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La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

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Part Three

Chapter Twenty Scene 3

Afternoon sunlight poured through the window as Christiane knelt in front of her vanity seat. On the seat now was the chest that she had just unpacked from the small trunk. She recognized the chest well. Her hand trembled a little as she inserted the small gold key. Even though she knew what to expect, she still gasped.

Her mother’s jewels. During their travels, the gems had fallen out of their individual compartments and lay in tangled clumps. Painstakingly she began to sort the sets and untangle the strings of pearls from the golden chains and silver bracelets. The delicate strands took great concentration to unravel. The ruby pendant had wrapped itself around the sapphire brooch and a pearl ring. At last they were separated. She began untwisting another silver chain, a black pearl rope, and a string of petite emeralds. When only half done, she sat back on her heels. The remaining tangles would have to wait. Her hands were trembling a bit. And there was the letter.

For a few moments she merely held it in her lap. Then carefully she opened it and began to read.                                                                                                                                                                                            10,                                                                                                                                                                                          October 1779

My dear Christiane,

It has been a great surprise for me to hear

that you are in America. I often wondered where you

had gone with that Irishman and why. Now I know, at

least, where. From your letter, I learn that you are

a widow with two small children. I can understand why

then you have decided to appeal to me.

The Marquis has told me that you have allied your-

self with the revolutionists. I find this easy to

understand since you were born a rebel.

The Revolution is all the rage here, but, of course,

it is just idle foolishness.

I do not think for a moment that the court

would welcome a revolution closer to

home. The Marquis also tells me that you have made friends

with some of the most prominent members of American

society. Perhaps then all the time and effort

your mother and I expended on grooming you has not gone to waste.

You have asked for assistance. I have sent to

you what your mother promised you many times. It was

her wish. As for further aid, I offer you and your children

a home here at the Chateau Pelletier. I have missed you.

Madeleine Renee Marie Pelletier

Christiane stared at the pages in front of her. Then she read them again and stared again. No sound, no sight around her penetrated her consciousness. Memories dominated her. Images of her mother came in procession like turning the pages in a book. Maman holding her own small hand as they admired roses in the garden. Maman smoothing back her hair and kissing her forehead. Maman reading her poetry by the fire. And behind Maman the ever-watchful grandmere. She felt for the first time regret at having disappointed her forbidding grandmother. How lonely she must be. How long Christiane sat thus she did not know.

The sun caught the colors of a dozen different facets and flashed them over the sunlit walls and ceiling. Christiane came to herself and sighed at the sight.

The door flew open. “Mama, Mama. They’re going riding. Can we go–” Sarah had rushed in, but her excitement became hushed awe as she surveyed the rainbow of shimmering hues on the walls around and above her. Her mouth opened and closed several times. At last she asked, pointing to the reflections, “Is it magic?”

The wonder in her voice made Christiane laugh. “No, my dearest, come closer and see.”

The little girl, still glancing up and around, stepped carefully over to her mother. She breathed a long “Ooh” when she spied the jewels in her mother’s lap. “Pretty,” she exclaimed as she stroked a large opal with one finger.

“Yes, they are. My grandmother, your great grandmother, sent them to us from France.”

“To us?”

“Yes, my mother promised that they would be mine and when you grow up, some of them will be yours. Which do you like best?”  Without hesitation the little girl fingered the opal. “Then I will save that one specially for you. Now what is this about a ride?”

“They are going riding. I want to, too.”

“The general?”

“Yes, and some of the others. Can we go? Please? Can we?”

The mother made a quick decision. She was expected to help with the social activities and besides suddenly she wanted to be out of this room and into the world. “Yes, my dear, go tell Sally to come and help me into my riding habit.” The little feet flew away and the door slammed. Christiane could hear the piping voice summoning, “Sally! Sally!”

Christiane smiled as an unexpected feeling of confidence surged through her. A ride would be perfect this late afternoon. A few hours of solitude was sufficient, but really she had endured three years of solitude. No longer did she want to hear the voices and laughter from afar. She wanted to be there–among them–talking and laughing herself. Quickly she replaced the remaining jewels to their respective compartments. Oddly she remembered where each one belonged. “Merci. Merci, Maman, Grandmere,” she whispered, “This morning I was a dependent of this house. This afternoon I am a woman of means.”

Sally came in as Christiane was locking the chest. “Miss Sarah Renee say you be wantin’ to get dress,” she murmured. The little girl bounced up and down beside her.

“Yes, Sally,” Christiane said directly, “please get out my habit. I want to go riding. Quickly, please.”

Sally drew the simple summer-weight black cotton habit from the tall maple wardrobe. Soon Christiane was sweeping from the room and down the wide staircase. Sarah held her hand and ran to keep up. In the yard the party was just mounting up. “Zechariah!” Christiane called to the head groom, “will you bring out Penny please?”

“Yes, mistress,” he responded with a nod.

“Gentlemen,” she addressed them, first in English and then in French, “would you object to female companionship?”

The Generals smiled along with the others. Rochambeau answered in French, “Madame, we would be honored.” Zechariah led Penny out and Christiane mounted her. Then he lifted up her daughter who was accustomed to riding in her mother’s lap, straddling Christiane’s leg as it curved around the side-saddle horn.

They were off. General Washington led the way, proudly pointing out the beauty of the lands he loved so well. Rochambeau listened intently and smiled eagerly. The American’s enthusiasm was irresistible. Christiane rode close enough to offer brief translations when motions failed. The sun was warm and the breeze was light. The leaves were still lustrous green, though here and there a golden edge hinted at the coming autumn.

Sarah Renee chattered happily to anyone who was near. The men graciously accorded the precocious child the courtesy that they would have shown her mother and the little girl thought it her due. An adored child raised mainly among adults, she expected it.

Sarah was discussing raccoons with the American officer on her right while Christiane exchanged pleasantries with a French officer.  A great to do was made of leading Christiane around “treacherous” brooks and through the few gates. She drank in the attention as a wilted blossom revives in water. She hadn’t realized how she’d missed the camaraderie and gallantry she’d enjoyed among the officers.

The ride ended too soon. They arrived in the yard with a flourish. The two Generals watched benignly as the younger officers of both countries vied for the honor of helping Christiane dismount. She laughed delightedly and handed Sarah to the nearest pair of up-stretched hands; then allowed Laurens to help her down. In a flash she recalled the day years ago when they had met on Manhattan island at the beginning of this war for independence. She was no longer the poor young wife of that day. What would she do now with her own economic independence?
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