Clandara (55 page)

‘It is late,' she said. ‘I have only two hours in which to dress. I must beg you to excuse me, my dear friends. We will meet again at the play this evening!'

‘I look forward to it,' the comte bowed over her hand and made a pretence of kissing it. He detested physical contact with women. ‘I believe the charming dauphine has more enthusiasm than talent. However, we shall see!
Au revoir,
my dear Louise!'

Marie was waiting to dress her; the yellow dress was hung away and Louise stepped into a petticoat stiffened on each side with whalebone; her waist was pulled in by a corset so tight that she gasped for breath as her maid pulled on the laces. Petticoats trimmed with lace and ribbons went on over the boned hoops, and an underpetticoat of cerise brocade, heavily embroidered with silver. The overdress, which opened at the skirt to reveal the cerise petticoat, was plum-coloured velvet, silver lace cascading from the sleeves and round the low neck. Louise had spent a great deal more than she could afford on this dress; even the dark-red shoes with silver heels and diamond buckles had cost a fortune. But tonight was significant; she must look more beautiful, more richly dressed than she had ever done before, when so many important people's eyes would be upon her, and she would inflict such a brutal defeat upon her lover's wife. Anne's diamonds would profit her nothing; she would be alone at the Trianon, escorted by friends or even by the mysterious admirer that poisonous De Tallieu had mentioned, though if he were really poor, he was unlikely to have been invited. The great heiress of Charantaise might have rooms at Versailles and rival the Du Barry with her jewels and carriages, but she could not command the attentions of her own husband, and the entire court would be able to dismiss her with contempt.

‘Marie, go and look down the corridor; see if you can see M. Charles coming!'

‘There's no need, M. Charles is here in person!' He was standing in the door, and she ran to him with an exclamation and held out her arms. To her surprise he ignored them and stepped past her into the room. He spoke one word to the maid. ‘Go!' With a curtsy she fled, closing the door behind her.

‘Charles, you missed my reception,' Louise said. ‘I was so disappointed. Come, my love, what do you think of my costume?'

‘Magnificent; you have exquisite taste. I regret the reception but I was with my wife.'

‘Oh?' She turned round quickly, her displeasure showing on her face.

‘Don't scowl,' Charles remarked. ‘It doesn't suit you. What is so surprising about what I said?'

‘Nothing,' Louise retorted. ‘Nothing except that you have seen her once or twice since she came here and tonight we had a special arrangement because of the play. I gave the reception to please you.'

‘I forgot,' he said. ‘And I haven't time to argue with you, my dear Louise. I only came to tell you that I cannot escort you to the Trianon tonight; I'm taking my wife!'

Louise went so white that the rouge on her face stood out in livid relief. She stared at Charles for a moment unable to speak, and a mad impulse came over her to slap her open hand across the mocking face.

‘You are taking your wife.…' She repeated it slowly. ‘You agreed to escort me, and now you humiliate me in this way, leaving me no time to find another escort or join a party, telling me half an hour before we leave for the Grand Canal that you are taking your wife instead! It's unbelievable; I won't allow you to do this!'

‘Don't be ridiculous,' he snapped. ‘Why must you always forget that you're only my mistress? I didn't realise the protocol for tonight when I said I'd take you. The dauphine is performing, it's almost a state occasion. Of course I cannot sit with you and ignore Anne. Control yourself, Louise, before you choke with all that temper. If I choose to insult my wife, that's my affair and I'll do it in my own way. I don't care for these little schemes of yours. If you'd succeeded and I'd gone with you, I should have broken your neck for you afterwards. I should send a note to some of your odious friends to come and join you. Perhaps that nasty little pederast De Tallieu will oblige. Good night!'

As he left her, he heard the crash of something striking the door and smashing in pieces, and he laughed. Clever though she was, she still made mistakes, and the discovery of how he had been tricked into committing himself for that night had made him very angry. She was lucky he had no time to waste with her; his first impulse had been to go to her rooms and box her ears for what she had dared to try and bring about.

