All for One Read online

  The sun burned off the last of the mist as they walked to Saint Paul’s. As they turned onto Broadway, Alex glanced south at the large construction site a few blocks down.

  “Work on the new church proceeds apace,” he said. “Reverend Provoost thinks it will be done in but a few years’ time.”

  Eliza glanced down at the site, which at this point looked more like an open quarry than a building. Massive blocks of brown and gray stone were piled in a huge ziggurat waiting to be laid in place.

  “It will be quite large, won’t it?”

  “Nearly ten times the size of the old church. It is a church built for the future of a great city.”

  “And they couldn’t have done it without you. I hope they remember that one day.”

  Alex didn’t answer, and Eliza regretted speaking. It was salt in an open wound.

  For the repercussions from the Reynolds scandal hadn’t just been marital. Eliza could choose to forgive her husband, but New York society was less forgiving, or perhaps just too in love with a scandal. Invitations didn’t dry up, but they certainly dwindled, as did new clients to Alex’s office. But the biggest blow had come from the church whose finances Alex had saved. Reverend Provoost had called Alex in for a private meeting the week after he and Eliza returned from Mount Pleasant and the aborted duel.

  The Hamilton name had been tarnished, they were told, and he could not have it associated with the church. Though he had planned to use Alex as counsel in the church’s reorganization and ongoing affairs, he didn’t see how that was possible any longer. He had made Alex a generous payout, enough to ease the Hamiltons’ financial load for a few years, but far from the fortune he could have earned. While it was an unfortunate situation, Alex had been in no position to protest.

  Now Eliza squeezed her husband’s arm.

  “There are more important things than money. How are your discussions with Mr. Madison going? Do you think you will be able to put together this constitutional convention you have been talking of?”

  “It is slow going, but I think we shall pull it off,” Alex said, the enthusiasm returning to his voice. “There are still several opponents to the idea of a cohesive central government, not the least of which is the redoubtable Mr. Jefferson. But even he is realizing that without something to hold the states together financially and militarily as well as bureaucratically, we shall either drift apart into a hodgepodge of warring kingdoms like medieval Europe, or, even worse, be picked apart by foreign powers who will find no United States army to oppose them, just a few scattered state militias.”

  “Yes, yes,” Eliza said, patting her husband’s hand. “Save the speeches for Freedom Hall. We are on the way to a wedding, not a war council. Do you think the convention will happen soon?”

  “Everything takes longer than one wants it to,” Alex replied, “but I think we shall be able to organize something by next year, or 1787 at the latest. General Washington has yet to throw in his support, but I have read enough of his letters to know how bored he is down there on his plantation. Once he throws his weight behind us, it will be a fait accompli.”

  “It is good to hear you sound so enthusiastic,” Eliza said. “I know the winter was hard for you.”

  “I am enthusiastic about more than just politics these days,” Alex said, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “But I owe its return to my life, and everything else I possess, to you.”

  Eliza’s voice caught in her throat, and it was a few steps before she could speak. “Papa used to say that no one could call the cows in from the field as well as I could.”

  “Why, Mrs. Hamilton, are you comparing me to a cow?”

  “I was very fond of our cows. You should take it as a compliment.”

  Their conversation continued for a few more minutes until they arrived at the church. Then there was a good twenty minutes of milling around and greeting the guests. General and Mrs. Schuyler had not been able to come down from Albany—the general had taken a nasty fall from his horse and fractured his ankle, and though the injury was not serious it precluded long-term travel, which might lead to sepsis. Angelica was in London, of course, and Peggy had written last December to announce that she was with child again and would likely be too far along to make the journey.

  It turned out she was right on one count: She was certainly far along. Eliza did not recognize the enormous figure who hauled herself out of a pew and planted herself in front of her.

  “Oh, excuse me, madam, I was just—”

  “Madam!” a familiar voice exclaimed. “Is that any way to greet your sister?”

