Almost, of course, because our beloved Maman will not be there. Still, Delphine’s great happiness will, I am sure, be some consolation. Perhaps we shall from time to time invite guests to a salon in our mother’s honor, and I can again listen to you defend my poor arguments against the learned men who so adored her.
Lili paused to dip her quill.
Of course it would not be the same without our beloved Jean-Étienne, and I hope you will share news from the Falklands the next time you write. I presume he is still engaged to be married.
Lili stopped for a moment. “Why did you spoil the page by writing that?” she muttered, tearing the letter in half with a loud rip. She wrote on a new piece of paper:
My dear Buffon.
I am indeed with Delphine at the Abbaye de Panthémont, but will be here only several more weeks, since she will be coming back to Paris for her wedding. Please send whatever papers you have. I am most eager to use my mind, as it has been sorely neglected the last few months.
Your devoted friend,
Stanislas-Adélaïde du Châtelet.
She picked up the pen again.
I forgot to mention that I am enclosing a lovely pen sketch Delphine made for you of the blossoms on the trees in her courtyard. You will see she continues to perfect the observational skills we all so admire.
She thought for a moment before adding a second signature. Lili. The way she would sign to a beloved father.
Lili picked up the sketch and folded it inside her letter. Then before sealing it, she took one blossom from the sprig that was still protruding from her bodice and tucked it, like a talisman, between the sheets of paper. “This is for Jean-Étienne,” she whispered. “Even if he never sees it.”
LILI EXTENDED HER hand through the carriage door to help a trembling Delphine mount the step. Once inside, Delphine sat with excruciating delicacy to avoid uncentering her panniers and disturbing the luxurious silk petticoats under her skirt. Since she was still in half-mourning, she wore the traditional white, with a watered-silk bodice shot with gold and trimmed with ivory lace at the cuffs and neck. The cut was modest, and the slightly visible mounds of her breasts glowed under a dusting of powder. Her skirt was the same white, with gold embroidery on the tops of the panniers, and her velvet slippers and hat had been made to match. A hairdresser and tailor had come shortly after dawn to spend the better part of the day sewing Delphine into her outfit and arranging her hair in the latest style.
The sun was reaching its apex in the May sky as Lili and Delphine set out for Hôtel Bercy. “I hope we don’t keep them waiting too long,” Delphine said. “I so want everything to be perfect.”
“It will be,” Lili said. “I know it will.” Except, of course, for the one thing that needed no reminder. Delphine’s wedding day had arrived, and Maman would not be there.
“It just doesn’t feel right,” Delphine said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Please don’t cry,” Lili said. “Maman wouldn’t want you to, and you’ll spoil how pretty you look.”
Delphine bit her lip. “We should just pretend she’s here, perhaps. Maybe that will help it be less sad.”
Lili sat back in surprise. “Sad? You’ve dreamed of this since I told you fairy tales in bed!”
Delphine’s cheeks were drained of their color. “I don’t know what I think. Right now I think I’m mostly scared.”
Lili reached over to touch Delphine’s fingers. “Of what?”
Delphine grabbed Lili’s hand, wringing it without noticing. “Of everything. Of being a good wife. Of—” She gave Lili a terrified look. “Do you think it hurts? I’ve heard there’s a lot of blood the first time.”
“I don’t know. It seems as if everyone recovers—”
Delphine didn’t hear. “And then there’s having babies. I heard it makes even the bravest women scream. And I’m not very brave. Not at all like you!”
“I’m not brave!”
“Oh yes you are! You stood up to Baronne Lomont. You published your stories and didn’t care what anyone said. You make everybody love you for your mind. Monsieur Diderot, the Comte de Buffon …”
“But not Jean-Étienne,” Lili said. “Apparently I had very little effect on him.”
“Well, he may be good at medical kinds of things, but he’s a fool when it comes to—when it comes to what his heart says.”
“Not everyone can be as fortunate as you,” Lili said, hearing the tightness in her voice.