His wife had come unwanted to Versailles and the King had intimated that her presence was desired. Charles could not order her to leave or employ force to make her, as he could have done in other circumstances. And however Louise sneered and raged about her, Anne had behaved with perfect dignity. He began to hurry up the side staircase towards her apartments. He had sent her a message, peremptory enough, telling her to be ready to embark in one of the barges on the Grand Canal at six o'clock. When he came into her small room, she was ready; Marie-Jeanne from Charantaise had come to Versailles with her, and as soon as she saw Charles, she backed out of his way and shut herself in the tiny anteroom where she slept on the floor near her mistress. Anne was dressed from head to foot in brilliant turquoise; a cockade of white and turquoise ostrich plumes was fastened in her hair by an ornament blazing with diamonds; her throat was on fire with the same stones, and they were festooned over the bodice of her dress. He stood where he was and considered her. Not a word had been spoken.

‘Turn round,' he said. She did so, moving slowly because her panniers were very wide and there was little space.

‘Very good,' he said at last. ‘A harsh colour, but you carry it well. Your taste improves every time I see you. Come, we shall be late.'

‘I had made other arrangements,' Anne said quietly. ‘I had no reason to suppose you would take me to the play.'

‘What a pleasant surprise it must have been for you,' he mocked. ‘I imagine you have cancelled your other arrangements and will not refuse to come with me?'

‘I have never refused you anything,' she said quietly.

‘Perhaps you should,' Charles said. ‘Try one day, and see what happens. Hurry now.'

She fastened a long velvet cloak of the same vivid colour over her dress, and together they joined the growing stream of people making their way to the coaches for the drive to the Grand Canal. The crowd was very gay; people called and waved to each other, and the atmosphere on the deck of the richly ornamented barge was as informal as it could ever be at Versailles. They took their places near the prow, Anne with her hand in his arm, holding on to him as the boat began to move away from the bank into the middle of the artificial canal, the oars dipping and rising in the water. It was a cool spring evening, and the barges were lit by torches; a small fleet of them were moving down towards the Trianon, glittering like fireflies in the dusk, led by the splendid state barge, carved and gilded and hung with silken awnings, where the King sat on a dais on the poop deck, with the Du Barry wrapped in ermine and silver lace beside him.

It was an anxious evening for the favourite; even she, the spoilt, indulged darling of the most powerful monarch in the world, was subject to worries and distresses, albeit of the most trivial kind. The Du Barry was constantly hurt by the refusal of the Austrian dauphine to recognise her existence by speaking a single word.

Marie Antoinette was very young; she was also very proud and inclined to display her moral rectitude at the expense of the old King and his disreputable mistress. And the mistress yearned for one friendly word from the young princess, one nod of the head, one passing sentence which would relieve the tension that arose whenever the two women chanced to be in the same room. A little gesture from the dauphine could still the spiteful tongues and malicious laughter of all Du Barry's enemies. On this trifle a whole conspiracy was built; those who sought the mistress' patronage promised to intercede with Marie Antoinette, ambassadors and ministers approached the intractable princess with angry messages from the King himself, and still she made no sign that the Comtesse Du Barry inhabited the same planet. And on the opposite side, those who hated the favourite, encouraged and lectured the princess on her duty to ignore her and give a good example to the court. Sitting beside her lover, the Du Barry fidgeted with her fan and sighed and wondered if that night, perhaps, her enemy might relent and even smile at her after the performance. She had already determined to send her a gift of jewels to see if greed could succeed where diplomacy had failed.

At the Trianon the King and his immediate party entered the theatre and took their seats in the royal box which was hung with tapestries and decorated with hundreds of spring flowers. The audience clapped the King vigorously, and from the orchestra pit the first strains of introductory music sounded and the rustling, whispering crowd became quiet.

