"He has been in hysterics," says Laurens, and he does not have to play at his exhaustion. "The doctor thinks perhaps his womb has drifted, interrupting the proper flow of humors, perhaps leading to an abundance of yellow bile."
"I had no notion that I left you in such distress," cries Hamilton -- "But, now, see, these men know I have nothing to do with the army, and I have brought back with me an orphan, as promised, to assist while you recover. I was always coming back."
Theodosia wails, at the abrupt changes in movement, the jarring impacts, and Hamilton scoops her out of the sling, hushing her and cradling her close to his scent gland. Gratifyingly, she soothes right away, sniffing through her little nose and subsiding.
The captain comes between them, ruthlessly shouldering Burr back a step or two. He also takes Burr's left hand in both of his. "If he is your husband," says the captain, "then describe his ring, in its entirety."
Hamilton puffs up in indignation. "A puzzle ring," he says, "embossed with our names both -- Alexander, and Aaron. And if it turns missing or damaged in any way, I will be complaining to your commander."
Burr pulls off the ring and surrenders it, reluctantly, to the commander, and Hamilton, in the meantime, digs out the letter he penned under the oak. "And, my dear, my mind never left you -- you can see, I wrote you here."
The officer snatches the letter, passing it to a subordinate. "Read it out loud," he orders, his eyes examining Hamilton. He passes the ring back to Burr, with an angry twist to his mouth that Hamilton dislikes greatly.
"It is not appropriate --" protests Hamilton, for show, as he knows the letter will help acquit him.
"I'll decide that. Read it."
The subordinate opens it, and begins to read. "My Dearest Little Captain--"
"Captain?" snaps the officer.
"Yes, of course," says Hamilton. "For he is the captain of my ship of domestic happiness -- and would he not be darling in a little sea-coat and hat?"
The officer makes a hmm noise, and gestures for the subordinate to continue.
"This night I make my bed in the tender embrace of a white oak, which forms a sheltering overhang in the side of a hill where the ground has eroded. There is scarce anything to recommend this as shelter, except that it is not open to the rain," the subordinate reads. "Alas, it is cold, and the roots make poor bedfellows. Instead of imitating your grasping arms, they seem more to imitate a particular--" And he stops, eyes widening.
"Go on!" the officer orders.
The subordinate gulps, looks from Burr, to Hamilton, to the officer. "--to imitate a particular appendage of mine, which likewise misses you dearly, and has solidified and stiffened in its loneliness. These roots must be suffused with longing; they are sadly exposed, though wherever they can, they plunge into the eager and waiting ground below, seeking within those wet, secret passages--"
The officer's expression has shifted to mortification. He snatches the letter away, with a muttered "give me that," and scans the rest. His face has gone flaming red by the time he is done, and he flings the letter back at Hamilton.
"Now that you are done uncovering the secrets of the dreadful colonials," says Hamilton, dryly, "may I care for my husband?"
"Of -- of course." He turns around to the rest of his men, who are mostly trying not to laugh. "Move out!"
Hamilton gathers Burr in his arms, and he does not release him until well after the British have left their view.
no subject
"I had no notion that I left you in such distress," cries Hamilton -- "But, now, see, these men know I have nothing to do with the army, and I have brought back with me an orphan, as promised, to assist while you recover. I was always coming back."
Theodosia wails, at the abrupt changes in movement, the jarring impacts, and Hamilton scoops her out of the sling, hushing her and cradling her close to his scent gland. Gratifyingly, she soothes right away, sniffing through her little nose and subsiding.
The captain comes between them, ruthlessly shouldering Burr back a step or two. He also takes Burr's left hand in both of his. "If he is your husband," says the captain, "then describe his ring, in its entirety."
Hamilton puffs up in indignation. "A puzzle ring," he says, "embossed with our names both -- Alexander, and Aaron. And if it turns missing or damaged in any way, I will be complaining to your commander."
Burr pulls off the ring and surrenders it, reluctantly, to the commander, and Hamilton, in the meantime, digs out the letter he penned under the oak. "And, my dear, my mind never left you -- you can see, I wrote you here."
The officer snatches the letter, passing it to a subordinate. "Read it out loud," he orders, his eyes examining Hamilton. He passes the ring back to Burr, with an angry twist to his mouth that Hamilton dislikes greatly.
"It is not appropriate --" protests Hamilton, for show, as he knows the letter will help acquit him.
"I'll decide that. Read it."
The subordinate opens it, and begins to read. "My Dearest Little Captain--"
"Captain?" snaps the officer.
"Yes, of course," says Hamilton. "For he is the captain of my ship of domestic happiness -- and would he not be darling in a little sea-coat and hat?"
The officer makes a hmm noise, and gestures for the subordinate to continue.
"This night I make my bed in the tender embrace of a white oak, which forms a sheltering overhang in the side of a hill where the ground has eroded. There is scarce anything to recommend this as shelter, except that it is not open to the rain," the subordinate reads. "Alas, it is cold, and the roots make poor bedfellows. Instead of imitating your grasping arms, they seem more to imitate a particular--" And he stops, eyes widening.
"Go on!" the officer orders.
The subordinate gulps, looks from Burr, to Hamilton, to the officer. "--to imitate a particular appendage of mine, which likewise misses you dearly, and has solidified and stiffened in its loneliness. These roots must be suffused with longing; they are sadly exposed, though wherever they can, they plunge into the eager and waiting ground below, seeking within those wet, secret passages--"
The officer's expression has shifted to mortification. He snatches the letter away, with a muttered "give me that," and scans the rest. His face has gone flaming red by the time he is done, and he flings the letter back at Hamilton.
"Now that you are done uncovering the secrets of the dreadful colonials," says Hamilton, dryly, "may I care for my husband?"
"Of -- of course." He turns around to the rest of his men, who are mostly trying not to laugh. "Move out!"
Hamilton gathers Burr in his arms, and he does not release him until well after the British have left their view.