Lyn Cote's Blog, page 95

Author Michelle Stimpson & Someone to Watch Over Me

My guest today is best-selling author Michelle Stimpson who will share how God worked Romans 8:28 in her young life. Here's Michelle:

"When I think about how God strengthened me through something I didn't even realize was a struggle, I stand in awe. I was twelve years old when my mom was involved in a serious car accident. For almost two years after the wreck, she was in rehab learning how to become herself again. During that time, I (the oldest of three kids) had to take over her role as mom to my younger brothers. I remember signing their report cards for them, frying bologna sandwiches for dinner (cooking is not my gift).

While I don't think I recognized this situation as a "problem" per se, I was incredibly lonely. All my friends were outside playing and I was tucked away in my house caring for my brothers. Even when my mom finally returned home for good, the dynamics of our family had changed so much, things weren't quite the same.

I'm so thankful that God gave me the gift of writing to keep my head on straight. I started keeping a diary to deal with my feelings and help work through my frustrations and anger. Years later, I realized that God had used those diaries to speak to my heart; to lay the foundation for our candid, intimate relationship, which sustains my very life to this day.

I look back on that portion of my life, I recognize it now as perhaps one of the most trying times in my life. Now, when I hear what other people have gone through in their younger years and how those adversities lead to drug use, running with the wrong crowd, or other destructive coping mechanisms, I am nothing but thankful for God's intervention. The only strength I had came from God Himself. The consequences, of course, were that I had reason to write almost every day of my teenage years. This discipline was actually the cornerstone for my writing career because writing in that diary developed my voice and confidence as a writer.

Similarly, my main character Tori in Someone to Watch Over Me has actually been through some rough times with her own mother and, later, with her great aunt, who suffered a stroke. Tori is suddenly thrust into a caregiver's role while helping to raise a younger cousin she had no idea existed. Yet, caring for others that actually makes her stronger and brings her closer to God."–Michelle

Bestselling author Michelle Stimpson has penned several works, including the highly acclaimed Boaz Brown, national bestseller Divas of Damascus Road, and her latest release, Someone to Watch Over Me. She has also published more than forty short stories through her educational publishing company. Michelle holds an English degree from Jarvis Christian College and master's degree in education from the University of Texas at Arlington. She is a part-time language arts consultant and serves in the Creative Tyme ministry at her home church, Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship. Michelle lives near Dallas with her husband, their two teenage children, and one crazy dog.

Thanks, Michlle. God can use painful times for our good if we stay true to him. My time of testing came when my father left our family when I was eleven and my baby sister was 5 months old. My parents ran a business together so we lost our father and our income in one fell swoop. But it made me strong and made me depend on God. What about the rest of you? Would you share a time of trial that God used for your good?–Lyn

For more about Michelle:

www.MichelleStimpson.com

www.WomenGIC.blogspot.com

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Chapter Twenty-Three Scene 2 La Belle Christiane

If you've just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning!

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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Debut Author Patty Smith Hall & Strong Faith-Also Winners Announced!

My guest today is debut author Patty Smith Hall who shares many of the strong women in her family and life. Here's Patty:



"It's not often an author singles out a secondary character to write a blog post about but I've had so many readers comment about Merrilee Davenport, I figured she's a perfect example of the strong women Lyn highlights on her blog. The aunt of my heroine, Merrilee is a wonderful combination of compassion and wisdom who despite a terrible heartbreak, still possesses a faith that God is working in her life.

I didn't have to look very far to find examples of Merrilee's character in my own life. My family tree is littered with women of faith and strength. Take my great grandmother Daniels. A widow, she moved in to take care of my father and his four siblings after they lost their mother—her daughter—in childbirth during World War II. She was a sweet old lady by the time I met her when I was nine, but what impressed me most even then was her love of the Lord. What about my own grandmother who was eight when her father abandoned her family at the height of the depression. She dropped out of school to work in the cotton field to help put food on their table. But years later, when her father came to her doorstep sick and dying, she showed unconditional love and forgiveness by taking him in and caring for him until he died. I asked her one time how she could forgive him so easily, and she said something I'll never forget.  She forgave him because she had been forgiven.