“Maman should be here,” Delphine said, turning to look out the window to avoid Lili’s eyes.
“She’d certainly be more help with—with the things you’re wondering about,” Lili said with a wan laugh that died in her throat.
Delphine looked at Lili quizzically. “Do you ever wonder what that song Monsieur Philidor wrote for her was about? Do you think they were …? I can’t even say it!”
“Lovers?” The chess game in the parlor, the visit at the opera, the music at the funeral. “He adored Maman,” Lili replied. “Do you think she might have loved him too?”
“No. It’s just too strange. But it’s sad to think she might have been lonely without Papa. I don’t like that either.”
“We would have known,” Lili said. “Wouldn’t we?”
They stared at each other until Lili broke the silence. “The truth is, we might not have known very much about Maman at all.”
“And now it’s too late to ask, so we never will.” Delphine took out her handkerchief again.
“And what if we had? What if we’d said, ‘Maman, are you—you know—with Monsieur Philidor?’ If she were in this carriage right now, do you think she would tell us something she didn’t want us to know?”
“I suppose not,” Delphine said. “But if she took a lover—it can’t hurt that much, don’t you think?”
Something about the sweet hope in Delphine’s voice made Lili’s heart flood with memories. “It’s not like those saint stories we used to have to read,” she said. “All that violence and resistance. You’re going to spend your life with a man who loves you, and I think you’ll get used to everything, and maybe even grow to like things you’re afraid of now.”
A man who loves you. Visions of Jean-Étienne chattering about science as they went back and forth from the Jardin de Roi merged with another of him at the microscope, another with the monkey on his shoulder, and another of when they first met at Maman’s salon. “I’m the nephew,” he had said. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
“I think it must be quite wonderful to love someone so much you want to be as close to him as you possibly can,” Lili said. Knowing from the twinge in her jaw that she would not be able to stop the onset of tears, she looked out the window. “We’re almost there.”
Delphine sat up straight. “Have I made a mess of myself?”
Lili smiled. “You’ve made a splendid success of yourself.”
“You know that’s not what I meant! Are my eyes red?”
“Your eyes are shining. And I can’t wait to see his when he sees you.”
The carriage made the familiar turn into the courtyard and Lili heard the voices of the household staff come out to greet them. “I love you, Delphine,” she blurted out. It was not a sentiment to which they often gave words.
“I love you too,” Delphine whispered.
“I wish I could ask the driver to go around the block one more time, so this part of our life wouldn’t be over quite yet,” Lili said, “but what’s waiting for you is even better.” The footman opened the door before Delphine could respond, and she was lost in the flurry of servants welcoming her home.
Hôtel Bercy is all hers now, Lili thought as she watched Delphine being ushered inside. And today, my heart, forget yourself and be nothing but happy for her.
“Mademoiselle Lili?” The familiar voice was Corinne’s. “Aren’t you coming in?”
“Of course,” Lili said. “I just wanted to wait for a moment, so I wouldn’t get in the way.”
Corinne gave her a quizzical look. “Does mademoiselle need something for her eyes?”
Lili accepted a starched and pressed handkerchief from Corinne’s apron pocket. “It looks as if I do,” she said, dabbing away tears as she walked into the house.
LILI AND DELPHINE waited in the music room to be called in by the notary. Too nervous to sit, they paced the floor, stopping from time to time to look out the windows at nothing in particular. Delphine had changed from the hat she had worn in the carriage into the traditional fragile headdress of lace streamers and orange blossoms that symbolized a bride’s virginity.
“What is taking so long?” Delphine whined. “I think I’ll just dissolve right here if they don’t hurry up.”
“Ambroise has to go through the papers with the lawyers. Make sure everything is in order before he signs.”
“Do I have to do that too? My eyes feel like they’re spinning in circles.”
“I don’t think women read it themselves. Their father decides it’s all right, or in this case, your lawyer does, and then you sign.”
“Well, I suppose I should be upset they don’t consult me, but right now I don’t care. Just let me come in and get it over with. Please!”
