Mr Jefferson is Coming Home (Jamilton)

Chapter 17

As December approached, Alexander was more and more occupied with his manufacturing plan; he spent most of the time hidden in his study, surrounded by books about economics, politics and reports of the banks of England and France – and even some books written in Latin and Greek. Eliza knew that during his workaholic periods Alexander lived in his own world, following his own timetable, and so she tried to be happy by knowing that he was eating, even if he usually had dinner during the night, and was probably sleeping sometimes too. In October they'd had a couple of important Cabinet meetings in order to vote on some relevant details they had to include in the plan, but in the end it was always he and Washington who discussed the issues, since Jefferson was firm in his opposition – he was still talking about the bucolic dream of an agricultural nation, without really considering the economic situation of the US. However, they'd had to collaborate for the foundation of the Mint, and it'd gone relatively well, even if Jefferson had won that fight and the Mint had become part of the State department, instead of being included in the Treasury's. Therefore, most of November passed by with Alex in his study, buried under his books, Eliza leaving him food on his desk without even speaking to him – he wouldn't have acknowledged her presence anyway – and Thomas trying to stop him from delivering his report to the Congress. Despite all their efforts, Madison and Jefferson eventually received notice from Washington that the Secretary had handed in the plans during the first week of December. Thomas felt both disappointed and relieved – yes, they'd lost, but he would finally see Alexander again without fighting or discussing about politics.

With the manufacturing plan out of his mind, he started organizing their journey to Monticello, sending some letters to make the right arrangements.

"Thomas, are you going home for the holidays?" One day, Madison's gloomy voice interrupted his flow of thoughts while he was trying to remember how many bottles of wine he'd last ordered from France.

"Yes, I can't wait to see my granddaughter," he mumbled distractedly. "Patsy and Tom will be happy to have some people home for Christmas."

"Is it someone else coming?" he inquired, trying not to sound too nosy.

"Oh, no, I mean –" Thomas quickly realised his mistake and shrugged apologetically. "It'll be just me, but Polly is also coming of course. We're not having a formal dinner as usual, it'll be only the four of us, plus little Anne."

"I'm going home too. Perhaps we can travel together – I could use some company."

"I don't know if I can, James." Thomas made up another lie at once. "I have to stop to Philadelphia and I'd like to pay a couple of friends a visit before carrying on to Monticello. I'm sorry."

"No need, we'll see each other there."

"Yes, great." Thomas smiled nervously at his friend. It probably hadn't been a good idea to invite his political enemy, and lover, to a place filled with people who wanted him dead. Hamilton was already well known in Virginia for his stands against slavery, and now was also fingered as the villain who'd raised the taxed on whiskey. Adding Madison to the equation was the final icing on the cake. Great.

***

"Alexander, wake up," Thomas called him, a note of joy in his voice. "Come on, we've arrived!"

Alexander groaned sleepily and rubbed his eyes, trying to adapt them to the bright light of that sunny December day – the sun's rays reflected on the thick white snow, hurting his delicate blue irises. He shivered and got out of the carriage, looking around with an amazed face: in front of him there was a magnificent building made of red bricks and white railings; the main door was towered by a small arcade with four columns, and elegant windows decorated the wide façade of the house.