And then there's my mother. If you asked her, Momma would say she hasn't done anything special in her life. She'd just been a wife and mother. But my momma is one of those people who stay in constant prayer—about her kids, her family and those around her. She lives out her faith, not by spouting off scripture but by walking it.

Strong examples of faith that I look to in my writing and in my life."–Patty

Bio: A romantic at heart, Patty Smith Hall is an award winning, multi-published author. Her stories of encouragement and hope can be found in Guideposts, Journey and Chicken Soup for the Nurse's Soul.  Her Genesis award winning manuscript, Hearts in Flight, will be released by Love Inspired Historical in July, 2011. Patty resides in Georgia along with Dan, her husband of 28 years, two daughters and a Yorkie who loves to cuddle.

Serving her country as one of the Women's Army Special Pilots is Maggie Daniels's dearest wish. But there are obstacles to overcome above and beyond the enemies in the Pacific, including her overprotective family, skeptical fellow pilots—and handsome, distant squadron leader Wesley Hicks. Whatever it takes, Maggie will prove herself to Wesley, until she succeeds in winning his admiration…and love.

Wesley can see that Maggie's a first-class pilot. She's also too fearless by half. The war has cost Wesley so much already. Can he let go of his guilt for a chance at happiness—and can he learn to trust in God…and Maggie…enough to believe in love for a lifetime?

Patty, thanks for being my guest. Your book sounds wonderful! I wish you many more.–Lyn

PS: Beckie Peterson won Miranda Parker's book, A Good Excuse to be Bad and Barbara Ann won Ann Gabhart's book Blessed is Lacey. Thanks to everyone who left a comment! And thanks Miranda and Ann, for you generosity. (Beckie and Barbara Ann, you'll be hearing from Miranda and Ann sometime this week via email.)

Chapter Twenty-Three Scene 1 La Belle Christiane

If you've just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning!

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Twenty-Three Scene 1

Two days had passed since their wedding. Christiane, Lord Eastham, Mrs. Washington, and Sarah sat at the remains of lunch. No one seemed to be in the mood to leave the table. As he conversed pleasantly with his hostess, Christiane studied her husband's profile . Though she had wanted to, she still had not spoken to him except in "yes's" and "no's." Sarah Renee, on the other hand, gave him almost no peace.

Christiane fretted silently about the future. Easthaven, the home of the Eastham's, hung over her like the guillotine. How she loved Virginia! She had told him in Philadelphia that she never wanted to see Europe again. Did he remember? Did he care? She had no clue and she would have no choice. He was her husband now. When would he tell her to pack for England?

Breechy entered and approached Christiane. "Lady Eastham, a post rider just arrived with a letter for you." He handed it to her and retreated.

Startled, Christiane opened it quickly.

10, March 1782

Dearest Christiane,

I write in haste. Eight days ago my Josiah

suffered a stroke. He is almost completely paralyzed

on his right side and is very, very ill. Our friends are

being good to us, but we need you, especially Jean Claude.

I must devote most of my days and nights to nursing my husband.

Please come home quickly. We need you.

With fondest regards,

Sarah Anne Richardson

Christiane looked up soberly. "Sarah Renee, I need to talk to your father and Mrs. Washington alone. Will you go to your room and play for awhile?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes."

"Obey your mother, Sarah," John added.

"Yes, father," the little girl said reluctantly.

As soon as she left the room, Christiane said, "I have received bad news." A thickness coated her throat. She cleared it as best she could. "I will read you the letter." Both Mrs. Washington and John listened attentively.

"Oh, dear," the lady said. "How awful. When was the letter dated?"

"March tenth. Almost two weeks."