  “What? Peggy? Is that you? Peggy!” For there, beneath a wig the size of a topiary and a ghostly gray maquillage and what looked like hundreds of yards of orange and green silk spilling around her swollen womb, was the beaming, mischievous smile of Eliza’s younger sister.

  “I would throw my arms around you, but I’m not sure they’ll reach!” she said, laughing.

  “Oh, shut up and hug me!” Peggy said, hauling her sister close and wrapping her in folds of silk and orange blossom scent.

  “Darling! It is so lovely to see you!” Eliza said when at last they let go of each other.

  Peggy took a step back to show off her figure. “There’s certainly a lot of me to see, isn’t there? I think I have inherited Mama’s propensity for twins. Either that or I’m giving birth to a five-year-old.”

  “If it’s possible, you are even more radiantly beautiful than you’ve been.”

  “And if it’s possible, you are even more of a honey-tongued politician than your husband. But I’ll take it,” Peggy said, “because I’m pretty sure my waistline isn’t bouncing back from this one.”

  There were sloppy kisses then from baby Cathy, who was sitting on the pew with her nanny and was desperate to greet “Aunt Wiza,” and then a rather drier lip-brush from Stephen, who, though all of twenty-one years old and still as thin as ever, had acquired the middle-aged mien of an Old World prince standing on a hillside regarding his troops about to go into war. “Such brave soldiers,” he murmured into Eliza’s ear. “Such fine, brave soldiers.”

  “Goodness, Stephen, lighten up,” Eliza said with a laugh. “It is a wedding, not a funeral!”

  “Oh, indeed,” Stephen agreed, as if he were sprinkling the first handful of dirt upon a casket. “A most joyous occasion.”

  “Do not mind him,” Peggy said. “He got like this right before Cathy was born. He is already contemplating how he can possibly divide our minuscule estate in half to support each of our children—or, if I have twins, in thirds.”

  “Can’t he just give them each a county and have done?” Eliza joked.

  “He could, but that would still leave him with four counties left over!” Peggy would have doubled over in hysterics if her swollen waist had let her.

  “Careful now,” Eliza remonstrated. “I will not have you shaking out your child or children and stealing my day.”

  “Your day? I thought John and Betty were getting married.”

  “Oh, they are, they are,” Eliza said. “It’s just, you know, it’s not every day one’s little brother ties the knot.”

  “We’ve got two more,” Peggy teased. “Three? I lose count . . .”

  “Even so, I want everything to go off smoothly,” Eliza insisted.

  Peggy peered at her suspiciously. “Eliza Schuyler Hamilton, what are you cooking up?”

  “Who, me?” Eliza said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I should think today’s nuptials are a lesson in why I should never meddle.”

  “Indeed you shouldn’t,” Alex said, coming up behind her. “Nor, apparently, should you be left alone. Peggy, it is lovely to see you,” he added, bowing at his sister-in-law.

  “And you, too,” Peggy added, though her bow was somewhat more perfunctory. It was the first time she had seen Alex since the “the incident,�
�� and she was clearly not ready to just brush it under the table. Alex, for his part, didn’t push it.

  “We are being given the order to take our seats. Stephen, if you would join me backstage, as it were?”

  Stephen nodded gravely and set off for the vestry. In the absence of fathers on either side—General Schuyler being laid up, and Stephen and Betty’s father having passed away when the two were still children—Alex and Stephen had happily consented to give away the bride and groom.

  “My darling, I’ll see you soon,” Alex said, brushing a kiss on Eliza’s cheek, then hurrying after his brother-in-law.

  Peggy watched him go with suspicious eyes even as she and Eliza took their seats.

  “So, all is well with you two?” Her voice was as doubtful as the pout on her lips.

  Eliza took a moment before answering to look after her husband as he disappeared through a door at the rear of the church. Then she turned to her sister and nodded. “It is, in its way, better than it has ever been.”

