38

Happiest They’ve Ever Been

Honeymoon Suite

Albany, New York

December 1780

The large, gabled mansion on the Hudson seemed eerily quiet after such a long, raucous day of celebration. The last of the guests had gone and the Pastures’ kitchen had been returned to its everyday readiness. Dot banked the hearths high and headed off to sleep with a well-deserved hot toddy.

By midnight, every room in the house was dark except for the firelight coming from the secluded guest bedchamber at the top of the stairs. Covered from neck to knee in a ruffled white linen nightshirt, Alex stood beside the canopied four-poster bed, waiting impatiently for his bride to join him.

On the other side of the bath chamber door, Eliza passed the end of a fresh candle over the wall sconce’s flame to soften the wax. Steadying her nerves as she waited for the slow dripping to begin, she pressed the pliant base of the warmed candle into the candelabrum and held it in place until the wax hardened.

She ran the candle’s wick through the flame of the sconce and saw her reflection alight in the mirror above the washbasin. She liked how her white satin nightgown created a soft sheen against her skin. But something was still amiss. She reached behind her head to tug the pearl-handled barrette from her hair and let her thick dark curls fall loose around her shoulders—Ah, that’s it. I’m ready now.

Eliza opened the door to the bedroom and went to meet her husband.

She stepped lightly toward the edge of the bed and kissed Alex full on the lips for the second time this night. Frank and tender all at once.

As gently and as slowly as he could, while feeling more impatient than he had ever been in his life, Alex took the candelabrum out of her hand and set it on the mantelpiece over the crackling fire.

Eliza stood in front of the hearth, luxuriating in the heat against her nightgown. The modest girl was not so modest anymore.

Cupping her chin gently in his hands, Alex bent forward to kiss her and inhaled her sweet scent. In an effort to slow himself down, he reached for her hand and took one step back for a good long look at his new bride—from head to toe. “Turn around, my angel,” he managed to say. “Let me see you in the firelight.”

Eliza pivoted in a dainty circle, excruciatingly slow. When she came back around, her dark eyes sparkled and a knowing smile played over her lips. She ran her fingertip down his freshly shaven cheek, playacting the role of a saucy little charmer. “Although I am inexperienced, Alex, I am not naïve. But, tell me true, do you love me?”

Bouncing on the balls of his feet like a besotted schoolboy, Alex crossed both hands over his heart. “More than any man has ever loved.”

The dim light flickered across Eliza’s shoulders, and Alex felt his blood rise tight under his skin. It was time for this soldier to rally. “Indeed, the truth is, Mrs. Hamilton—you take my breath away. What ever shall we do about it?”

Unbuttoning her white satin gown, Eliza let it drop to her feet.

ELIZABETH SCHUYLER HAMILTON stood next to her husband as he skimmed rocks across the Pastures’ frozen duck pond. A nearby flock of geese rose from the riverbank and squawked at the two of them, switching directions in midair at the sound of Alex’s sliding another rock across the ice.

She dug her gloved hands into her hips and turned her pretty face toward the afternoon sun. “They must think I’m going to bake them into a pie!” Alex laughed as the birds disappeared in noisy protest.

Eliza had never seen Alex quite so happy and relaxed. She shook her head and laughed at the incongruity of it all: Imagine General Washington’s famous aide-de-camp taking the time to stop and admire the birds!

“One day, Alex, when you tire of being a soldier, we will spend all of our days just like this, watching birds and taking in the sun, surrounded by children of our own. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my love?”

“Eliza, you and the Pastures have already taken a perfectly fine soldier and turned him into a lovesick pup. And at this moment, on this very day, there’s nothing and nowhere I would rather be.”

A WEEK INTO their honeymoon, Alex had confided to his bride that this was his first few days off in five years. As General Washington’s right-hand man, Alex was always at the general’s beck and call, expected to be ready to write or ride at a moment’s notice. Yet, here at the Pastures he was well away from his work-obsessed life. His days were tasked only with leisurely horseback rides and pulling his boots off by the fire, with Eliza reading at his side or challenging him to a shrewd game of backgammon. Surrounded by family for the first time in his life, he basked in the healthy glow of his wife and the entire Schuyler clan.

As Alex and Eliza spent the last few blissful days of their honeymoon traipsing through the snowy woods or adventuring out on that long-awaited open sleigh for a ride through the streets of Albany with loyal Hector out in front, their future stretched before them with all the hope and promise a new country had to offer.

And at last, the lonely young man who belonged to no one finally belonged to someone, forever, and the practical girl who would not settle for less than a love story for the ages found the lifelong romance she had yearned for all her life.