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.
Tweet