  Peggy looked unconvinced. “I do not see how that can be, after such a—”

  Eliza put up her hand, then took her sister’s in her fingers and squeezed tightly. “I appreciate your concern, Peggy. I know that should something threaten me you would defend me as a lioness defends her pride. But I want you to believe me. Though I would never have wished for such an experience, and want never ever to experience anything like it again, yet there are some trials that leave you stronger. Older, perhaps, and more guarded, but more mature, and more able to see your partner for what he truly is rather than the paper-doll image of a husband you made when you were but a teenager.”

  Peggy sniffed. “So your hero has feet of clay.”

  “Angelica wrote that he flew too close to the sun,” said Eliza, who wished her older sister were there to join them. “But none of us are perfect, Peggy. And I’m glad I learned it now, while there was time and strength to repair the damage.” She squeezed her sister’s hand once again. “Believe me when I say there is no one I would rather be married to.”

  Peggy stared at her as if searching for signs of duplicity. At length she blinked, and Eliza saw wetness fill her sister’s eyes. “I am glad,” she said fiercely. “I so would have hated having to kill him.”

  Eliza nodded with pretend gravity. “I’ll let you know if it becomes necessary.”

  Just then, the musicians picked up their instruments, and the wedding party began to march in. The reverend entered first, followed by the groomsmen—some of John’s Columbia friends, including DeWitt Clinton—and then Alex and John appeared at the foot of the aisle. Though Eliza thought she detected a stiffening in the room, there was no more manifest indication of last fall’s scandal. Her husband walked her brother to the altar, then took his place to the side with the groomsmen. The maids of honor were next, three lovely girls whom Eliza couldn’t have named to save her life. I really am getting old, she thought.

  Then the organ swelled, melding with the strings, and Betty appeared on Stephen’s arm. The audience rose as the resplendent bride made her way down the aisle, a vision in the palest of yellows and white with a dozen feet of flowered silk trailing behind her like a summer meadow come to life. Before she had reached the head of the aisle, all the women were wiping away tears of joy, and not a few of the men.

  “Oh, she looks absolutely divine!” Emma said, tapping Eliza on the shoulder from the pew behind.

  “Almost as beautiful as you,” Eliza said, dabbing at her eyes.

  Emma blushed at this unexpected compliment even as Stephen presented his sister to the reverend and stepped to the side. The majesty of the wedding ceremony began, Reverend Provoost reading the sacred words with grace and gravitas as he began to bind the two souls together for all eternity. A picture of Eliza’s own wedding day flashed in her mind as the words echoed in her ears. Yes, she told herself. For eternity . . .

  At last Reverend Provoost came to the part of the ceremony when he asked if anyone objected to the union about to take place. He paused rather longer than one usually does at this juncture. Long enough that the crowd began to mill slightly, and then to murmur. And then, suddenly, someone spoke.

  “Well, actually, I do,” John said.

  “Come to think of, I do, too,” Betty echoed. The two were holding hands at this point and didn’t let go. Indeed, their faces were beaming with joy.

  The crowd gasped, though Reverend Provoost looked suspiciously unsurprised. Eliza did her level best to keep her eyes focused on the altar, though she could hardly see through the tears that had begun streaming down her face.

  “Eliza!” Peggy hissed. “What is happening? Why are you smiling like a madwoman?”

  “Do you now?” Reverend Provoost said at the altar. “Please, explain.”

  “It’s not so much that we have an objection to our own union per se,” Betty said. “It’s just that it seems rather unfair that we should be getting married first when there is another couple here who had to endure the indignity of a flirtation—”

  “Oh, let’s not a call it a flirtation,” John said. “More like a manipulation,” he continued, finding Eliza’s eye and winking at his sister.

  “Indeed,” Betty assented. “And now they have been waiting months and months to be married while we have fairly cavorted to the altar.”

