Chapter Text
PART 6
Married.
Alexander Hamilton was married. Every inch of him thrummed with excitement and nerves and he was married to Elizabeth Schuyler-Hamilton.
There was a sadness that lingered when he thought back to the church. Filled with her family and family friends and yet barely of his, and definitely no family. He felt almost like a cheat, like someone was going to rush in and point a finger at him accusingly and tell everyone there that he was a poor fraud.
But it didn’t happen. And he kissed Eliza in front of everyone and it felt like the first time, a new first time and he was brimming with a feeling that he couldn’t quite place.
“My sister is going to do a speech,” Eliza whispered as they looked over the table-filled hall. Food had been served and people were just settling in to prepare to dance and drink and see the couple off for their first night together (a thought that made Alexander tingle with a thrumming joy).
“Dear Angelica?” he questioned, because it was likely that the energy-filed Peggy would want to stand upon a table and give a speech as well, so full of life and words it would not surprise him in the least.
“Oh yes, I think if my Peggy gave a speech it would be more like she were an actor on stage reciting Shakespeare,” in other words dramatic and probably with little point to what was actually happening. He smiled and nodded and squeezed his hand that lay on her waist, pulling her tighter and marvelling that he could do this without worrying that doing so would catch anyone’s disapproving eye – sure they could look now, and maybe even disapprove for whatever reason but she was his and he was hers by law, there was no weight to it.
“Your father’s speech was…” he trailed off for a moment, a shy smile on his face. Philip Schuyler began the feast with a toast to the newlyweds, it was all a little pompous and if not about Alexander himself he would have probably been rolling his eyes, but then the man spoke of the honour of welcoming him into the family and he felt his throat get a little itchy and eyes wet because he never really thought of the family he was gaining when he looked into the church.
“Yes, I’m almost sure I heard a little sniffle from my side,” Eliza teased with a tenderness that only she could manage.
“Oh, I’m sure you are mistaken, wife,” he was looking at her now, eyebrows raised and head close.
“I don’t believe so, husband,” her reply was met with a kiss, one slow and sensual that truly it shouldn’t have been at the table, ever at any table, let alone one in a room filled with people but they were broken from it by the unmistakable but boisterous shout of John Laurens.
“Alright, alright, that’s what I’m talking about!” He raised a glass to the freshly kissed couple and Eliza chuckled and raised hers in a mock-toast, “Now everyone give it up for the maid-of-honour, Angelica Schuyler!” Everyone was standing and raised their glasses for the toast, cheering her entrance. She stood with an excited Peggy holding her similarly to the way Alexander held Eliza and smiled over to them from the other side of the hall.
“A toast to the groom, to the bride from your sister,” the room cheered along, “who is always by your side! To your union and the hope that you provide,” she paused for a moment her eyes focussed on Alexander, “May you always be satisfied.”
The room cheered the toast, taking drinks.
But he was transported back to the first night, the sight of Angelica on the floor, the way his heart beat a little faster at the sight and closeness of her, the way he was distracted by her the way he could see her and he knew that he could see her too.
You’re like me, you will never be satisfied.
Was there truth to that now? Eliza pulled away from him and moved to hug her sister to which Alexander followed getting accosted by Peggy for a moment, spinning the younger sister out in a brief dance that brought forth a musical laugh.
He felt a lot more satisfied that he had those months ago when he was so sure in his words to Angelica but would he ever truly be…
“Alexander,” Angelica mock-curtsied for him and an almost involuntary grin pulled at his lips as he bowed in reply.
“My dear sister,” he replied not missing the slight twitch on her face, even as her smile remained in place, “you are looking radiant.” She was, she always seemed to be – he wondered if it would lessen, the way she seemed to capture him in some sort of trance. It wasn’t all consuming, it didn’t cling to his every thought – he definitely found his mind wandering to the sister he married more often than not, but she was there. A faint glimmer of…of what if…
“You are looking the picture of happiness, my brother,” and maybe it was easier to refer to each other as brother and sister, for it would be purely incestuous to move onto such thoughts. Gosh, what did he ever do to deserve Eliza? Dream about her sister, lay with another man… truly he wondered how long it would take now they were married before he betrayed her again. Maybe he’d not be able to give her children? Choose the work over their marriage (which seemed likely, as he still stood in his uniform even on their wedding day)? Or maybe he’d die, die with no guilt of what he leaves behind? George always feared him for a martyr and for the first time he knew he was right. If he had a chance to die for the cause, for the revolution, Alexander definitely believed he would.
“Your happiness has faded from your face almost as quickly as it came. Come,” she motioned with her hand and he automatically offered her his elbow for her to take, “we shall have a drink and see if we can sort through your issues. Or at least begin to, I’m sure you want to return to your wife and we haven’t the time to even scratch the surface of you.”
Yes, he made the right choice of sisters. Eliza’s haunting eyes, and soft skin and willing body were something that would comfort him for many years, but he couldn’t help but feel envious for the lucky man that won the heart of Angelica Schuyler.
