Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. The crack of the gun. The flurry of a thousand legs. Ponytails flying. Arms pumping. Silence. The rush of the start.
0 Comments
New York City. 1779. The city of the revolution. The city of impossible ideals realized by the hunger of those who refused to throw away their shot. Uncertainty was the name of the game as the whisper of the revolution grew to a roar. Some were afraid of the chaos of the revolution and some, like Angelica Schuyler, thrived on the thrill of the dream of the revolution made form.
**** Angelica had recently discovered the delights the city had to offer. There was something about the bright lights and the tangible layer of fear and uncertainty that hung over the minds of many. The starving eyes of the revolutionaries enticed Angelica and reminded her of how lucky she was to be alive in a time of such change, even though she was practically powerless in the fight, practically being the operative word. She had long ago discovered that she had other powers, powers over the minds of men. She could easily make them fall in love with her, but she had never fallen in love with any herself. Angelica wanted a man who would engage her in the political discussion she so longed to be a part of and use her ideas for the good of the people. But unfortunately men like that, men who thought that women can actually think, were few and far between. At least she had her sisters—they were the light of her life. Shy, quiet Eliza, who would have been perfectly content dancing with eligible gentlemen at the ball without a thought in her mind of independence. Eliza was the kindest person Angelica was likely to ever meet, but she didn’t feel the piercing electricity of the revolution the way Angelica did. And Peggy…Angelica loved her, but there really wasn’t much going on there. She would have been perfectly content at home with their mother braiding her hair. Angelica had always loved balls. Being adored by everyone, making the revolutionaries’ hearts bend to her will had an irresistible appeal to her. The balls built a pretty illusion—an illusion that somehow she had power, when in reality the only power she had was over men’s hearts. She was to have no real power in enacting the ideals of the revolution, ideals she would lay down her life for. And that broke her heart. The ball was the third her father had held, and it was only July. Angelica supposed that he thought the more eligible men he pushed her way, the more likely Angelica would find one that matched her high standards. Unlikely, she thought, looking at the crowd of men who had just arrived. They were a group of over privileged revolutionaries from King’s College who saw the revolution as more of an extracurricular than a fight for freedom. They disgusted her—all of the privilege in the world wasted on such feeble minds. And yet she knew she would flirt with every single one of them; it would be much more entertaining watching them blush than listening to Peggy ramble about the benefits of purple ribbons over blue. Angelica made her way across the oak hardwood floors, weaving through couples gaily dancing and paused under the largest crystal chandelier than highlighted her complexion, flashing a smile to the nearest man, who proceeded to blush from his britches to his rather large forehead. This one should be fun, she thought. “Angelica Schuyler,” she said, curtsying in front of the bumbling idiot. His blushed deepened into a dark crimson. “J-john Miller, milady.” “It is a pleasure, John. May I call you John?” “Y-y-yes, ma’am.” Angelica expected that this was the first time he had ever spoken to a girl, let alone one has beautiful as her. “So John, have you read Common Sense by Thomas Paine?” “Why, of course, ma’am,” he said, his voice gaining confidence. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. Paine’s words have united us. Revolution is hinged on the tip of the quill, as I like to think…it was why I write myself. There is so much power in the written word.” Angelica was starting to like John, his eloquence made his awkwardness endearing. She felt a tug on her satin blue sleeve, and she turned around, irritated that her conversation with John had been interrupted. It was Peggy, of course. “What is it?” She whisper-yelled. “It’s Daddy,” Peggy said, her voice a perpetual whine. “There’s someone he would like you to meet.” Angelica rolled her eyes, but she had learned long ago that it was not wise to disobey her father. She glanced over to the corner of the ballroom where her father was sitting, and he was accompanied by a handsome gentleman. There was something dignified about this one—Angelica could tell he was no ordinary revolutionary. Angelica locked eyes with the handsome stranger, and all thoughts of John were forgotten. She made her way across the room, again navigating her way through dancers, never breaking eye-contact. “Father,” she curtsied. “Burr, this my eldest, Angelica,” he said. “She is spirited, if you know what I mean.” Angelica rolled her eyes. “Angelica, this is Aaron Burr. He is a recent graduate of Princeton and he will be joining us in our revolutionary endeavors.” Angelica curtsied, again raising her eyes to meet his beautiful nut-brown ones. “It’s a pleasure,” Burr said, bowing. He smiled, a smile that sent electricity all the way down to her toes. “I’ll leave you to it,” her father said, bowing, and he left to speak to the other powerful generals, who congregated in the corner of the Schuyler’s ornate dancing hall. “So, Ms. Schuyler, I have seen you in town recently. How do you like the city?” “I am in love with the city,” she said, which elicited a smile. “It is electric with ideas, and teeming with the nervous agitation of the coming war. I am never so alive when I’m in the city. Just don’t tell my father.” Angelica winked and gently touched his satin waistcoat with her long fingers. “I have to say, Angelica, that I have never heard a woman speak so eloquently and so boldly. Or many men for that matter.” “I think the woman you have met, Mr. Burr, were too afraid to speak their minds. It is not as though they lack the capacity. As for your men, I am not so sure. Some of them are quite dimwitted.” Burr smiled. “I do not disagree with your sentiment. If these are the men with which we are to claim our independence, I’m not sure how much of a chance we have of defeating the British.” “I think you judge too harshly, sir. I was just conversing with a John Miller, and he seemed to be exceptionally bright,” Angelica