Pass The Time With You In Mind (AKA The Peggy Chronicles Part 1)
The very first thing Peggy sees of the man is his britches. He's dangling feet first from a second story window, fumbling blindly for solid ground. She purses her lips. Peggy happens to know for a fact that that's Abigail Benjamin's bedroom window which the young soldier is climbing out of. As in, Abigail the pretty young wife of the highly respected local judge, Abraham Benjamin.
Soldiers. They're utterly, irredeemably dissolute. Every last one of them.
"You should know sir," Peggy calls out to him, " that the entrance to the Benjamin's ball is at the front side of the house, as, I believe, is customary for these sorts of affairs."
His reaction is comical, even she can admit it. He whirls his head around to identify the speaker. The action knocks him the rest of the way out of the window and onto the packed earth. He falls hard, dropping to his knees, before springing up and managing a loose approximation of a courtly bow.
"You're pardon Madam," he tells her. "A foolish mistake on my part, to confuse the back door for the front, but I trust it's an error that will remain between us two.
It's dark out here in the soft New Jersey night and far away from the soft candlelit glow that had suffused the ball, so she can't see much, but she thinks that he's delicately built, with a strong face and a somewhat fair complexion. His voice is pleasant, not too deep, but elegantly rich and full of a biting intelligence.
Peggy's not especially intimated though, something in his bearing reminds her of Angelica.
"Such a damaged sense of direction is a particularly terrible thing for a soldier, I should think," she retorts. "You keep that up, you may well find yourself drummed out of the army before long."
His mouth quirks and she can see him reevaluate her. He shifts backwards on his heels and a modicum of respect creeps into his voice. "Ahh, but in the army, at least I am among my peers, you see. We are none of us very good at directions, which may, come to think of it, explain our recent string of military defeats.
She tilts her head mock mournfully. "Ah well, then I fear the cause of liberty may be quite doomed, in that case."
He smiles more broadly at her. "Don't count us quite out yet my dear lady. We may be poor with directions, but we have stout hearts, and we are none of us willing to accept defeat." He offers a second, exaggeratedly formal bow in her direction. "Lt. Col. Alexander Hamilton, at your service."
She dips a small courtesy, not quite willing to extend him the same amount of effort. "Margarita Schuyler, but most everyone calls me Peggy." She juts her chin meaningfully in the direction of the bedroom window from which Hamilton had just recently exited. "There was quite a stir of concern when Mrs. Benjamin did not appear for the dancing. Her husband said she had been taken ill."
He grimaces. "Yes, well, that was regrettable. She had in fact, really been ill, poor lady. I merely came to comfort her in her hour of need."
Peggy looks unimpressed. He continues. "You are, I suppose, a friend of the dear Mrs. Benjamin?" She nods reluctantly. "You were coming around to visit with her yourself, then?"
She sighs. "I had hoped to do so discreetly. Which is why I took my leave of the ball first and made to go home, before circling back.
Only to find out that someone had come before me."
He smiles at her again, tight lipped. It doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Well then, now that we've both laid our cards on the table, you do understand that Mrs. Benjamin is already dangerously close to disgrace, if rumors around town are to be believed"
She opens her mouth to respond, eyes flashing. He holds up a finger to silence her, then continues. "Then I can trust that you will not add to her cares, by sharing what you've seen here tonight?"
"If Abigail has truly behaved improperly, then it is the sneaking, wretched scoundrels like yourself that should be be punished for seducing an innocent-,"
"You mistake me Madam," he says, looking far more offended than he has any right to be. "I have not seduced anyone here tonight."
Peggy makes a small sound, which might have been a snort.
"Truly, " he presses, sounding irritated that she won't just take his word on the matter. "I have the greatest respect for Mrs. Benjamin, who is an upstanding Patriot." He sighs, like he's making a decision and then he leans inward a little. Peggy can't help herself from leaning in to meet him. There's something in his gaze that flashes, drawing you in in spite of your better instincts. "See, I've gotten to know Mrs. Benjamin somewhat over the last few months, she's come to dine with the General a number of times. But this rumor that suddenly been making it way around town, regarding her alleged history consorting with the British, it had to be investigated, and discretely. "You understand now, don't you?"
She nods again, more slowly, trying to make it clear with her eyes that she's doing this for Abby's sake and not for his. He huffs out his frustration. "I'm Aide-de-Camp to the General. It is my job to ensure that his associations do not in any way damage him or the Cause."
"General?" she says stupidly. It's Hamilton's turn to snort, as if he's losing patience. "Washington, of course."
"Oh if course. So you were?" she says, flicking her eyes towards the bedroom window, images stirring unbidden against her eyelids about what might have transpired.
"Speaking with the lady, delicately probing her allegiances, no more." He says firmly. "And when I was satisfied, comforting her in her hour of distress and reassuring her that the General will remain a devoted friend. Now do I have your word that you will keep silent about this?" His hand is hovering just above her wrist, as if he wants to grab hold, but doesn't quite dare. Peggy can suddenly smell him.
Peggy lets out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. It sounds discouragingly like defeat. "For Abigail's sake, I will."
"Good," he says brightly, offering her his arm. "Now may I escort you home? It isn't safe for a young woman to wander in the dark. There may be all sorts of disreputable characters lurking." His grin is real again, fully solicitous.
She takes his arm uncertainly and lets him escort her around the house and back to her waiting coach. There's something niggling at her, deep in her stomach, but she's not quite sure she can identify it.
