“I don’t know, my dearly beloved child, in what condition Hamilton left you as to pecuniary resources, but I still have the power, attention, and determination to render you and my dear grandchildren perfectly comfortable.”
I kissed him tearfully. “Thank you, Papa.”
He pressed the point. “My fixed determination is to pass the rest of the days my creator has allotted me in promoting your happiness. So name a wish to me.”
Perhaps he thought I’d ask for money or land. But I knew my wish. “I must have Alexander’s letters.”
Papa nodded. “When your mother passed, I found comfort in her letters. But I promised her that I’d burn them to preserve her privacy and so I did.”
I was glad Alexander had never asked such a thing of me because I could still hear his voice when I read his letters. Every word was both a balm and a wound that bled anew. But that wasn’t why I wanted them. When I explained myself, Papa’s puzzled expression melted to concern. “Eliza, remember that we owe duties to the living, and a humble resignation to the divine. A mind so pious as yours, so deeply impressed with the duties of a mother, will feel the force of my remarks.”
I did feel the force of his remarks. But I was in no way resigned. It couldn’t be God’s will that my husband’s life, and his life’s work, came to nothing.
I wouldn’t let it.
And so, the rest of that summer, while Vice President Burr fled from city to city like the villain he was, I tended to my father—who had to be carried to the dining table in the morning and back up to bed at night. Then each evening, I sat in his study sorting through sheaves of papers.
When the leaves turned, Papa was feeling stronger and able to walk about the house, so it was time to return to Manhattan. Burr had been indicted in New Jersey, as well as New York, each jurisdiction vying for the honor of hanging him. His property had been seized and was to be auctioned, and this I wanted to see with my own eyes.
On the day we were to depart, Papa said, “In your new house, you must render yourself perfectly comfortable, and call on me, my beloved child, without hesitation. I will send you butter and pigs’ feet sauce and truffles. Whatever you desire.”
He’d scarcely finished speaking when my eldest daughter burst into the dining room. “Philip is gone,” Ana cried.
My heart leaped to my throat at seeing her in such distress, tears in her eyes, her hair wild. I folded her into my embrace, wondering if we were to go again through her fresh grief or if she’d finally come back to herself. Wrapping my arms around her sturdy shoulders, I said, “My dear child, you know Philip—”
Ana pushed me violently away. “You always take his side.”
“Ana!” my father barked.
Her grandfather’s authority broke through to her, forcing her to hang her head as she wept. “But Philip promised we’d go swimming before we left on the sloop. Now he’s gone ahead of us. He broke his promise, and Papa says a promise must never be broken!”
It was all too much. For a moment, I felt myself spiraling down into weariness and despair. How long would my poor daughter live in a state of madness? And would she drag me there with her?
Bringing my hands to my face as I considered what to say, my sister swept in with her satchel. “It isn’t Philip’s fault,” Angelica snapped. Since learning of my daughter’s troubles, Angelica had made it her business to study every book she could find on derangements of the mind. And there were not many, for in those days, they were obscure and could only be had from Europe. She’d never approved of Alexander’s notion that we should go along with Ana’s delusions. But now she did just that. “It’s much too cold to swim and I told him to get the horses and go ahead of us so we can get an early start on our day.” I nodded gratefully as she insisted my daughter wipe her tears. “If you want to be angry with someone, be angry with me. Now kiss your grandpapa farewell.”
My daughter obeyed and let her aunt usher her out. Then, wearily, I stood at the window, staring out at a world in autumn decay. “Papa, I don’t know how to be both mother and father to my orphaned children.”
“You will not do it alone,” Papa said. “Your sister is devoted to you. And our children will have me, too. Yes, my beloved, I say our children, for may it please the Almighty to let me remain in life, you and they will have my constant love and tenderness.”
Deeply touched, I blinked away tears. “Oh, Papa . . .”
“You must promise to let your family be of aid and comfort to you now, Elizabeth.”