The Hamiltons

Part 2: Like My Father But Bolder

Philip Hamilton had not seen his mother smile in months. First, there had been the scandal of Father's affair and then the tragedy of Aunt Peggy's sudden death.
Mamma had grown thin and pale. Her lovely face looked haggard; its dark eyes had lost their brilliance and the fine cheek bones had become more pronounced.
She decided to take Johnny, Willy, and Little Eliza upstate for a month to visit Grandfather in Albany. When she returned, the warm, kind, at sometimes mischievous, sparkle had returned to her eyes, her cheeks had a girlish, pretty blush, and she was smiling, the brilliant, reassuring smile Philip remembered. The smile that could make even the worst of his childhood nightmares go away.

Philip had hoped that things would improve between his father and mother but her treatment of him continued to alternate between bitter hostility and cold indifference. Before the trip to Albany, Father had done everything he could to win Mother back but since she had returned, he seemed to be avoiding her and treated her with icy resentment. An example of this had occurred earlier that morning. Mother had been in the parlor with Aunt Angelica, who had returned from London after Aunt Peggy's death. Father walked in and Aunt Angelica asked him if he was going with them to the Fourth of July picnic that afternoon.
"I'm sure the two of you could amuse themselves without me, " Father responded with barely concealed bitterness.
"They were happy once," Philip thought, "Why can't they be happy again. Why can't things just go back to the way they were before."

Ann was searching for her cat, Bramble, in the garden. She also brought a basket filled with bread crumbs to feed the birds.
"Bramble," she called, sprinkling the bread crumbs so that the sparrows and wrens would swoop down and peck at them. The high pitched chirping of the sparrows and the jumbled squeals of the wrens blended to together in one song.
"Ann!" Philip shouted to her as he walked out onto the porch.
"Is it time for us to go to the picnic?" she responded.
"Not yet, in a few minutes."
Philip, who usually did not care much about his appearance, was wearing a stylish pair of buff colored breeches and dark gray jacket and waistcoat. His cravat was starched and impeccably tied.
"Now where are you going dressed like that?" Ann teased, "Will Theodosia Burr be at the picnic today?"
"Will Mr. Van Ness be there as well?"
After returning from London, Aunt Angelica had thrown herself with gusto into the business of finding Ann a husband. Cornelius Van Ness was the latest candidate.
A flock of birds landed to feast upon a pile of breadcrumbs and chattered to one another.
"I wonder if they are arguing and arguing and not getting anything done like Papa says Congress does."
Such a statement was typical of Ann, who had always possessed an overactive imagination and usually came up with their games of make-believe.
They heard Bramble meowing under a dogwood bush. Her tail curled into the shape of a question mark as she plotted a pounce on one of the birds.
"Don't even think about it, Little Girl!" Ann picked Bramble up and cradled her like a baby. The cat struggled to free herself while Ann stared off into the distance, stroking her fur. The months had been hard on her as well. Jamie and Alex were away at school and did not have to see how tense things were between Mother and Father, who put on a good face whenever they were home; Johnny, Willy, and Little Eliza were too young to notice what was going on. It was up to Philip and Angie to shield their younger siblings.

Alexander should have known this was coming when his wife returned from her visit upstate, looking happier and more alive than she had in a long time. He had foolishly hoped that things would get better between the two of them until he discovered a line in a scandal rag which read
"If the gossip from Albany be true, it seems that General Ham., that notorious Paris, has been forced to play the role of Menelaus. Perhaps the fair Mrs. Ham. has got one over her august husband."
He had not thought much of this at first. His enemies, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, often hired hacks to fling muck at him to see what would stick. But since there was usually no smoke without a fire, he had confronted Eliza about it. She stood there, stoically, in front of him and answered the charge in the affirmative. Like the boom of a cannon, her words had made his ears ring from the shock.
"What is his name?" he had demanded of her.
"Joseph Ackerman," she responded.
"Do you love him?"
"Did you love Maria Reynolds?"
"She's a duplicitous whore; completely unworthy of love!"
He had expected her to swoon, weep, and beg for his forgiveness the way Maria had when he discovered her betrayal but Eliza stood upon her dignity.
"I will spare you the details," was all she had to say before picking up the hem of her skirt and flouncing out of the room.
He was tempted to ask how she could have done this to him but he knew all too well. She wanted to pay him back for all the hurt and humiliation she had suffered because of him. He had feared she would do as much.
Joseph Ackerman was someone he was vaguely acquainted with. He came from an illustrious family that had been a fixture of New York society since its first Dutch settlers. Very wealthy from land and business. Ackerman himself was a widower with a young family; respectable to the point of being somewhat dull. Not someone who had a reputation for being a roué.
Alexander considered challenging the man to duel but quickly scrapped the idea. It would make him look like a hypocrite since he had often spoken about the idiocy of dueling. No, he would wound Ackerman with a weapon he had much more skill with.
"Joseph Ackerman is among the vilest of rakes and cads," he began to write, "and receives the utmost pleasure from debauching ladies of previously impeccable virtue. He is not to be trusted around any respectable woman, whether she be wife or maiden."
"Alexander!"
He looked up from his writing to see his sister-in-law Angelica standing in the doorway of his office with an expression which would have put Medusa to shame.
Angelica was slightly taller than her sister Eliza and more delicate of frame and feature. She had a long, pale, soulful face which had an exquisite beauty but which could turn suddenly to the horror of fury when she was angry. The wraithlike effect was heightened by Angelica's pale gray half mourning dress.
"Angelica, " he responded to her, "aren't you supposed to be leaving for the picnic?"
"What are you writing?"
"After I publish this in the New York Post, that scoundrel Ackerman won't dare show his face in New York ever again. He's lucky I'm not going to put a bullet in his temple."
"And you think that will make Eliza come running back to you?"
"A husband has the right to defend his wife's honor."
"Even if that wife despises you?"
Touché, Alexander thought.
"You brought this all on your self, you know?"
"All too well, Angelica, all too well."
"Eliza doesn't love you anymore. She doesn't even respect you. The only reason she hasn't left you for Ackerman is because of the children."
Alexander knew this all too well. She had exiled him from her bed and invited someone else in. Meanwhile, the world was laughing at him and saying he had it coming.
"What does Church say about your affairs?"
"He turns a blind eye if I turn a blind eye to his."
Not many people would be inclined to pity Angelica Church: still as beautiful as ever; married to a wealthy and prominent man; adored by the cream of American and European society. But behind that dazzling façade, life had not been as charmed as it might seem.
"Aunt Angelica, the carriage is about to leave," Ann called from the hallway.
"I'll be right, there," Angelica answered.
Ann stepped in and walked over to her father's desk.
"Papa, have you changed your mind about coming with us to the picnic."
"Sorry, Sweetheart," Alexander responded, "I have so much work to get done."