"How sad. Well, I must leave you two to discuss this. I will go and keep Sarah company."

After she left, a silence fell. Christiane could hear the muted sounds of the servants about their daily chores and the children playing outdoors.

Finally he spoke up, "I was wondering what had happened to your son since he was not here. I was afraid to ask, in case, you know…." His tone was sympathetic.

"I did not know quite how to bring him up. I did not have him here because of my situation." She took a deep breath. "You see, his future and legitimacy were assured. I didn't want either jeopardized by–"

"I understand." Another pause. "What do you plan to do?"  He rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, the white linen tablecloth gleaming before him.

She trembled inside. Would she be forced to choose between her children again?  "I will have to go." Her voice sounded odd even to herself. "They are like family. They need me." If only she knew him well enough to know his reaction. She took another deep breath and it helped hold back her tears. "I will just have to leave Sarah Renee with you. You will have to send word when you leave for England and I will try to join you when I can."

Her husband's head snapped up to face her. "What kind of man do you think I am, madam? Do you think I would take Sarah and leave you?" His voice was harsh.

"Oh, dear…." Embarrassing tears slipped from her eyes. She looked down at her hands, trying to hide them. "It is just that I have responsibilities that are not yours. And I know you want to go home–"

"I think you know very little about what I want," he said evenly.

She looked up at him then, but she paused, not knowing what she should say. She dabbed away her tears with her handkerchief. "I think you are right," she said tentatively, "but we haven't really talked, my lord."

"That's true," he replied more calmly. "How long will it take us to get there?"

"About ten days to two weeks," she answered, almost not believing what he had said. "More if we run into bad weather."

"And the letter took two weeks to get here. We had better leave as soon as possible then. How soon could you be packed and ready?"

"Within hours." The ease of his accommodation left her breathless.

"Then we will leave in the morning. I think I should purchase a wagon and some draught horses. We should take everything with us. I would say a carriage, but a wagon would draw less notice. The roads are not very safe these days. And you're going to have to stop calling me, my lord. Lords are not the thing here right now."

"How should I tell Sarah? I'm frightened."

"Of what?"

"For Sarah. She was born here. Mt. Vernon is her whole world."

"I see what you mean. But we can't stay here for the rest of her life." He turned a palm up. "We would have left sometime anyway."

"I know. It just hurts me to upset her. To have to do it so suddenly."

"We will tell her together. Come. We will do it now." He pulled her to her feet. "Calm yourself. We don't want to alarm her unduly."

"You're right, of course." She consciously subdued herself and went with him. He did not relinquish her hand and she was grateful for his re-assurance. They found Sarah and Mrs. Washington playing dominoes at the table in the girl's room.

"Sarah Renee, your mother and I have something to tell you."

"Should I leave?" Mrs. Washington asked.

"No, stay please," he replied. Christiane and he sat down on the side of Sarah's frilled bed.

"Sarah, do you remember that I told you that you have an older brother?" Christiane asked.

"Yes?" the child answered readily.

"Well, it is time that we go to him," Christiane said.

"Yes, now that I am home we can go get Jean Claude and be a complete family–mother, father, sister, brother. What do you think of that?" John asked.

"Hurray!" Sarah jumped up, smiling.

"When do you leave?" Mrs. Washington asked quietly.

"In the morning," he answered.

"This is going to be a difficult parting for me," Mrs. Washington said and stood up.

"But we'll bring my brother back here, won't we, Mama?"

"Not right away. The family he has been living with needs our help," Christiane said.

"Oh." Sarah looked crestfallen.

Mrs. Washington patted her back. "You will be happy to have your brother." Then she turned to John. "What I would have done without your dear wife and daughter these past years, I just don't know." The two women embraced. Then the lady's voice became businesslike. "Now you'll need something to travel in. "

"Yes, some draught horses and a wagon. " John had risen also.

"Evan Marsh is your man. He breeds and trains all manner of horses."

