Dear, Hamilton

Congratulations

Days after Hamilton had informed me of it, I'm still angry, and growing angrier still. Except, I'm not mad at Hamilton, but at that man, Callender.

"Monroe gave Callender the copied letters I had given him confidentially about the affair when he investigated me in 1793," Hamilton had fumed. 

Now I'm fuming.

How dare Monroe do such a thing! Hamilton had given those letters with the belief that it would be kept confidential. Monroe broke the law by giving Callender the letters. In addition, Callender had the audacity to exploit those letters and proclaim to the public that Hamilton was not only embezzling government funds, but was engaging in an affair.

He had no right!

I huff a growl as I stare out the window in the drawing room, my thoughts obviously elsewhere other than the city landscape outside. 

"What's wrong, Mama?" Angelica asks me from where she sits across from me in one of the plush armchairs.

"Nothing, darling," I tell her, looking back at her with a forced smile. "Have you been practicing your duet on the pianoforte with your father?"

Angelica nods eagerly as she answers with a beam, "Oh, yes, we have. We should perform it tonight."

I grin at her and reply, "That will be our source of entertainment for the night." 

Angelica's smile widens at this, clearly pleased. I've learned that being the source of entertainment for the night is a sort of compliment for young girls during the eighteenth century.

Suddenly, Phillip stalks into the room, his posture and gait exactly like Hamilton's; all confidence with a slight edge of arrogance. Phillip plops down on one of the available seats and looks at me. 

"I was wondering if you have any medicine for headaches," he inquires, casting a quick glance towards Angelica.

"You have a headache?" Angelica asks worriedly.

Phillip raises a brow and asks dryly, "Why else would I be asking?"

Before Angelica can say any more, I speak up, "I have some in the kitchen. Come follow me." I stand up, and Angelica makes to rise with me, but I hold out a hand to stop her and say, "Keep working on your knitting. I'll be back to survey your rows."

Angelica's mouth turns down in dissatisfaction, but she nods and begins knitting again. I walk out of the drawing room towards the kitchen, Phillip following at my heels. Hamilton walks out of a room and into the hallway ahead of us, and he looks towards us at the sound of our footsteps.

"Eliza, Phillip," he greets us with a smile. "Where are you two headed?"

"A drought for my headache," Phillip answers as we stop before Alexander. "It's killing me."

"Oh."

I nod and say to Phillip, "Let's go get that for you."

I begin walking again, and Phillip and Alexander both follow me. When we get to the kitchen, I reach into the cupboard and pull out a bottle of liquid meant for headaches. I measure out two tablespoons and pour it into a cup for Phillip to drink.

"There you go," I tell him, handing him the cup, and he nods in thanks before tipping it back. When he's drunken it all, he moves and sits down on one of the stools by the counter. He rests his head on the palm of his hand as he says, "Hopefully, it'll go away now."

Alexander, who's standing leaned against the wall about seven feet away, asks, "How are your studies going? Have you been following my study regimen?"