“Is my husband far behind?” Marie Leszczynska asked, handing the empty pouch of bird food to a servant. “We were just leaving, but we’ll wait if he’s near.”
Within a few seconds, the king came into the clearing on a huge chestnut-colored stallion. Behind him on an equally large horse a well-built man in his twenties dressed in an elegant riding habit came. He waited for a groom to grab the bridle and then he dismounted, handing him the reins.
The man bowed in a graceful arc before the queen. “Ambroise Clément de Feuillet!” the queen said with a warm smile. “It’s so nice to see you. I heard you arrived last week, and I had hoped your business with the king would not keep you so constantly occupied.”
“I am duly chastised, Your Majesty.” Ambroise returned her smile with one of his own. “I shall make a point of visiting tomorrow,” he said, bowing again with a flourish, “since I have now been made aware of how badly I am missed.”
What a charming man, Lili thought. And rather good-looking too. Anne-Mathilde doesn’t deserve to be so fortunate. Ambroise excused himself from the queen and came over to kiss the hand of the Duchess de Praslin, before turning to Anne-Mathilde. “We’ve had a disappointing hunt,” he said, after a perfunctory brush of his lips on her hand. “Only one boar. And it killed one of the dogs before His Majesty got off a shot.”
He turned his head at the sound of loud barks and yelps. Soon another horse trotted into the clearing with a pack of dogs scrambling around it. Lying astride the saddle in front of the rider was the limp body of a dog, and a few feet behind, tied around the neck and dragging in the snow, was the carcass of a huge wild boar. Snow had gotten trapped in its bristly hide, caking one shoulder with crystals of blood. The tusks that had taken the life of the dog stuck out from its half-opened mouth and its eyes were glazed with snow that had melted into slime. Half-crazed with the smell of the kill, the dogs growled and nipped at each other as they sniffed the carcass.
“May I ask you to control those animals?” The queen looked up at the king, who was the only one who had not gotten off his horse. The kennel hands scurried to gather the dogs in a corner of the clearing, tossing them bits of dried meat, and putting out basins of melted snow for them to drink.
Lili had shrunk back to watch from behind Maman when the king appeared. Louis’s face was broad across the cheeks and rather flat overall, and his dark eyes were overwhelmed by thick eyebrows as black as ink. Other than the fact that he was quite fat and his face was florid with the cold, she decided he was not a bad-looking man. But still… you sleep with young girls? she thought. Why do you need to do that?
“I wish they’d go,” Lili heard Delphine whimper. “The horses scare me. And that dead dog and horrid-looking boar!”
Ambroise Clément de Feuillet went over to the king, who bent down to listen. Louis nodded his head and sat back up. He turned his horse in the direction of the path back to the palace and waited while the others got on their mounts. With a tap of his heel the king left the clearing at a trot, followed by his courtiers and the pack of barking dogs. The only ones left behind from the king’s party were Ambroise and the rider carrying the dead dog. Ambroise gave him the reins of his mount, and the equerry left the clearing, leading the second horse and dragging the dead boar behind.
Suddenly it was quiet enough to hear. “I have the king’s leave to go back with your party, Your Majesty,” Ambroise said to the queen. “I understand Mademoiselle de Praslin has room in her sleigh.”
“Lucky for you I don’t force you to sit with an old woman like me,” the queen said in a tone so uncharacteristically teasing that Lili thought she might reach up to pinch his cheek. “And you will have two other charming young women to sit with as well.” She looked in Lili and Delphine’s direction. “I don’t believe you’ve been introduced.”
Ambroise went over to Julie. “Madame de Bercy, I believe?” He bowed, gently picking up her hand and touching it to his lips. “My father introduced us last year—at a ball at the Luxembourg Palace, if I recall. It’s good to see you again, and looking so well.” He looked over at Delphine and Lili. “May I have the pleasure of meeting these young ladies?” As Julie presented each of them in turn, Ambroise bowed and took their hand, bringing his lips as close as he could without touching their fingers.
