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La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Seventeen Scene 4

Colonel Mensing droned on, oblivious to the major’s irritation. Major Eastham shifted in his seat and glanced again at the tall clock at the end of the room. 4:45 p.m. Soon candles would have to be lit. He had been sitting, standing, speaking, and listening in this room since early morning. The weight of a letter in his inside coat pocket kept reminding him that this would be last interminable meeting for him, but that was no consolation right now. He wanted to be in his room, holding Christiane.

A tap at the door startled them all. The sergeant at the door opened it cautiously, then turned back. “Begging your pardon, my lords. Major Eastham’s man wants to see his lordship on an urgent matter.”

All heads turned to the major as he rose and walked to the door. Outside Eastham closed the door behind him, nodded to the sergeant, and led Alfred a little way down the hall. “What is it?”

“I apologize, my lord,” Alfred whispered with his head down.”But I have waited and waited for your meeting to end and I finally decided that I must interrupt you. It is Madame Belmond. She has disappeared.”

“What?”  Ice flooded John’s stomach.

“She went riding this morning and hasn’t returned, my lord.”

“I saw her leave, but that was this morning, hours ago.” What had happened to her? His mind whirled with dreadful possibilities.

“I know, my lord. When she did not return to lunch, as she said she would, I went looking for her. When she was not back by two, I went out riding myself, looking for her. I had no luck, sir. Then,” the valet paused and looked up at his master, “I came back to the room to see if she had left any clue there as to where she was going. I found these under the paperweight on your desk.” He held up the two notes. “One is addressed to you and one to Lord Hazelton.” Their eyes met.

John stared at the two notes and then quietly unsealed the one for him with fingers that trembled. As he read and then re-read the note, the familiar, horrible icy flow that he had experienced before Christiane’s love steadily reclaimed him. “She has left me,” he said, low and gruff. He turned back to the room and entered quietly.

Again all eyes turned to him.

“Major,” Howe said, “we are just about to adjourn.”

“A moment, general,” he answered, steeling himself to do what he must do. He turned to the newcomer near the head of the table. “Lt. Beckett, I believe that your revolutionary name is Hansen?”

“Yes.”

“I have just received a farewell note from Madame Christiane Belmond.”

There were looks exchanged up and down the length of the table.

John ignored them. “She closes with a brief message for you, ‘Please inform Captain Hansen that I would hate to attend his hanging, but I will if he returns to Valley Forge, whatever the personal cost to me. Ask him if he knows Christiane Kruger.'”

A shocked silence followed his reading.

Finally General Howe spoke, “May I see that, major?”

“I would rather not, sir. The main part of the note is personal.”

“There is nothing else that is pertinent? I have your word as a gentleman?”

“You do, sir.”

“Very well.” The general turned to the young agent. “Can you shed any light on this, Beckett? Do you know this Christiane Kruger?”

“Of course. Everyone at Washington’s headquarters knows her. Who is Christiane Belmond?”

Howe answered, “She has been associated with Major Eastham this month.” His intonation left little doubt as to the type of association. “Now again who is Christiane Kruger?”

“Well, sir,” the spy began, “she has many roles. She does many duties at Washington’s headquarters, household managing, French translation. When Mrs. Washington is away at Mt. Vernon, she acts as the general’s hostess. When Mrs. Washington visits, she acts as her companion and social secretary.”

Another round of unbelieving silence ensued.

“Am I to understand that Mrs. Kruger has been here and has used the name of Belmond?” the spy asked.

“That seems to be the case,” Howe replied. “Major, would you read us the line again?”

John complied woodenly.

“This is preposterous,” Lord Hazelton objected finally.

Without speaking, the major handed him his note. The older officer read his own in obvious disbelief.

“I don’t wish to intrude,” General Howe broke in, “but does your note shed any more light?”

“Not very much. She does say that she is innocent of any intrigue.”

