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La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright by Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Twenty-Two Scene 3

Aghast, Christiane watched her go. What was she going to do? No one understood. Suddenly she thought of Evan Marsh. Quickly she ran to the stable. Within minutes she had straddled Penny bareback and was off. The groom frowned disapprovingly at her as she rode away so unladylike. Christiane rode with speed and ease that belied her inner agitation. Mrs. Washington’s words echoed through her mind. Your own flesh-and-blood. What foolishness is this? You have wronged him.

From nowhere a branch of wet oak leaves slapped Christiane in the face. Momentarily blinded, she clutched the reins. Heaving deep gasps, she brought Penny to a walk.

The wet winter-worn leaves had acted as a bucket of cold water on her passion. Was she running away again? Hadn’t she vowed never again to allow impetuousness to carry her into folly? Not only had she run to Philadelphia years before, she had run from Philadelphia. In both cases, she had harmed one of her children. At Valley Forge she had vowed never to run again. How could she have forgotten? She paused to take deep breaths to calm herself.

She had no choice. She had to marry John. Sarah Renee was depending on her. And in truth she had wronged him. He had never wronged her.

The full impact of this revelation hit her like a hammer to an anvil. Mon Dieu. All he had said, all he had promised in Philadelphia had been true. He had meant to resign and marry her! She slid from the horse’s back and buried her head against Penny’s side. Sobs tore at her. She had broken their love, not he. One overheard comment, one verification from an idle trollop and she had abandoned him. Oh, God, I’m doing it again, taking matters into my own hands–impulsively too. And now I must confess  sin again. I wronged John, put both of us through unnecessary suffering. How can I make matters right between us?

At last, her wrenching sobs turned into drizzling tears. As had happened when she stopped in the church and the cantankerous old priest had given her a stiff penance, she didn’t feel better. But she had done right to confess her sin. Leading Penny over to a downed log, she pulled herself back into her saddle. She sat motionless, waiting for a leading as to what to do next. She had intended to go to Evan and that was right. He deserved to hear of her marriage from her lips alone.

Signaling Penny forward, she trotted on to Marshfield. She and Penny knew the way by heart since this winter she had started the habit of visiting him at home almost weekly. As she entered the spacious grounds, she admitted to herself that she had, deep down, decided to be the mistress of this estate. While her feelings for Evan had never reached passion, she had given him her trust and affection. Brushing away the last traces of her weeping, she rode up to the steps and tossed her reins to the groom. Evan’s butler already awaited her at the door. “Good mornin’, Mrs. Kruger,” he greeted her.

“Good morning. Is Mr. Marsh at home?”

“Yes, ma’am, he is in his study.”

“I’ll show myself in then. This isn’t a formal visit.”

“As you wish, ma’am.” The man bowed and let her go.

She stepped lightly down the hall to the familiar door and tapped. “Come in,” Evan called. She slid in through the barely opened door.

“Christiane, what a pleasure!” he exclaimed as he stood up. “You have rescued me from these dry figures.” Then he saw her face. “What is it, dear?”

“He came back,” she said simply.

“The Englishman?”

“Yes.”

“With Will’s letter?”

She nodded.

He paused and furrowed his brow. “I see.”

She could only stand and look helpless. Speech seemed beyond her.

“When do you marry then?”

“He says today.” Her throat constricted. They stood like bookends, facing each other. Then he opened his arms and she went in willingly. “Oh, Evan.”

“A hard pill to swallow?”

“Oh, it’s more than that,” she said and started to cry again. “Don’t you see? It means I was wrong. I am the one to blame. He never lied. He never meant me harm. And I…,” she could not go on. She wept quietly.

Evan held her gently till the new tears ebbed. “I understand. It is a shock indeed to find oneself the villain of the play.”

She wiped her eyes with his proffered handkerchief. “I always act rashly and then regret it. When will I ever learn?”

“I think you are learning. You didn’t accept my proposal and you gave me a well-thought-out reply.”

“I am sorry. My stupidity has involved you and I have hurt you also.”

“I will mend. I just saw a chance for some sunlight and warmth in my last years.” He paused, looking her over from head to toe. “Well, my girl, I have never seen you in such a state.”

“What do you mean?” She sniffled.

“Red eyes, mussed hair, scratched face, muddied skirt.”

“Oh, dear.” Her hand automatically went to her hair.

“Go upstairs to the first room at the top of the steps and I will send up a basin of water.”

Soon she stood in front of a mirror which sat on a high of chest drawers. She was indeed a sight. A maid fluttered in with a towel, a bowl, pitcher, and a fresh bar of soap. Carefully Christiane unwrapped the light purple paper and seal on the bar. The fragrance of lavender stopped her.

Suddenly she was taken back, back to a rough room in a wilderness fort. She was a scared fifteen-year-old girl, holding a fresh bar of lavender soap. How clearly she remembered that morning. Kind, John Eastham had been so kind to her that day. And in Philadelphia he had given her his protection and so much more.

She heard her own voice again, saying. “I hate you.” How could she have said that? Tears threatened to start again, but she resolutely pushed them away. She had cried enough. She would have to make it up to him some way–with God’s help. Strengthened, she smoothed her hair and washed her hands and face, calming herself.

A tap came at the door and Evan entered. He said, looking at her reflection, “Well, you do look some better.”

She turned around, fighting a sad expression.

“No, sad face today, Christiane. You must look the bride.”

“I don’t feel very bride-like.”

“I know and I don’t feel much like being a best man, but I am prepared to offer my services.”

“Oh, Evan.” She was touched beyond words by his gesture. His presence at the wedding would give her so much comfort and how gracious of him to think of it. She went to him and rested her hand on his chest. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can face him. I said awful things to him this morning.”

