Author Christine Lindsay & a True God-Incidence

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My guest today, debut author Christine Lindsay, is offering either a free ebook or if you can wait till fall, a print copy of her first book. Now read on– she has quite a story. Here’s Christine:

“Unmarried at 21, I gave birth to a baby girl. Wanting my baby to have a loving dad as well as a loving mom, I made the tough decision to relinquish her to adoption.

Grief overtook me afterwards, and I sought comfort at church. Sitting in a mid-week prayer meeting I first heard about a true-life heroine by the name of Ramabai. This brilliant Indian woman had died in 1922, but she had done so much for women and children in India that England awarded her the Kaisar-I-Hind Gold Medal.

Born into a high caste Hindu family, Ramabai’s father broke with tradition and taught her to read. This was the beginning of my heroine’s search for enlightenment. After her parents and siblings died, Ramabai also broke with tradition and married a lawyer of a lower Hindu caste, but he died of a cholera leaving her alone with a tiny daughter.

One day, looking through her husband’s papers she found a Bible, and found fulfillment to her spiritual search in the person of Jesus Christ. This prompted her to translate the Bible into her local language. To name just a few of her accomplishments—she started the first Braille School, promoted the need for female medical doctors, and was the founder of the Ramabai Mukti Mission, a home for sexually abuse Hindu widows and children.

This woman who’d been born a century before me inspired me at a time when my own life was at a low ebb, after giving up my baby girl.

But the years passed, and I met a wonderful Christian man. God blessed us with 3 children. And twenty years later Sarah and I were reunited. But the reunion I’d waited for so long brought back the pain of losing her in the first place. The Lord encouraged me to write out my emotional pain, and my loss became my muse.

My debut novel, Shadowed in Silk, is being released this year. It shows my fascination with British ruled India, but also the inspiration of Ramabai. An integral secondary character, Miriam, rescues Hindu widows and children. It is she who teaches my main character, Abby, about the Lord.

God writes on our lives with far bolder pen than most novelist do in a story. It was arranged that my daughter, Sarah, be the model for the front cover of my book, wearing the sari I had purchased in India.

At the time of the photo-shoot, Sarah and her husband (both ER nurses) were applying to various missions, feeling called into full-time missionary work. It wasn’t until several months later, that Sarah told me the mission they were going out with would be overseeing the very mission that Ramabai founded over 100 years ago. Here is a picture Pandita Ramabai. Pandita is not her first name, it is an honorary Indian title meaning “wise one.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Of all the missions around the globe, why this one? Sarah had no idea what Ramabai meant to me. I’d kept that tidbit to myself.

It’s not wonder I write, trying to scrabble down on paper the amazing things that God does through surrendered lives.”

Now about Christine’s book Shadowed in Silk.


She was invisible to those who should have loved her.

After the Great War, Abby Fraser returns to India with her small son, where her husband is stationed with the British army. She has longed to go home to the land of glittering palaces and veiled women . . . but Nick has become a cruel stranger. It will take more than her American pluck to survive.

Major Geoff Richards, broken over the loss of so many of his men in the trenches of France, returns to his cavalry post in Amritsar. But his faith does little to help him understand the ruthlessness of his British peers toward the Indian people he loves. Nor does it explain how he is to protect Abby Fraser and her child from the husband who mistreats them.

Amid political unrest, inhospitable deserts, and Russian spies, tensions rise in India as the people cry for the freedom espoused by Gandhi. Caught between their own ideals and duty, Geoff and Abby stumble into sinister secrets . . . secrets that will thrust them out of the shadows and straight into the fire of revolution.

Author Bio:

Christine Lindsay writes historical Christian inspirational novels with strong love stories. She doesn’t shy away from difficult subjects such as the themes in her debut novel SHADOWED IN SILK which is set in India during a turbulent era. Christine’s long-time fascination with the British Raj was seeded from stories of her ancestors who served in the British Cavalry in India. SHADOWED IN SILK won first place in the 2009 ACFW Genesis for Historical under the title Unveiled. Shadowed in Silk is being released by WhiteFire Publishing in 2 stages this year, first as an eBook on May 1, 2011, and as the printed version Sept. 1.

The Pacific coast of Canada, about 200 miles north of Seattle, is Christine’s home. It’s a special time in her life as she and her husband enjoy the empty nest, but also the noise and fun when the kids and grandkids come home. Like a lot of writers, her cat is her chief editor.”

I love that about her cat! Well, do you think it was a coincidence that her long-lost daughter and husband were planning to work at the exact mission which fascinated Christine? Or a God-incidence? Remember, leave a comment and be entered into the drawing. I’ll post the winner Sunday.-And remember this is her first book, please leave a comment to encourage her, a sister in Christ.-Lyn

For more info:

Her website is www.christinelindsay.com,

Blog address is www.christinelindsay.org

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Chapter Twenty Scene 5 La Belle Christiane

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If you’ve just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning.

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Part Three

Chapter Twenty Scene 5

The men were leaving for the war again. On the steps of Mt. Vernon, Mrs. Washington, Christiane, and Sarah Renee had watched them ride away. Far down the lane General Washington paused and turned for one more look back at his home. He waved again and Martha returned it. Then he was gone around the bend. At that moment Christiane asked herself the same question he must have asked himself. Would it be another six years before he saw home again? And more importantly would he finally come home victorious or defeated?

The women stood a long time. At last they could not even detect the dust from the leaving party. The butler, housekeeper, and other servants appeared and waited, obviously to be of comfort. “Christiane, I believe I will visit the cabins today. I have been so busy that I have neglected them. Oney,” the lady addressed her maid, “go fetch my herb basket please.”

