The General's Mistress Read Online Free PDF Page B

planted but not yet greened. I wanted to kick my mare to a gallop, but I knew Jan would tell me to spare the horse. I decided I must start becoming more serious now that I was almost a married woman. I sat up very straight and stiff in the saddle. After a few minutes it was making my tailbone hurt. I supposed I hadn’t got the moral backbone for it yet. I allowed myself to relax back into the mare’s movements, promising myself I would start sitting up straight tomorrow.
    “How far is it?” I asked after a few minutes. Jan had been glancing back nervously for several minutes.
    “It’s still a few miles to the border,” he replied.
    It was three miles to a little village in German Pomerania where we were to be married. It was late when we arrived, with the moon westering behind the trees, and all the buildings locked except the inn. A sleepy stableboy took our horses.
    “Jan,” I said, touched by the thoughtfulness of it all, “did you tell them we were coming?”
    “Of course, my dear,” he said, assisting me to dismount. “They are waiting with supper for us.”
    Inside, the inn was scrubbed as clean as any housewife could want. There was a large, cheery fire, though the night was not cold, and a large woman in a starched apron waiting for us. “Monsieur Ringeling! Mademoiselle Versfelt! What a great honor!” She beamed at us with a beatific expression, a blessing upon young love. “Please sit by the fire! Allow me to bring you something to refresh yourselves while I see to your dinner.”
    “A bottle of your best burgundy,” Jan ordered, allowing her to take his cloak. He was wearing a dark-green velvet coat, dark breeches, black stockings, and a waistcoat worked with silver thread. My heart swelled at the thought of this perfect creature as my husband. When the innkeeper handed him the wine bottle, he uncorked it deftly and poured a full glass of the ruby liquid into a cut-crystal goblet. He presented it to me as though it sanctified our wedding.
    “Drink up, Elzelina. It will warm you after the night’s chill.” He cupped my fingers around it.
    Smiling at him, I lifted the goblet to my lips. The wine was full and tasted of fruit and oak barrels, burning a little in my throat. I could feel the blood rising in my cheeks.
    Jan nodded approvingly. “I must check on arrangements with the minister. I’ll be back in a moment. Just stay by the fire and get warm.” He slipped out the door. It was so considerate of him, I thought. So very kind.
    I took another big drink of the wine. It tasted so good that I had another. The innkeeper came back in and hung our cloaks near the fire. She looked at me as I kicked off my boots and toasted my toes at the hearth, my blond hair spread across my shoulders. “How old are you, Mademoiselle Versfelt?” she asked.
    I giggled. “Sixteen,” I said, the lie that Jan and I had agreed on. He said that people wouldn’t understand the truth if I said I was twelve, and I was sure he knew best about it. After all, he was twenty-five.
    She looked at me as if she didn’t believe me. “Truly?” she said.
    “Truly,” I agreed solemnly, and giggled again. I took another long drink of the wine. Somehow, I just felt like giggling.
    Jan came back and sat down beside me. I giggled. “What are you doing?” Jan said as the innkeeper brought in a tray of roasted meats, bread, and cheese.
    “Nothing.” I giggled again. I must have deportment, I thought. Brides should have deportment.
    He lifted the wineglass to my lips, and I drank. It tasted good. He smelled good. Dinner smelled good.
    We ate by the fire, drinking the whole bottle of wonderful wine. Wonderful burgundy. “Burgundy must be a wonderful place,” I said, trying to sound grown-up and conversational.
    Jan stared at me.
    “I mean,” I said, “it must be nice to travel. I enjoy travel.” I giggled.
    “I think you should retire,” Jan said.
    “Oh no!” I said, lunging forward and pouring more wine with unsteady