by Matilda Hart
The smell inside Le Gâteau filled Joan’s heart with joy - and it made her quite ravenous. Transporting her home in her imagination, Joan savored the scent of chocolate, fresh whipped cream, pastries right out of the oven, and fruit preserves homemade at the shoppe; including strawberry, raspberry, apricot, and peach. She had died and gone to heaven.
“May I help you, Mademoiselle?” Michell asked from behind the counter. Michell was the owner of the shoppe, and he brought his culinary skills from Paris, where he studied at Le Cordon Bleu.
“Bon jour, Michell.” Joan said, eyeing everything behind the counter but knowing already exactly what she wanted. “May I please have your vanilla cream cake, sil vous plait?”
“Yes, it will take just a few more minutes.”
“I’ll wait.” She replied, and took a seat at one of the cafe tables. Joan thought to herself that she could sit there all day and wait, if she had to.
“Why can’t you ever make one bloody decision?” A gentleman holding his hat at the counter said. He appeared to be talking to his wife, who had a small child in tow.
“I do make decisions. All the time. You’re just too blind to notice!” She fired back. The child began to scream and wail, and the wife’s cheeks appeared flustered and red.
“You’re not deciding on the fate of civilization, dearie. It’s just a blasted cake!” The husband fumed.
“You know, you were never like this before we got married. Now you’re a tyrant.” The wife said, shaking her child’s arm to try to get him to quiet down.
“I’m a tyrant? You won’t let me go out of the house unless I’m wearing what you instruct.”
“Well, that’s because I have taste.” The wife fumed, wiping some sweat off her brow. The child continued to wail.
“So, you can’t decide between chocolate, strawberry, or vanilla. Why don’t I get all three so that we don’t have to stand here all day.” The husband offered as a solution.
“That’s just like you to evade the problem.” The wife replied.
Joan thought that perhaps she could intervene and be of some assistance.
“Might I help? I’m an expert at these cakes. If you tell me what it is for I can tell you what is best.” She said, standing and presenting herself. Joan didn’t know if she was doing the right thing, but she just hoped she wouldn’t have to listen to the argument anymore.
“Thank you, young lady.” The husband replied, eager for some relief. “We have a dinner party for a State ambassador, and we’re serving fish.”
“Oh, yes. You definitely want to go with the strawberry. It’s quite delicious and it’s a palette cleanser.” Joan said with a smile.
“For some reason I trust her.” The wife said, and turned to Michell. “That will be one strawberry cake.” She ordered.
“Of course.” Michell replied and began to package it up.
“Thank you so much, ma’am.” The husband said with a grateful smile. The couple waited for the cake to be finished, and as they were walking out, the wife walked over to Joan’s table.
“You’re so sweet dear, I wanted to thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Joan replied
“But, take my advice, young woman.” The wife said, leaning in so her husband couldn’t hear her. “Don’t ever get married.” With that, cake in hand, she marched out the door.
Joan was in shock and didn’t know what to do. Those old thoughts of fear and doubt were swimming through her head all at once. If she married Emil, as she said she would, would that be how they would end up? The prospect was deplorable to her.
“Your vanilla cream cake, Joan.” Michell said, offering her the dessert in a beautiful white box.
“Thanks, Michell.”
“No, thank you for intervening with that couple. Seems like married folks like that come in here every day! I’m beginning to lose my mind.” He said.
Joan took her cake with a defeated hand. The situation was becoming more awful by the second. She simply couldn’t go through with it. She reasoned that she could return to Versailles, live out her days with her father, and be free. If she married Emil, she might become some sort of tyrant; the idea of which she couldn’t bare. No doubt, he would fall out of love with her eventually, and she’d be stuck in the prison of marriage from which there was no escape.
********
“Emil, I’m quite worried about what is going on. You’ve been engaged for months. I’ve been pressing for a date and I hear nothing from the two of you. Your mother must be furious.” Constance said, drinking tea and fanning herself on her couch. She appeared to be more than a little bit agitated.
“Do not worry, Constance. We’re just waiting for Joan to get here and then we have something to tell you.” Emil said, checking his watch and wondering where his future wife might be.
“Well, it just doesn’t look right. When two people love one another, they want to marry right away. None of this funny business with riding horses and fencing and avoiding everyone’s questions. It looks like some sort of relationship of convenience.” She explained.
“Aunt Constance, I want to assure you that the feelings that I have for your niece are secure and strong. In fact……I love her as I’ve loved no woman I’ve ever met.” Constance’s eyes widened at the sincerity of Emil’s statement. “I will do everything that I can to provide her with the best for the rest of her life.” Emil’s heart started pounding as he said it, for in troth, that was exactly how he felt.