“Is your stay at Versailles a long one?” Ambroise asked. Though his inquiry was directed at all three of them, his eyes rested only on Delphine. Before she could reply, they heard the commotion of the sleighs being readied for their return. “May I?” He offered Julie his arm and turned to wait for Delphine to fall in step beside him.
Anne-Mathilde had been watching from near the fire and was now coming toward them. She insinuated her way between Ambroise and Delphine and took his other arm. “Have you forgotten I’m here?” she asked Ambroise, bursting into peals of nervous laughter. Lili looked sidelong at Anne-Mathilde’s face. She doesn’t want him near Delphine, Lili thought, suppressing a smile as they walked toward the sleighs.
Chateau de Cirey, Champagne, France, I September 1734
To Monsieur Pierre-Louis Moreau de Maupertuis,
Paris
Dearest Maupertuis,
I am sorry to have left Paris without the chance to inform you of the terrible change of circumstances in my life. My little boy, Victor-Esprit—dear God, not yet even two years old!—died last week, and I left immediately for Cirey with his tiny coffin for burial in the family cemetery. His passing was not unexpected, since he had been frail since birth, but the shock of seeing my own flesh and blood lifeless has had the most profound impact on me.
My son, Florent-Louis, is with me, since at six he is not yet boarding at school. I have sent word to my daughter Gabrielle-Pauline’s convent that I want her sent to me as soon as possible at Cirey, since I plan to be here indefinitely. I shall arrange for her enrollment in the Couvent de la Pitié at Joinville, no more than an hour from here, since I could not bear to see her as infrequently as would be the case now that Paris is several hard days’ journey away.
I intend to retain a tutor for my son while I am at Cirey, since I have little confidence in either the church or the military to engender in him the kind of curiosity about the world I want him to have. I hope to inspire in him a love of the sciences and a desire to cultivate his reason, and so a great deal of his education will fall on my own shoulders, and Monsieur Voltaire’s as well.
Gabrielle-Pauline has just turned eight, and I must admit, as terrible as it may sound, that I have no passion for her education, since she inhabits a world where good manners and unchallenging points of view will take her further than any real knowledge. Though the love of truth should be a stronger inspiration than the fear of God, Gabrielle-Pauline has shown such a docile and pious temperament, and so little curiosity about things of the mind, that I feel any effort to provide a more liberal education would be largely wasted.
I still hear my father’s admonition that it is not wise for a girl to use her mind too much, for fear of being found unattractive as a potential wife. Gabrielle-Pauline will make a good marriage someday, and since that is the measure of parents’ success with a daughter, I am doing what I feel is in her best interests, though I know such a childhood would have left me in the most miserable despair.
I am certain you are wondering why I have gone on at such length without yet mentioning our visitor at Cirey. Monsieur Voltaire has been here now for three months, and though parts of the house look more in ruins than ever due to recent demolition, he has already managed to make one wing quite cozy—a word I can’t say I have used for Cirey heretofore.
As you know, the lettre dde cachhet for his arrest is still in force should he leave Cirey, but it has receded considerably in importance due to the efforts of the Duchesse de Richelieu to calm the storm. Nevertheless, he says my presence negates any desire he might feel to go elsewhere, and I am, of course, in thrall to such compliments.
In any case, since I am the châtelaine of the estate,
it falls to me to oversee projects in my husband’s absence, and to arrange for proper furnishings, which will take months. Many of the windows are entirely bare, there is only one properly furnished bedchamber in the house—and that hopelessly unfashionable—and not a single room is fit for serious work.
I will leave it to you, my dear friend, to discern for yourself how the prospects of a life of study with Voltaire appear to me at this point, since it would be entirely unsuitable to express anything but the most profound grief for the loss of my young son, and resignation to the work that lies ahead.
I remain affectionately,
Emilie, Marquise du Châtelet-Lomont
1765
“JOSÉPHINE DE Maurepas is married?” Lili and Delphine exchanged confused glances.
“I guess you haven’t heard,” the queen’s daughter Madame Victoire said, getting up to shuffle through sheet music at the harpsichord. “She’s been married to the Marquis de Ferrand.”
