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La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Eighteen  Scene 1

Christiane wonered how she was going to survive this day, her first full day at Valley Forge.

“Christiane,” Henry said, gently holding her hand. “I missed you so much and I am glad to have you back, but I wish you had not traveled alone from Philadelphia.” Finished with breakfast, they sat alone at the long dining table.

“I understand, Henry, but there was no possible way that you could come to an enemy-held city. The Richardsons’ friends were very good to let me travel with them as far as Philadelphia. I was alone only the last day and I was very careful.” Each calmly spoken was a penance and a knife thrust. “As it was, I hardly saw a living soul.”

She was lying and hated herself for it. But she hated herself even more for other secrets that her fiancé must never know. To explain her inconsistencies, she had created imaginary travelling companions, and had credited the Richardsons with her new riding habit and mount. Each moment spent here with Henry holding her hand tightened her agony.

“You will never travel alone again. I will see to it myself.” He tenderly kissed her hand, making her writhe with guilt. I was made a fool.

Breaking through an honest tear slipped out of her eye.

“Christiane, why a tear?” he asked softly.

“I missed you,” she said simply. And it was not totally a lie. Without being aware of it, she had missed him. Henry Lee would never deceive a woman as she had been deceived. The breach could not be mended; more tears dripped down her cheeks, chapped from her cold ride yesterday.

Through her tear-filled lashes, she studied Henry. He had light sandy brown hair which tended to wave even though it was pulled back severely into a tail. His rich hazel-brown eyes returned her gaze. This man was handsome, courageous, and so in love with her. She felt deep respect and affection for him. Why couldn’t she return his love? More tears slipped out, but she drew in a deep breath and quelled them. He would never know of her past shame. There would never be a future one.

She had purposefully come down as late as possible to avoid everyone, especially him. How like the  general to include Henry at his table now that she had returned. Now Henry kissed her forehead and left.

She sipped her cold tea listlessly. She dearly wished she could return to her room, pull the covers over her head, and spend the day weeping. Instead she must go about her day with her role of happily engaged woman clearly in mind or all would be lost.

A note lay open beside her plate. It read: “Dear Mrs. Kruger, Join us in the front parlor this morning, if you please. We ladies of Valley Forge would like to meet you. We are sewing for the soldiers and rolling bandages. Yours faithfully, Mrs. Nathaniel Greene.” She had no fears about acceptance by the “ladies of Valley Forge.” Her association with Mrs. Washington and her engagement assured her position. But to be forced to make polite conversation today, a crucifixion of her heart.

Rising, she left the table and climbed the steps to her room. For a long time she stood looking out her frosted window. To blot out any thoughts of warm Bermuda days, she concentrated on the scene below, her second winter quarters. Men, wrapped in blankets, stood around fires. Some farther on seemed to be practicing some sort of drill very badly. A frozen river shone in the distance. Primitive log cabins stretched in all directions.

Stumps, protruding from the snow, showed where the logs had come from. Here and there a woman or child was seen. “Thank God,” she whispered, “Tildy and her children are safe near Boston.” And Jean Claude was still comfortable at the Richardsons. She must write to them soon. Her heart ached with physical pain as she thought of spending another winter parted from her child. Circumstances and now her own recklessness kept them apart. How would she regain him?

She had overdramatized the Richardsons’ reaction to her marrying and taking her son with her. They would have grieved, but they would have survived. How painfully foolish she had been. Shamed. Deceived. Heartbroken. And no one must ever know. She still had difficulty believing that John had meant to hurt her. But the more she thought of it, the surer she was that she had been deceived on some level.

Her rampant emotions threatened to overtake her again, so she quickly picked up her sewing basket and went to join the ladies, hoping they would distract her–if only her self control didn’t desert her.

#

Later responding to Christiane’s “Enter,” the petite chambermaid opened the door and stepped in. “Mrs. Kruger? It is only quarter of an hour before dinner. The dinner starts the New Year’s Eve celebration. I come to help you dress, if you please.” The girl stood expectantly.

The New Year’s Eve celebration, Christiane sighed to herself. “I’ll change dresses,” Christiane said simply when she could think of no excuse. The little maid helped her out of the brown plaid and into her green wool, part of the clothing she’d left her pending her return. “You can tell them that I will be down directly,” Christiane instructed; the girl bobbed and departed. Christiane took a few moments to rearrange and smooth her hair. Carefully she pulled out the garnet ring on the chain so it would be visible. The mirror reflected the burning candle and she stared at her own image.

For a brief moment another image haunted her. Her hair was piled high and pearls hugged her neck. He was behind her, kissing her bare shoulder. Her skin recalled the touch of his lips. Spinning around, Christiane snuffed the candle and quickly let herself out of the room. Down the hall and stairs to the dining room, she sped.

She entered the room. As though ordered to rise, all the men stood and all the women turned to look at her. “Christiane,” General Washington greeted her warmly. He turned to her fiancé. “Mr. Lee, as usual Christiane will act as my hostess in Mrs. Washington’s absence but, of course, you must take her other side.” He guided the two of them to their seats and the others automatically found their chairs and stood behind them. “Christiane, before we sit may I introduce you to a new member of our staff, Baron Von Steuben?” He motioned to a short, round, gray-haired man directly across from her. “Baron,” he said, “Mrs. Christiane Kruger.”

Christiane intended to curtsey where she was, but the rotund man bustled around the table formally kissed her hand and clicked his heels. “Enchante, madame,” he said firmly with a thick German accent.

“He speaks no English, only Prussian and French,” Henry murmured in her ear.

“Enchante, baron,” Christiane replied smilingly. In spite of her somber mood something in his manner caught her interest.

After the baron took his place again, General Washington bowed his head and said, “Let us give thanks. Heavenly Father, thank you for the bounty here provided. Bless this evening and the new year which starts tonight. You know best the longing of our hearts–freedom for this beautiful land. Amen.”

Everyone sat and a cheerful babble broke out up and down the long table. The longing of our hearts lingered in her mind as Christiane carefully put on her smile and looked around. She did not want to admit even to herself what the longing of her heart was, so she concentrated on those around her.

Though the ladies present wore outfits that were not lavish, she could tell that they had all turned out in their best. The officer-husbands were in their uniforms, brushed and polished. Her mind wandered to the lavish ball that must be taking place tonight in Philadelphia at Smith’s Tavern. There would be the breath-taking clothing, dancing, and sumptuous food and would the major make an appearance? A tight clamp squeezed her heart. Forcing her mind onto this room alone, she sipped the home-brewed concord wine.

The candles glowed on the table and on the wall sconces and a comfortable fire crackled nearby. The homey atmosphere should have been a balm to her jagged spirits. The  baron smiled at Christiane and she asked, “How do you come to be with us,  baron?”

One has to give Christiane points for courage and endurance.–Lyn
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