Anne and Charles were seated on a narrow bench in the upper gallery, so crushed by others that there was scarcely room to move. He had seemed in a curiously good mood during the trip, keeping her arm within his, helping her to disembark with great courtesy. He looked extremely handsome and, as usual, very elegant, wearing the Macdonald sash across his breast, and a fine diamond pin in his cravat. She had remarked on the stone once, and he had begun to laugh at her. ‘One day,' he had said, ‘perhaps I'll give it to you!'

The curtain rose on the first act of a well-known comedy by Molière, and there was more clapping for the appearance of the dauphine in the principal part. Anne leaned forward to see her better; she was a pretty girl with a beautiful complexion and rather protuberant blue eyes of fine colour. Her red hair was hidden by a towering grey wig covered in feathers and jewels, and she spoke her lines clearly and enthusiastically so that all could hear her. She had little acting talent and no comic sense.

‘There's a rumour that she may speak to the Du Barry tonight,' Anne whispered to him. He glanced away from the stage for a moment; ‘I'll wager a hundred louis she does nothing of the kind. She's as stiff-necked as a mule, and an Austrian mule is the worst of the breed. She'll never acknowledge the woman; I don't know why the devil the Du Barry can't ignore her and let the damned business drop.'

‘She feels the slight, I believe,' Anne murmured. ‘I've been told many things about her, and they say she's quite sensitive.'

‘There's a lot of the country simpleton about you still,' he said under his breath. ‘Come to one of her evening soirées and see her sitting half naked on the King's knees like a drunken whore in a bawdy house; then tell me how sensitive she is! Keep these judgments to yourself, my dear Anne. You're only a child and you don't know the world. Let's listen to the noble princess and her ladies murdering Molière's lines!'

Charles sat through the remaining acts without paying any attention to the action on the stage. He felt relaxed and benevolent; he had not the least regret that Louise was not beside him, whispering and sparkling and demanding his attention. He enjoyed his wife's scent, and in a strange way he had also enjoyed the looks and comments that had followed them from the barge to the Trianon itself. She looked very beautiful; in the dim theatre she glittered when she moved and her magnificent diamonds caught the fitful candlelight from the walls. She was a restful creature to be with at times and he was off his guard that night after his quarrel with Louise. He was not bored, as he had so often taunted Anne in the past; she neither wearied him nor distracted him, and he was perversely amused to imagine that somewhere in the auditorium Louise was sitting through the interminable performance consumed with jealousy and rage; at the same time distracted with fear that she might lose the man who had treated her so badly. Charles knew every twist in her character, every devious impulse, every flash of temper, and every spit of jealousy. She stimulated him; he would go back to her in a day or two when she had time to cool and her anxiety made her pliable. If he left it long enough she would be on her knees to him when he returned. She needed a lesson. Thinking of the humiliation she had planned for his unsuspecting wife, he grew angry again. Anne had not recognised the significance of the Trianon play or what it would cost her in pride to be seen in the same company as her husband and his mistress. The court was full of men and women engaged in public liaison, but they did not indulge them openly in the presence of the King. She would have had to leave Versailles if Louise had succeeded.

And whatever there was between them, Charles did not permit his wife to be exiled by his mistress. It was a matter of pride. She bore his name and he alone had the right to abuse her if he chose. When the play was over, they went back to the barges and the whole glittering procession set out for the main palace and a late supper. The King had remained behind at the Trianon with Marie Antoinette and a circle of friends especially invited. The Du Barry had not been included in the dauphine's invitation to join her supper party, and while the King went back to congratulate her and the company, he declined to dine without his mistress, and the court set out again for Versailles. Everyone was talking about the Du Barry's disappointment and the snubs exchanged between Louis and the dauphine. Only Anne was silent; she had been happy for those few hours, happier than at any time since her marriage. It was the first time Charles had been nice to her without the interjecting of a single wounding sneer or curt rebuff. Now it was ending; as the boat drew into the landing stage, she felt tears in her eyes.

‘Will you have supper with me?' he asked her suddenly. They were standing together at the top of the steps leading up from the Cour de Marbre; people were pushing past them, talking and laughing, and the lackeys were leading away the carriages below.