"I will see him directly."

"I would go with you," Christiane spoke hesitantly, "to say farewell."

"Of course," he answered lightly. "Come on Sarah. Let's put your cape on and go out for our walk first." Then they were gone.

Mrs. Washington picked up the dominoes, one-by-one, and put them in their small wooden box. "I will call for some stout boxes and we will pack your things." She turned to Christiane. "He is taking it better than I thought he would. Many men are not so cooperative about stepchildren. George was good about it, but some aren't."

"I was surprised myself." An understatement.

"My dear, you and I have both been twice-married and we should know a woman never really knows a man till she is his wife and living with him."

"True," Christiane said, still pensive.

"I will miss you both so much." The two women hugged once more and left to begin the packing. Christiane focused on the work, not the leaving. Still, she couldn't help thinking that this might be from God–not Josiah's stroke that was due to age. But the bringing together of her children, something she had never been able to do, seemed a blessing. Could she hope God was helping now that she had learned the truth, was living the truth?

Well, what do you think about that final question?–Lyn

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Chapter Twenty-Two Scene 3 La Belle Christiane

If you've just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning.

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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Author Ann Gabhart & Blessed is Lacey (+Giveaway Today!)

My guest today is author Ann H. Gabhart. I'm delighted to have Ann visit us again at Strong Women, Brave Stories.  If you missed her last visit, click here.

Today Ann is going to share about her latest heroine Lacey. ALSO Ann is graciously offering to giveaway a copy of her book to a reader who leaves a comment. So be sure to remember that! Here's Ann:

"Sometimes a character comes along who demands to have her story told. That was Lacey Bishop in my new book, The Blessed. I originally thought up Lacey and planned for her to be a minor character in my third Shaker book, The Seeker. But while I was thinking about Lacey's background before she came to live with the Shakers, she sprang to life in my imagination and let me know she had a story of her own to tell.

You've probably known dozens of Laceys in your life. Those are the women who go about their lives, doing what has to be done to take care of the people they love.  You may even be a Lacey – someone who has had a few bumps in your road but you kept going. We're not promised an easy road, but we are promised company on that road. Jesus said, "Lo, I will never forsake you."  Matthew 28:20 (KJV)

I didn't model Lacey after any particular woman in the Bible, but the Scripture gives us plenty of examples of women who did keep putting one foot in front of the other and rose to the challenges of their time. Think of Queen Esther. When Mordecai asks her to seek the king's ear to save her people, she says, "But if I go to him without being summoned, he can order me killed." And yet, after prayers and fasting, she goes. "If I perish, I perish," she says. Her courage to do what had to be done saved her people. Then think on Mary, the mother of Jesus. She knew what could happen to her if she showed up in the family way before she married. Joseph could have had her stoned. Yet she trusted the Lord and said, "Behold the handmaiden of the Lord." Simple faith. Tremendous, earth-shaking faith. Faith to believe the Lord would take care of her and open a way.

That's the kind of faith Lacey wants. That's the kind of faith Lacey needs in order to face the challenges in her life. She wants to feel  blessed. She wants to be loved. But circumstances trap her in a loveless marriage of convenience and her life becomes a tangled mess. You can see she's feeling that from her thoughts while she's marrying Preacher Palmer.  She felt the wrongness of it down through the core of her being, all the way out to her toes. But nobody with the first lick of sense expected everything to go right all the time. At least nobody who had piled up a few years of living. Sometimes a body had to do what had to be done, right or wrong, to make something more important right.

Lacey often thinks on the Beatitudes in her quest for a faithful walk in life. Blessed are the meek. Blessed are the pure in heart. Blessed is Lacey. That's what she finds out in the story."–Ann

What an intriguing character, Ann. I'm hooked. Remember to leave a comment! The last time she visited we had over 40 comments. Can we top that?–Lyn

For more about Ann, drop by http://www.annhgabhart.com

http://www.annhgabhart.blogspot.com

Chapter Twenty-Two Scene 2 La Belle Christiane

If you've just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning!