A loud burst of jovial conversation came from the parlor at the far end of the hall. “I hear Ambroise’s voice!” Delphine said. “Do you think he sounds happy?”
“I imagine he’s as unhappy as you are about having to wait. Stop scratching your neck!”
“This sugar pomade on my curls itches!” Delphine lifted her hair. “Or maybe it’s the orange blossoms. Have I made myself all ugly and red?”
“No, but I’ll tie your hands behind your back if you don’t stop.”
“I wish it were over, that’s all.” Delphine heard the familiar creak of a floorboard in the passageway and grabbed Lili’s arm.
“Mademoiselle de Bercy?” The notary stood in the doorway. “Are you ready to come in?”
* * *
THE PARLOR WHERE Maman’s salon had once been held was cleaned and polished to a glow, and large sprays of orange blossoms adorned the sideboards. The furniture had been rearranged temporarily to create an empty space in the center of the room, around a desk that had been moved there for the occasion. A document on thick vellum was laid out on the otherwise bare surface, next to a crystal inkwell and a beautifully shaped quill Lili recognized as having belonged to Maman.
Ambroise came to Delphine’s side, and Lili released her hold on Delphine’s elbow. He turned to the small group of assembled guests. “Aren’t I the luckiest of men?” Lili looked around as a murmur of assent filled the room. The Comte and Comtesse d’Étoges were there, as well as Delphine’s invited guests, Baronne Lomont and the Comte de Buffon.
Delphine took a seat at the desk. “What do I do?” she asked.
“Sign here,” the notary said, pointing to a blank space. “And be careful with the pen. I’ve seen more than one bride forget to tap the quill and end up dripping ink.”
Delphine smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said in a breathy voice so sweet and kind that Lili thought for a moment Maman had suddenly materialized in the room. And then, with a confident flourish, Delphine wrote her name.
The Comte d’Étoges went to a sideboard as the group applauded. “A toast to Monsieur and Madame Clément de Feuillet,” he said, lifting a bottle of wine.
Delphine by then had risen and accepted a delicate kiss on the cheek from Ambroise. “Does this mean we’re married?”
“I think so,” he replied, looking to the notary.
Seeing the man nod, Delphine turned around to look for Lili. “I’m married,” she said, bursting into tears as she bent toward her as far as her massive panniers allowed.
“My fairy-tale princess,” Lili murmured into her ear. “You made your dream come true.”
“And it will be your turn now,” Delphine said, pulling back to look at her. Her face grew solemn as she bent in again toward Lili. “I promise,” she whispered. “With all my heart. I swear I’ll do everything I can to see you as happy as I am.”
THE FOLLOWING EVENING, after the nuptial mass to sanctify the marriage and a dinner hosted by the Comte d ‘Étoges, a few of the guests went back to Hôtel Bercy to escort Delphine and Ambroise to their marriage bed. Since unmarried women were not included, Lili said her good-byes and went with the baroness back to Hôtel Lomont, where she would stay for another week to give the bride and groom a chance to be alone, before moving back to Hôtel Bercy herself.
Darkness had fallen by then, and they rode back in silence. “You do realize that you cannot stay at Hôtel Bercy forever,” Baronne Lomont said. “It’s acceptable for now, but what about when they go to Château d ‘Étoges, or travel abroad? You can’t stay alone there as an unmarried woman, and you can’t follow them around wherever they go. Or is that what you intend?”
“I hardly think that having a sister close at hand early in a marriage is a detriment, Baronne,” Lili said into the darkness. “I imagine she will be glad for someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t have her own husband or household to concern herself with.”
Baronne Lomont sniffed in disapproval. “I could have expected as much, I suppose, trying to make excuses sound like virtues.”
“If you mean my refusal to marry, I intend to wait only as long as it takes to find someone I believe will support my interests.”
