The Traitor's Stain (wattys 2019)

Chapter Forty-One: Norwalk, Connecticut

Ben stood outside of Washington's tent, fiddling with his hat with nerves. Washington wanted to meet with him and Alexander concerning the network. He never said anything about what he actually wanted to meet about: just that they needed to talk, to keep it quiet. This would be a meeting kept secret from everyone who didn't need to know about it. It was nerve racking, thinking about the million and one possibilities. Was he disbanding the network? Had they missed some vital information that had gotten men killed?

There was nothing Ben could stand quite like not knowing what he was walking in to.

"Afternoon," Alexander said as he sauntered over, thumbs hooked into his belt loops. "How have you been?"

For once, Ben felt like Alexander wanted to know how he was. He'd assumed that Alexander had been focused on his budding relationship with Eliza to see the angst that had come with Noah's death.

"I've been fine." He looked to the tent flaps. "I don't like knowing what the general wants from us, though."

"Don't worry: you aren't in trouble," Alexander said.

Ben frowned. "Did he tell you what this was about?"

"Of course: I'm his aide-de-camps, after all." He looked around. "Can't say much more than that, though. Just relax: he just wants to hear your opinion on some things, is all."

Ben wished that could've helped him to relax, but it didn't. In fact, it may have made things worse.

"So, will you be coming to the wedding?" Alexander asked.

Wedding? "Whose wedding? I don't remember hearing about a wedding."

Alexander gave him a look.

Ben stood up a little straighter. "Wait: you and Eliza? How did I not hear about this earlier? When did you get engaged?"

"Technically, we aren't engaged, just yet," Alexander said. "I still need to ask Mr. Schuyler for his permission, but I plan on doing that while I'm in New York a few days from now."

Oh. "And... you think he'll give you his blessing?" Ben asked carefully.

"Of course," Alexander said. "Why wouldn't he?"

Ben decided to keep his 95 thesis regarding Alexander's potential to be a good husband to himself. "God for you. I'm happy for you, really. And I'd be honored to go to your wedding."

Alexander smiled. "Excellent! Peggy's been dying to meet you."

Ben frowned. "Peggy?"

"Eliza's sister," Alexander said. "I've told her about you, and she's very interested in meeting you. Play your cards right, and you might manage to marry into New York's high society, too."

Ben didn't have the chance to tell Alexander that the last thing he wanted to do was marry into high society or be his brother-in-law, but he didn't get that chance: Jane came out of the tent before he could, a basket of laundry in her arms. "The general's ready for you, sir: go right in."

Ben took a deep breath, steeling himself, and walked into the tent with Alexander.

His face began to burn.

Washington's shirt was off; he wasn't even wearing an undershirt. He sat at his table, his brass arm propped on the table. He fiddled with it with a screwdriver, muttering almost inaudible curses under his breath. The general was surprisingly fit for his age, which Ben had already known, but he was surprised to see that he was quite muscular, too.

Ben covered his eyes with one hand, embarrassed. Before he did, he stole a glance at Alexander, who didn't seem the least bit fazed.

"Sir, you aren't wearing a shirt," Alexander pointed out.