“I want to go, too,” Sarah stated.

“If your mother agrees.”

Sarah turned to Christiane, silently asking permission.

Christiane nodded absently. “Yes, go ahead. Be a help, not a hindrance.” Christiane turned and went in, wandering into the quiet west parlor. The past four days had been so hectic that she had had little time to think about the import of her grandmother’s gift.

She stood beside the ivory-brocaded draperies and light blue walls and looked out at the green and amber hills behind the manor. What to do about her future? She now had the wherewithal to proceed with her life, but what was her life destination? All the jewels in the world could not buy her what she really wanted–Sarah’s legitimacy. Only one man in the world, the major, could give Sarah that and, since he was already married it was even beyond his power.

The door behind her opened. “Mr. Evan Marsh,” Breechy announced and then withdrew.

She turned, hiding a frown. “Good morning, Mr. Marsh.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Kruger.”

“Mrs. Washington is making her rounds of the cabins.”

“So I was told. But it does not matter since it is you I came to see.”

“Oh?” She was surprised and then wary. “Would you be seated please?”

“Thank you.” They sat across from the cold hearth on matching brocaded chairs. He looked up at her face and studied it carefully. She took his interest calmly, waiting for him to start the conversation.

Finally he spoke, “Madam, I will state my purpose in coming directly. I believe the time has come for me to ask you to marry me.”

Her mouth opened slightly.

“Do not feign surprise. I believe that I have made no real secret of my interest in you.”

“Yes, but we have never really–”

“Behaved like sweethearts? No, we have not. The situation has been an unusual one. I, for one, did not entertain the idea of marrying again till the past year or so. I was content merely to watch you. I expected you to rouse yourself and be off about your life. But you have cut yourself off from society and I know that the only reasons that you allowed me to become acquainted with you is that I called often and was an old widower, one who could not be tainted by association with a ‘scarlet woman’.”

She pursed her lips. “It is nothing to be made light of.”

“Why not? You made a mistake. You became pregnant out of wedlock and gave birth to a very beautiful child. It is a very old plot. Don’t you realize that it is only because you are a woman that society is shocked?”

“It does not matter whether others have done it or not,” she answered soberly. “And it does not matter whether I am male or female. I did wrong and my Sarah will pay for it.”

He looked at her searchingly. “You have always shown yourself a clear-minded woman. I like that. You say that little Sarah will pay. Well, she need not. I will be frank. I am a wealthy man. My first wife died barren. I have no living relatives, save a few distant cousins in England. Marry me. I will adopt Sarah and raise her as my daughter. I am forty-nine years old which makes me about thirty years older than you. I could live another twenty years. I could die tomorrow. I would be a considerate husband and an affectionate father. You have all to gain and naught to lose.”

She returned his frank look. She had known of his interest in her and wondered what outlet it would take. “May I be frank also?”

“Please.”

She looked him straight in the eye. She had not wanted to open this whole subject. But she would tell him what she thought. Perhaps her frankness would discourage him. “Thank you for not asking me to be your mistress. I wondered if you would.”

He smiled wryly. “Would you have accepted?”

“No,” she replied, not amused.

“Will you marry me then?”

She paused. “No, your proposal is generous and makes excellent sense, but no. I thank you, but I cannot.”

“Why?” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Because once before I accepted a marriage proposal because it was convenient and advantageous. I have made mistakes, but I refuse to repeat them.”

“You believe then it’s wrong to marry me merely because it would be a wise decision?” He lifted one eyebrow. “You believe in marrying only for love?”

“Don’t make it sound ridiculous. Marriage is more than a business relationship, more than a weighing of credits versus debits. More clearly I cannot put my reasoning. But would it be right for me to say: Evan Marsh is a good catch, so I better snare him while I can.”

He laughed loudly. “I love your honesty. Frankly it is what attracted me to you first. Well, I will accept your ‘no’ for the time being, but the offer will remain open.”

“I wish you would not. I doubt I will change my mind.”

“And I believe you may in time. And I have time. Leah has been gone almost four years. At first the county widows pursued me, but they have all given up, thank God. So I will bide my time and see if you will reconsider.”

“Very well, suit yourself, Mr. Marsh. I believe, you will anyway.”

“That’s true, but I will ask you one favor.”

“What?”

“I would like you to call me Evan.”

She looked up at him. This whole exchange had been impertinent in her eyes and she wanted to put it at an end. She had no intention of marrying Mr. Evan Marsh. Suddenly feeling saucy, she stood up. “Very well, Evan. Good day, Evan.” And with perfect posture and grace walked out of the room. His amused laughter echoed behind her.

I like Evan. How about you?–Lyn

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Part Three

Chapter Twenty Scene 5

The men were leaving for the war again. On the steps of Mt. Vernon, Mrs. Washington, Christiane, and Sarah Renee had watched them ride away. Far down the lane General Washington paused and turned for one more look back at his home. He waved again and Martha returned it. Then he was gone around the bend. At that moment Christiane asked herself the same question he must have asked himself. Would it be another six years before he saw home again? And more importantly would he finally come home victorious or defeated?

The women stood a long time. At last they could not even detect the dust from the leaving party. The butler, housekeeper, and other servants appeared and waited, obviously to be of comfort. “Christiane, I believe I will visit the cabins today. I have been so busy that I have neglected them. Oney,” the lady addressed her maid, “go fetch my herb basket please.”

“I want to go, too,” Sarah stated.

“If your mother agrees.”

Sarah turned to Christiane, silently asking permission.