He patted her shoulder and then put her shawl around her. “The carriage is waiting for us. Come along.”  They went down and he helped her into the carriage, Penny was tied to the rear. As they reached the lane to Mt. Vernon, the driver slowed to match the pace of a John on horseback who’d been setting out, no doubt going to find her and bring her back. She writhed with embarrassment. She’d managed to make the bad situation even more difficult.

“Hello!” Evan hailed John courteously.

“Evan,” Christiane broke in with a trembling voice, “this is Lord John Eastham, my fiancé.”

Evan looked up sharply at the man then. “We are well met, sir. I am Evan Marsh, a friend and neighbor of the Washingtons. Christiane came to tell me of your wedding today.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Marsh,” John said calmly, but looking at the two of them searchingly.

“I was wondering if you would be needing a best man,” Evan went on. “I know we are strangers, but unless you have brought someone with you–”

“Thank you, Mr. Marsh, that is very kind of you. I will take you up on your offer.”

Evan nodded.

“Then with your permission, sir, I will ride on ahead,” John said.

“Very good, my lord.” Evan touched his hat as John nodded and then cantered on ahead. “No doubt, Christiane, he was starting out to look for you.”

She bit her lower lip, unable to reply.

“I wonder what he thinks of my bringing you back?”

She did not reply that she had told the major that she had intended to marry Evan. It would only cause Evan discomfort and embarrassment and he did not deserve it. Since John was a gentleman, she knew he would not mention it. Eastham awaited them by the central front door. When the two had joined him, Evan asked, “When is the wedding to be, my lord?”

“Mrs. Washington and I decided that during Sarah’s naptime would be best. Then when she wakes, we will reveal that I am her father. We will celebrate the occasion for the evening not as a wedding, but as a homecoming.”

“That seems a good plan,” Evan commented.

Christiane lifted her eyes briefly. “Won’t she think it odd that we did not tell her who you were during the last visit?” She lowered her eyes again.

“Mrs. Washington solved that. We will tell her that we waited till I could return for good.”

Christiane nodded then, but a sudden thought of Jean Claude came to her mind. She had not mentioned him to John. Did he remember that she had a son? A cold feeling crept into her heart. She was doing what was right for her daughter, but would it benefit her son also? Matters were moving so quickly. At the thought that she might not be able to include Jean Claude in her life with John Eastham, the flesh over her heart ached.

“Gentlemen,” she said softly, ” I must go and change then.” She left them and hurried inside.

#

Formality filled the light blue parlor. The vicar stood with his back to the window. Facing him stood John and Christiane. They were flanked respectively by Evan and Mrs. Washington. The afternoon sunshine was brilliant and the five stood in a pool of light. Alfred remained at the rear by the door with a few of the other servants. Christiane had chosen to wear her russet taffeta and her mother’s pearls. Both shimmered in the sunlight. John wore a new civilian suit of brown. The tailed coat, vest, and knee pants were well-tailored. Christiane had to admit she approved of his lack of excessive adornment. There was almost no lace on his white shirt and his brown hair was clubbed neatly at the back of his neck.

At the vicar’s direction, they joined cold hands awkwardly. Christiane brought to mind the settings of her first two weddings, a wilderness stockade and a frontier village. Both contrasted with this luxurious parlor, a good sign perhaps.

The minister cleared his throat and began, “We are gathered here in the sight of this company to join this woman and this man in holy matrimony….”  Her embarrassment over her earlier words somehow made it difficult to imagine speaking to John naturally. How she wanted to say that she was sorry, but what if he no longer cared? He had made it clear that he was marrying her for his daughter’s sake alone. And certainly she had caused him enough pain to destroy his love for her. Unconsciously, guiltily she sighed deeply. He looked down at her then. She tried to smile, but did not do a very good job. He sent her an impenetrable look and then gave his attention to the pastor.

Quietly they went through the making of the vows and the giving of the ring  “And thereto I plight thee my troth,” she repeated obediently and then it was over.

“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Stiffly John leaned down and touched her lips, but there was no ardor or even affection in the touch. He avoided her eyes and turned to receive the congratulations of his best man. Christiane fought the lump of tears in her throat.

#

Christiane lay very still. It was the next morning and she was awake, but was he? Of course, Mrs. Washington had moved the both of them together to a larger room. They were married now after all. Last night they had put Sarah to bed together and had come to their room. Once inside a silent awkwardness had hung over them as though they were strangers,  reminding her of their uneasiness when they had first stayed together in Philadelphia.

She had wanted to speak, but she had lacked the courage needed to break through the heavy barrier. Besides what would she do if he turned away from her? At any rebuff she felt as though she would shatter into small pieces. Too much had happened in one day. Finally they had managed to dress themselves for bed and each had claimed a side.

At last he had said formally with his back to her, “Good night.” And she had replied, “Good night.” For just a moment she allowed herself to recall the tenderness that had existed between them long before, but the memory had proved too painful.

Now the door flapped open and small, bare feet pattered over the hardwood floor. “Mama! I couldn’t find you!” Sarah shrilled.

“Hush, Sarah, your father is sleeping.”

“No, I’m not. Good morning, Sarah.”

The child was struck into silence at seeing the two of them together in bed. “Sarah, parents stay together,” Christiane said reassuringly.

The girl came over and allowed Christiane to draw her under the covers between them.

“Major,” the little girl asked, “are you staying with us forever?”

“Yes, forever.” He smiled down at her face and then involuntarily glanced up at Christiane. Their eyes locked and then he looked away. At the coldness of his look, Christiane felt an invisible weight press down on her breast. She took a deep breath to quell the tears that seemed to be waiting to snare her.

So at long last, John and Christiane are married. What will happen next?–Lyn

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