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La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

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Chapter Eighteen  Scene 4

Weeks later alone by her window, Christiane stood. The after-dinner discussion of the  baron’s new military orders, The Regulations for the Order and Discipline of the Troops of the United States had given something positive for her to think on. Already the  baron’s changes were being felt. The army ran on a central time. Each morning every brigade major made sure his watch matched the clock at headquarters. Also the American foot soldier now knew how to march in an easy medium pace in columns of four. Bayonets were no longer confused with javelins. Christiane lingered over the accomplishments, forestalling her own dilemma, but it was futile.

Her mind brought up again the thoughts she had been chewing on for the weeks since the shad run. Would she follow in her mother’s footsteps? As a girl in Paris, she had tried to change the direction of her life. But had she really? In Philadelphia she had forgotten her ambitions, her loyalties, herself. How had the major bewitched her so completely?

She had been so confused that she had mistaken the promise of marriage for marriage itself. And she had stepped over that invisible line. It was useless to plan any future now save the one she had earned. She had no one she could turn to. Why had she fought so long against the inevitable anyway? Her mother’s daughter she was and she might as well accept it. A feeling of hopelessness gripped her.

Carefully she mulled over the possibilities. To return to Philadelphia was distasteful. Williamsburg was unknown and too close to the Washingtons. Boston was too straight-laced. Only New York remained. Large, urbane and wealthy, it would be ideal. If she were going to sell herself, she would be able to demand the highest prices there. She would tell everyone here that she was bound for New Jersey to spend the summer with her son. Then she would go and find appropriate lodging in Manhattan. She did not think it would be difficult to begin a new life. But she must leave soon in order to earn enough funds to carry her over the last of her pregnancy and recovery. Timing was essential.

Her spirit rebelled against this plan; she gripped the window sill. A decision made. Was it the right one? Jean Claude would remain protected and untouched by her stigma. The child she was carrying would be provided for. Henry Lee would be hurt, but not shamed like he would if she stayed. But what about her? She stopped her mind and turned to bed. She was trapped in her own consequences, without hope. Her spirit called out for help. But what help could their be for her? An adulteress.

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The mid-May night breathed damp, but balmy. Christiane led the way through the quiet house. Mrs. Washington and Christiane mounted the steps, both too tired to talk. Shadows marched solemnly beside them. Christiane tried to suppress a yawn. They’d spent the evening at the aide station, helping to inventory and generally get all the medical supplies ready to move with the army. The day after tomorrow Mrs. Washington would leave for Virginia. She had once again invited Christiane to return with her. Christiane, of course, had declined. They stopped at the  general’s door. “Good night, Mrs. Washington,” Christiane said with another yawn.

“I am so sorry that I kept you so long, but you and I work together so well.”

“It is quite all right, madame,” Christiane answered and with that they parted. Christiane went on down the hall, her exhaustion causing her to feel trembly and weak. She stumbled into her room, placed the candle on the dressing table, and lay down immediately. Since she had left the window open, the spring dampness was in the room, but she was too tired to get up and close it.

After Mrs. Washington left, she would have to leave herself. Already her girth was growing. She had to hurry or she would not have time to carry out her plans. Henry had insisted that he would take her to New Jersey as soon as he was able; the roads they would have to travel were still enemy-held. So very soon she would have to go for a morning ride and just not return. Her disappearance would cause some stir and she would have to concoct a plausible lie in the note she would leave.

A very unsatisfactory end to her honest life. She had been lied to and now she was forced to lie to everyone. The thought of travelling alone again terrified her and the recognition of what she planned to do in New York filled her with self-loathing. Tears dripped from her eyes and she didn’t try to stop them.

Even though she had been deceived in Philadelphia, all the consequences were her own fault. Could she really go through with her plan? She listened to the muted sounds from the night, the leaves brushing against the house with the gentle breeze, the spring toads bellowing in the small creek, the undistinguished sounds of voices from below. Time was flowing on, carrying her in its current. By fall her child would come to term.

A light tap on her door startled her. “Who is it?”

“Mrs. Washington. May I please speak with you, Christiane?”

Hope at last!–Lyn

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