Christiane nodded absently. “Yes, go ahead. Be a help, not a hindrance.” Christiane turned and went in, wandering into the quiet west parlor. The past four days had been so hectic that she had had little time to think about the import of her grandmother’s gift.

She stood beside the ivory-brocaded draperies and light blue walls and looked out at the green and amber hills behind the manor. What to do about her future? She now had the wherewithal to proceed with her life, but what was her life destination? All the jewels in the world could not buy her what she really wanted–Sarah’s legitimacy. Only one man in the world, the major, could give Sarah that and, since he was already married it was even beyond his power.

The door behind her opened. “Mr. Evan Marsh,” Breechy announced and then withdrew.

She turned, hiding a frown. “Good morning, Mr. Marsh.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Kruger.”

“Mrs. Washington is making her rounds of the cabins.”

“So I was told. But it does not matter since it is you I came to see.”

“Oh?” She was surprised and then wary. “Would you be seated please?”

“Thank you.” They sat across from the cold hearth on matching brocaded chairs. He looked up at her face and studied it carefully. She took his interest calmly, waiting for him to start the conversation.

Finally he spoke, “Madam, I will state my purpose in coming directly. I believe the time has come for me to ask you to marry me.”

Her mouth opened slightly.

“Do not feign surprise. I believe that I have made no real secret of my interest in you.”

“Yes, but we have never really–“

“Behaved like sweethearts? No, we have not. The situation has been an unusual one. I, for one, did not entertain the idea of marrying again till the past year or so. I was content merely to watch you. I expected you to rouse yourself and be off about your life. But you have cut yourself off from society and I know that the only reasons that you allowed me to become acquainted with you is that I called often and was an old widower, one who could not be tainted by association with a ‘scarlet woman’.”

She pursed her lips. “It is nothing to be made light of.”

“Why not? You made a mistake. You became pregnant out of wedlock and gave birth to a very beautiful child. It is a very old plot. Don’t you realize that it is only because you are a woman that society is shocked?”

“It does not matter whether others have done it or not,” she answered soberly. “And it does not matter whether I am male or female. I did wrong and my Sarah will pay for it.”

He looked at her searchingly. “You have always shown yourself a clear-minded woman. I like that. You say that little Sarah will pay. Well, she need not. I will be frank. I am a wealthy man. My first wife died barren. I have no living relatives, save a few distant cousins in England. Marry me. I will adopt Sarah and raise her as my daughter. I am forty-nine years old which makes me about thirty years older than you. I could live another twenty years. I could die tomorrow. I would be a considerate husband and an affectionate father. You have all to gain and naught to lose.”

She returned his frank look. She had known of his interest in her and wondered what outlet it would take. “May I be frank also?”

“Please.”

She looked him straight in the eye. She had not wanted to open this whole subject. But she would tell him what she thought. Perhaps her frankness would discourage him. “Thank you for not asking me to be your mistress. I wondered if you would.”

He smiled wryly. “Would you have accepted?”

“No,” she replied, not amused.

“Will you marry me then?”

She paused. “No, your proposal is generous and makes excellent sense, but no. I thank you, but I cannot.”

“Why?” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Because once before I accepted a marriage proposal because it was convenient and advantageous. I have made mistakes, but I refuse to repeat them.”

“You believe then it’s wrong to marry me merely because it would be a wise decision?” He lifted one eyebrow. “You believe in marrying only for love?”

“Don’t make it sound ridiculous. Marriage is more than a business relationship, more than a weighing of credits versus debits. More clearly I cannot put my reasoning. But would it be right for me to say: Evan Marsh is a good catch, so I better snare him while I can.”

He laughed loudly. “I love your honesty. Frankly it is what attracted me to you first. Well, I will accept your ‘no’ for the time being, but the offer will remain open.”

“I wish you would not. I doubt I will change my mind.”

“And I believe you may in time. And I have time. Leah has been gone almost four years. At first the county widows pursued me, but they have all given up, thank God. So I will bide my time and see if you will reconsider.”

“Very well, suit yourself, Mr. Marsh. I believe, you will anyway.”

“That’s true, but I will ask you one favor.”

“What?”

“I would like you to call me Evan.”

She looked up at him. This whole exchange had been impertinent in her eyes and she wanted to put it at an end. She had no intention of marrying Mr. Evan Marsh. Suddenly feeling saucy, she stood up. “Very well, Evan. Good day, Evan.” And with perfect posture and grace walked out of the room. His amused laughter echoed behind her.

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Author Deborah Raney & Her Latest–Forever After

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I recently reviewed Almost Forever, the first book in this series. This one looks excellent too!
FOREVER AFTER
by Deborah Raney

Forever After is the second book in Deborah Raney’s Hanover Falls Novels series from Howard/Simon & Schuster. The first novel in the series, Almost Forever, won the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence and a HOLT Medallion Award of Merit.
Synopsis: Lucas Vermontez was a proud firefighter like his father. Now, not only has he lost his father and his best friend, Zach, in the fire at the Grove Street Homeless Shelter, but the devoted rookie can no longer do the work he loves after being crippled in the tragic event. When friendship with his buddy’s beautiful widow turns into more, he wonders what he could possibly offer Jenna. Jenna Morgan is trying to grieve her husband’s death like a proper widow, but the truth is, she never really loved Zach. His death feels more like a relief to her. But that relief is short-lived when she loses her home and the financial support of her in-laws. Now the secrets of her past threaten to destroy her future. Almost Forever, Book 1 in the Hanover Falls Novels series, won the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence in 2011.