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Alexander found himself pleasantly drunk. The type of drunk that lay on the bones lightly, not to weigh you down but keep you warm and filled with a kind of happiness that you could only gain by all the attention being on you for a day.
It took him a while to notice the lack of attention from his new wife, though.
She was being swept away constantly by family members he could see in her eyes she didn’t remember and as polite and sweet as she was she would go willingly with them, not even allowing a pleading look towards him. No, more of an amused raise of her eyebrows.
When he found her again, she was deep in conversation – or more importantly being talked at by a large grey man, and if the way her eyes struggled to keep focus and the blush on her cheeks that wasn’t there from dancing, she was rather drunk herself.
He felt jealous – she was his wife, yet everyone wanted her attention.
Shouldn’t it have been his without even question?
“My dear Betsey,” he called, arm flailing dramatically as he almost glided towards her table accidentally bumping into a few of the dancers on his way, “I feel it is a crying shame that I have not danced with you nearly enough this fine day that is our wedding.”
The occupant of the table chuckled merrily and the smart part of Alexander was glad. It wouldn’t do for him to upset members of her family so early in their marriage – there was forgotten anniversaries and missed birthday for all that.
“Alexander, this is my great Uncle Francis,” she gestured to the man, “he was just informing me about the absolute uselessness of such a revolution between the great King and our country.” There was a gleam in her eye as though she wanted him to get riled up – sadly she would not get that this night, no he wanted too much to spend tim-
“You see young boy, what you and your friends are doing is wasting time and effort and in the process you are causing a fracture of distrust between King George the Second and the people of this nation,” he spoke with a mock-upper-class English accent that caused a slight twitch to get at Alexander’s cheek, “Now, what you should be doing is putting your efforts in the way of trying to re-”
“I’m sorry, Great Uncle Francis I hav… I can call you Great Uncle Francis now, can’t I?” he paused for a nod, and continued, “I’m sorry Francis, my good man, but I have to disagree with you. Our country, the people of our country…. You, me, that wonderful woman that I have more than the honour of calling my wife,” he waved a hand in the direction of Eliza, who was smiling with eyes-wide glancing between the two, “what this great nation needs is to be free and we cannot survive, we cannot thrive under the rule of King George, we are a nation that is drowni-”
“Alexander!” Philip Schuyler called, and his words had immediate effect in his son-in-law who snapped his mouth shut and stood up straighter, almost seeming sober despite the glassy look to his eyes.
“Mr Schuyler, sir!” he replied, a panicked look on his face that was calmed slightly when he saw Eliza’s eyes glittering with mirth.
“My wife’s uncle and I have had this debate for many months, so I shall take over from here,” he motioned for Eliza to leave with a tilt of his head whilst implying that Alexander should vacate his seat as well – something both did quickly a brief wave in his direction.
“I’m almost disappointed,” Eliza spoke softly after a few moments, if she noticed that he was directing them outside she made no sign of it, “there’s nothing I enjoy more than hearing my revolutionary soldier winning at debates with misinformed men.”
“Why, Eliza it almost seems as though you planned that,” he pressed his hand to his chest scoffing in mock-surprise.
“Only got Uncle Francis started my father interru- Alexander, it’s the middle of winter,” she shuddered when her brain caught up with her body but she didn’t stop her walking, her hand firmly in Alexander’s as he half-pulled her further away from the noise inside.
“We’re going for a walk,” he paused both his speech and step to bounce on his feet in front of her, “I happen to know my wife is very fond of nightly walks through gardens during winter.” Still bathed by the candle glows from inside, chatter from people that loitered around the fields and near the house he stepped towards Eliza, bringing his lips to her gracelessly causing her to stumble backwards from the force.
“Alexander,” mumbling against his lips, she brought her hands to his shoulders and pushed him back slightly, “Alexander!” the force of his name caused him to stop and he rested his hands on her waist, looking at her with wide wet eyes.
“My Eliza, I feel that I have seen so little of you on this our wedding day,” he groaned, throwing his head back dramatically before flinging it back and bringing his head down to her neck, playfully pressing kisses there.
“Alexander, I don’t know if you’re aware but… we’re married.”
“I heard something to that effect, yes,” he replied clearly without moving his head from where it rested.
“It means that we do not have to risk illness from the cold, we can retire to our quarters…” all movements seemed to stop then and he pulled back and looked at her, a little blush on his cheeks that wasn’t completely due to the cold.
“Oh…”
“Yes, oh,” she repeated with a giggle, allowing herself to be pulled back in the opposite direction to where they had gone.
Alexander wasn’t sure of much, he wasn’t sure how the revolution was going to go, he wasn’t sure if he would live to see another birthday, their first anniversary or if he would have a child, he wasn’t sure if he would be a good husband either. But Elizabeth Schuyler-Hamilton? He was pretty sure about her.