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright by Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

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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Author Miranda Parker & A Good Excuse to be Bad!

My guest today is Author Miranda Parker whose debut novel is out this month. So happy for you, Miranda! (also known as Dee). You must admit that her cover is eye-catching. Miranda is also offering a copy of her book to someone who leaves a comment this week. Here's Dee on:

"Motherhood Power

When I created Angel Crawford, the protagonist for A Good Excuse to Be Bad, I wanted a strong willed, brilliant to a fault woman who was balanced by the humility and quiet strength of motherhood. I wanted to chronicle the revelation of Motherhoos Power, because it was also in fact mine. After talking with other women I realized that I was not alone in my discovery.

My friends shared their constant battles with insecurity, ambition, family responsibility, self actualization, their femininity, and most importantly, their faith after they became moms. This huge responsibility can make you feel very small and very heavy at the same time. It is the thing that keeps me up most nights.

Yet despite of our haunts we "Woman Up," put smiles on our faces in front of our children, and get it done. I sprinkled a few of my motherhood moment nuggets in A Good Excuse to Be Bad to encourage my women readers.

Although the book just released, I've received great responses on how hilarious Angel's mom Virginia is and how readers can see themselves in her plight.

The book is also great fodder for more conversation: How do we really get it all done? How have daily sacrifices affected our relationships with our loved ones? How have they made us stronger? Why do we not know ourselves?

I have a twin brother. David. When we were in high school and the scholarship queries began to pour in I felt dejected. Here I was a 4.0 student my entire life. Beta Key. Honor Society. A shy, chocolate Girl Scout, Candystriper, VBS volunteer. A really good girl with a lot of college offers, but little scholarship opportunities, while my football star of a brother with mediocre grades had more interesting choices to consider.

One day after trying poorly to ignore all the college invitations for him, I asked my mom–"Why didn't God make two boys instead of a boy and a girl?"

The look in my mom eyes blazed through my body into my soul until I shivered. She stared back at me and said, "The difference between a girl and a woman is when a woman knows her worth. It is time for you to become a woman."

That afternoon she bought me a pink tee shirt that had these words written across the chest in multicolored glitter: "Anything boys can do, girls can do better."

She told me to wear that shirt under my clothes until I believed it. I wear the shirt in my heart now.

I believe there is a reason why God gives mothers supernatural strength above anyone else. It's because we have brought life into the world, have nurtured it, and will die for it. That experience expands our understanding of who God is. Thus, we can make miracles happen without confusing ourselves with who the real miracle maker is. I hope A Good Excuse to Be Bad is the kind of story women can enjoy and recharge themselves, while reading.

Smart, gorgeous, and too tough for her own good, bail recovery agent and single mom Evangeline Crawford moved to the burbs for a quiet life. Fortunately, it's not turning out that way…

Angel has to admit she's feeling restless. The only excitement in her new life is her schoolgirl crush on the town's new pastor, Justus-too-Hot-to-be-Holy Morgan. But a fateful encounter and a job gone wrong at Club Night Candy in underground Atlanta is about to change all that… Soon, Angel's trying to save her divazilla twin sister from her big mouth and a scandalous murder charge, and probing a church cover-up–with none other than Justus by her side. But Angel has one more pressing concern: will Bella be ready for kindergarten? Only time will tell for this bad girl gone good whose days are once again far from boring–and hopefully far from numbered…

"This novel has been a long time coming, and there will be many more knock-outs from Miranda Parker–one of the brightest authors on the horizon." –Creston Mapes, author of Dark Star and Nobody

"Miranda Parker's debut is deliciously fun! It has the perfect amount of intrigue, romance, action and all-out girl-power!" –Tiffany Warren, author of In the Midst of It All