“Quite suddenly,” Madame Sophie added. “Apparently he’s been to Paris and fetched her already.”
“Fetched her indeed,” Victoire said, exchanging a knowing glance with her sister. “She had better hope it was a quick and thorough fetching.” They both tittered behind their hands.
“That’s rather odd,” Lili said. “I saw her only a few weeks ago at Notre-Dame, and she said nothing about a marriage …”
No one seemed to hear her. “Even girls as plain as Joséphine de Maurepas should have a chance to enjoy a little attention while they are being sought after for marriage. And now, not even that,” Sophie murmured, shaking her head. “Poor dear!”
Delphine had gone over to examine the sheet music with Victoire. “Ferrand?” she asked. “Is that in France?”
Sophie and Victoire laughed as if Delphine were the wittiest person they knew.
“It might as well not be,” Sophie said.
“Not much there except sheep and cows.” Victoire smirked. “And peasants. Lots of those.” She and Sophie tittered again. “Tell me, Mademoiselle du Châtelet, when you saw her at Notre-Dame, did she look”—Victoire arched her eyebrows—“perhaps a little thick around the middle?”
Lili thought for a moment. “She was wearing a cloak. It was raining, and quite cold.”
“You really must notice more, if you’re to be amusing.” Victoire’s eyebrows rose in subtle mockery. “I imagine we’ll know for certain before long,” Sophie said, picking up her brandy glass and holding it to her nose.
“News travels so quickly from Ferrand,” Victoire replied, and both women burst into dainty peals of laughter. Sophie put the glass down without taking a sip. “This Armagnac is quite inferior. It speaks badly for the court.”
Lili had had enough. “What are you talking about?”
Victoire’s eyebrows shot up again, but it was Sophie who replied with a sympathetic cluck. “About Joséphine? It usually means there will be a premature arrival of the firstborn child. It’s December now.” She looked at Victoire. “What do you think? Sometime in May?”
“Joséphine is pregnant?” Lili gasped. And then she understood. Jacques-Mars. She sat stunned, as her memories reshaped themselves. Anne-Mathilde draped over Jacques-Mars and Joséphine, looking across the opera house to where she and Delphine sat. Joséphine so flirtatious and cozy with him at Nôtre-Dame. It was all so obvious. He had seduced Joséphine, and Anne-Mathilde had helped him do it. “Mon Dieu,” she whispered under her breath.
“Ferrand? Oh, he’s forty perhaps,” Sophie was saying to Delphine. “Do you remember him, Victoire?” She glanced over to her sister.
Victoire thought for a moment. “Nothing stands out in my mind. He’s not a young man—I do recall that—and I don’t remember him being attractive.”
“Quite fat, I believe,” Sophie said. “But perhaps I’m thinking of someone else.” Sophie stood up and went over to the harpsichord. Lili watched Delphine’s face as Sophie sang the first notes of the music they were preparing for the queen.
She doesn’t understand, Lili thought. If Jacques-Mars had succeeded in his scheme at Vaux-le-Vicomte, it could be Delphine who was banished to a place she’d never heard of, and dismissed with a laugh at court.
WHEN THE KING appeared unexpectedly in the queen’s parlor a few days before Christmas for the recital Delphine and Sophie had prepared for Marie Leszczynska, the surprise animated the room. The women made their révérences so quickly that Lili had to catch on to the fabric of Delphine’s skirt to keep from stumbling as she rose. With Louis was Ambroise Clément de Feuillet, and his father, the Comte d’Étoges. Just behind were Anne-Mathilde and the Duchesse de Praslin, who was on the arm of a newly arrived Jacques-Mars Courville.
“I understand a concert with my daughter’s new accompanist is not to be missed,” Louis said, bending his jowled chin down to one side, to permit an attendant to dab the beads of sweat from his temples. “Which one is Mademoiselle de Bercy?”
Julie had by now stepped to Delphine’s side. “Your Majesty.” She made a révérence again. “May I present my daughter, Delphine.”
Delphine made her own deep curtsey.
“Charming,” the king said. “And …?” He looked at Lili, standing stupefied next to her.
