La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Eight Scene 1

Dreaming, Christiane reached for Jakob. Suddenly a hand clamped down across her mouth and a heavy body crushed her own. She awoke instantly and screamed almost soundlessly into the wide hand. She struggled against his grip.

“There, there, girlie. Don’t get so upset. I’m aiming to pay for what I want. I would ask polite like if I thought you were just any doxy. You be pretty uppity. I figure the officers must keep you close here for their own pleasure. And I don’t blame ’em a bit. You are a choice piece and I’m for gettin’ my share.”

He chuckled softly and waited confidently for her to stop struggling. When she did not, he commented without concern, “So you want it rough? You think my money ain’t as good as an officer’s. Too bad.” Then he began to maul her in earnest, roughly ripping through her gown.

Christiane bit his hand and screamed, “Emma!” He cuffed her viciously across the face. She screamed again.

“Bitch!” he shouted. “You’ll be sorry!” He mounted her. Christiane fought him wildly now, scratching and writhing.

A muffled voice said, “Stop.” He looked up to see Emma, unveiled and standing directly above him. By the shadowy twilight of the hearth, her deformity looked terrifying. He opened his mouth to scream. Emma lifted up her musket; the kitchen exploded in smoke.

A tumult of people crowded into the small kitchen–sentries, officers, house servants, and Mrs. Hardy–all in night dress. Emma stood stolidly, still holding her weapon. Christiane, clutching together her split gown, lay weeping and trembling on her pallet. The attacker was sprawled backward and silent. Blood poured from a ragged hole in the center of his chest.

Mrs. Hardy pressed forward. “Emma! Are you all right?” Emma didn’t answer. Gently Mrs. Hardy took the musket from her and handed it to a sentry. Then she hugged the frightened girl.

Lt. Colonel Laurens pushed his way through. “Someone light some candles.” Then he saw Christiane. He knelt down, wrapped a blanket around her torn gown and helped her to the bench by the large kitchen table.

Just then Mrs. Washington bustled into the room, followed by another disheveled officer. “Did I hear a gunshot?”

Laurens answered, “We were just about to ascertain the facts, ma’am.”

“Milady,” Hamilton. the officer who’d come with her, interposed, “I can attend to this and relay the facts to you and the general.”

“No, Mr. Hamilton, thank you, but since I am already here, I would prefer to stay, especially since I see that this has involved Miss Christiane. I don’t want my husband disturbed at night anymore than he has to be. Would you go up and tell him what you have seen?”

Hamilton seated Mrs. Washington at the table next to Christiane, then swiftly left. “Christiane, what happened? Can you tell us?” she asked gently. For an answer Christiane turned and hid her face against the lady’s shoulder. Emma sat as mute as before. “Mrs. Hardy, what restorative do you have at hand?” Mrs. Washington asked.

“Get the bottle of brandy I keep in the far cupboard,” Mrs. Hardy ordered, gesturing toward one of the seving girls. “And two glasses. Quick now,”

“Please can one of you tell us what occurred?” Mrs. Washington again questioned gently.

Unexpectedly Emma spoke up. “I heard Christiane scream my name.” The girl struggled to make her words clear. The shadows hid the girl’s face, but she spoke, as if unaware that her face was exposed. “At first I just thought she was having one of her nightmares like she does every night. But she never called my name before and I heard odd noises, too. So I got up and looked. I saw him trying to…to hurt her.” The girl looked down.  She went on hesitantly, “Anyway I got out the musket that Aunt left under my bed. And I shot him.” The last was barely a whisper.

“I give her the musket for protection,” the cook spoke up. “All these strange men about.”

“It seems that it was a wise thing to do,” Mrs. Washington said. “Christiane, can you add anything?”

Christiane shook her head slightly without lifting her face.

“Does anyone recognize this man?”  Mrs. Washington asked.

There was a silence as everyone tried to look at the dead man without really looking at him. She waited patiently. Finally one of the soldiers cleared his throat.

“Yes?”  Mrs. Washington looked to him.

He cleared his throat again. “I think…I mean he be a day sentry.”

“A sentry, you say?” she asked, sounding put out. “Do you know his name?”

The man stepped gingerly over to the dead man and looked down. “Yes, Lady Washington, this be Private Cashmore, one of the sentries. He was rough–a mighty rough man.”

“Very well. I believe the body can be removed then. Mr. Laurens, please accompany this man and see where the body is taken. The general will want a complete report and most likely there will be an inquiry.”

The men left with the body, wrapped in a blanket, and Mrs. Hardy directed the serving girls to drag out the pallet as they left.

“Christiane, what were you doing in the kitchen at this hour?” Mrs. Washington asked.

At last Christiane looked up, but Mrs. Hardy answered for her. “Why it is where she sleeps, milady. All the other servant quarters and rooms are filled.”

A grimace passed over the lady’s face. “A more suitable place will be found.” With this she stood, drawing the still-dazed Christiane up with her and led her upstairs.

Mrs. Washington’s black maid, Oney, candle in hand and a shawl around her shoulders, was waiting at the door. She sighed in relief. “Is everything all right, Miss Martha?”

“Everything is quiet now, but we need to find….”

Christiane’s mind, gripped by shock, drifted away almost into unconsciousness. The lady, assisted by the maid, led Christiane up the stairs and into the general’s suite.

The maid disappeared silently through a doorway just the other side of the fireplace. A candle burned on the night stand beside the large curtained bed and the flames on the hearth crackled warmly. Christiane drew close to the fire.

The older woman stood beside her. “I am so sorry that one of the soldiers would….you won’t be left in such an unprotected position again.”

This broke through to Christiane. All the tension of the experience flowed out. Tears wet her cheeks. Sobs like waves shook her body. The older woman, her arm again around Christiane, led her over to the bed. Parting the bed curtain, they sat side-by-side on the edge.

Then the young maid came out of the doorway. She nodded to her mistress and left discreetly. The lady helped Christiane, still weeping softly, through the same doorway into the dressing room directly behind the fireplace. There she sat Christiane down on a small bed.

Christiane came to herself more and more as Mrs. Washington came back in the room, carrying a fresh nightgown. “I am certain that this will be much too large for you, my dear, but it is all I have.”

The door to the adjoining room opened and closed. Heavy footsteps walked across the floor and the general’s voice called softly, “Martha?”

“I’ll be right in, George. Christiane, here is soap and a fresh pitcher of water. You won’t have a fire in here, but your bed lies against the chimney. That should keep you warm through the night. I hate to leave you, but the Old Man needs his sleep and he won’t settle down till I’m beside him.” The older woman paused. “Is there anything else you need, my dear?”

Christiane looked around dis-orientedly. “I am to sleep here?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hardy was right. The house is full up. So you will sleep here in our dressing room. I told you that you would be well-protected from now on and you will be. I don’t think Lord Howe himself would dare disturb you in the general’s dressing room.” Her tone of concern deepened. “You will be all right, won’t you? Do you wish me to stay with you?”

“No.” Christiane tried to make sense of all the words, but couldn’t.

Mrs. Washington briefly touched Christiane’s shoulder. “We’ll talk in the morning. Good night, my dear.” The door closed behind her. By the light of the single candle, Christiane methodically and thoroughly washed herself and changed into the new gown. Then she slid under the covers of her new bed. They had been warmed. She sighed at the comfort, but suppressed a gasp that had nearly become a sob.

Another change in her life. Where is this all leading? –Lyn

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