“Major Eastham, I apologize for having to ask you this, but I am sure you understand my position. Is that correct?” Howe pursued. “Did Madame Belmond at any time try to use your association to gain military information?”

“No, general, on my honor as a gentleman, never at any time did we discuss military subjects.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Colonel Mensing said in a low voice.

“Would you care to repeat that, sir?” John said menacingly. His tone promised the challenge of a duel at the merest hint of further accusation.

Mensing pursed his lips.

The general went on, “I don’t understand then. Why was she here? It makes no sense.”

“She left Washington a few weeks after Germantown to visit her infant son somewhere in New Jersey,” Beckett said.

“That is what she told me also,” the major said grudgingly. “And if you remember, this all began when she was detained by sentries.”

Beckett continued, “No exact date was given for her return, but according to what has just been said here, she must have been intercepted enroute to Valley Forge. We did expect her to come back sometime before Mrs. Washington arrived.”

“Evidently that is true and she had returned today,” Howe said matter-of-factly. He turned to Eastham. “You hadn’t quarreled?”

“No, general,” he murmured.

“Then we must assume that she saw Beckett and feared exposure and a charge of espionage, so she fled. Under these circumstances and to prevent scurrilous gossip, I believe I will have to read both letters.” He put out his hand. Both Eastham and Hazelton gave him the notes reluctantly. The general read them quickly and looked up at the assembled men. “There is no hint of intrigue in either letter. Major, no doubt Madame Belmond feared for you also. Matters, of course, would have had to be handled differently if she were still here. There would have had to have been a formal military inquiry. Now it seems pointless.” He handed back the notes. “I am sorry, major,” Howe said genuinely.

Eastham nodded stiffly.

“I just cannot believe this all happened,” Lord Hazelton put in.

Mensing gave a look that said he believed it and more, but he carefully said nothing.

“It would seem that your usefulness as an agent has ended, Lieutenant Beckett,” Howe observed. “You will be re-assigned to more mundane duties, I’m afraid. And, unless anyone has anything further to offer, we will adjourn. I, for one, am sick of this room.”

Men stood and began to move about. They cast looks at Eastham, but held their tongues.

“I beg your pardon, Major Eastham,” Beckett said brashly as he stepped quickly over to catch the officer before he left. “I do not wish to be impertinent, but from your exchanges with the general may I assume that your relationship with Mrs. Kruger was more than just friendship?”

“She was his mistress,” Mensing could not resist saying.

Eastham and Mensing eyed each other with mutual distaste.

“May I congratulate you then, sir?”

“I don’t understand, Lieutenant,” John replied. He only wanted to escape this awful room.

“You, an English gentleman, have succeeded where no colonial has. Every officer in the Continental Army has thought of trying his hand at seducing the beautiful Mrs. Kruger and all failed. Why it was even rumored that the Marquis de Lafayette tried and failed. She evidently was playing her cards very carefully. Her first husband was a mere corporal, a farmer from the frontier, if you can believe that. Anyway just before she left, she became engaged to one of Washington’s captains, Henry Lee of the Virginia Lees. Quite a catch. I would love to tell him how his intended has whiled away her December.”

The major fixed his eye on the young spy. “You are impertinent, sir.” With that he left without further comment to anyone.

Hazelton approached the enthusiastic lieutenant. “Did you try your hand with Christiane?”

“Of course.”

“Then it seems that some English officers are more successful than others,” Hazelton said acidly left also.

When the major arrived at his room, Alfred was waiting anxiously, but all he said was, “Will you want your tea now, my lord?”

John rested his hand on his servant’s shoulder. “Not now. Go and have yours.”

Alfred searched his lord’s face. He read there a desire to be alone, so he left quickly.

John went to stand by the fire. His mind was a tangle of thoughts and feelings. He could almost understand her leaving in light of Beckett’s arrival. But it demonstrated a complete lack of trust in him on her part. It was inconceivable that she could distrust him so completely, but it must be true. She had left. He read once more her note. It simply made no sense.