"A fast-paced, kick butt, bad boy chase, sexy thrill ride. Can't wait for the next manhunt." –ReShonda Tate Billingsley

To purchase, click this link A Good Excuse To Be Bad

From the Author

I've been a book critic for over ten years. A few years ago I noticed a trend in storytelling, particularly in tv, graphic novels, and movies–this strong, bold, yet very feminine female leader who struggles with family responsibility. But I didn't see this character in contemporary African American stories. However, this character embodies what I believe an African American woman was yesterday, is today and forever more. So I wrote this novel, I created Angel, because it was past time for her story to be told. The humor in this story, comes from me. Every time I tried to write something hardboiled or intense, I couldn't help, but sprinkle a little comedy in. That's the cornball in me. I'm glad Angel is a nerdball, too. Likewise, Angel is also bits and pieces of spicy galpals who have changed my life.

Please join me online at:

Website: www.mirandaparker.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mirandaparkerbooks

Blog: www.christianfiction.blogspot.com

Thanks, Miranda, for sharing your mother's advice. Do any of you recall a moment when your mother told you to be glad you were born a girl or that women did not have to accept some of the limitations others tried to put on them? Please share and remember you could win a copy of this sassy book!–Lyn

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Chapter Twenty-Two Scene 1 La Belle Christiane & Winners Announced!

If you've just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning!

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright by Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Twenty-Two Scene 1

Once again–with the same desk between them–General Washington and Major Eastham sat, facing each other. "I am glad you came so promptly, Major."

"Thank you, sir, I have been waiting to hear from you. I take it that you have heard from your friend in London?"

"Yes, I have." The general held up the letter.

"Well, sir, am I married or not?" John's blithe tone hid his very real irritation at having his word questioned. "I have been anxious to find out."

"You are not. All that you told me is true."

"I am very relieved. Having a wife and a child in London would be a grave trial to me just now."

"I wonder how Christiane ever got the idea that you were married?"

"We discussed that. I believe, she misinterpreted a remark she overheard," he said it calmly, but her betrayal still jabbed him.

"Ah." There was a pause. "What are your plans then?" The stern eyes locked onto the major's face.

"I plan to resign my commission and with your permission return to Mt. Vernon to make Christiane my wife." Though he seriously doubted she would marry him. But at least he would have the satisfaction of confronting her. He tried not to think about who the father was of the child? Had she been unfaithful to him in Philadelphia? He couldn't believe that, but….

Washington did not try to hide his smile. "Good. Good. A wise decision. I have already written you a letter of safe conduct and a letter of explanation to my wife. As a private citizen, you will not need an escort."

"Thank you, sir, it will be a pleasure to visit your charming wife again. Your estate is truly lovely."

"Thank you." The General beamed with pride. "I only wish I could accompany you. Well, I believe that takes care of our business." He rose to shake hands. "My best wishes to the both of you." As the major turned to leave, Washington spoke again, "By the way, I just want you to know, the junior officers learned about this matter from Lt. Farnsworth, your escort last fall."

"Oh?"

"Their sympathy, of course, was with Mrs. Kruger, so they held a competition this winter."

"A competition?"

"Yes, to decide which one would be the most able to best you in a duel. They believed that you were married or that you would refuse to marry her. They intended to defend her honor."

"I see."

"Therefore, if anyone approaches you and tries to challenge you as you leave, inform them of your intentions."

"I will, sir."

#

A few days later Eastham and Alfred rode slowly down the country road. The spring drizzle had made the ground muddy and hard-to-travel. Their canvas mackintoshes covered them, but the light rain beaded and dripped from their hats and occasionally down the backs of their necks.

Alfred wished they had spent the day at the cozy inn of this morning, but he knew how anxious his lordship was to reach Mt. Vernon. He felt deeply his own part in causing the misunderstanding that had led the lady to disappear. Lord Eastham had been gracious about it as usual and had excused Alfred's verbal slip by saying that it was his own fault for lying in the first place. "How much farther, do you think, my lord?" Alfred said before he could stop himself.

