“Thank you,” I said, preparing to take my leave. “You do me honor, Mrs. Arnold. I wish the same to you and your husband, and your dear little son as well.”
“Yes,” she said, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. “Yes. I can also offer you and Colonel Hamilton some hard-won advice, for you to take or not, as you please. If Colonel Hamilton can show my husband this small favor, his kindness will not be forgotten. He is most obviously a gentleman and an officer of promise, and his talents shouldn’t be squandered to his disadvantage. You have been at Morristown, Miss Schuyler. You have observed the despair and disarray of this country’s army for yourself, and the confusion of its leaders. Sometimes we ladies must see more clearly, and act to preserve the gentlemen we love.”
I thanked her one last time and departed. I did wish her well, for she seemed a lady in need of good fortune, as my father had said. It wasn’t until later that day, as I took time alone with my needlework, that I considered more closely her last little speech to me. The longer I thought upon her words, the more disturbing I found them. She wished her husband to return to active duty with the army. So why, then, had she faulted that same army? Alexander already had the highest esteem of His Excellency. Why should she say he was squandering his talents by serving his country? And what exactly was she counseling me to do?
I shared my worries the next morning at breakfast with Papa, but he swiftly brushed them aside as being of little lasting consequence.
“As you saw for yourself, she is a lady in sore need of comfort and compassion,” he said as he sipped his coffee. “Her father remains a Tory with sympathies to the Crown, and he was not pleased with her marriage to Arnold. His friends were equally surprised when he found favor with her, a wealthy lady almost half his age, and many continue to suspect her allegiances. She is caught between her loyalties to her father and her husband, poor lady, and tries to serve them both as best she can. You saw that yourself.”
“I did,” I said thoughtfully. Perhaps that was explanation enough for her curious speech; I couldn’t imagine marrying a gentleman under such difficult circumstances. “She must love General Arnold mightily.”
“I pray that she does, for she has sacrificed a great deal to be his wife,” Papa said. “Although I do not wish to raise false hopes, I am already planning to speak to His Excellency regarding a post for General Arnold as commander of our fortifications at West Point. It would be a good position for him, and it would be wise for the army to have an experienced officer so many consider a hero in command of a prominent location. Governor Livingston—your friend Kitty’s father—agrees with me, too.”
“Do you believe His Excellency will also agree?” I asked, still unsure whether I should wish him to or not.
Papa sighed, holding out his cup to the servant to be refilled. He was always unwaveringly loyal to soldiers who had served with him; I recognized the trial this must be for him.
“I do not know, Eliza,” he said. “This is not to be repeated, but I know for a fact that His Excellency was displeased by Arnold’s behavior, acquittal or not. There’s no doubt that the man was indiscreet, and took advantage of his post as military commander for his own profit.”
“So he should not have been acquitted?” I asked. “He was in fact guilty?”
Papa’s brows drew together and his expression turned as stern as granite in what my sisters and I called his “general face.”
“He was found not guilty,” he said. “That was the verdict of his fellow officers in the court-martial, and that is how it shall always stand. The verdict cannot be questioned. But the very fact that Arnold was compelled to defend himself grieved His Excellency, who expects his officers to act in a manner that is beyond reproach, as gentlemen should.”
I nodded, and my sympathy for Peggy Arnold and her husband rose. I had always found General Washington to be a daunting figure, and if I were one of his officers, I’d never have wanted to earn any measure of his displeasure.
I thought this would be the end of my father’s explanation, but to my surprise he continued.
“I have heard that His Excellency’s unhappiness is the reason he plans to issue a formal reprimand of Arnold, which will make the West Point post more difficult,” he said. “But likely Colonel Hamilton will be able to tell you far more than I.”
“Should I tell him how—how disloyal Mrs. Arnold was in her speech?” I asked tentatively. I had been only vaguely aware of General Arnold’s court-martial having happened in Morristown in January, shortly before I’d arrived. Alexander hadn’t mentioned it, and I hadn’t known enough to inquire for more details, or at least I hadn’t known enough until now. “How she found fault with the army and its officers?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t trouble him with it,” Papa said. “I suspect that was Mrs. Arnold’s own disappointment speaking, not any reflection of her husband’s opinions. But I leave it all to your own judgment, Eliza. You may say what you please to Hamilton when you meet him next. He knows I will be returning you to Morristown tomorrow, yes?”
I nodded, Peggy and Benedict Arnold forgotten in an instant. I’d my own problems to resolve, and I took a deep breath, my fingers anxiously pleating the damask napkin in my lap.
“I’d hoped that by now you would have given Alexander and me your consent,” I said, wishing my voice wasn’t shaking with emotion. “It’s been three weeks since he wrote to you.”
Now it was Papa’s turn to look uncomfortable. He helped himself to a slice of toasted bread from the silver rack on the table and placed it precisely in the center of his plate.
“You already know I hold Colonel Hamilton in high esteem for a young gentleman,” he said, still looking down at the toast. “He has impressed me with his initiative, courage, and resourcefulness, all important qualities for a man to possess before I would entrust him with your future welfare.”
My hope rose to giddy heights. “Then you will grant us your permission?”
“I have granted nothing as yet, daughter,” he said with maddening patience. He took his time buttering the toast, making certain the yellow butter went exactly to the crusts on four sides, and no farther. “I would prefer that the colonel had a suitable income to support a family, but I also believe he will rectify that deficit by his own talents as soon as the war is done. So long as he loves you and you love him—”
“Oh, I do, Papa!” I exclaimed. I was too anxious to eat, and I waved away the dish of shirred eggs that the servant began to place before me. “And I am sure, very sure, that he feels the same love for me.”
Papa studied me for a long moment, the silver butter knife still in his hand.
“I have never seen this—this enthusiasm in you, Eliza,” he said. “You have always been a thoughtful child, even cautious, and this fervor is unlike you.”
“But it is like me, Papa, or the woman I have become,” I said. I felt as if he was raising unnecessary obstacles, and I couldn’t understand why. “I am still your daughter, your Elizabeth, but I long to be Colonel Hamilton’s wife as well. If I have changed, it is love, his love, that has changed me. I dare to hope that the change is for the better, too.”
If he agreed, he didn’t say. Instead he dropped a large, glistening spoonful of strawberry jam into the center of the well-buttered toast, again avoiding my gaze.
“I