What facts had caused her to distrust him? His head ached and he felt physically miserable. The worst part was that he could not go to her or even communicate with her. She was the enemy and at the very seat of the rebellion. The thought that he might have put his trust in the wrong person chilled him. Slowly he pulled out the letter of resignation from his inner pocket and dropped it into the flames. Someday, he promised himself, I will ask her what I am guilty of.

#

Miles from Philadelphia, Christiane sat in her bed in her room at the headquarters. It was larger than her room at Morristown and had its own fire. She had snuffed out her bedside candle and now pensively watched the flames on the hearth. The warm fire, a nourishing supper, and two glasses of port had calmed her, but the thoughts and feelings she had avoided all day were closing in on her now. Tears slid unheeded out of her eyes and down her face. Could I have really been duped so completely?
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La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Seventeen Scene 3

The stranger slid from the saddle and looked around uncertainly. One of the grooms approached. The man questioned him. The groom called to a junior officer on the porch below.

While the groom led the horse away to the nearby stable, the young officer saluted the stranger and they exchanged words. The two men turned and the young officer motioned toward the house to the windows above her. The stranger looked up then, giving her a clear look at his face. She gasped. This man was no stranger. Captain Hansen! She knew him well as his liaison duties often brought him to Washington’s headquarters.

The meeting, the important meeting, upstairs. She gasped again and her mind raced. She had to be sure it was he and that he was bound for the meeting. The two men headed toward the main entrance. If he were going up to the floor above to the meeting, he would go via the front staircase. She halted. If it were Hansen, he might identify her as easily as she had recognized him.

Quickly she drew the hooded cape around her, tying it at the neck and deftly arranging her hood. She stepped out her door and down the hall to the landing. The two men were almost to the second floor. She paused and watched them. He was the right height and build to be Hansen. As they went by her, she caught another look. It was Hansen–unmistakably. She stood rooted to the spot. Then the two men were gone, up the remaining stair and onto the third floor landing.

She sought the refuge of her own room again. Inside she leaned back against the door as though the world were spinning too fast. Hansen, a spy. She was aghast at his treason, but more horrified by the implications of his appearance here for her. What if he saw her and revealed her true identity? Without a doubt she would be arrested as a spy. The circumstantial evidence of who she was, where she was, and with whom would be too damaging.

The fears that she had had when first arriving in Philadelphia re-attacked in force and made her queasy. Her pulse pounded at her temples. Could she count on John’s protection absolutely now? Even if he did defend her, would it only cast suspicion on him–to have been intimate with a suspected spy? It could destroy his reputation for the rest of his life. I might be imprisoned or even hanged. She stood, wringing her hands helplessly.

Sternly she took hold of herself. She and Hansen must never meet here. For her own protection, for John’s reputation, she must go for now. Mechanically she brought out her new saddlebags. Carefully she packed her things, trying to make them as compact as possible.

Henry’s ring. She must have that if she were going to Valley Forge. She paused. Wouldn’t it be better to go back to the Richardsons? But she had been waylaid by traveling two days alone in the first place. She could reach the Forge before nightfall and suddenly she longed to be among familiar faces, trustworthy hearts. She fumbled in the jewel box atop the dressing table. There was the chaste garnet ring underneath the pearls and emeralds. She stood then, ready to leave. But how could she leave like this? She must leave John some word. He might think she had met with foul play.

Over to the small desk by the window she went. Taking pen in hand, she paused to think.

John,

I have learned facts today that have deeply shaken my confidence in you.

I can only hope that they are untrue.

She was forced to pause. Somehow just writing the words: wife and child would shake her too greatly, they were too hurtful. Besides if he knew her accusation beforehand, he might be able to cover his tracks too well. Should she mention Hansen as her reason for leaving? She chewed her lip. Suddenly it occurred to her that Valley Forge would be safe for her only as long as Hansen were here. If he returned knowing of her lapse of chastity and loyalty–the very idea nauseated her.

