Time-traveling Fashionista at the Palace of Marie Antoinette (9780316202961)

by Turetsky, Bianca

  “I suppose choosing my clothing is the only decision I’m really allowed to make for myself. I can’t decide who I should marry or where I should live or what I shall do, but I am free to decide what I may wear and how I would like to style my hair and what jewels I would like to put around my neck. These are the only freedoms I truly have—to pick the color and fabric of my dress. Is that silly?” she asked, wiping the glass clean with her small palm.

  “I guess not,” Louise replied quietly. It seemed as though Marie Antoinette’s whole life was mapped out for her without her consent and she was just along for the horse-drawn-carriage ride. Louise may not have had nearly as much money as this girl, but at least she had more choices.

  “Look at all the women in the court who want to copy me. I’ve started a fashion revolution. That is power, now, isn’t it?”

  Louise looked down at her own blush-colored satin dress, no doubt a less magnificent replica of something Marie Antoinette wore the week or the month before. She agreed that, in a way, that was power, in the hands of a young woman who was otherwise under the control of her critical mother, her awkward husband, and his father, the king of France. It was similar to being the popular girl in middle school, like when Brooke wore a particular Ella Moss striped top and it felt like the rest of the school had their own versions within a week. Marie Antoinette was definitely the most popular girl in school, or rather, Versailles.

  She had clearly started a fashion revolution, but Louise knew if she wasn’t careful with her spending and her outward display of riches, Marie Antoinette was going to be starting another sort of revolution as well. A much more violent and bloody one that would mean not only the end of the monarchy, but also the end of the dauphine’s and her friends’ and family’s lives. Maybe Gabrielle’s as well. As Louise stared out the cloudy window at the gray passing landscape, her excitement over her first Parisian shopping spree continued turning into more of a gnawing anxiety, and she decided she needed to get her blue Fashionista dress from its secret spot in the armoire, just in case. She didn’t want to be trapped in a violent past with no way out.

  CHAPTER 26

  “What do you think of this one?”

  After a several-hours-long journey from Paris, as the horses seemed to be traveling at about the speed that Louise walked because the carriage weight had doubled over the course of their shopping excursion, the girls finally arrived back at the Petit Trianon and were playing dress-up in their new fabulous acquisitions. Or rather, Marie Antoinette was modeling a purple ostrich-feather hat for Adelaide, who had been eagerly waiting at the playhouse for them to return, while Louise was trying to discreetly search the bedroom armoire for her blue dress from the Traveling Fashionista Sale.

  Adelaide seemed very curious about what they had purchased, as though she were taking inventory. “Ooh, you got this dress as well?” she asked as she ran her fingers intently along the intricate lace trims, feeling the texture carefully and deliberately as though she were a spy or a fashion student. “These mother-of-pearl buttons are to die for,” she sighed, picking up a pair of long ivory evening gloves. Her attention to detail actually kind of reminded Louise of herself. “I wish you had told me you were going to Paris,” Adelaide stated grumpily.

  But Louise was presently a tad distracted, as her foolproof hiding spot for the magical dress seemed to be eluding even her. “Madame, do you know where that blue gown is? The one that I was wearing yesterday?” she asked, moving aside some crinoline undergarments. “I could have sworn I left it here in the wardrobe.”

  “I was so bored of that dress,” Marie Antoinette responded with an actual yawn. “You wore it out at least two times in my presence! I do wish you would be more considerate, Gabrielle. I’m very sensitive to those things.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry about that, but do you know where it is?” Louise dropped any pretense and frantically rummaged through the pink, green, and white dresses on the floor of the armoire. Every color, it seemed, but that distinct robin’s egg blue!

  “Now, dear Gabrielle, didn’t I just buy you another, more beautiful one this morning? No need to be sentimental. I’ll personally have Rose Bertin make you another lovely puce frock if you’d like. Something less formal for our garden jaunts.”

