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The first time that Alexander told her that he loved her, it was a promise.
It was a promise that things would get better, no matter what life was like. It was a promise that they’d always be together. It was a promise that they would always love each other.
It was a promise, and promises are meant to be broken.
The first time that Alexander wrote down those three words, her heart had fluttered in her chest and all she could think of were the stars shining in Alexander’s eyes.
And Angelica—smart, sensible Angelica with the ability to look with her heart and her mind—had told her to be careful. “He’ll do what it takes to survive.”
Eliza hadn’t known what her sister had meant then, but she sure as hell knew now.
The first time that Eliza heard Alexander tell Philip that he loved him, it was a whisper, meant for no one else but them.
It was an accident, really. She’d just woken up in the middle of the night, in need of a glass of water, and seen her husband carrying little Philip in his arms. Alexander was rocking him slowly, a warm smile on his face.
She never wanted to leave that moment, but Eliza rarely gets as she prays for.
Eliza knows that she isn’t the only one Alexander loves in that way. She isn’t completely blind or entirely stupid. She can see the love shining in his eyes whenever he gets another letter from a Mr. John Laurens, but she doesn’t mind. Not really, anyway.
She trusts Alexander and she trusts John. She trusts them enough to believe that no matter how much they love each other, they would never betray her. She and John are friends , for God’s sake.
And, in the end, she was kind-of right. John wasn’t the one to break her heart.
It’s so disappointing that she has to hear from a boy selling newspapers that her husband cheated on her. She expected Alexander to be more mature about it—to talk to her like a rational adult and to explain his reasoning—but at the same time, she’s glad that he didn’t. She would have fallen for his wonderfully crafted words and he would have gotten away with it. And Eliza would have hated herself even more than she already did.
Eliza spent a lot of time thinking after she found out. Why did he have to bring her into their bed? Why did he have to keep all of her letters? Why was there even a “her” in the first place? And the most heart-shattering of all: Why wasn’t she good enough?
Was she too kind? Was she not smart enough to keep up with his ever-racing brain? Was she not pretty enough? Too silent? Too docile?
Or was it simply that Alexander didn’t love her anymore?
Eliza supposed that she’d rather not be good enough than be in love with someone who didn’t love her anymore.
Angelica came home three days after that, eyes blazing and mouth a grim line. She looked every bit the vengeful goddess that Eliza knew that she could never be.
Angelica told her that she’d seen Alexander on the way to the house and how she’d wanted to beat his face in. Eliza had asked how he was faring, cursing herself for still loving someone who’d screwed her life over.
Angelica had sighed and pulled Eliza in for a hug. “It’s okay to still care, Betsey,” Angelica said softly. “It’s okay to forgive, but you should never forget.”
Peggy came over soon after, shoving a homemade chocolate chip cookie into Eliza’s mouth in lieu of greeting. “I brought food!” she proclaimed loudly.
Peggy had brought lots of food, presumably purchased from the bakery near her house. It really did help when your youngest sister married one of the richest men in America.
Peggy’s basket was filled to the brim with sweets of all sorts, and Eliza felt like her thirty-nine year old sister was still the twelve-year-old who giggled at the silliest of things. And with both of her sisters there again, Eliza felt like she was a young girl again too. That was one of the happiest days of her life.
The girl’s name was Maria Reynolds and she was very nice.
Eliza supposed that it was harder to hate your husband’s mistress when she was nice, even if the girl had ruined all semblances of normalcy in Eliza’s life.
She had met Maria when Eliza had went to Aaron Burr’s office to drop something by. Eliza didn’t expect to see her .
Maria had introduced herself simply as “Miss Maria.” Eliza noticed that her husband’s last name was purposely left hanging in the thick air.
“I’m Eliza,” she’d replied, a smile on her face. She wasn’t sure whether the smile was for herself or for Maria.
Color had drained out of Maria’s face. “Oh my God. I am so sorry. My husband—”
Eliza knew the story. John Reynolds had forced Maria to do absolutely despicable things in order to support his...toxic lifestyle. Things that included the less savory things in life.
