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La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Part Three

Chapter Twenty Scene 4

The next evening the musicians were warming up discordantly in the New Room, a large banquet hall. The room was as yet undecorated though the Palladian windows already set the tone of elegant symmetry. The guests, a mere trickle fifteen minutes before, were now an advancing brigade. The butler loudly announced their names as they began the short receiving line. Christiane watched them enter with some apprehension. She had not participated in society for almost four years. She had been at ease with the officers, but she still dreaded facing other women in a formal situation. She realized that even the most minor slight might destroy her new confidence.

Little Sarah bounced ecstatically beside her. The presence of her daughter was comforting and she did not mind being upstaged by her child. Tonight she would prefer it. Looking down, she admonished the little girl again, “Remember you can only stay a short while. Then you must go to bed.”

Sarah Renee gave her a disgruntled look, but nodded. They walked slowly around the floor, hand in hand. Christiane wore a navy blue bombazine gown. Its lines were severe and sedate. Her hair was pulled back simply much to Sally’s dismay. Sally had longed to show her expertise in hair-styling, but to no avail. Christiane had even resisted the temptation to decorate herself with her mother’s jewels. She wore only a simple sapphire pendant.

Outwardly calm, she watched the short receiving line, consisting only of the Washingtons and Rochambeau. Washington’s pride and pleasure showed through his formality. His oldest friends and neighbors were being presented to a French general, whom Washington would shortly command as the allied commander-in-chief. Rochambeau greeted the guests with a natural charm that brought immediate smiles to the ladies and gentlemen. The ribbon of arrivals finally ended. Only about twenty couples had been invited. Christiane was relieved to see that most of them were in their middle or older years. The only young men in the room were the French and American officers.

Sarah garnered much attention as Christiane showed her around the ballroom. The little girl was eager to share her excitement and talked to anyone who would listen. Her language was quite advanced for her age except for a tendency to substitute “W” for “R” which made her sound even more endearing. Christiane introduced herself as Mrs. Kruger, a friend of the Washington’s. All were polite and cordial. If they knew of her past, they made no mention.

Christiane sighed and watched her daughter with pleasure. The gold and red flowers in vases around the dance floor, the happy voices, the aromas from the buffet table all delighted her senses. It promised to be a lovely evening.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” General Washington lifted his voice above the hum. “Friends and neighbors, thank you again for coming this evening. I hope that you will all enjoy yourselves as I intend to. The dancing may now begin. Musicians, please.” As if on cue, the bows all struck together. The couples paired off and began to move around the pinewood floor to the stately minuet. Christiane turned to go to a corner and found Evan Marsh and John Laurens in front of her. She had not intended to dance tonight, not wishing to allow herself to be seen as “available.” Her mouth tightened.

A voice from behind her broke the tension, “Madame, may I claim your first dance?” It was General Rochambeau. The other two men looked at him with some chagrin.

“I am sorry, General, but my daughter…I…,” Christiane fumbled.

“Your daughter will enjoy to see you dance,” he stumbled in English.

“Yes. Yes.” Sarah jumped up and down.

“Please, Sarah Renee, mind your manners,” Christiane murmured.

“Go ahead, Mrs. Kruger,” Evan said politely. “I will claim Mistress Kruger for this dance.” Without waiting for an answer, he reached down and lifted the little girl up into his arms and when they joined the dancers, he set her on her feet across from him.

Christiane looked at her old friend John apologetically. He smiled and stepped away. Rochambeau touched her hand and they took their place smoothly. Soon a spontaneous smile spread over Christiane’s face. It had been so long since she had danced. And why shouldn’t she? The new confidence of the afternoon began to re-assert itself.

“It will not work, madame,” Rochambeau said quietly in French.

“I beg your pardon, mon general?”

“Trying to hide your beauty will never succeed. Don’t attempt it.”

She pursed her lips and decided to answer directly. “I only wished not to call attention to myself.”

“Will a moth ignore a flame? No, madame, do not carry out a charade. You are a beautiful woman just as your mother was. Don’t waste your beauty.”

“You knew my mother?” Christiane’s heart sped up.

“Only from a distance. She was too grand for a mere officer to approach.”

Suddenly tears threatened Christiane.

“Please do not think that we were gossiping, but I was curious about you and the Marquis confided in me. Be assured I will not reveal your family background. Though I wonder why you have not. Certainly your family is one to be proud of.”

She gave a bittersweet smile. “You speak like a Frenchman, sir. Americans view life differently. And I am an American now also.”

“That may be, but you certainly do not fit the provincial mode, n’est pas?”

“Perhaps I do not.” She followed his lead, striking a pose.

“Your life is much before you. Do not rush for consistency. Very few find it and when they do, they call it boredom.”

She had to smile at this. “Your advice is very kind.” The dance ended.

“Now I will leave you to your many admirers. Merci, madame.” He left her side before she could reply.

Evan and her maid Sally who held Sarah in her arms joined her. “Sally, you are right on time.”

“Mama, please–” the child started.

“No, one dance and then to bed. That was the bargain,” Christiane said.

Sarah pouted, but was carried off to bed in spite of it.

Evan smoothly drew Christiane onto the floor as the next dance began. At first they stepped, turned, and bowed in silence while he studied her face. Finally he spoke, “You are beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you, Mr. Marsh.”

“I wonder how many times you have been told that?”

She analyzed his even tone and could not guess his intent. “I beg your pardon?”

“I have had you to myself here. It is not easy to adjust to so much competition.”

“Mr. Marsh, I–”

“I know. You need say nothing. Enjoy yourself tonight and I will enjoy watching you.”

She looked as puzzled as she felt.

He spoke no more, merely smiled. When the dance ended, he escorted her to the buffet table. Sliced, honey-glazed hams, breads, canapés and intricate desserts tempted them. They munched the delicious fare and sipped wine punch silently as they watched the dancing. They finished and Christiane looked up at him. He smiled slowly again. “Now I leave you fed and ready to dance.” He bowed and walked away. Immediately John was at her elbow, leading her out onto the floor.

She lost count of the dances and her partners. As one of the few single women and the prettiest at the party, she was in constant demand. Even the aloof Hamilton claimed her hand. As always dancing made her heart beat faster and her face flush with excitement. Throughout the evening she felt Evan’s gaze on her, but he did not claim another dance. It was a grand evening. She only wished her dress had done the occasion justice. She should have worn her brown taffeta and her mother’s rubies.

Oh, oh, Christiane is sounding a bit over confident. Will economic independence lead her astray again? And what about Evan Marsh?

BTW, Louise M Gouge chose Liz V as the winner of a copy of The Wedding Season. Congratulations, Liz!–Lyn

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