“May I also present Stanislas-Adélaïde, the daughter of the Marquis du Châtelet-Lomont and his late wife,” Julie said.
“Emilie de Breteuil’s daughter. Yes—I’d been told she was here.” Lili made her révérence and struggled not to flinch as the king searched her face. “And will you play in this concert also?”
“It’s Mademoiselle de Bercy who has the musical talent, Your Majesty,” she said.
His gaze lasted just a moment too long for comfort, and Lili felt her stomach turn over. “Well then,” he said, turning his attention to Delphine and motioning her toward the harpsichord.
This is worse than being presented, Lili thought. Her eyes darted to the floor as Delphine crossed the room, but this time there was no embarrassing sign of panic to scurry to hide. When Delphine played the introduction to Sophie’s first song, only a slight hesitation suggested that the performance was anything but routine. Maybe one can get rid of nerves forever all at once, Lili thought, since that was what Delphine seemed to have done.
The king was seated in a chair that had been quickly moved for the occasion next to the queen. He suppressed a yawn behind his hand and then turned to Marie Leszczynska as if even she might be more entertaining. He’s not interested in either of us, Lili thought with relief. But someone else was. She glanced across the room and caught Jacques-Mars watching her. He kept his eyes locked on her, and perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought she saw his lips purse as if he were contemplating what it would be like to kiss her.
She looked away and forced herself to smile, as if she were too wrapped up in the music to have noticed him. Her eyes lit upon Ambroise Clément de Feuillet, who was standing with Anne-Mathilde on the other side of the harpsichord. This time, the look in his eyes as he watched Delphine play was unmistakable. He’s smitten with her, Lili thought, controlling the urge to break out in a most undignified grin.
When Sophie sang her last notes, Delphine finished the concert with a flurry of tinkling notes. She stood up and made another flawless révérence to the king and queen before going over to Lili. From behind her fan she asked, “Was he watching me?”
“The king?” Lili asked. “He’s bored to a stupor.”
“Ambroise,” Delphine whispered. “I thought I felt his eyes piercing my back.”
“He watched you the whole time,” Lili said, “but I think if any eyes were making a hole in you, it was probably Anne-Mathilde’s.”
Delphine opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly Ambroise was standing beside her. “You played exquisitely,” he said.
Anne-Mathilde was not with him, and Lili looked across the room to see her in animated conversation with her mother and Jacques-Mars. The duchess shot a fiery glance in Delphine’s direction and
leaned in again toward them, hiding her mouth behind her fan.
Jacques-Mars nodded his head at something the duchess said and began walking toward where Lili stood with Delphine and Ambroise. Lili saw Maman touch him on the back to get his attention. She took his arm and steered him in the opposite direction, disappearing with him into a small sitting room.
“Are you going to the king’s supper?” Ambroise was asking. “There’s to be dancing afterward in the Salon de Mars.”
“I think a little dancing will be just perfect to settle my nerves.” Delphine gave Ambroise a shy smile. “It is a bit frightening to play for the king.”
“You gave no hint of it,” Ambroise said, running his eyes over the soft waves of Delphine’s hair.
“Perhaps it helped that I didn’t know he was coming and hadn’t the time to work myself into a state over it,” Delphine said with a flutter of her fan.
“I’m afraid I must confess I am indirectly the source of your fright,” Ambroise said. “When Mademoiselle de Praslin told me you would be accompanying Madame Sophie, I tried to excuse myself from my father’s audience with the king. But when I gave the queen’s concert as my excuse, His Majesty insisted upon coming, and of course that meant my father had to come too.”
Just then the sounds in the room quieted to a murmur, and Lili followed Ambroise’s gaze in the direction of the king. Louis was standing up and a chamberlain was adjusting his cloak over his shoulders. As he moved across the room, the women’s skirts whispered as they curtseyed, like the sound of breaking waves following the contours of a beach.
“May I show you the way, mesdemoiselles?” Ambroise gestured in the direction of the door, and they followed the king out into the glittering corridor.
Finding Emilie Page 20