“Please,” Eliza had said, interrupting Maria. “You don’t have to apologize—I forgive you—but please don’t apologize. People say sorry for things that they can’t control, and I don’t find that fair. But if you’d like, we could go out for tea.”
Oh, God, she’d been rambling.
Thankfully, Maria had only smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Tomorrow afternoon? Say, around three o’clock at Priscilla's?”
“Naturally.”
“Eliza, please , just hear me out! We never speak anymore.”
She turned around, every bit the angry woman she should’ve been when she’d first found out. She glared at Alexander, pouring every bit of hate and fury she could have mustered into that single petrifying stare.
“And whose fault is that?” she snarled, her voice dripping venom. Instantly, she recoiled into herself. She hadn’t meant to say that …
Alexander flinched and pulled his hand away from where it had ghosted above hers only a moment before.
Shit. “Alexander, I’m—”
“Don’t be,” he said, out of words for the first time in his life. “I deserve it.”
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
She pushed them all away, her voice cracking slightly as she said, “Where is my son?”
Then, she saw them. Alexander was sitting on the cold, hard ground, Philip’s head in his lap, and several doctors stood nearby. A bright scarlet flower was slowly blossoming on Philip’s chest.
Ohgodpleasenotphilipmychildrenareallihaveleft.
“Mom,” Philip said softly, his eyes lighting up and a smile growing on his face when he saw her. Blood stained his teeth red.
Immediately, Eliza sunk down to her knees. “Philip,” she breathed. “Stay alive, my love. You’ll be all right.”
A lie . Eliza didn’t need to be a doctor to know that her son— her sweet baby boy —was dying in front of her and Eliza couldn’t do anything about it. All she could do now was help him die in comfort.
“Mom—”
“Save your breath.”
“ Mom ,” he said, a little more forcefully this time. Philip raised a hand and wiped a few tears off of Eliza’s face. She hadn’t even had time to fully process that Philip was about to die, much less the fact that she was sobbing. “It’s okay. I’m dying, but that’s okay. Take care of Angelica and the rest of us, all right? Don’t be too sad.”
Don’t be too sad . She almost laughed. He really was like her, in the ways that mattered. But why couldn’t he have been like Alexander and survived a war? Even if the war was a duel.
“Of course, my love,” Eliza murmured, pushing a lock of hair out of his face that had been glued on with sweat. “Anything for you.”
Philip’s grip on her hand was beginning to loosen, and in a fit of panic, Eliza began, “ Un, deux, trois, quatre —”
But before she could finish, Philip died and took a piece of Eliza with him.
Eliza couldn’t help but notice that Alexander was a lot more careful around her now, as if she were some china doll that needed cushioning. She wasn’t. She’d lost both Peggy and Philip in the same year, and still came out sane. Sadly, she couldn’t say the same for her sweet daughter.
It had taken a while for Alexander to realize that she’d forgiven him long ago, but when he did, he seemed like one of the happiest men on Earth. They would never be the same, though that was a given fact, but they were... healing . And in a broken world, to heal was a great gift that not many ever received.
Not another one gone, she begged to God and to any deity that would listen, a sliver of crème paper clutched in her hand. Please don’t take someone else away from me.
Her husband had done the one thing in life that he’d sworn to never do: throw away his shot. And it had cost him his life. Burr hadn’t.
Even after all this time, Eliza still considered him a friend. And he’d killed one of the only people she had left.
Then again, Alexander hadn’t exactly acted innocent. He was wearing his spectacles, as if he was planning to kill. Instead, he’d raised his gun to the sky and prayed for the best. He’d hit a tree above Burr’s head.
Tears fell down her face. “Alex, please —”
Alexander smiled and crimson stained his teeth. It reminded Eliza of Philip. “Betsey…”
“Don’t leave me,” she begged quietly. “Don’t leave me like everyone else has. Don’t leave me again.”
“Never,” he promised.
That was the second promise Alexander had made her that would remain broken, just like Eliza’s heart.