Becoming a Founding "Father"- Historical Hamilton

Chapter Nineteen: Miss Schuyler

Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth Schuyler weren't introduced to each other at the ball. Alexander was introduced to her by Elizabeth aunt who was Alexander's neighbor. They had communicated briefly with letters before ever meeting each other.

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"Did something happen between you and Hammie while you were bedridden?" Tench Tilghman asked during our break- the only time when Alexander isn't around us. 

"Nothing much." I swallow down a bite of stale bread. "We had a... disagreement of sorts, that we didn't solve. Why do you ask?"

Meade hummed next to us. "Well- first of all- Hammie has been quiet."

I laugh. The noise turns out a bit shaky because of the cold. "I'd hardly call him quiet."

"Oh, alright, you- quieter than usual," He says, and I roll my eyes. "He was concise in what he said- I had thought he be a different person!"

"Aye, he- Laurens,"  Tilghman interrupted himself to nod at the approaching Southerner. Laurens nodded back, sitting down next to us. "Gentlemen, what happened to Colonel Hamilton? He looks as if he's been betrayed by someone."

Laughs burst out, and I hear several hear, hears. Laurens gives us a confused look as he bites down on his own bread, and Tilghman says. "We had asked Layden the same thing. Apparently, Layden had a minor disagreement with Hamilton."

I ignore the pointed words and stares in favour of staring at the snow in front of me. I won't elaborate, fuck all of you.

Today isn't a great day. Turns out, the universe wanted to remind me of my womanhood- I woke up in red sheets today. Not only did I have to create an elaborate story about a squirrel entering Margaret's quarters and me bravely killing it with my bare hands, but Alexander also found out, giving me shocked looks from his desk. 

He believed a different story, one which I'd rather not think about doing with Margaret of all people, added on to the fact that I'm physically incapable of doing such. Today's turning out to be a really shit day.

"Sir, you seem to be of a sour mood," Laurens commented, and I bite down on my bread again. What I wouldn't do for a heavy blanket and some chocolate right now...

"Aye, today's just not a good for me. And the worst part of that?" I paused for a moment. "The damn day has just started."

"Keep your tongue tamed, Layden," Tilghman says, half-seriously. "Who taught you such foul language, hmm?"

"Does it matter that much?" I ask, taking another bite, and my food is now gone. Meade huffs. "T'will matter to your wife, Layden."

A choke, coughing out bits of my bread. Laurens pats my back roughly, asking a quiet 'alright?' I nod, clearing my throat. "I've got no plans of getting a wife anytime soon, sir."

"Oh?" Meade asks, and I notice Laurens tense. "Why not?"

"I..." I shake my head. Think, Solomon, think. If I was a guy in the 1770s, what reasons could I have to not want a wife? Surely, there must be something, right?

A cramp in my stomach makes me wince. "Maybe someday. Just... not now."

Tilghman leans closer to me, invested. "Excuse me, but that's flawed reasoning. This war may kill all of us in a day. I'd expect someone of your age to be desperately searching for one to take as your own."

Disgust fills my stomach as I listen to Tilghman- he's describing women as if objects- trophies. And yet, I can't say anything- I don't want another reason to be called bring attention to myself. I smile tightly, shuffling away from Tilghman. "I guess getting a wife just never mattered to me."