  “I apologize, but with all due respect,” Louise began, trying not to lose her composure, as the dauphine could probably have her locked up or even worse for challenging her, “I need my dress back. That one was special. It had sentimental value.” Adelaide raised an eyebrow, perhaps surprised that she would dare speak back to Marie Antoinette. Or perhaps because… she had taken it herself? “Wait, do you have it?” Louise turned her attention toward the older woman, who seemed particularly interested in her clothing and whom she had found searching Gabrielle’s wardrobe only the day before.

  “Why, why would I have it?” Adelaide stammered, blushing and looking away. Louise couldn’t help but think she looked guilty! But why would she want her old dresses? Didn’t she have her own? Was she jealous of Gabrielle? There was no way they were even the same size.

  “My dear Duchesse de Polignac, it is impossible to know where one particular dress is. It is gone. The servants probably gave it away. There are thousands of people living here at Versailles. How am I to know who has it?” Marie Antoinette interjected crossly, clearly getting annoyed. Louise knew it was bad news when her own mother used her full name, so she had a feeling she might be in big trouble if she continued to push this question.

  “I hate puce,” Louise mumbled sadly to herself. “It looks like flea puke.” It was the only thing Louise could think of to say, feeling overwhelmed that Marie Antoinette wouldn’t help her find her dress because she wore it… twice! Say what? She was going to be stuck in the eighteenth century because the dauphine was bored?! That dress needed to be found right away.

  CHAPTER 27

  Adelaide quickly excused herself and rushed out of the playhouse after telling the girls about some appointment at the palace she was late for. Or, as Louise was starting to suspect, to hide the stolen dress? Marie Antoinette apparently did not want to be left alone, so despite her annoyance, she asked Louise to stay and play with her and the ever-present pack of little dogs. Louise remembered that when Marie Antoinette asked sweetly for something, it wasn’t exactly a question. It was an order. She was used to getting exactly what she wanted.

  The dauphine twirled around the room in her new sunshine yellow frock, fanning herself with a matching silk fan, totally oblivious to Louise’s situation, among other things. Like the fact that most of France would later start a huge revolt while she hid in her playhouse trying on more dresses.

  “Have some strawberries,” she giggled, taking a juicy bite of a perfectly ripe red berry plucked from a bowl brimming with other perfectly ripe berries. They almost didn’t look real. “You used to be so much more fun. What’s gotten into you lately, Gabrielle? All that worrying will ruin your complexion.”

  “No, thank you,” Louise replied, sadly closing the heavy walnut door to the armoire. “I find it hard to have fun when so many are suffering.” And when we may be losing our heads literally, she thought glumly.

  “But do you not see that it is always like this? I bet even if you were born hundreds of years from now there would still be human suffering and there would still be parties. I guess I would just prefer to be invited to the party,” Marie Antoinette declared, petting her tiny dog, which was playing with a spool of ribbon spilling out of one of the shopping bags.

  Louise suddenly felt like a big hypocrite. The dauphine had a point. There was definitely still poverty and suffering in the modern-day world, even though Louise didn’t really see any of it firsthand in her hometown. Plus, the reason why she had found the blue dress in the first place was Brooke’s fancy-dress party, which she had to admit she was still looking forward to more than anything. If she ever made it back in time.

  Louise swore she would be more aware and sensitive in her own life if she got out
of here. Her father lost his job and she had to give up her class trip, but her family never had to worry about where the next meal was coming from (even if the next meal happened to be another mushy and tasteless casserole). But there were still girls her age who didn’t have a home or a hot meal. She had seen such places and stories on the nightly news and she realized then that in a way she had created her own version of Versailles. She guessed maybe most people did.

  “It’s simply too awful to think about these things!” Marie Antoinette exclaimed, wiping the red berry stain from her chin with the back of her tiny hand.

  “But you must!” Louise urged. She had to get through to her new friend. “You have the power to change things. One day you will be the queen of France….”

  “Let’s have a macaroon. Isn’t the pistachio simply divine?” the young royal interrupted, picking up a pretty pale green cookie and taking a delicate nibble. There was always something delicious only an arm’s-length away.