"I believe we will make it just before dark."

Alfred sighed with relief. "Very good, my lord."

"I agree. And you must be tired of playing the mute?" John smiled. To keep from stirring notice, Alfred had posed as a mute. After ten years in the colonies, the major had been able to adopt the colonial accent when necessary. Alfred, however, was unmistakably English in speech. And this was not the time for an English lord and his manservant to be travelling the muddy spring roads of Virginia. Now that the peace treaty was being worked on in Paris, revolutionary zeal was at its peak. Previous fence-sitters, now that independence was all but in the bag, were ardent supporters of liberty.

"Yes, my lord. When do you think we will go home to England to Easthaven?"

The question seemed to surprise the major. "Easthaven? I had not really thought about it. All I can think about is Sarah Renee." And her mother, he added to himself. They rode on in wet chill misery, locating each landmark with relief.

Many hours had passed. The moon was now trying to peek between the shades of vast flat clouds. The chill and dampness of the twilight air had seeped through their layers of clothing and pushed their spirits down. Ahead at last they saw Mt. Vernon. A few candles still shown in the windows.

"We are here," John announced. At the sight of two grooms coming out of the stable, their tired horses stopped by themselves. The two men slipped down, saddle-weary. Without a word, Alfred headed toward the kitchen while his master loped, stiff-legged, up to the front door.

Breechy, wearing an old robe, waited for him, holding a candle. "Sir, it is good to see you again," the old butler said correctly in spite of his dress.

"Thank you, Breechy."

"The ladies of the house have retired. When I saw you coming up the lane, I decided to ask you first before wakening them. Do you need to see them before morning?"

"No. Don't disturb them please."

"Very good, sir. I will take you directly to your room then."

"Thank you." The butler led the exhausted man up the staircase and into the room he had occupied before.

"Could I just look in on my daughter?" John asked this in a hesitant voice, but he felt no hesitance. He must see his child.

"She has been in bed over four hours, sir."

"I don't mean to wake her. I just want to see her."

"Very well, sir."

The two slipped silently down the shadowed hall and into Sarah's room. The butler waited by the door as John took the candle in and stood at his daughter's bedside. The golden glow of the candle illuminated only her face. Lovingly he noted every detail, every change since he had seen her almost four months ago. How lovely she was and she was his, his own dear child. Had his father stood over him and felt this? No, surely not. But his mother would have understood. Carefully he turned to leave. She sighed in her sleep. The sound, just a sigh, touched him deeply.

Back in his room, servants came and went quietly making him a fire, bringing him hot food and drink, a steaming foot bath, and warming his sheets with a copper pan. At last he lay content and relaxed in the large featherbed. He watched the fire. His Sarah was only yards away. Suddenly an image of Christiane came to his mind. His brow wrinkled. Exhausted, he fell asleep.

At last! But what will Christiane have to say when she finds out THE TRUTH???

Our winners of Rachel Hauck's two prizes are Juanita Wickey  who won a copy of Softly and Tenderly and Gail Kittleson who won the $10 Amazon gift card! I must tell you that Rachel had intended to only give away gifts to a winner from all the blogs she was guesting on last week combined. BUT since this blog had so many commenters, she decided to give away prizes to two additional here. I'm so happy when you readers turn out to support a guest offer. Coming Thursday is Ann Gabhart and she is also offering a copy of her latest Shaker novel Don't miss Thursday!–Lyn

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Chapter Twenty-One Scene 4 La Belle Christiane

If you've just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning!

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Twenty-One Scene 4

Two more days had passed and it was afternoon. Christiane and Evan strolled near the river. "No, I'm glad you came, Evan. So much has happened in the last few days. I need someone to talk to."

The river was gray and rusty leaves were falling in abundance around the two of them. Some leaves floated in lazy spirals in the water. Eastham and the rest of the party had left that morning early. Her little girl had cried. Christiane pushed the image from her mind.