More importantly how could she let him continue his treachery now that she knew of it? Innocent lives could be lost and the very outcome of the Revolution compromised. But he would never return if he knew she would identify him as a spy. She looked down at the paper. Quickly she added.

I must leave now. I will try to get word to you. Please inform Captain Hansen that I would hate to attend his hanging, but I will if he returns to Valley Forge–whatever the personal cost to me. Ask him if he knows Christiane Kruger. Goodbye, Christiane

That would do it. Hansen would be foolhardy to return now and she had terminated any possibility of his continued spying or future blackmail.

She felt a hard lump like coal, forming in her stomach. This note burned her bridges just as Washington had during last winter’s retreat. For a few days the chasm between John’s politics and hers had narrowed and now in a matter of hours it was wider than ever.

Another thought halted her. She would hate to leave without saying farewell to Lord Hazelton. A note would have to suffice. The pen poised over the new page. She did not have time to wait for inspiration, so she wrote:

Dear Lord Hazelton,

It grieves me to leave you so abruptly. The situation is too complex to explain. You will always be in my memories. Please do not believe any unkindness about me. I am innocent of any intrigue. Au revoir. Christiane

Quickly she sanded, folded, sealed with wax, and addressed the two papers. Then she tucked both under the large glass paperweight on the major’s desk.

For a moment she scanned the room, the place where she had experienced so much joy. She had planned to leave it on the morrow, but how different was her departure now. So many emotions crowded her heart that she could not sort them out. The meeting would not go on indefinitely. I must make haste or all will be lost.

Closing the door behind her, she tried to make her way to the stable as naturally as possible. Once in the stable she summoned a groom and mounted her new mare. The groom led her out into the yard. She gathered the reins then and cast one final glance at her home for the last month. In the window on the third floor, a man was looking down at her. He waved at her. It was John. She waved in turn. Could she signal him somehow? No, he was too far from her and  her feelings about him were too tangled now.

Penny pulled at the bit impatiently and Christiane left the yard without a backward look. Not wishing to call attention to herself, she moved slowly through the streets, which were still decorated for the Christmas holiday. She bid her mare Nancy a silent farewell as she passed near the widow’s street. Finally she reached the outskirts of Philadelphia. Cunningly she did not increase her speed all at once, but gradually. She had an excellent idea of the position of Valley Forge now and she wanted to avoid roadblocks at all costs. A route over the fields and through the woods would be shorter and safer.

The intervening miles went by without complications. The trim Pennsylvania farms took almost no notice of a lady out riding on the frosty day. Whenever thoughts of what the day had brought forth surfaced, she pushed them to the back of her mind. She could only deal with the journey and the cold for now, nothing more.

It was late afternoon when she finally paused at a farm yard. She could see the main road now. She turned Penny toward it. The road was sure to be in rebel hands this close to the winter quarters. She began, sorting ideas to explain her new horse, new clothes, and her arriving alone, but the anxiety and cold had paralyzed her brain.

Penny, though tired herself, seemed to sense that they were near their destination. Her pace quickened and before long the rebel camp was in sight. Christiane saw the sentry post and slowed the eager mare.

“Halt!. Friend or foe?” the sentry challenged her.

“I am expected at headquarters. I am Lady Washington’s companion.”

“Lady Washington ain’t come yet.”

“I know, but I have.” Suddenly Christiane felt totally exhausted and completely numb with the cold. “Please, private, I am unarmed woman. I am a threat to no one. Please have someone escort me to the general.”

The private looked her over once more. “You escort this here lady to headquarters.”

A gangly frontiersman by his looks, stood up. He had been squatting and warming his hands by a small fire. Not saying a word, he took Penny’s reins and started off. A brisk walk brought them to an imposing brick house. The private handed Christiane the reins and left.