  “Now, now, Miss Van Rensselaer,” Reverend Provoost admonished with a smile. “There is no need for such saucy language. We are still in church.”

  The assembled guests laughed uneasily. Though they sensed that the spectacle that was taking place at the head of the church was not wholly unexpected, they still weren’t sure what was going on.

  “Well,” Reverend Provoost said now. “If I understand you correctly, you want to cede your place here to another couple?”

  “What?” Betty exclaimed. “Heavens no! This wedding cost a fortune! My brother would kill me!”

  More laughter from the audience. Even Stephen, who had gone white as a sheet, managed a little chuckle.

  “No,” John said, “what we were hoping is that they could join us.”

  “Join you?” Reverend Provoost said, playing dumb. “You mean, I would marry the four of you?”

  “Well, not to one another,” Betty said. “I mean, to each other, but as couples. Two by two, as it were.”

  “Like Noah’s ark,” John said.

  “Hmph,” Reverend Provoost said. “An unusual arrangement, but not without precedent. Well, who is the happy couple? For all we know they have no desire to be wedded today.”

  Eliza couldn’t help herself. She had to turn around to see the look on their faces.

  “Mr. Drayton Pennington,” Betty sang out.

  “And Miss Emma Trask,” John said right after.

  It seemed unbelievable to Eliza, but neither Drayton nor Emma seemed to have any idea that the spectacle taking place at the front of the church was about them. One moment they were looking around with the same expression of pensive curiosity on every other guest’s face. The next their jaws were dropping open.

  “Mrs. Hamilton!” Emma cried, turning toward her mistress.

  “Mrs. Hamilton!” Drayton echoed, grabbing his fiancée’s hand.

  “But I haven’t anyone to give me away!” Emma said. “And Drayton’s family should be here!”

  In answer, Eliza nodded at the back of the church. Drayton and Emma whirled around. There, at the foot of the altar, stood Prudence Schlesinger, Emma’s aunt and last remaining relative, and, behind her, a handsome, rustic couple doing their best to look stoic as the tears streamed down their cheeks.

  “Mama! Papa!” Drayton said, pushing his way through down the pew and dragging Emma behind him. “Joshua, Laura, Clarissa!” he added as three more figures appeared, followed by Michael Schlesinger, Pru’s husband, and their adopted son, Augustus. “You’re all here!”

 
Applause rang out as the happy couple rushed into the arms of their loved ones. Reverend Provoost waited until hugs and kisses had been exchanged all around, then called down the aisle.

  “So does this mean you consent to join Mr. Schuyler and Miss Van Rensselaer at the front of the church?”

  “I’ve got an extra set of rings, just in case you were wondering,” John threw in, to much laughter.

  Emma and Drayton separated from the family members and found each other. The beaming couple joined hands and looked deep into each other’s eyes. Emma nodded, and a smile split Drayton’s face from ear to ear. They turned and found Eliza’s eyes first, and nodded at her, and then Alex’s, and then finally they faced the white-robed figure at the far end of the aisle.

  “We do!”

  Epilogue

  Final Midnight Rendezvous

  Hamilton Grange

  New York, New York

  July 12, 1804

  Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Some fester, some scar. A mark remains, or an ache. Sometimes it’s just a memory embedded in the flesh, the fingertips drifting to an arm or a leg and rubbing at a bruise that hasn’t been visible in years . . .

  But the body is almost always stronger than a single wound, and so it was with Alex and Eliza. The terrible summer of 1785 exposed certain weaknesses in their relationship, yet when it was over it also showed them that their spouse had reserves of strength to make up for their own follies. Such is the difference between a happy marriage and divorce. Alex and Eliza’s union survived, and with it came the understanding that love does not erase one’s flaws. It stands side by side with them and even sometimes obscures them, which makes vigilance that much more necessary. Though they wavered from time to time—they were human—they never again lost their focus. For the next nineteen years, they prospered as individuals, and even more so as a couple and a family.