"What has happened? And why is it you can't you talk to Martha?"

"You are very astute. I can't talk to Mrs. Washington because she doesn't want to hear what I have to say. Her mind is set." Normally she would not have confided in Evan, but she needed someone she could trust to talk to. And in light of his proposal, she thought he should know about the major. She took a deep breath. "The Englishman that was here is Sarah's father."

"An Englishman, you say?" he replied calmly.

"Doesn't anything shock you?"

"Very little. I've lived long and seen much. It does seem out of character for you though, I must admit."

"In a way yes and in a way no."

He lifted his eyebrow at her.

"Would it shock you if I told you that I was raised by my mother, a courtesan of the French Court?"

"Not in the slightest. It would explain much about you."

She didn't know if she liked this response. "Such as?"

"You are a natural beauty, but your carriage, your speech, even the way you position your hands. You had, I would suspect, a detailed training in the art of grace."

"Yes, I did that."  She paused to stir some leaves with her toe.

"Go on," he prompted.

"Oh, it's just too unbelievable. I never thought I would see him again. Never. I don't really understand why he came. He said he wanted to find out why I had left him in Philadelphia–as if he hadn't been able to guess!"

"Why did you leave him?"

"A better question would be why did I ever allow myself to become involved with him. I left because he promised me marriage and then I found out that he was already married."

"Ah." They walked in silence then.

A gust of wind tugged at their clothing. Then came another. Evan held onto his hat and Christiane wrapped her plaid wool shawl closer around her. "What did you mean about Martha setting her mind?"

"Well, he maintains that he is not married and has not been since his first and only wife died almost ten years ago."

"And he wants to marry you?"

"That is what he says."

"You don't believe him?" he went on.

"Not a bit."

"But Martha does?"

"Exactly." She pursed her lips.

"That is interesting. Martha is a very perceptive person. Are you sure he is married?"

"Positive. I tried to explain to her that he is a consummate actor. That he completely deceived me. But she was taken in by the attention he lavished on Sarah. I do not wish to quarrel with her, so I have not."

"A complex situation."

"Very," she agreed.

"How do you intend to expose him?"

"Fortunately the general wrote in his letter to Mrs. Washington that he was writing to his friend Will in London."

"Ah, yes, Will Fairfax. Just the man to discover the confirmation of guilt or innocence."

"I hope so. I resent the major's coming back into my life. I can think of no other motive for doing so other than spite."

"I don't know. I would go, at least, as far as Yorktown to see you again," he said with a trace of amusement.

She touched his arm. "Evan, I'm glad you said that. It brought something else to mind. Are you still going to Williamsburg next week?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I have received bad news, I'm afraid."

"What is it?"

"A dear friend of mine, Matilda Main, was widowed at Yorktown."

"Sad news indeed."

"Yes, and I am afraid that she is in need. Would you take a few of my jewels and get a fair price for them?"

"Of course."

"And would you tell me how to arrange a safe way to send funds to her?"

"Yes, of course. I will be seeing my banker and lawyer anyway. As for my jeweler…," He stopped and took her hand. "May I ask him to design an engagement ring for you?"

She looked up at him and sighed. "Oh, Evan, what am I going to do with you?"

"Marry me."

"My answer has not changed." Her tone had softened and she saw that he had sensed it. "In any case," she went on," I cannot marry till this latest episode is concluded."

"When will that be?"

"It could take as long as spring."

"Then it will be a long winter indeed," he answered, taking her hand up to kiss it.

It's hard to remember in this day of instant messaging how long it would take to get news to and from England.  And just think how easy it is to google to find out whether someone is married or not? We take so much for granted. So is Lord John married or a widower?–Lyn

(BTW, there will be twenty-three chapters and an epilogue. We are really near the end! Hope you'll tell your friends so they don't miss THE END!)

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