DEBORAH RANEY’s first novel, A Vow to Cherish, inspired the World Wide Pictures film of the same title and launched her writing career after 20 happy years as a stay-at-home mom. Her books have won numerous awards including the RITA, National Readers Choice Award, HOLT Medallion, the Carol Award, and have twice been Christy Award finalists. Deb also serves on the Advisory Board of the 2500-member American Christian Fiction Writers. Her 20th novel released this month from Howard/Simon & Schuster. She and her husband, Ken Raney, enjoy tending wildflowers and native grasses in the Kansas prairie garden in their large back yard. They also love traveling together to conferences, and to visit four children and three little grandsons who all live much too far away.

Here’s my review of the first book in this series. Have you ever read a Deborah Raney novel?–Lyn

Almost Forever (Hanover Falls, #1)Almost Forever by Deborah Raney

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Almost Forever begins portraying a horrifying tragedy with stark reality. Then it shifts into a very believable romance of two wounded hearts. Just when we think the happy ending might be near, the heroine makes a startling, shattering realization. In spite of one “pat-feeling” plot point, I enjoyed this book and found it compelling.

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Chapter Twenty Scene 4 La Belle Christiane (& Winner Announced)

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If you’ve just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning.

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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Lyn Reviews Nancy Moser’s An Unlikely Suitor

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An Unlikely SuitorAn Unlikely Suitor by Nancy Moser

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Once again Nancy Moser chooses a unique setting and characters for An Unlikely Suitor. She takes us to the Gilded Age from NYC tenements to the grandeur of the summer cottages, really mansions on Newport Island. The author creates unforgettable yet flawed characters; I appreciated that. The main character Lucy is especially convincing and engaging. I loved all the descriptions of the clothing, coaches, homes in the story. The only reason I gave this 4 stars instead of 5 (which I usually give Nancy’s books) is that I had a hard time believing  a couple of the endings of the three romances. This being said, the story of the mores and excesses of society at the time and Lucy’s triumph over them made for an entertaining and intriguing read. And if you’ve never read a Nancy Moser historical, you should!

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Chapter Twenty Scene 3 La Belle Christiane

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If you’ve just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning.

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Part Three

Chapter Twenty Scene 3

Afternoon sunlight poured through the window as Christiane knelt in front of her vanity seat. On the seat now was the chest that she had just unpacked from the small trunk. She recognized the chest well. Her hand trembled a little as she inserted the small gold key. Even though she knew what to expect, she still gasped.

Her mother’s jewels. During their travels, the gems had fallen out of their individual compartments and lay in tangled clumps. Painstakingly she began to sort the sets and untangle the strings of pearls from the golden chains and silver bracelets. The delicate strands took great concentration to unravel. The ruby pendant had wrapped itself around the sapphire brooch and a pearl ring. At last they were separated. She began untwisting another silver chain, a black pearl rope, and a string of petite emeralds. When only half done, she sat back on her heels. The remaining tangles would have to wait. Her hands were trembling a bit. And there was the letter.

For a few moments she merely held it in her lap. Then carefully she opened it and began to read.                                                                                                                                                                                            10,                                                                                                                                                                                          October 1779

My dear Christiane,

It has been a great surprise for me to hear

that you are in America. I often wondered where you

had gone with that Irishman and why. Now I know, at

least, where. From your letter, I learn that you are

a widow with two small children. I can understand why

then you have decided to appeal to me.

The Marquis has told me that you have allied your-

self with the revolutionists. I find this easy to

understand since you were born a rebel.

The Revolution is all the rage here, but, of course,

it is just idle foolishness.

I do not think for a moment that the court

would welcome a revolution closer to

home. The Marquis also tells me that you have made friends

with some of the most prominent members of American

society. Perhaps then all the time and effort

your mother and I expended on grooming you has not gone to waste.

You have asked for assistance. I have sent to

you what your mother promised you many times. It was

her wish. As for further aid, I offer you and your children

a home here at the Chateau Pelletier. I have missed you.

Madeleine Renee Marie Pelletier

Christiane stared at the pages in front of her. Then she read them again and stared again. No sound, no sight around her penetrated her consciousness. Memories dominated her. Images of her mother came in procession like turning the pages in a book. Maman holding her own small hand as they admired roses in the garden. Maman smoothing back her hair and kissing her forehead. Maman reading her poetry by the fire. And behind Maman the ever-watchful grandmere. She felt for the first time regret at having disappointed her forbidding grandmother. How lonely she must be. How long Christiane sat thus she did not know.

The sun caught the colors of a dozen different facets and flashed them over the sunlit walls and ceiling. Christiane came to herself and sighed at the sight.

The door flew open. “Mama, Mama. They’re going riding. Can we go–” Sarah had rushed in, but her excitement became hushed awe as she surveyed the rainbow of shimmering hues on the walls around and above her. Her mouth opened and closed several times. At last she asked, pointing to the reflections, “Is it magic?”

The wonder in her voice made Christiane laugh. “No, my dearest, come closer and see.”

The little girl, still glancing up and around, stepped carefully over to her mother. She breathed a long “Ooh” when she spied the jewels in her mother’s lap. “Pretty,” she exclaimed as she stroked a large opal with one finger.

“Yes, they are. My grandmother, your great grandmother, sent them to us from France.”

“To us?”

“Yes, my mother promised that they would be mine and when you grow up, some of them will be yours. Which do you like best?”  Without hesitation the little girl fingered the opal. “Then I will save that one specially for you. Now what is this about a ride?”

“They are going riding. I want to, too.”

“The general?”

“Yes, and some of the others. Can we go? Please? Can we?”