“Well, that is very nice to hear. I just have to wonder, Emil, if all of this comes from some fear of commitment on your part. Pardon me for saying it, but I have heard told that you were somewhat of a playboy for a number of years. I hope I’m not being too common.” Constance said bashfully. But in reality, she had heard stories of the Duke being quite the ladies man for a number of years. Deep down, she secretly feared that he was afraid to commit himself to one woman, and not just any woman, her niece.
“Yes, ma’am. I did have a phase. I must admit that. There were many years where the very thought of committing to a woman would send me into a cold sweat. But things have changed now. Joan has irrevocably changed my life. There is no turning back. I love her, because she makes me a better man.” Emil said, afraid that he might give himself away too much by shedding a tear.
Constance was moved by his display of affection, and for once she felt confident in the young man, and in the match.
Just then, Joan came plowing into the foyer, cake in hand. She looked rather disheveled and with quite a bit on her mind. Emil noticed the change, but did not fully acknowledge it because he was eager to share the good news with Constance.
“Joan!” He said with delight.
“Emil.” She said to him, breathless. “Auntie.” She said.
“We have something that we need to share with you, Constance.” Emil said, ready to drop the news at last.
“Might I talk with you for a minute?” Joan said, cutting him off. A look of confusion came over Emil’s face.
“But, of course.” He said, his smile withering a little.
“In the kitchen.” She instructed, her eyes rather blank.
Joan and Emil walked into the kitchen, and Joan placed the cake down on the butcher block.
“You got a cake!” Emil said with glee.
“Vanilla cream.” She replied flatly. “I can’t do this Emil.”
Joan decided to not stall but to simply drop the news as quickly as possible. He needed to know immediately that what they were doing was the wrong choice.
“What on earth—“ Emil managed to say.
“We’re simply going to grow old and resent one another. Please believe that I have such affections for you, but that won’t keep us from enduring the same fate that every married couple endures. I can’t bear it.” Joan said, tears running down her face.
“Please, Joan. Don’t say that. All shall be well, you’ll see.” Emil said, and moved towards her to put a hand on her cheek.
�
�No, it shan’t be well. I know it.” Joan replied.
“Joan, sit for a moment.” Emil said, positioning her on a stool. He had to think fast, and he knew not why he did it, but he opened the cake box and procured a knife and plates. He cut two slender slices and placed one on each plate, and then put a plate in front of Joan.
“Are you trying to bribe me with cake?” She said, exasperated.
“Just trust me. Eat your cake.” Joan began to take a few tentative bites, and Emil went on. “Remember that freedom that we felt when we were engaged, but didn’t pay any consideration to the marriage? We were best friends, free to come and go as we pleased, and still loved one another. Do you remember that?”
Joan took an impossibly delicious bite of her cake, and replied. “Yes, it was lovely. But marriage is not like that—“
“Hear me out.” Emil went on. “What if I told you that our marriage will be just as free? You can come and go as you please. Should you wish to be alone, you may. If there are hobbies or activities that collide with you being able to, say, buy me a cake, then that’s perfectly acceptable.” He explained.
Joan was beginning to soften, and she felt as though she could breathe for the first time in an hour. Emil deeply hoped that he was alleviating her fears, and he could see in her eyes that there was more confidence and clarity there.
“You always know how to say the right thing, don’t you?” Joan said.
“Will you please come back to me, Joan? You went to buy a cake and completely disappeared, it seems.” Emil said with a smile. “Let me be a source of sweetness in your life, as well.
Joan looked down at her beautiful piece of cake, and thought that maybe it was true after all. Perhaps marriage was not a trap, but an extra source of sweetness in life.
“Okay, Emil.” She replied.
“For the second time?” He asked.
“The second, third, and fourth time.”
“Alright, my love.” He kissed her on the mouth, and cleaned off a bit of frosting that was on her cheek. “Shall we not tell your aunt the happy news?” He asked.
“Yes. But, please, lets bring her a piece of cake. Hopefully she’ll be in a sugar coma by the time we have to tell her that we’re getting married in Versailles!”
“Fantastic idea.”
The two of them brought a perfect slice of cake out into the foyer. Constance was sitting there waiting with the patience of a marble monument. When the coupled entered the room, she perked up and awaited what they were going to say.
“We have a date, auntie.” Joan said, handing her a piece of cake.
“Oh my word, thank heavens.” She said, fanning her bosom. She happily accepted the dessert. “When is it?”
“Next week.” The Duke said.
Constance choked on the piece of cake that she just hungrily put into her mouth.
“And we’re getting married…” Joan looked to Emil for courage. “In the gardens of Versailles.”
Constance did not reply, but took another enormous bite of cake in order to quell her anxiety. “This is delicious.” She replied, nervous and unsure what else to say. “Do be sure to bring a piece to Genevieve when you tell her the news.” She said.