  “You can’t live in a bubble forever. Believe me on this one.” Louise placed her hand on the dauphine’s arm. “Those people looked hungry.”

  “My dear Gabrielle, how would you know what I can and can’t do?” Marie Antoinette laughed her gay, airy laugh and dropped the half-eaten pastry carelessly on the white linen tablecloth. “Let them eat cake,” she sang under her breath.

  “Excuse me?” Louise asked. “What does that even mean?” If the French people didn’t even have bread, how in the world were they supposed to get cake?

  “Nothing, silly, I didn’t say anything at all,” Marie Antoinette replied with a shrug, as though the whole thing were a figment of her royal companion’s overactive imagination. With that, she picked up her shih tzu and pranced out the glass French doors to frolic in the garden as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  CHAPTER 28

  Louise dashed out of the house, through the playhouse gates, and back through the geometric gardens toward Versailles. A dark rain cloud passed over the late afternoon sun, giving the vast grounds a dark and creepy aura. She had a feeling things were changing and not just the weather. She wanted to find Pierre. He was the only one who might believe her and help her get back home. Somehow. He just had to help her find the blue dress.

  “Excusez-moi, have you seen Pierre?” she asked an old wrinkled groundsman who was tilling soil in a freshly made flower bed.

  “I know no Pierre,” he responded quietly without looking up. She asked another woman, who was gathering up roses in her apron. “Pierre? I do not believe there is any Pierre working in these gardens.”

  Had she completely made this guy up in her imagination? Was he a spy or was he fired because they were seen together? Nothing was making any sense, and the overcast sky was starting to drizzle….

  “Pierre no longer works at Versailles,” a voice behind her announced in a low, gravelly baritone.

  Louise spun around to see what must have been the head gardener, a pock-faced man with a mean scowl, looking at her with his arms crossed defensively across his chest. “He was relieved of his duties this morning. For distributing propaganda against the dauphine. May I help you with something?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Louise stammered, her eyes getting watery to hear of Pierre’s upsetting dismissal and with the sudden realization that the only person who would even possibly believe her was gone. She lowered her head before the sour-looking gardener could see her cry and took off running toward the palace.

  In her haste, she took an unfamiliar turn and the garden turned into a complicated labyrinth with its towering shrubs, making Louise feel like she was a fancily dressed rat trapped in a maze. As she turned and continued walking faster and deeper into the lush green maze, the panic started to well up in her throat and her left temple started throbbing as though she were on the verge of a migraine. What if she never found her way home? She had wanted to escape her life so badly once again, but from this perspective, nothing in Fairview, Connecticut, seemed so awful anymore.

  Louise paused and tried to take a deep breath, but the whalebone corset underneath her structured blush-colored dress made it almost impossible for her to get any oxygen. She started to feel faint, so she leaned against the ten-foot-high hedges to get her balance. Dark, menacing clouds continued to roll in and a low roar of thunder echoed in the distance. A storm was definitely coming.

  She glimpsed two dark, shadowy figures in wide-brimmed, feathered hats ahead of her. Maybe they could get her out of this interminable maze? She turned another corner, but they were just a few steps too quick and darted out of reach, alluding her grasp.

  “Please stop. Maybe you can help me!” Louise called out to them, but the rumbling storm cloud was now directly overhead, drowning out her words. The elusive silhouettes didn’t turn around; it was as if she wasn’t even there. She ran after them, tripping over her long cumbersome skirts, then turned another tall, hedged corner and was spit out into the grand front lawn of Versailles, totally alone and damp under the cloudy gray sky.

  CHAPTER 29

  Louise gathered her hooped skirts and raced back up the white marble stone steps of the enormous palace, coming to a skidding stop when she realized that she had walked directly into a long, intimidating hall lined with mirrors.

