Dear, Hamilton

That Would Be Enough

Once Angelica and John left for Paris, Hamilton and I practically had the house to ourselves. Well, I mean my parents were still around, but I strangely rarely saw them.

So we practically had the house to ourselves. 

We definitely kept ourselves occupied. Hamilton and I made a game of playing at the piano forte every night. When we first began playing the instrument together, Hamilton was absolutely horrible. He kept hitting the wrong keys by accident, and because he hadn't yet developed the dexterity to use both hands to play, he used only one hand. 

I was surprised to find that there was actually something that I was better at doing than him-- playing the piano forte.

I soon learned, though, that he had been watching the keys I was pressing and memorizing them instead of actually reading the music notes. Hamilton didn't know how to read music, let alone play the piano forte!

So, I began to teach him all the notes and how to read the music. Soon, he began picking up on it, and from there we played duets or did little challenges to see who played the best with my parents as the judges. 

I won almost every time.

Any time Hamilton won, he would insist that I played better and declare me the winner instead. I have to admit it was charming.

But we didn't do this game every night. Some nights I was so exhausted that I would head immediately to bed after dinner and simply collapse onto the bed before instantly falling asleep. I wouldn't even wake when Hamilton would tug my slippers off for me.

Soon enough my mother began to withdraw her watchful eye from me, and I think it was because Hamilton was there to watch over me instead.

Now, Hamilton and I are both seated at the pianoforte away from my mother's eagle eyes. I watch as Alexander idly plays a few notes, occasionally glancing up at me as if to make sure he's doing it correctly, and I nod encouragingly.

Suddenly, he stops playing and, taking a hold of my hands, he twists to face me. "Eliza, what do you say to going to Philadelphia with me?" Alexander asks earnestly, his blue eyes beseeching mine eagerly. By the look in his eyes and on his face, I can tell he's been thinking about this for a while now.

"What do you mean?" I ask, taking one of my hands out of his grasp as I draw back in confusion. "Why would we go to Philadelphia?"

Hamilton nods as if he had been expecting me to ask this before replying, "That's where the army is camped for the winter. I think I could be of better assistance to Washington if I'm by his side more." His voice softens as if to make his next words less harsh, and he leans closer to me as he adds, "You know I can't be here the entire winter. Soon enough I'll have to leave your side." 

"But my mother won't let me," I tell him with a frustrated sigh. "I'm too far along in my pregnancy to travel."

Hamilton purses his lips at this, mind whirling for a solution, before he states decidedly, "Then we'll wait until our baby is born before we go. Together." He give me an affirmative nod.

I raise a disbelieving brow as I inquire, "You can be away from Washington's side for two or three more months? You're too indispensable to be away for that long."

Hamilton waves a dismissive hand as he replies, "Washington will be fine without me. Besides, anyone can write. He won't have any trouble finding a temporary replacement."

I nod to placate him, but I don't think Hamilton's correct in that statement. Hamilton has an exceptional way with words-- an irreplaceable way with words. I'm proven correct when as the weeks pass by, Hamilton receives an abundance of letters from various generals and officers, most frequently from General Washington, pleading for his return to the military camp.