La Belle Christiane

2011 copyright by Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Ten, Scene 5

Dressed in her long, heavy flannel gown and stocking feet, she paced the room back and forth. The wind rattled the window and the candle’s shadows danced to each gust. The minutes accumulated into hours. Her head ached and her eyes were dry with fatigue. Still she paced. Finally she paused by the darkened window. By pressing her face close to the glass, she could see outside. The moon was nearly full and the stars were brilliantly crystal, shining coldly down on her. Resting her head against the icy window pane, she pondered what she should do.

Suddenly she knew clearly what she wanted to do. She wanted to leave. But if she followed both the General’s and Henry’s orders, it would take, at least, a week or two for a letter to reach headquarters and then more for a carriage to be sent for her. How could she force Jean Claude to leave with her? How could she leave the Richardsons completely alone? At this the tears hovered closely again. Fiercely she pushed them back.

How could she explain her true feelings to the Richardsons? They would not understand her desire for a different life. How could she face them, knowing that their dream of having her and her son close by in the way they had assumed was doomed?

She knew also that if they were the kind of people that would have met this news with arguments and anger, they would have made it easier for her. She could have felt righteous about asserting her own will. But she knew that they would not try to stop her. They were too good, too kind to hurt. She could not face them. She needed to talk this over with Henry.

Through the window her glance encountered the barn below. An overwhelming urge to be safely back at headquarters in her accustomed role came over her. She had her mare, Nancy. She could leave tonight. Her own audacity shocked her. She could not go alone, she argued sensibly with herself. But her distraught mind shrieked, I want to go now!

An old idea came to her. She moved over to her bed and knelt beside it. Silently she tugged out her old saddlebags. From them, she pulled out Jon’s buckskins. She had not been able to part with them. They had stayed with her–all she had left of Rumsveld and Jacob. Now she was desperate enough to try a masquerade. She couldn’t wait for Henry to come for her. The longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave with or without Jean Claude.

Quickly she shed her feminine attire and examined the worn frontier outfit. If she were to succeed in her disguise, she would have to take pains to mask her womanly form. Eating regularly had filled her curves out nicely. Even the long fringed jacket would not hide them. Soon she was wrapping a light shawl from a point just under her arms to the top of her thighs. It gave her a uniformly thick trunk and held her breasts flat. Then she added the cotton flannel shirt and buckskin breeches and jacket. She plaited her hair into two tight braids which she pinned flat against the back of her head and drew Jon’s red, fox-tail hat.

Now she must leave a note for Sarah and Josiah. She couldn’t bear to cause them worry by just disappearing. She sat at the bedside table, quill in hand, waiting for inspiration. She must write something soon before the low candle burned out completely.

Dear Sarah Anne and Josiah,

I am sorry to leave you like this, but….

I have my reasons. Please do not worry. I will return

as soon as possible. Tell Jean Claude I love him and will return.

Christiane

She laid the note on her pillow. Carefully she gathered up a few items and put them in the saddlebags for the journey and her brown dress, underclothing, stockings, shoes. She would have to have an outfit to change into once this charade was over. After glancing around the room, she quietly left. She paused before the old couple’s bedroom door. If only Jean Claude was not sleeping in their room, she could see him once more.

Silently she walked down to the end of the hall and down the steps. From the pantry, she took a half loaf of brown bread and filled her water skin from the covered pitcher there. Then she stood before the side door.

A shiver of fear and cold sliced through her. Could she walk out into that chilling darkness, mount Nancy, and leave? Before fear could stop her, she blew out the candle and stepped out into the night. As she marched briskly to the barn and harnessed Nancy, she shivered in earnest. Then she walked the horse down the moonlit lane and she did not look back.

Whoa! Christiane, what are you doing? The phrase above in red–she calls it fear, But I would call it caution.  I think it is fear that is driving her. Acting rashly out of fear can end badly. Fear can cause people to do and say things that they shouldn’t. But what exactly is Christiane is afraid of?

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