  The grandeur of the space was overwhelming. The massive room was aglow with three rows of silver chandeliers running down the wide hall, the white candlelight bouncing off the square panes of mirror and glass. Louise counted seventeen mirrored arcades opposite seventeen tall arched windows overlooking the gardens. Bronze cherub statues held up crystal candelabras like illuminated offerings. Maroon-and-white marble columns leading up to a ceiling painted with dark oily reds and blues of various battle scenes gave off the impression that whoever lived in this palace was powerful and very rich.

  For someone in Louise’s particular condition, the Hall of Mirrors was a trap, a place where it would be almost impossible to hide who she really was. After the menacing Dr. Hastings was able to see her true identity in the glass reflection on the Titanic, and as Louise most recently did again in the gilded mirror at Petit Trianon, there was a very real possibility she would be discovered. And unfortunately for her, the Hall of Mirrors was also the main artery that ran through Versailles. She would have to take a major detour back out through the garden terrace to avoid it, and it was now raining hard. Louise didn’t know what her hair did when it rained in eighteenth-century France, but she was all too familiar with the frizzy mess of the twenty-first century.

  Out of a combination of vanity and haste, she decided to risk it. Miraculously, at this moment the hall was completely deserted. She would walk as fast as possible with her head down, praying that no one noticed the million Louise Lamberts being reflected in the huge arched mirrors that lined the seemingly endless hallway. She cautiously stepped into the long, empty room and her mouth shaped into a surprised O to once again see her real reflection, at age twelve, looking back at her from beyond the glass, her familiar hazel eyes peeking out from underneath Gabrielle’s sky-high pouf. She took a moment to twirl around and admire her satin hoopskirt couture ball gown. As she smiled at her spinning image, the shiny flash of her braces ricocheted off the polished, mirrored reflections down the hall like a silver echo. Louise quickly closed her mouth, lowered her head toward the ground, and took off running down the freshly waxed corridor.

  She hadn’t made it more than halfway down the otherwise deserted grand promenade when out of the corner of her eye she noticed the Princesse de Lamballe and Adelaide heading directly toward her. They couldn’t see her like this! She stopped running and kept her head down as they crossed paths, desperately hoping they would fail to recognize one of their closest companions.

  “Good afternoon, my dear Gabrielle,” the Princesse de Lamballe sang.

  Louise did a slight curtsey and, against her better judgment, was compelled to look up. The Princesse de Lamballe continued walking, playfully chasing a small dog with huge floppy ears down the
hallway, but Louise’s number-one dress-stealing suspect, Adelaide, had stopped frozen and was staring at her with her mouth agape. Louise had been discovered!

  She tried not to look in the mirror the way you try not to look at a car accident on the side of the highway when you know it’s going to be awful but something inside you compels you to do it anyway. What she saw almost made her scream.

  It wasn’t the face of Adelaide.

  It was the reflection of another twelve-ish-year-old girl with a mouthful of silver braces with pink elastics, staring openmouthed and wide-eyed at Louise.

  Ohmigod!

  Louise’s jaw dropped toward the freshly polished parquet floor.

  After a moment of complete and utter shock, the girl quickly looked away and ran out of the Hall of Mirrors, awkwardly clattering across the tiles in her old-fashioned high-heeled slippers.

  Louise slipped out of her yellow diamond-buckled heels and took off after her, no longer caring if she caused a scene. She needed to catch this girl and find out exactly what was going on!

  “Gabrielle? Adelaide?” the Princesse de Lamballe called out after them in her sweet, concerned voice. “What in heavens has gotten into you two?”

  Louise didn’t slow down to answer. If what she had just seen wasn’t a crazy hallucination brought on by too many sugary macaroons, then she had just come across another Traveling Fashionista. In eighteenth-century France. Say what?

  CHAPTER 30

  The woman was waiting for her at the other end of the hallway. She was hiding behind the tall salon door and popped out when Louise ran by.

  “Quick, who is your favorite designer?” she asked in a loud whisper.

  “Right now it’s Yves Saint Laurent,” a completely startled Louise answered without thinking. “Oops, I mean…” She paused, her mind racing. Why was Adelaide asking her this? Dead silence.