The mother made a quick decision. She was expected to help with the social activities and besides suddenly she wanted to be out of this room and into the world. “Yes, my dear, go tell Sally to come and help me into my riding habit.” The little feet flew away and the door slammed. Christiane could hear the piping voice summoning, “Sally! Sally!”

Christiane smiled as an unexpected feeling of confidence surged through her. A ride would be perfect this late afternoon. A few hours of solitude was sufficient, but really she had endured three years of solitude. No longer did she want to hear the voices and laughter from afar. She wanted to be there–among them–talking and laughing herself. Quickly she replaced the remaining jewels to their respective compartments. Oddly she remembered where each one belonged. “Merci. Merci, Maman, Grandmere,” she whispered, “This morning I was a dependent of this house. This afternoon I am a woman of means.”

Sally came in as Christiane was locking the chest. “Miss Sarah Renee say you be wantin’ to get dress,” she murmured. The little girl bounced up and down beside her.

“Yes, Sally,” Christiane said directly, “please get out my habit. I want to go riding. Quickly, please.”

Sally drew the simple summer-weight black cotton habit from the tall maple wardrobe. Soon Christiane was sweeping from the room and down the wide staircase. Sarah held her hand and ran to keep up. In the yard the party was just mounting up. “Zechariah!” Christiane called to the head groom, “will you bring out Penny please?”

“Yes, mistress,” he responded with a nod.

“Gentlemen,” she addressed them, first in English and then in French, “would you object to female companionship?”

The Generals smiled along with the others. Rochambeau answered in French, “Madame, we would be honored.” Zechariah led Penny out and Christiane mounted her. Then he lifted up her daughter who was accustomed to riding in her mother’s lap, straddling Christiane’s leg as it curved around the side-saddle horn.

They were off. General Washington led the way, proudly pointing out the beauty of the lands he loved so well. Rochambeau listened intently and smiled eagerly. The American’s enthusiasm was irresistible. Christiane rode close enough to offer brief translations when motions failed. The sun was warm and the breeze was light. The leaves were still lustrous green, though here and there a golden edge hinted at the coming autumn.

Sarah Renee chattered happily to anyone who was near. The men graciously accorded the precocious child the courtesy that they would have shown her mother and the little girl thought it her due. An adored child raised mainly among adults, she expected it.

Sarah was discussing raccoons with the American officer on her right while Christiane exchanged pleasantries with a French officer.  A great to do was made of leading Christiane around “treacherous” brooks and through the few gates. She drank in the attention as a wilted blossom revives in water. She hadn’t realized how she’d missed the camaraderie and gallantry she’d enjoyed among the officers.

The ride ended too soon. They arrived in the yard with a flourish. The two Generals watched benignly as the younger officers of both countries vied for the honor of helping Christiane dismount. She laughed delightedly and handed Sarah to the nearest pair of up-stretched hands; then allowed Laurens to help her down. In a flash she recalled the day years ago when they had met on Manhattan island at the beginning of this war for independence. She was no longer the poor young wife of that day. What would she do now with her own economic independence?

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Author Louise M Gouge, The Wedding Season & a Giveaway

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My guest today is Author Louise M Gouge who is offering a giveaway of her latest novella, one of two in The Wedding Season.

I appreciate this opportunity to share about my writing and the strong, brave women in my family. Last month I wrote about my widowed daughter, who is rearing her two children in a godly home despite facing all the difficulties of being single mother. But she is not the first woman in my family who has faced this challenge. Five generations prior, her great-great-grandmother, Mary Johnson, raised three children in a much more challenging time, the late 1800s. Mary was expecting her third child when her husband died. We don’t have details of his death, but my grandmother told me enough about her mother to inspire my admiration and a desire to follow her example.

Fortunately for Mary, her husband left her the family home, and she supported her family by keeping boarders. Although that was an accepted practice in those days, she could have taken a different path. She could have put her three small children in an orphanage, also an accepted practice in those days, and could have gone off on her own with no responsibilities. But Mary stood strong, despite the difficulties. Like Ruth in the Scriptures, she did what she had to do to keep her family together. And for me, the proof that her endeavors were successful is that her three children grew up to be godly people of character. And they passed along their strong faith and moral principles to their children and grandchildren.

While my newly-released book is not about a widowed mother, it does share a common theme with my family. In times of weakness and loss, my characters rely on God. Just as my daughter, my great-grandmother, and Ruth in the Bible chose not to live selfish, self-centered lives or to give in to bitterness or despair, my character Elizabeth must make a choice between pursuing her own way and obeying God’s principles. In the midst of a light and entertaining read, you will find a deep spiritual lesson that we should all put in to practice. In a day when everyone is urged to “do your own thing, baby,” I believe it’s important to stress – in real life and in fiction – that the only true happiness and peace come from trusting God and following His path for our lives.

Novella blurb:
“The Gentleman Takes a Bride” by Louise M. Gouge
Surely Elizabeth Moberly was born to be a nobleman’s bride. She can’t possibly be attracted to the untitled stranger who interrupts her cousin’s wedding. Yet Elizabeth finds herself drawn to Philip Lindsey’s tender heart and strong faith. And if Philip has his way, he’ll convince Elizabeth the only title she needs is Mrs. Lindsey, beloved wife.

This novella is in the June 2011 Love Inspired Historical anthology The Wedding Season, which also includes a delightful story by Deborah Hale. The book is on sale now in Walmart, amazon.com, and cbd.com.