Afraid she might already be frostbitten, she hitched her horse to the post herself and stepped quickly to the dark green door. She clapped the brass knocker resoundingly. The icy winds whipped and flayed her, making her feel naked and battered. A great shiver went through her.

At last the door opened. “Yes?” a large woman asked.

“I am Mrs. Christiane Kruger. I would like to see the general.”

“We weren’t told to expect anyone,” the woman replied cautiously.

Christiane wanted to scream in frustration, but she did not have the strength. A day of emotional turmoil and frigid travel had almost drained her. She made her voice firm, using a precious amount of her energy. “I am expected. The general just did not know exactly when I would arrive. I am Lady Washington’s companion and I am Captain Henry Lee’s fiancée.”

When the woman still did not open the door wider, Christiane pushed her way inside, forcing the woman to step back. “Show me to the general and have someone see to my horse please.” Christiane’s desperate determination won out.

The woman led her to a door nearby. “Mrs. Christiane Kruger,” she announced as she opened the door. Christiane stepped through the door and into the candlelight. The conversations ceased with her entry. The startled men rose automatically. She tossed back her hood and scanned the occupants.

“Christiane?”

She recognized Henry’s voice immediately. She had not expected him to be at headquarters and something in the quality of his exclamation released her emotions.

“Oh, Henry!” she gasped, rushing to his arms. “Oh, Henry.”

“Christiane, how did you get here?”

“Oh, Henry.” She wept. “I’m so terribly cold and tired.” And heartbroken, she longed to add.

General Washington came over. “Captain Lee, please escort Mrs. Kruger to the room at the top of the stairs. It has been waiting for her. I’ll order food and drink to be brought up and you must start her a fire there immediately.”

Christiane looked up as though she were about to speak.

“We will speak later, Christiane,” the general urged. “Go now please. You will feel better if you follow my instructions. Captain, stay with her till the girl arrives.” He urged them out and closed the door behind them.

He wore a thoughtful look as he rang for the housekeeper, but he spoke wryly to mask it, “Gentlemen, always remember: never question a weeping woman. It is always useless and sometimes dangerous.” There was a chuckle over this and then the former conversations resumed.
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La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Seventeen Scene 2

“Of course not, Why would he tell her about them?” Alfred answered reproachfully. “Come now and I’ll give you a hand. I won’t be needed here for a few hours.” The door closed behind them.                 For several seconds Christiane was too stunned to feel anything. Then she became aware of the sensation of suffocation. She gasped for breath and realized that, in fact, she had stopped breathing for those few moments. A wife? A daughter? She must have misunderstood them. Must have.

Painstakingly she reviewed the conversation she had heard. Try as hard as she could, she could not devise a different interpretation. If they had been talking about some other major, some other lordship, why had Alfred said he was most pleased? From Alfred’s manner toward her, she knew that her liaison with John had pleased Alfred immensely. He would not care about any other officer’s love interest, only his own lord’s.

She stepped out from the screen and, clenching and unclenching her hand, she paced tensely. If only John were here, but he was in his important meeting on the floor above. How could she broach this subject to him? And whatever his answer, how would she verify it? Just moments before she had been so secure in her trust of him. Now she was staggered. She had to know if this were true. She could go nowhere with him till she knew the truth.

Who could she ask? Not Alfred. He would only want to protect his master. Lord Hazelton? It would put him in an awkward position if it were true. And he might lie to cover another man’s indiscretion or to preserve her feelings. Anyway Hazelton was in the meeting also.

Mrs. Loring? Yes. That woman knew every bit of gossip worth knowing and she had been with General Howe since Boston. Christiane did not wait. Within moments she was rapping at the general’s door.

