The whispers rose like the murmur of the sea, and Lysbet clutched my hand. “Everyone’s staring.”
They were. And I met their gazes. Each and every one. And what I saw reflected back at me, after so many years out of the public eye, was a pleasant surprise. Admiration. Curiosity.
And without question, respect.
In that moment, a curly-haired officer in uniform and sash bumped into us so hard that Lysbet would’ve fallen if he hadn’t caught her by the waist. “Oh, dear. I am so very sorry,” he said, looking not a bit sorry. Forgoing all protocol that might’ve required a gentleman should be introduced, he presented himself as one Lieutenant Sidney Holly.
We returned the introduction—forced as we were to it—and the young man’s cheeks reddened. “Hamilton?” With wide eyes, he glanced at the bust, then back at us, seeming so discomforted that I thought he must be a rabid Republican. But then he said, “I daresay I wouldn’t have employment without your father’s innovations, Miss Hamilton. I work as a customs inspector.”
“Is that so?” my daughter said, smiling shyly.
Awkwardness hung between them, and he finally gave a little bow. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, apologizing again. And again.
“That poor man,” Lysbet said once he’d gone. “There’s no cause for him to be so embarrassed for an accident.”
“That was no accident,” I said, explaining what she’d have known if she’d attended as many balls as I had. “Bumping into a young lady is an old trick employed by young men lacking the means of obtaining a proper introduction. He’s embarrassed because, upon hearing your father’s name, he realized he blundered quite above his station.”
“Truly?” Lysbet said, her eyes widening in apparent delight at his impudence. She turned to smile much less shyly in the direction of the man’s retreat.
Just then, Lafayette appeared to the tune of “See the Conquering Hero Comes.” We found our seats, and the cloths that surrounded and enclosed the hall rose like a curtain at the theater to reveal the pure and brilliant moon shining on the harbor, upon which steamboats were plying in every direction.
Several times that magical evening, dances were attempted, but every time Lafayette approached them, the dancers broke off and came to group themselves around him. Young ladies swooned when he kissed their hands upon introduction. And he obliged them all, except for one girl, who presented a gloved hand which he refused. “Your pretty glove is stamped with my face, mademoiselle, and I am not so egotistical that I can kiss myself!”
When the laughter died down, mothers presented their children and, asking his blessing, feeble old men reanimated in talking to him of the numerous battles in which they’d been engaged with him for the sake of liberty. Free black men reminded him of his philanthropic efforts to place them in the rank, which horrid prejudices still denied them. And young men whose hard and blackened hands announced their laborious occupations stopped before him and said, “We also belong to the ten millions who are indebted to you for liberty and happiness!”
Despite all the Republicans had done to ruin the country, I couldn’t help but be a little stirred by the plain evidence of how many of my fellow Americans now thrived.
Before long, Georges made his way through the throngs of well-wishers sharing with him their admiration for his father to seek us out. “We wish to know if you and your mother will be pleased to share the berth across from our own, Miss Hamilton.”
“A berth?” Lysbet asked, her nose pink from just a few sips of champagne.
“On the steamboat,” Georges said, tilting his head. “We depart just after midnight.”
Lysbet pulled her shawl around her in bewilderment. “Where to?”
Now Georges was equally bewildered. “My father says you’re to accompany us on our journey up the river.”
At this, my daughter gasped with delight. As, of course, Lafayette knew she would. What a wily man! Annoyed that the Frenchman should still be so sly as to wield my daughter’s excitement against me, I said, “I fear your father has misunderstood, Georges. We cannot join you.”
Lysbet had perhaps sipped more champagne than I realized because she put a hand to her hip and demanded to know, “Why not?”
Why not, indeed.
At the age of sixty-seven, I didn’t go anywhere after midnight, much less on a journey up the Hudson. But before I could say as much, the old hero stole upon us and laughed. “She asks why not? Spoken like a Lafayette! Come with me, ladies, at least as far as West Point.”