Bio:
Award-winning Florida author Louise M. Gouge writes historical fiction, calling her stories “threads of grace woven through time.” In addition to numerous other awards, Louise is the recipient of the prestigious Inspirational Readers’ Choice Award. Married to David Gouge for forty-six years, Louise is a mother of four and grandmother of six children. In addition to writing, she teaches English and humanities at Valencia College in Kissimmee, Florida. To learn more about Louise, visit her website at http://blog.Louisemgouge.com

Louise, I had a great grandmother who ran a boardinghouse too. She was widowed with nine daughters to raise. The elders at a local church came and asked her if she could run a boardinghouse if they bought and furnished one for her. Now that’s true religion as James says: “Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction…” If you want to qualify for the drawing to win a copy of Louise’s book, leave a comment. (But only if you live in the US or Canada.)–Lyn

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Chapter Twenty Scene 2 La Belle Christiane

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If you’ve just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning.

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Part Three

Chapter Twenty Scene 2

She paused to frown. Evan Marsh, an old friend of the Washingtons, had come upon Mrs. Washington and herself just a few months after they’d arrived at Mt. Vernon and had been touring the plantation together. Christiane had remained silent after the introduction, painfully aware of her obvious state of pregnancy. In the years since then he had been a frequent visitor. At first Christiane had tried to avoid him as she did all other guests. But he always asked after her and usually Mrs. Washington had summoned her to join them. Christiane, intuitively aware of his interest in her, had anticipated his making some sort of advance toward her, but so far he had not. She shook her head and hurried down the remaining steps. She had enough to think about today. Evan Marsh would have to wait.

Mrs. Washington and Sarah Renee were already, hand in hand, on the front steps, facing the courtyard. Christiane hesitated inside the doorway, her heart beat quickening. Beside her stood Breechy, the liveried, gray-haired butler, waiting his master’s return.

The servants, like the inhabitants of a small village, had been as excited over the general’s homecoming as Martha herself and had been anxious to give a good showing to the foreign visitors of their home. Lund Washington, the general’s manager and cousin, was eager to show off the additions he had made according to the owner’s instructions and every aspect of the house and grounds had been thoroughly prepared. To Christiane, the aged Negro butler with his shining brass buttons seemed to embody their collective efforts. Then the round German housekeeper rustled up beside Christiane and peeked out also.

The horses cantered up the still green, tree-lined lane. The blue and white uniforms and sleek mounts made a fine military spectacle. Christiane stood a bit straighter just watching them.

General Washington on his white charger led the procession. As he came closer, he let his horse gallop ahead as though the call of home had overpowered him. He leaped from his mount and bounded up the walk like a much younger man. The tall, somewhat severe-looking husband embraced his small, plump wife. His hug said to all, he was home and he was delighted.

The embrace lasted too long for Sarah. “Hello, General,” she piped up, tugging his coat tail.

The tall face looked down. For a moment he just stared. Then he smiled. “I’ll wager that you are Sarah Renee.”

“Yes, and you’re Gramma Martha’s General,” she answered happily.

“Yes, I am.” The remainder of what he said was lost in the arrival of the other officers. Quickly he introduced his wife to General Rochambeau.

The old butler, his head held high, wordlessly ushered Christiane out the door and down the few steps. Christiane glanced back and saw the housekeeper take her place in the center door of three. A colonnades fronted the main house which was white with a red roof. From all the green-shuttered windows peeped black faces and all around the edges of the yard, slaves gathered to see the master again. The general acknowledged his servants by a special sweep of his hat to them and a chorus of “Welcome, welcome!” flowed over the house and grounds. A half a dozen smiling grooms claimed the horses and led them away on the circle drive.

Christiane advanced till she stood just a few feet from the Washingtons. The French general was making polite conversation as best he could. “This is your grandchild…?” he asked, pointing to Sarah.

“No,” Mrs. Washington replied, “she is the daughter of a friend.” She glanced around and motioned Christiane to join them.

“General Washington,” Christiane greeted him with a spontaneous smile and a graceful curtsey.

“Christiane, how good it is to see you again,” the general said warmly. He grasped her hand and kissed it. “General Rochambeau, allow me to introduce a close friend of ours, Mrs. Christiane Kruger.”

She curtseyed politely as she extended her hand to the Frenchman. She was grateful for the general’s warm greeting. She felt calmer now. “An honor, General Rochambeau,” she murmured in her best court-style French.

“Ah, you are the Frenchwoman,” he sighed. “Mr. Laurens told me a beautiful Frenchwoman lived at Mt. Vernon.”

The conversation continued politely as the French and American officers went through the entrance and flowed through the spacious central hall to the rear piazza, overlooking the Potomac River. Christiane observed General Washington examine this newly added piazza and nod his approval to Lund. The household staff deftly came and went, serving luncheon.

The fall flowers: bronze cockscomb, pink and yellow zinnias and deep red roses, could be seen from the gardens beyond. The day could not have been more perfect for an outdoor gathering.

The French officers were obviously impressed by their surroundings. It would have been difficult not to be impressed by the simple elegance of Mt. Vernon. Christiane’s apprehension melted as she enjoyed a taste of the comradeship she had known before in this company. Everyone accepted her with the same warmth that the American and French generals had shown her. Little Sarah ignored her mother’s motions and settled herself next to Martha and at the general’s invitation quickly climbed into his lap. Into this milieu Breechy announced formally, “Mr. Evan Marsh.”

General Washington immediately stood and greeted his long-time neighbor. “Evan, it is good to see you again. Allow me to introduce you to General Rochambeau.” The amenities were observed and then tall, trim Evan was sitting by one of the square columns. Christiane had to admit he cut as fine a figure as any of the officers present and she reminded herself that he was comparable to her late Jakob in age. As was his way, he watched the festivities with interest and talked easily to the officers nearest him.