“Of course we will, Auntie!” Joan replied, ecstatic that had consented.
“Come to think of it.” Constance added. “I think you’re going to need to bring her an entire cake.”
Chapter Ten
The Grand Hall of the Chateau of Versailles was simply yet tastefully decorated. After all, how much embellishment did one really need when embellishing what was already the most opulent palace in the world? The engagement party, even though held in France, was teeming with guests; from the highest born English aristocracy to the most yeomen-like French artisans; dear friends of her father’s. In fact, it was Joan’s father who had secured them the right to have the engagement party in the palace, thanks to his many connections.
“Boeuf madrilène with gold leaf spangles.” The majordome, or Palace butler, announced. There was a whole team of servants who were going from place to place, filling each plate with countless sumptuous dishes.
“My word, I haven’t a clue what that is.” Genevieve remarked with a wrinkled brow. She was seated close to Joan, which was something in the seating arrangement that she loathed. However, Genevieve insisted on creating the plan herself. The mother-in-law needed to have control over as much as she possibly could; even in a foreign country.
“Bisque of shellfish from our coasts with a boletus infusion.” The majordome announced next. Joan scarce knew how she could possibly eat so much food. She remembered telling Emil how they could have a simple wedding with light faire and mingling. In order for her to get her way with that, there would be a price to pay; the most opulent engagement party imaginable. Joan had conceded, and thought ahead to the wedding that was just days away, and was to be held in her father’s simple home in Le Hameau. She anticipated being much more comfortable then.
Even the gown that she wore was selected for her on that night, and of course, Mrs. Pedigree was the one that tightened the strings on her corset, which was considerably weighed-down with a whole bucket of jewels. Joan felt like some sort of ornate show pony.
The Duke himself was scarcely more comfortable. He sat at the opposite end of what seemed to be the largest table he had ever seen. To speak to his future wife, would need to send a telegram. It angered him that she was placed so far away, and that he had to sit next to
Poppy Pedigree, Constance, and even the bombastic Sir Walter Eldridge. There was only one person that sat near to Emil that he wanted to talk to, and that was the charming Pierre Lebeau, Joan’s father.
Emil found Pierre to be as warm and fascinating as his daughter; discoursing on great architecture, and all the while proclaiming that he was no great architect himself - a fact that Emil found impossible considering that his unparalleled talents had afforded him a dinner party at Versailles.
“Rice salad à la royale.” The next dish was presented.
“How am I supposed to dance after all this?” Joan said aloud.
“What, you do not like the food from your own country?” Genevieve asked with a start.
“This is not the food of its people. This is the food of Louis XIV!” Joan exclaimed, with a hand over her belly.
“I know that it is. I ordered it.” She replied.
“I beg your pardon?” Joan said.
“It’s from a famous menu served to Louis XIV. I asked for it expressly.”
“Heavens.” Joan said. She looked down the table and almost had to squint her eyes to see Emil. He was talking to her father, and that brought a flood of warmth all through Joan’s veins. Seeing those two men, the dearest in her life, talking with one another for the first time, was something she would never forget. Of the sudden, she longed intensely to be on that side of the table with Emil. She wanted to sit next to her fiancé and hold his hand; perhaps even escape from all this pomp and circumstance.
“I do say, Joan. You have made a stunning match. I hope there will be many sons in your home soon enough.” This from a woman that Joan didn’t know at all, but assumed was a friend of Genevieve’s. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes.
“Green and fresh herb salad in gold leaf.” Came the majordome again.
“Well, daughters would be quite welcome, too. Or perhaps no brood at all.” Joan said, knowing that her tone was perhaps too sharp. Inside her head she was begging that Emil would look her way, and just then, as his green and fresh herb salad was placed before him, Emil’s eyes met with hers. Her heart danced.
At first Joan couldn’t quite make out what he was trying to communicate, but he began to gesture with his head towards the exit, while loosening his collar with a finger. Joan smiled at that, but knew not how they would be able to get away from the table.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the dancing will commence in the ballroom after the edible candle with fruit is served.” The majordome announced.
>
Edible candle? Joan thought to herself. The Sun King ate edible candles. Joan secretly hoped that no one would catch on fire…..except maybe perhaps, Genevieve. But just a small flame.
She looked back at Emil who raised his eyebrows in hope. Yes, they could escape during the dancing. They had pulled it off before, and they’d certainly be able to do it again with the Versailles gardens just past the veranda.
After the fruit was served, and a few guests had the courage to attempt the edible candle, everyone alighted from their seats and made their way to the ballroom. Joan felt like she could scarce get up, what with the weightiness of her gown and jewels. But once she made it into the ballroom, the band had already started playing and the dancers were taking their positions. Jane looked around the room frantically.
