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La Belle Christiane

2011 copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Twenty-Three Scene 2

They had been on the road for almost nine days. Christiane had forgotten how wretched it was to travel by horseback or open wagon. She was in the saddle this afternoon, having taken her turn driving the wagon all morning. Alfred was at the reins now. Little Sarah was napping somehow in the back of the jolting buckboard. Finally Christiane could sit no longer and she slid down to walk beside her horse.

“Sore, madame?” her husband asked as he came alongside her.

“I am afraid so, John.” They had progressed to the point of easy exchange, though they still never addressed each other by name.

“Are we getting near, do you think?” He slid down and fell into step with her.

“It has been four years since I have travelled this way, but it seems to me that today or early tomorrow we should be there.”

“Good. I must confess I am weary of the road.”

She grimaced slightly, looking down at her mud-spattered, wrinkled black dress. “I must say that I agree with you. However, you and I have travelled more in our lives than most. Perhaps that is the reason we dislike it more than most.”

“An excellent explanation. Do you think that eventually we might actually settle down?”

“I hope so,” she said, suddenly subdued by the specter of Easthaven. They walked then silently, almost companionably. Christiane fretted inwardly about arriving at the Richardson;s. How was it possible to want something desperately, but to fear it equally? She was nearing her son, but….

John glanced down at her profile. It was easy to read the concern on her face. Suddenly he took pity on her. “Are you worried?” he ventured.

She looked up gratefully, glad he had asked. “Yes,” she said slowly, “I know that it was the right decision leaving Jean Claude at Meadow Farm for his safety, but will he agree? What will he think of me for having left him so long?”

“That is a difficult question. We will just have to take matters as they come and do the best we can. Surely time with you will demonstrate your love for him.”

She bit her lip, trying to hold back sudden tears. He had used “we.” “I don’t know what I will do if he holds it against me.”

Gently he touched her shoulder. “Take heart. Sarah does not seem to hold it against me that I have only just appeared.”

“That is true,” she said somewhat comforted, “but she is younger than her brother.”

“I am glad that you have confided in me. I will be what help I can.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, looking up into his eyes. He did not look away.

She owed him so much, needed to make up for the way she had hurt him. She wanted to say so many things, but she still felt a distance between them. Even if they had remained connected in heart and spirit, four years was a long time to be apart. In Philadelphia, he had staked everything on her once and had lost. Would he trust her again? It would take time and effort, but if his heart could be won again, she would accomplish it. They walked along and the afternoon sun warmed them, though the breeze still held a touch of winter and the coming evening promised to be cool and damp.

“Mother,” a sleepy voice called, “are we there yet?”

“No, Sarah.” Christiane waited for the wagon to catch up to her. “How was your nap?”

“Good. Can I ride with you?”

“Why don’t you ride and I’ll walk?”

John lifted the child onto Christiane’s saddle and Christiane led the horse on. She gave only partial attention to the father and daughter exchange. Her mind was still on her son and the Richardson’s.

#

About dusk, Christiane recognized the inn at a fork. “My lord,” she called.

He turned his horse, detecting her note of excitement. “Yes?”

“We’re very near now. Just a few miles.”

“Wonderful.”

“Here. Here,” Alfred murmured.

She glanced back at him, suddenly concerned. “Alfred?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

Her eyebrows came together. “Alfred, there won’t be any servants’ quarters.”

“Ma’am?” he said.

“I mean.” She turned to John for assistance. “They act differently. They call everyone by their first name.”

“I see. Quakers do that, don’t they?” John commented.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Well, we will be in their home. We will abide by their ways.” He turned to his man, “Accommodate yourself, Alfred. And remember don’t call me lord.”

“Yes, my lord, I mean, sir,” Alfred said uncertainly.

The last few miles went quickly. All concerns were consumed by their desire to reach their long-awaited destination. At last Meadow Farm was in front of them. Candles were just being lit and they watched them illuminate the windows, one-by-one. Down the rutted muddy road they hurried. Christiane nudged Penny and she trotted up the last half mile to home.

“Sarah Anne!” Christiane called as she ran to the familiar back door. It opened and there stood Jean Claude. Before she could think, she dropped to her knees and folded him into her arms. “Jean Claude,” she repeated over and again as she clung to him. The boy stood very still, not understanding.

“Christiane!” Sarah Anne appeared in the doorway. “It is thee! Oh, my dear, it is thee!” Christiane stood up and received the older woman’s embrace.

“Sarah Anne,” Christiane said, so relieved, so suddenly at peace.

Sarah motioned the others now coming up behind Christiane. “Come in by the fire.”

“The horses–” Eastham began.

“Samuel, will thee see to their horses and their wagon?” she spoke to a tall gray-haired man, waiting behind her. He nodded and left with John and Alfred.

Little Sarah still held her mother’s hand, but went as close as she could to the other child. Then the old woman took charge by pulling Christiane inside. The three all gravitated to the hearth and its warmth while Sarah Anne busied herself making a quick supper.

Standing with her back to the fire, Christiane watched Sarah Renee stare at the quiet, watchful Jean Claude. How unbelievably joyous she felt. After four years she was with her son again. But her mood saddened when she saw Josiah, sleeping quietly on a narrow bed just at the edge of the fire’s glow. John entered and came near Christiane. How she appreciated his closeness now and how difficult to remain silent. But she couldn’t presume anything.

How long before John and Christiane break through?–Lyn

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