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La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Part Three

Chapter Twenty Scene 2

She paused to frown. Evan Marsh, an old friend of the Washingtons, had come upon Mrs. Washington and herself just a few months after they’d arrived at Mt. Vernon and had been touring the plantation together. Christiane had remained silent after the introduction, painfully aware of her obvious state of pregnancy. In the years since then he had been a frequent visitor. At first Christiane had tried to avoid him as she did all other guests. But he always asked after her and usually Mrs. Washington had summoned her to join them. Christiane, intuitively aware of his interest in her, had anticipated his making some sort of advance toward her, but so far he had not. She shook her head and hurried down the remaining steps. She had enough to think about today. Evan Marsh would have to wait.

Mrs. Washington and Sarah Renee were already, hand in hand, on the front steps, facing the courtyard. Christiane hesitated inside the doorway, her heart beat quickening. Beside her stood Breechy, the liveried, gray-haired butler, waiting his master’s return.

The servants, like the inhabitants of a small village, had been as excited over the general’s homecoming as Martha herself and had been anxious to give a good showing to the foreign visitors of their home. Lund Washington, the general’s manager and cousin, was eager to show off the additions he had made according to the owner’s instructions and every aspect of the house and grounds had been thoroughly prepared. To Christiane, the aged Negro butler with his shining brass buttons seemed to embody their collective efforts. Then the round German housekeeper rustled up beside Christiane and peeked out also.

The horses cantered up the still green, tree-lined lane. The blue and white uniforms and sleek mounts made a fine military spectacle. Christiane stood a bit straighter just watching them.

General Washington on his white charger led the procession. As he came closer, he let his horse gallop ahead as though the call of home had overpowered him. He leaped from his mount and bounded up the walk like a much younger man. The tall, somewhat severe-looking husband embraced his small, plump wife. His hug said to all, he was home and he was delighted.

The embrace lasted too long for Sarah. “Hello, General,” she piped up, tugging his coat tail.

The tall face looked down. For a moment he just stared. Then he smiled. “I’ll wager that you are Sarah Renee.”

“Yes, and you’re Gramma Martha’s General,” she answered happily.

“Yes, I am.” The remainder of what he said was lost in the arrival of the other officers. Quickly he introduced his wife to General Rochambeau.

The old butler, his head held high, wordlessly ushered Christiane out the door and down the few steps. Christiane glanced back and saw the housekeeper take her place in the center door of three. A colonnades fronted the main house which was white with a red roof. From all the green-shuttered windows peeped black faces and all around the edges of the yard, slaves gathered to see the master again. The general acknowledged his servants by a special sweep of his hat to them and a chorus of “Welcome, welcome!” flowed over the house and grounds. A half a dozen smiling grooms claimed the horses and led them away on the circle drive.

Christiane advanced till she stood just a few feet from the Washingtons. The French general was making polite conversation as best he could. “This is your grandchild…?” he asked, pointing to Sarah.

“No,” Mrs. Washington replied, “she is the daughter of a friend.” She glanced around and motioned Christiane to join them.

“General Washington,” Christiane greeted him with a spontaneous smile and a graceful curtsey.

“Christiane, how good it is to see you again,” the general said warmly. He grasped her hand and kissed it. “General Rochambeau, allow me to introduce a close friend of ours, Mrs. Christiane Kruger.”

She curtseyed politely as she extended her hand to the Frenchman. She was grateful for the general’s warm greeting. She felt calmer now. “An honor, General Rochambeau,” she murmured in her best court-style French.

“Ah, you are the Frenchwoman,” he sighed. “Mr. Laurens told me a beautiful Frenchwoman lived at Mt. Vernon.”

The conversation continued politely as the French and American officers went through the entrance and flowed through the spacious central hall to the rear piazza, overlooking the Potomac River. Christiane observed General Washington examine this newly added piazza and nod his approval to Lund. The household staff deftly came and went, serving luncheon.

The fall flowers: bronze cockscomb, pink and yellow zinnias and deep red roses, could be seen from the gardens beyond. The day could not have been more perfect for an outdoor gathering.

The French officers were obviously impressed by their surroundings. It would have been difficult not to be impressed by the simple elegance of Mt. Vernon. Christiane’s apprehension melted as she enjoyed a taste of the comradeship she had known before in this company. Everyone accepted her with the same warmth that the American and French generals had shown her. Little Sarah ignored her mother’s motions and settled herself next to Martha and at the general’s invitation quickly climbed into his lap. Into this milieu Breechy announced formally, “Mr. Evan Marsh.”

General Washington immediately stood and greeted his long-time neighbor. “Evan, it is good to see you again. Allow me to introduce you to General Rochambeau.” The amenities were observed and then tall, trim Evan was sitting by one of the square columns. Christiane had to admit he cut as fine a figure as any of the officers present and she reminded herself that he was comparable to her late Jakob in age. As was his way, he watched the festivities with interest and talked easily to the officers nearest him.

Christiane found that she could not ignore their exchange when General Washington walked over and sat down beside him.

“Evan,  I was so sorry to hear about your losing Leah. I regret I was away. She was a fine woman, a fine woman.”

“Thank you, George. It is good to see you home at long last.”

“It has been a long stretch, hasn’t it? I just wish the thing was done.”

“Well, this alliance may be it, don’t you think?”

“We hope so. We hope so.” A worried look came over the general’s face.

“By the way,” Evan said, evidently trying to lighten the tone, “I have a few more good horses for you, if you need them.”

“We always need them. I have appreciated the ones you have contributed each year.”

“It is the least I can do, George. I wish I were able to send more.” The two men were interrupted at this point. They shook hands and Washington moved on. Evan glanced around and caught Christiane looking at him. He smiled lazily and somehow this caused her to blush. Studiously she looked away.

Lunch ended and the visitors drifted off to their rooms in the care of servants. Sarah Renee was nearly asleep on the general’s broad shoulder, so he and his wife, holding hands, carried the child to her room for her nap.  Christiane smiled at Evan, but did not linger. Breechy had told her the general had ordered Christiane’s package delivered to her room. Her heart pounded as she went to discover what her grandmere has sent her.
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