Christiane found that she could not ignore their exchange when General Washington walked over and sat down beside him.

“Evan,  I was so sorry to hear about your losing Leah. I regret I was away. She was a fine woman, a fine woman.”

“Thank you, George. It is good to see you home at long last.”

“It has been a long stretch, hasn’t it? I just wish the thing was done.”

“Well, this alliance may be it, don’t you think?”

“We hope so. We hope so.” A worried look came over the general’s face.

“By the way,” Evan said, evidently trying to lighten the tone, “I have a few more good horses for you, if you need them.”

“We always need them. I have appreciated the ones you have contributed each year.”

“It is the least I can do, George. I wish I were able to send more.” The two men were interrupted at this point. They shook hands and Washington moved on. Evan glanced around and caught Christiane looking at him. He smiled lazily and somehow this caused her to blush. Studiously she looked away.

Lunch ended and the visitors drifted off to their rooms in the care of servants. Sarah Renee was nearly asleep on the general’s broad shoulder, so he and his wife, holding hands, carried the child to her room for her nap.  Christiane smiled at Evan, but did not linger. Breechy had told her the general had ordered Christiane’s package delivered to her room. Her heart pounded as she went to discover what her grandmere has sent her.

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Author Donita K Paul & Attitude!

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My guest today is Donita K Paul, an author who writes amazing fantasy, not an easy thing to do. She is going to talk to us about her latest book, Dragons of Chiril and a strong woman with attitude!
Here’s Donita:
“The heroine in the first two books of the Chiril Chronicles is Tipper Schope. In her early twenties, she has been in charge of a massive household for the many years following her father’s disappearance. In her mind, she has not done a great job. At the time of the first scene, she has been reduced to selling her noted father’s artwork in order to pay the bills. Her home is a deteriorating mansion. They have two servants left from the full staff. Her mother’s mental health and stability has broken down. The failure of the mansion has caused hardship among those who depended on her father and this establishment. Tipper feels the weight of all the responsibility.

I see strong women face two types of situations those they chose and those that are thrust upon them. I know a young lady who worked hard to put herself through college to become an RN. She showed tremendous strength and determination to meet her goal, one she had chosen herself. But this same young lady had an abusive parent, an alcoholic spouse, and a relative with a debilitating disease. Obviously these burdens were not ones she chose. With each new obstacle that came her way, she continued on the path she knew God had ordained. And not only that, but she remained a cheerful, optimistic person. As a great mom, she has drilled into her kids, “Attitude is everything.”

The character in Dragon of Chirl is also challenged by adversity. Unfortunately, three of the statues she sold to acquire money for expenses, turned out to be the cornerstone of the world she lives in. With the statues separated, the countryside has bizarre eruptions that destroy property and life.

As in real life, with each new challenge, Tipper grows to meet the difficulty. That stretching to do the next thing, the thing we think is just beyond our ability, makes us grow stronger. Tipper’s character deepens as she handles what I (the author) throw at her. And she also gains a perspective of herself that eliminates the false guilt. I think false guilt weighs us down more than the reality we face. Tipper does reach a happy ending, but the reader is aware that it is not happily ever after, because the road we travel will not smooth out and be bump-free until we reach Heaven. That’s okay. We have the hope!”–Donita K Paul

For more about Donita and her books, drop by:
http://donitakpaul.blogspot.com/ This one is the OLD Blog where I get a chance to share books by my fellow authors. Other Literary Dabblings.
I agree with Donita. We have hope! Have you any examples of someone who refused to let her situation get her down? BTW, Drop by http://bit.ly/5PuVYH and voice what makes you buy a book!–Lyn

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Chapter Twenty Scene 1 La Belle Christiane

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If you’ve just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning.

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Part Three

Chapter Twenty

Mt. Vernon in Virginia

September, 1781

Christiane stroked the brush through her daughter’s long brown hair. Just like her father’s. Christiane’s jaw tightened, but her strokes retained the same even rhythm. No one but Christiane could realized how completely the child reflected her father’s looks. She had his straight, thick, brown hair and finely sculpted eyebrows. Her eyes were the same cool, clear blue. Her narrow nose was a miniature of his. And sometimes she pursed her lips as he had often done when thoughtful.

“They’re really coming?” the little girl asked.

“Yes, Sarah Renee, the courier said the general will be here anytime now. That’s why we are tidying up.”

The child pulled away and went to the window.

“Sarah,” Christiane said in slight exasperation, “you must stand still. I have to braid your hair and tie the bows.”

“Yes, Mama,” she answered and came back.

Christiane turned the small body to the proper stance and continued the grooming.

“Will there be a party?” Sarah asked.

“You know there will be.” Christiane smiled. Her daughter’s habit of asking obvious questions was usually a pleasant one. She knew that for some reason hearing the same explanations over and over comforted the child and the whole household accommodated it.

“Will my father be with them? I want to meet him, too.”

A deeply felt frown squeezed Christiane’s brows together, but Sarah’s back was to her, so it went unseen. “No, he will not come this time.”

“Soon?”

“Not this time. I will tell you when I know.” Christiane waited, dreading any further questions.

Only a month before this unwelcome query about her father had come from Sarah. Foolishly Christiane had been caught short by it. She had never anticipated that her daughter, at only three years, would ask about her father, so she had stammered that he was away. Since General Washington was away and often talked about, her child had accepted her explanation. But this was the second time the child had voiced the question. When would Christiane have to tell her that her father was never coming back, that he did not know or probably did not care that he had a daughter in Virginia? Christiane cringed inwardly and chose a ribbon from a silk lined box.