Mrs. Loring, upon hearing Christiane’s voice, invited her in. “Christiane dear, I did not expect such an early call from you this morning,” the blonde said languidly. Indeed the Sultana was still abed in a luxurious cream, satin negligee. Her long flaxen hair still hung freely around her shoulders. It occurred forcefully to Christiane that, though she knew exactly what she wanted to find out, she had not taken any thought of how to achieve it. The direct approach here was completely out of the question.

“Good morning,” Christiane began, her mind racing ahead trying to form a plan. “I was just out on my way for a ride and I thought I would stop in for a minute. I keep hoping it might warm up a bit more.”

“Dream on, my dear. Winter. I hate it. How you can enjoy riding in the cold. Not for me. Is your major at that dreary meeting, so hush-hush?”

“Yes,” Christiane answered, still groping. She would have to be bold. Sitting down on the bed beside Mrs. Loring, she turned and said conspiratorially, “May I confide in you?”

A light flashed in the blonde’s eyes. “Of course, my dear, who would you confide in but me?”

“John, Major Eastham, has asked me to go away with him.”

“Really?” Mrs. Loring probed with interest, “Where?”

“The West Indies.”

“The tropics! What a delightful place to spend the winter. If only William could get away. Eastham will resign his commission then?”

“Yes, if I consent.”

“Well, what’s hindering you?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Christiane stood up and turning her back to her companion, walked casually over to the vanity. “I mean–” she kept her voice light, “–a man, with a wife and a child, how generous can he be?” It had come out just right. She had betrayed no concern, not natural to a mistress.

Mrs. Loring chuckled. “Oh, them. William told me all about that in New York. Quite a model of faithfulness was the major till you came along.” The blond turned to flattery. “But how could a man let a woman like you just pass by?”

The blonde’s voice took on a dreamy quality. “That’s what William said to me in Boston when he asked me to come with him. How could a man let a woman like you just pass by?”

While the vain woman lost herself in romantic reverie, Christiane fought for control. She gripped the back of the gilded vanity chair while alternate waves of frost and fire inundated her body. She must get away and think.

She mastered herself. “Then you think I should go?” she asked coolly, surprising herself with her own performance.

“Oh, yes, he is fabulously wealthy. The situation would only be to your advantage. After a while in the Indies, you could always persuade him to take you back to England or better yet France. And he is such an amusing man, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is. I thank you for your advice. Now I must be off for my ride. I will see you later then?” Christiane continued automatically while her heart still raced.

“Of course, my dear. Good day.”

Christiane let herself out. Her feet took her back to the empty room. Tossing aside her cape, she paced in agitation. Her mind taunted her with the accusation of John’s deception while her heart cried out that it could not be true.

Why hadn’t Lord Hazelton told her the truth? But why would he? He would assume that she was like her mother. Mistresses did not care about wives and children. Hazelton would not suspect that she had desired marriage and that John had promised it. She had heard of sham weddings where a man paid someone to perform a bogus ceremony, but was the major really capable of that? Or had he intended somehow to promise marriage, but to postpone it? Would he have let her teach her son to call him father, only to leave them when he decided to return home? Or had he convinced himself that since she would never be in England with him that an invalid marriage was as good as a valid one in spirit and that he would provide for her in any case?

How did a wife and daughter fit into his life? Why had he been at the fort those years before he came down to enter these hostilities? Did a man with a wife and a child stay away from home for years? A man might if he were desirous to be away from that wife. She knew that most noble marriages were arranged for considerations of money and family connections.

Had any of his story at the inn been true? Had he substituted a dead wife for a very live one that he could not tolerate? Her head hurt from thinking. Her heart was pained by being forced to feel these thoughts. When would the meeting be over and what would she do when it was? She wandered over to her place by the window and stared down. A feeling of being in limbo clutched her. Their carefully laid plans, what would become of them now?

How long she stood there was uncertain. The outdoor scene below her moved through its daily routine while she watched in a trance. Till suddenly something unusual caught her eye. A stranger, tall in the saddle, wearing a brown greatcoat galloped into the yard.
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