“And what might those be? Did your visits with the Comte de Buffon make you imagine yourself a scientist? Or perhaps you fancy yourself a novelist, with your scribbling.” Though she could not see the baroness’s face in the shadows, Lili imagined her lip curling with scorn.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Baronne Lomont,” she said, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion, “but that seems to be all we do.”
Baronne Lomont was silent for a moment. “We will stop fighting, Stanislas-Adélaïde, when you accept your destiny.”
Lili sat up, feeling the hair rise on her arms. “Tell her she knows nothing about your destiny,” the air around her seemed to be saying.
I’m still afraid of her, Lili argued back.
“Don’t be!”
Lili took a deep breath, but as she exhaled, she lost her nerve to speak. After all, what did she know about her destiny, except what she hoped it wasn’t? She took in a second deep breath.
“You’re as strong as you need to be,” the air commanded, and the words spilled out.
“I’m an author,” she said. “That’s what I intend to do with my life. And I hope to pursue science as well.”
“An author?” The baroness’s voice curled up with astonishment.
“I’m not just amusing myself with my writing. I’m destined to do it,” Lili said, surprised at the strength in her voice and wishing she were as convinced as she was pretending to be. “Your low opinion of the story you found is not shared. I have been published in the Galette d’Amsterdam. Perhaps you have heard of Monsieur Tellechat?”
“I don’t read such drivel!”
“I am Tellechat,” Lili went on. “Monsieur Diderot tells me I am all the rage.” It wasn’t exactly true, but the baroness would not know otherwise.
“Monsieur Diderot?” The baroness was aghast. “I should have known nothing good would come of growing up in a house with a salon.”
Lili ignored her. “I have copies, if you’d like to see. I’ve hidden them from you because you made it necessary to be deceitful. I’ve also hidden a supply of ink and paper Delphine bought for me after you refused to let me have more.”
They had turned onto a lamplit thoroughfare, and a shaft of light came through the window, illuminating the baroness’s face. Her dark hat and cloak left the rest of her in deep shadow, and the pale light could not reach all the crevices of her thin face, making her appear momentarily like a disembodied skull floating in midair. Lili’s heart skipped a beat at what seemed like an evil apparition from a fairy tale. I’ve had enough of your poison, she thought. And you
have no more power over me than I allow.
The light faded and the coach was again in shadows. “I will marry someone who suits me when I believe the time is right,” Lili said. “And I’m not discussing it again.”
“Is that so?” The inflection of the baroness’s voice sounded oddly musical, as if something had just given her immense delight. “I’d like you to come with me into my study when we get home,” she said. “I have something to show you that I believe will put an end to this rebelliousness once and for all.”
THE LETTER WITH its broken seal was the sole object on the table next to Baronne Lomont’s favorite chair. She picked it up and turned to Lili. “Sit down, Mademoiselle du Châtelet.”
The formality of that name was unnerving, but Lili pressed her feet into the carpet to remind herself to stand strong. “I would prefer to stay where I am,” she said in a clipped voice. “It’s been a long two days seeing Delphine married, and I’d like to go to bed as soon as you’ve shown me whatever it is you want me to see.”
“As you wish,” the baroness said with a hint of a smirk, handing her the letter. “It’s from the Marquis du Châtelet.”
“A letter from my father?” Lili’s heart pounded as she opened the tightly folded single page.
My Dear and Esteemed Sister-in-Law,
I received your letter inquiring as to my wishes in regard to Stanislas-Adélaïde after the regrettable death of Madame de Bercy. I do not wish to be involved in the search for a suitable husband, and I leave it to you to arrange for her marriage, which I agree should take place as soon as possible.
I have sent to my lawyer by separate post the document you asked me to sign, and you should by now have the legal authority to make such decisions on my behalf. Please be advised that in the negotiations attendant to marriage, you should not represent that there will be a dowry from me, since I do not plan to add anything beyond the stipend she presently receives from the rents on one of my properties.
Lili stared at his unfamiliar signature, penned with a flourish below the text. “So you see,” the baroness was saying. “I have put an end to your foolishness, just as I said.”
Finding Emilie Page 28