As always, thinking of her daughter brought her son to mind. In less than a month, Jean Claude would be six years old and she had not seen him for almost four. Her throat tightened as it did whenever she thought of her distant son. It was hard not to grieve daily over their separation, but she could see no easy way to reunite with him. Their only connection was by letter. In spite of the erratic mail delivery, the Richardson’s and she corresponded regularly.

The Richardson’s had generously offered to send Jean Claude to her in Virginia. This offer had tempted her greatly. She wanted him, wanted to make up for all the days, hours apart, lost forever. But she had declined. He was her legitimate child and she did not want him tainted with her love child’s stain. He was legitimate, but how could she prove it? She had no token or certificate of marriage. And the only witness she could call for her first wedding turned out to be the father of her illegitimate daughter. Her lips twisted as she plaited the hair into braids.

It was dreadful to be forced to view her children as the world would, but it was necessary in order to make sensible decisions. She acknowledged now that the biggest mistake of her life was leaving the Richardson’s Meadow Farm that November night almost four years ago. Still, she was comforted with the fact that Jean Claude was safe and loved. So many children did not survive till six years. She blinked back tears as she tied the ribbons securely around the ends of the braids.

To be separated from him was like dying slowly, but she had made the right decision about him. Her future and Sarah’s were unsure, but his was settled. He would be well-educated and in time inherit two prosperous farms. A good future for a fur trapper’s orphan. She knew he probably wondered about his absent mother, just as Sarah Renee wondered about her absent father. But she hoped that when he was an adult, he would understand and forgive her.  Over the years, she had begun to seek God’s forgiveness and to understand how to live a life worthy of her children. During Christiane’s pregnancy, Mrs. Washington had begun reading the Bible to her as they sat in the evenings. Christiane had learned much, but still felt separated from God. My fault. Sarah fidgeted and Christiane scolded.

At last, the braiding and ribboning were done. Christiane turned her daughter in a slow circle, examining her.                 Christiane sighed. Even though the full harvest of her bitterness was probably yet to come, Sarah’s appearance was always a reminder to Christiane of her regretted actions. She had often heard that illegitimate children always resembled their fathers. Even she had favored her father more than the Pelletiers. Supposedly it was God’s way of marking ownership. She decided, however, it must actually be God’s way of never letting the mother forget the wiles of the father and her own folly. Where was Sarah’s father and did he ever think of the woman he had lied to and seduced in Philadelphia?

“You look beautiful,” Christiane pronounced, resisting the downturn in her mood. A smile lit her daughter’s face. “Now, Sarah, what are you to call him?”

“General,” her daughter slurred. “But I still think Grandpa Martha would be better.”

“No, his name is not Martha. It is George.”

“But–”

“No, please obey me. Call him General.”

Sarah nodded in defeat. “May I go see Gramma Martha?”

“Yes, go show her how beautiful you are.” The little one sprinted from the room.

Christiane bent slightly in front of her vanity and smoothed back the tendrils that curled moistly around her hairline. Though it was early September, the Virginia breeze was still warm. Unconsciously her hands sought her waist and she pivoted slightly, side to side, as she scrutinized her dark russet gown. Her waist was as slender as always, but her bosom and hips had rounded out after carrying Sarah and now she had a woman’s figure, not a girl’s.

Today she would see General Washington for the first time since she had left Valley Forge. With him would be many of the officers she had known in her short service to the Revolution. The plan was for the general to visit Mt. Vernon, his home which he had not seen for six years. Then he would go to Williamsburg and there assume the total command of the allied forces of France and America.

She had been greatly relieved that Henry Lee would be absent from this homecoming. He remained with the slower-moving land troops. Her regret over her betrayal of him lingered within her, but what was done was done. She rose and went to the window, overlooking the approach to the manor house, wishing that the Marquis de Lafayette would be included in the visitors.

But he, was already in Williamsburg preparing for the coming confrontation. He was the one she really wanted to speak to. He had returned to France in the summer of 1779 to enlist the aid of his country for the Revolution. He had succeeded excellently.

King Louis had recognized America as a nation and had sent five thousand troops and a fleet of ships. The French General Rochambeau and his officers would be accompanying Washington to Mt. Vernon. They had travelled by French ship along the coast while the Continental troops marched south.

She sighed and rested her head against the window frame. She’d written to the Marquis before he had returned to France and had asked him to go to visit her grandmother near Paris. She had enclosed a letter for him to take to grandmere. Christiane had explained her situation in the letter and had asked her grandmother for some assistance. Though grandmere would probably think her foolish for not following the tradition of the Pelletiers and supporting herself, Christiane hoped for some monetary help. She was very grateful for all the Washingtons had done for her, but she still wanted some security and independence of her own. From beneath her window, she heard her daughter’s chattering. This drew her away from the window.

When Lafayette had returned, he had written Christiane that he had indeed seen her grandmother at her chateau near Versailles and had brought back a letter and a box for Christiane. He had not been able to come before and had not trusted any other than General Washington himself to convey the box safely. Today she would know at last the contents of the letter and box. The suspense had been maddening.

Horses. She could hear the distant hoof beats now. Quickly she finished tidying herself. Usually when outsiders visited, she did not appear. But today she was needed to help translate the conversations of the French visitors. Over the last three years, she had abided by the old priest’s penance and had never dissembled her situation. Since she had not wanted her own social stigma to touch the Washingtons, she had always stayed out of sight whenever visitors had called. Better to remain unknown than experience the cut-direct. She now hurried down the stairs. Very few people were aware that Christiane and Sarah lived at Mt. Vernon or knew who they were.

All except Evan Marsh.

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