It's only much later, when she's laying in bed next to Eliza that she's able admit to herself that the young soldier may not have been completely honest with her regarding everything that had transpired.
Soldiers. They're irredeemable. The lot of them.
Soldiers. They're utterly, irredeemably dissolute. Every last one of them.
"You should know sir," Peggy calls out to him, " that the entrance to the Benjamin's ball is at the front side of the house, as, I believe, is customary for these sorts of affairs."
His reaction is comical, even she can admit it. He whirls his head around to identify the speaker. The action knocks him the rest of the way out of the window and onto the packed earth. He falls hard, dropping to his knees, before springing up and managing a loose approximation of a courtly bow.
"You're pardon Madam," he tells her. "A foolish mistake on my part, to confuse the back door for the front, but I trust it's an error that will remain between us two.
It's dark out here in the soft New Jersey night and far away from the soft candlelit glow that had suffused the ball, so she can't see much, but she thinks that he's delicately built, with a strong face and a somewhat fair complexion. His voice is pleasant, not too deep, but elegantly rich and full of a biting intelligence.
Peggy's not especially intimated though, something in his bearing reminds her of Angelica.
"Such a damaged sense of direction is a particularly terrible thing for a soldier, I should think," she retorts. "You keep that up, you may well find yourself drummed out of the army before long."
His mouth quirks and she can see him reevaluate her. He shifts backwards on his heels and a modicum of respect creeps into his voice. "Ahh, but in the army, at least I am among my peers, you see. We are none of us very good at directions, which may, come to think of it, explain our recent string of military defeats.
She tilts her head mock mournfully. "Ah well, then I fear the cause of liberty may be quite doomed, in that case."
He smiles more broadly at her. "Don't count us quite out yet my dear lady. We may be poor with directions, but we have stout hearts, and we are none of us willing to accept defeat." He offers a second, exaggeratedly formal bow in her direction. "Lt. Col. Alexander Hamilton, at your service."
She dips a small courtesy, not quite willing to extend him the same amount of effort. "Margarita Schuyler, but most everyone calls me Peggy." She juts her chin meaningfully in the direction of the bedroom window from which Hamilton had just recently exited. "There was quite a stir of concern when Mrs. Benjamin did not appear for the dancing. Her husband said she had been taken ill."
He grimaces. "Yes, well, that was regrettable. She had in fact, really been ill, poor lady. I merely came to comfort her in her hour of need."
Peggy looks unimpressed. He continues. "You are, I suppose, a friend of the dear Mrs. Benjamin?" She nods reluctantly. "You were coming around to visit with her yourself, then?"
She sighs. "I had hoped to do so discreetly. Which is why I took my leave of the ball first and made to go home, before circling back.
Only to find out that someone had come before me."
He smiles at her again, tight lipped. It doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Well then, now that we've both laid our cards on the table, you do understand that Mrs. Benjamin is already dangerously close to disgrace, if rumors around town are to be believed"
She opens her mouth to respond, eyes flashing. He holds up a finger to silence her, then continues. "Then I can trust that you will not add to her cares, by sharing what you've seen here tonight?"
"If Abigail has truly behaved improperly, then it is the sneaking, wretched scoundrels like yourself that should be be punished for seducing an innocent-,"
"You mistake me Madam," he says, looking far more offended than he has any right to be. "I have not seduced anyone here tonight."
Peggy makes a small sound, which might have been a snort.
"Truly, " he presses, sounding irritated that she won't just take his word on the matter. "I have the greatest respect for Mrs. Benjamin, who is an upstanding Patriot." He sighs, like he's making a decision and then he leans inward a little. Peggy can't help herself from leaning in to meet him. There's something in his gaze that flashes, drawing you in in spite of your better instincts. "See, I've gotten to know Mrs. Benjamin somewhat over the last few months, she's come to dine with the General a number of times. But this rumor that suddenly been making it way around town, regarding her alleged history consorting with the British, it had to be investigated, and discretely. "You understand now, don't you?"
She nods again, more slowly, trying to make it clear with her eyes that she's doing this for Abby's sake and not for his. He huffs out his frustration. "I'm Aide-de-Camp to the General. It is my job to ensure that his associations do not in any way damage him or the Cause."
"General?" she says stupidly. It's Hamilton's turn to snort, as if he's losing patience. "Washington, of course."
"Oh if course. So you were?" she says, flicking her eyes towards the bedroom window, images stirring unbidden against her eyelids about what might have transpired.
"Speaking with the lady, delicately probing her allegiances, no more." He says firmly. "And when I was satisfied, comforting her in her hour of distress and reassuring her that the General will remain a devoted friend. Now do I have your word that you will keep silent about this?" His hand is hovering just above her wrist, as if he wants to grab hold, but doesn't quite dare. Peggy can suddenly smell him.
Peggy lets out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. It sounds discouragingly like defeat. "For Abigail's sake, I will."
"Good," he says brightly, offering her his arm. "Now may I escort you home? It isn't safe for a young woman to wander in the dark. There may be all sorts of disreputable characters lurking." His grin is real again, fully solicitous.
She takes his arm uncertainly and lets him escort her around the house and back to her waiting coach. There's something niggling at her, deep in her stomach, but she's not quite sure she can identify it.
It's only much later, when she's laying in bed next to Eliza that she's able admit to herself that the young soldier may not have been completely honest with her regarding everything that had transpired.
Soldiers. They're irredeemable. The lot of them.