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La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright by Lyn Cote

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Chapter Twenty-Two Scene 2

The next morning four sat in the bright dining room at breakfast at the cozy table again. Sarah Renee nibbled eggs and toast and chattered happily and bounced in her chair. Lord Eastham ate heartily, answered cheerfully, and directed occasional comments to his hostess. Mrs. Washington smiled as she conversed and ate. Silent, Christiane sipped her tea. Her plate remained empty.

“Christiane, aren’t you going to eat?” the lady inquired at last.

“I’ve lost my appetite,” Christiane replied pointedly.

Mrs. Washington ignored this. “Lord Eastham, I found Will’s and my husband’s letters very interesting. I haven’t had a chance to give them to Christiane. I will leave them with you two. Sarah, I think you and I will visit the cabins today, shall we?”

“Oh, Gramma Martha, can major come, too?”

“I think he needs to discuss some matters with your mother this morning.”

“But–”

“Mrs. Washington is right, Sarah. Don’t worry we will have plenty of time together.”John wanted to add “the rest of your life,” but he decided to be patient. Better to settle things with her mother first. His hostess and child left together. The servants cleared and left the two silently at the table–with two letters between them. Finally Christiane picked them up, “Shall we take a walk, my lord?” she asked archly.

“I am yours to command,” he replied nonchalantly, though his heart sped up. They left the room. Sally appeared with Christiane’s shawl. He put it about her shoulders, being careful not to touch her. They walked out into the crystal clear day, so spectacular after the cloudy day and night before. When they reached the orchard of just-budding apple trees, Christiane stopped and read the letters. Then she handed them to him.

“Well?” he asked finally when she did not speak.

She looked at him blankly. “I still can’t believe it.”

To him this was the final stroke. His anger flared. “How can you be so stubborn? You do not want to believe. I am not married. I did not lie to you.”

“Maybe you did not lie to me about being married, but you did lie to me about being sterile.”

“I did not. I told you what I thought to be the truth. Sarah Renee is a miracle child. She is the only child I have every fathered and most probably the only one I ever will.”

As Christiane turned away from him, he was at a loss of what to say. Didn’t she understand that there was only one course open to them? Philadelphia was over four years ago, and, even if she no longer cared about him at all, Sarah must be protected. Christiane must realize that. A wave of fatigue swept over him. “Christiane, let’s not go any farther with this. We will have to marry. You know it as well as I do.”

Something in the dreariness of his tone stung her pride. “I am sorry to inconvenience you so, my lord. Indeed marrying me is a bleak prospect.”

“Christiane–”

She cut him off. “Evan Marsh does not think so. He has proposed marriage and he will adopt Sarah.”

“Christiane, I am Sarah’s father.” The mention of another man inflamed him.

“There is nothing I can do about that. It is true. But you have no legal right to her. She’s mine.”

His expression became fixed, a mask for his blazing anger. She had gone too far. “Sarah Renee is my child,” he said coldly, “and I will be her father. Stop this foolishness now.” They faced each other, glaring implacably.

The remembered agony of knowing Sarah was on the way and facing all the shame alone flooded Christiane. “I hate you,” she said quietly.

There was much he wanted to fling back at her, but manfully he held his tongue. He took a deep breath. He would not lost his temper. “Outfit yourself in a suitable dress and I will find a parson. We marry today.” He strode away.

She almost screamed in frustration. She would never marry him. He was an Englishman. He was hateful. How could she have ever thought of marrying him?

Clutching the plaid shawl around her, she rushed away to find Mrs. Washington. At the third cabin she found the lady admiring a newborn. Christiane stood near the door. She tried to show polite interest, but her agitation got the better of her. “Mrs. Washington, I must speak to you.”

The lady looked up and nodded. Carefully she returned the infant to its mother.

“Sarah, why don’t you go up to the kitchen? Aunt Ruth is baking your favorite cookies this morning.”

“Goody!” And the child was gone.

“Come along then, Christiane.” Mrs. Washington took Christiane’s elbow and they stepped outside together. Just yards from the cabins, Mrs. Washington asked, “Well, what did he say?”

“He says I must marry him today,” Christiane answered, still angry.

“So soon? Well, I suppose he feels he’s had to wait long enough.”

Christiane pulled away and then turned back to face her friend. “I don’t want to marry him.”

“What foolishness is this? He came here to marry you. What else would have brought him? He only had to prove his single state so that you two could marry. Will’s letter takes care of that. What is to prevent you from marrying him?”

“He is everything we have fought against! I cannot marry him and go live as the wife of an English lord.”

“What?”

“I will not marry him.” Christiane knew she shouldn’t be speaking this way to the woman who had done so much for her, but why didn’t Mrs. Washington understand. This was impossible.

At first Mrs. Washington’s expression was one of complete surprise. Quickly it changed to one of sternness. “Do you have any choice?”

“I can’t. I can’t.”

“In Philadelphia did he pose as something other than what he was? He flew no false colors. He told you he was unmarried. You thought he lied because of something you overheard, something you were never intended to hear. Now you say you don’t care for his nationality or his station. I would never have believed you could be so fickle.”

“But–”

“But me no ‘buts’. You act as if you have been wronged. You have wronged him. And if you refuse to marry him, you wrong your own flesh-and-blood. I repeat you have no choice.”

Christiane had never been the object of Mrs. Washington’s wrath. She felt helpless and could not say more, especially since the lady was still grieving over the loss of her only son just months before. But surely her friend could understand that she could not bring herself to marry this man. The man she had despised for over four years. How could she marry him and be forced to return with him to England? It was unthinkable.

Mrs. Washington spoke with tight lips, “I will go to the house and give orders for a wedding dinner. I will send for the vicar. The major and I are in agreement. Today you become Lady John Eastham.” The lady marched away.

Well, Christiane, what are you thinking??-Lyn

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