you ready for me, sir?”

“I am that,” said Alex, with a raise of his eyebrow.

Eliza blushed, and when she hesitated, he took the opportunity to address her again. “Will it hurt?”

“Only if you let it,” she said sternly.

“You wound me, mademoiselle,” he said.

“Colonel, really. It is a mere scratch in comparison to the dangers of the battlefield.”

“Ah, but I am exposed mostly to the dangers of the inkwell, if you remember.” He was teasing, and the twinkle in his eye was hard to ignore.

“I do,” she said, now blushing even more furiously. “It was unkind of me and my sisters. Especially as I have heard you have survived several battles since then.”

“I was lucky,” said the colonel, his face suddenly grave. “The others, not so much.”

She looked up at him then, met his eyes, and tried to stop her hands from shaking. It was truly frustrating how his presence affected her. She was right to keep him from visiting her. Her uncle kept teasing her that there was no safer place than their home with Colonel Hamilton guarding the post road.

“Please,” he said, and she looked down once more at his tensely corded arm.

She felt his gaze upon her, but quickly set her face straight to get to the work at hand. She took firm hold of his arm and drew the rake across his wrist, scoring sharp red welts in the skin, drawing blood. Then she folded the poultice over the little wound and wrapped it expertly in place, finishing it off with a soft squeeze. Only this time, she held the squeeze a fraction longer than she had for the hundreds of other soldiers who’d come before him.

Alex must have felt it, too, because the doubt dropped from his face and a tenderness crept into his eyes. He put his free hand over hers and left it there.

“I am glad to see you well, Miss Schuyler. I was worried about you,” he said.

Eliza gave a brisk nod. “Thank you for your concern, I am fully recovered.”

“I see, and yet you have not graced us with your presence at the town’s social delights.”

“Are you keeping track of my whereabouts, Colonel?”

It was Alex’s turn to blush. “I admit I was disappointed not to see you at Marquis de Chastellux’s ball the other day. Or the dinner hosted by Baron von Steuben.”

“I have been here, Colonel,” she said simply.

“Every day? At headquarters?” asked the handsome soldier.

“Every day.”

“If only I’d known,” he murmured to himself. “You are more interested in service than sleigh rides, then?”

“I go where I am needed.”

“A pity, for Hector pulls a great sleigh,” he said with a sigh.

At the mention of the horse, Eliza’s interest piqued. “How is Hector? Is he all right?”

“Right as rain, miss,” said Alex. “Although I have to admit I never expected to feel this way.”

“What way?” Eliza asked, intrigued.

“Jealous of my horse.”

Aunt Gertrude cleared her throat, and the two of them jumped aside, as if caught in something naughty. She looked at Alex and Eliza in amusement. “Are we all done, then? Yes? I suppose that does it, Colonel. Ahem. You may put your jacket back on now, sir.”

“Indeed, indeed, Mrs. Cochran.” Alex reached for his jacket and was halfway out of the tent before he could button it back up. “I’ll say thank you for your time, ladies, and be on my way. Good afternoon, Mrs. Cochran.” He shot Eliza a parting look. “Miss Schuyler.”

He pushed aside the tent flap and made to leave.

“Wait!” said Eliza.

He turned back, his eagerness all too apparent in his eyes. “Yes?”

“I like . . . I mean . . . I like sleigh rides, too,” she said finally. “I mean, it would be nice to see Hector again.”

Alex almost laughed. “Of course. Hector would like it very much. Perhaps in a day or two?”

She nodded.

He gave her a small bow and was gone.

Eliza began quickly gathering up the last of the bottles of white powder, the mortar and pestle, the spatula, and the rake. Her hands felt clumsy as she arranged them in the wooden box they arrived in and stepped back. Thankfully Aunt Gertrude did not notice as she pulled out her key and locked the box.

“Well done, Eliza. You make a fine second pair of hands indeed.” Aunt Gertrude dropped the key into her velvet purse and drew in the strings with a flourish. “Now, what say you, my dear? Shall the new medical team of Mrs. Gertrude Cochran and Miss Eliza Schuyler retire to the parlor for a well-deserved cup of hot chocolate?”