said, gazing up at his tall, imposing figure through her thick eyelashes. “Oh, Miller,” Burr said. “He is intelligent, I give him that much. But when it comes to practical matters the man is hopeless.” Angelica glanced back at John, who gave her a feeble wave. “Well, Burr. How are you in terms of practical matters?” She smiled at him again. She could tell he admired her, but there was none of the puppy love in him that she had become accustomed to from the other revolutionaries. And she liked him all the better for that. “I am one of the most practical men you will ever meet, ma’am,” Burr said. “I would not even be involved with this revolution if I did not think it inevitable. I fully realize that I am likely to die on the battlefield.” “You are no idealist, Burr,” she said, stepping over the boundary into intimacy, placing her hand on his firm bicep. “And I admire that, though do you not support the ideals of the revolution you are fighting for?” “Of course I do. Freedom is a pretty ideal; I just think it will be much harder to achieve than many of these men realize. There will be much sacrifice, and I think we will have to wait a long time, if not forever, to realize the ideals of the nation we want to create.” “I think the sacrifice will be worth it if it means we are free, if it means we have the chance to live up to the ideals of the declaration,” Angelica said, her voice rising in excitement. This was the kind of conversation she longed for, the kind of man she longed to meet. “Why Ms. Schuyler, your enthusiasm is infectious,” Burr smiled. “Do you think there is somewhere we can talk where it is quieter, so that I hear the full force of your elegant rhetoric?” Angelica glanced around the room. Her father was engaged in an intense conversation with one of the other generals, and Eliza was indulging Peggy in her ribbon discussion. No one would notice if she left. “I think we can go to the drawing room. It should be empty and it has a lovely view of the grounds.” “Well then, lead the way, milady,” Burr said, smiling. He was growing more charming, and sexier, with every exchange, with the dance of their conversation. She led him through the ornate marble doors into the drawing room, which was indeed empty, and, all of the sudden, she grew nervous, which was a novel feeling for her. She was alone, finally alone, with a man that had the potential to live up to her ideals. “Alone, at last,” Aaron said. “I wanted to be alone with you since I first saw you across the room. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.” “You are not so bad yourself,” Angelica said, sitting on the chaise, gesturing for him to join her. “You are not afraid of my intellect, which gives you many, many points in my book.” “Your intellect is what is most alluring, miss, if you don’t mind me saying.” “Of course I don’t mind,” Angelica said. “Propriety does not matter to me as much as it should, as much as it matters to my sisters. I would rather speak my mind than be a proper lady.” “Well, Ms. Schuyler, that is what I like about you,” Burr said, as he tucked one of her dark brown tresses behind her ear. Angelica could barely breathe. “Angelica. Call me Angelica.” “May I kiss you, Angelica?” She nodded, unable to speak. And suddenly his lips, those beautiful lips, were upon hers. His lips were soft and supple, and she gasped as his tongue entered her mouth, and she pushed back playfully with her own. Angelica was no prude, but this was her first kiss. And it was better, far better, than she had ever imagined. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lacing her fingers through his hair and kissing him even harder. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she shivered with pleasure. The kiss became more and more passionate, and she realized that she never, ever wanted it to stop. She heard the door creak open, and they sprang apart. Angelica attempted to smooth her hair and make it seem like she hadn’t just been to the moon and back. It was Peggy. Damn it, Peggy. “Oh, there you are Angelica! We’ve been looking everywhere for you! There’s someone else Daddy would like you to meet.” Angelica looked regrettably at Aaron, whose lips were red from their passionate kiss. “I’m sorry, Mr. Burr, but I have to go. Please write, though. I really would like to continue our conversation.” “Of course, I will. This has been an incredible night, Ms. Schuyler,” he said, conscious of Peggy’s presence. She smiled at him over her shoulder as she left the drawing room, her heart expanded and inspired by the ideas and passion of Aaron Burr. Her imagination ran away with her. Angelica Burr. It has a nice ring to it. **** But he never did write. She anxiously awaited the post every morning to no avail. Was it all in her head/ Did she imagine the passion of their encounter? The next week Angelica snuck into the city with Eliza and Peggy, with Peggy complaining the whole way. They made their rounds through their usual society, Angelica flirting with everything that moved, and Eliza content to watch, Peggy content to complain. Then she saw Aaron across the room in the bar, intently conversing with a young, beautiful girl, looking at her the way he had looked at Angelica a week before. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the way he done with her. And she was struck with the crushing realization that their exchange had all been an act. Angelica studied the girl. She was beautiful, yes, with silky blond hair and a slim, yet curvy figure. She saw something glitter on the girl’s finger; she was married, or at least engaged. Her sudden disgust for Burr deepened. She told Eliza and Peggy it was time to go and they obediently followed. They stepped out into the crisp night air, the stars twinkled, and the air crackled with the hope and fear inherent in the revolution. Like she told Burr, she never felt more alive than when she was in the city. But tonight her heart was broken, and the drunken shouts in the street echoed her anger with Burr. She was overcome with a deep sense of dissatisfaction. She was a woman in a world controlled by men, and her ideals, ideals she held close to her heart, were at the mercy of men who cared no more for her heart than the glasses of ale they carelessly cast aside. Angelica made a vow, right then and there, that she would never fall in love. She would be the one who had the upper hand, the one that chose. Little did she know how soon her vow would be broken, how close Alexander Hamilton was to breaking her heart forever. |
Categories |