Days of Splendor, Days of Sorrow (20 page)

• • •

A
PRIL
1777

It was really too chilly for a light repast in the Belvedère, but the sunny neoclassical pavilion on the grounds behind le Petit Trianon had just been completed and I was anxious to enjoy both the solitude and the vistas. Each of the eight tall windows looked out onto a slightly different view. The swans glided in the pond below us and the trees were still straining to bud. Beyond, depending on the vantage, lay a grove of trees, rolling meadows, and a charming outcropping. I had asked for my harp to be brought to me so that I might practice my music while the comtesse de Polignac and the princesse de Lamballe joined me for orangeade, strawberries, and confections. At our feet, Jacques and Julie, whom I had met two months earlier during a sleigh ride in the Bois de Boulogne, played with a wooden cup and ball on a string,

“Look!” Gabrielle exclaimed, swiveling in her chair with a rustle of lilac taffeta. “We have a visitor!”

A solitary man, tall, wearing a gray felt tricorn that shaded his brow and a simple, tobacco-colored cloak, trudged up the rocky path with the aid of a gilt-topped ebony walking stick. My liveried footman went out to meet him. The men exchanged a few words. My footman looked sour and shook his head. The stranger became insistent and grew impatient. Moments later, my footman approached. “A Count Falkenstein insists upon having a word with you,
Votre Majesté
. He says you have been expecting him.”

I rose and walked to the glass doors, opening them myself. My heart began to tremble, for despite the warning signs posted on the grounds, anyone might talk his way into the presence of the sovereign and I had not been terribly popular of late. Perhaps this stranger meant me some harm. “Count Falkenstein?” I echoed doubtfully.

The gentleman stepped forward and doffed his hat, revealing a head of thinning blond hair, unpowdered, a pale face with light blue eyes, and a jovial smile with a fine set of teeth.

“Joseph!” I flung my arms about his neck and kissed him on both cheeks. When he drew away, he touched himself where I kissed him, and worried with an amused chuckle that he was now splotched with rouge. “What is this ‘Count Falkenstein’ business? I nearly had you removed from the property as a trespasser!”

“Have you already forgotten that I prefer to travel incognito? As soon as people know they are speaking to the Holy Roman Emperor I am given quite a different welcome and then I have an altogether distorted experience. No, I wish to see the world as any other man of good stature would, and so I kept my
nom de voyage
a secret even from my favorite sister.”

I stepped back to regard him more fully. “
Mon Dieu!
Look at you,
mon frère
! So—so—” I had not seen him since I was fourteen
years old, on the day I left my homeland for France. In truth Joseph seemed a bit aged for his thirty-six years; perhaps because he was losing his hair and had not the vanity to wear a wig, at least in his disguise. “Come, you must meet my two dearest friends!” I clasped his hand and, suddenly a little girl again with her beloved oldest brother, tugged him up the three stone steps into the intimate Belvedère. On this afternoon in early spring, it was the loveliest spot in France, with its cream-colored walls frescoed with floral motifs in shades of gray and gold. I slipped my arm through Joseph’s.

He paused when he saw the two children playing on the floor, surrounded by a half-dozen toys and dolls. “Obviously not yours.”

“
Hélas, non
, but loveable all the same.” I knelt beside Julie and stroked her dark curls. “They belong to a miller and his wife. The roof of their cottage was in dreadful need of repair—and I offered to ameliorate their lot by adopting Jacques and Julie while the work was being done. Now that the spring has come and the roof has been rebuilt, I must regrettably return them to their parents soon.” I cast a mournful glance at the six-year-old boy and his sister. “But I hate to part with them.”

“Is Her Majesty kind to you?” my brother asked Jacques.

“Tell
Count Falkenstein
the truth,
mon petit
.”

“Oh, yes. But she doesn’t let us eat too many sweets,” the boy replied.

“She gave us two pairs of new shoes,” eight-year-old Julie volunteered, displaying her ankles. “With diamond buckles.”

“Do they play in the palace?” Joseph inquired, uttering the words between his teeth.

“Of course they do; they live there!” He blanched, clearly imagining the pair of them rolling hoops through the Galerie des Glaces. “Where else should they play? In my rooms there are dogs aplenty for them to romp with, and I have seen to it that they
shall have no end of other amusements. I wish I could keep them forever.” I sighed. “There are so many advantages I could bestow that their parents could not.” I drew the children into my arms. “They could neither read nor write when I met them, and already they are becoming proficient.” The rush of crimson to my cheeks informed Joseph that Julie and Jacques were not the first children I had adopted and would doubtless not be the last.

“You do have to bring them home soon,” Joseph murmured. “Your duty is to bear children, not to borrow them.”

I kissed their sweet brows and rose to my feet. Best to change the subject. “Allow me to introduce you, brother, to my two dearest friends. The beautiful lady in lilac with the cloud of dark hair and the indigo eyes is the comtesse de Polignac. Her family is terribly poor,” I whispered. “Desperate straits, all of them, so I have found places for several of her relations at court. I have helped those who remain in the countryside with gifts of food and contributions from my privy purse. It’s the least I can do to help a friend. Louis, too, has been quite magnanimous, for he sees how greatly Gabrielle’s companionship pleases me.”

“Ah” was all Joseph said. “And the blond woman in the striped blue dress with the sad eyes. Does she never smile?”

“Rarely,” I replied. “Yet that does not mean she is always unhappy. What a tease you are. Such a big brother to say cruel things about
mes jolies amies
—and I have not even introduced them to you! But aren’t they the most beautiful creatures in the world?”

Joseph released a little sniff. I’d almost forgotten his annoying way of laughing through his nose. “I couldn’t tell,” he said wryly. “The three of you look like a trio of painted dolls.”

“Now I think you have only come to France to vex me! I know we didn’t wear cheek and lip rouge in Austria, but here it is a mark of distinction, rank, and wealth. As silly as they look to you, these big red circles are emblematic of our stature at court
and our ability to afford the most costly cosmetic in the kingdom. Now, before you insult me any further, where have you taken lodgings and will you not change your mind and allow me to furnish a grand suite for you at the château?”

When I discovered he had rented a modest hotel room near the Palais Royal for the next two months I warned him not to grow too close to the duc d’Orléans. “For he is ambitious and wishes he were king instead. I am certain he is behind the printing of some of the dreadful pamphlets about me, though we cannot prove it. I suspect that Monsieur has a hand in the
libelles
as well. He is just as cunning and conniving as Orléans.” I frowned and turned my attention to the swans, so perfectly paired, as they glided on the pond. Someone once told me they mate for life and are never unfaithful. How unlike the courtiers of Versailles! “To think that my brother-in-law once maintained the pretense of being our friend.”

Joseph chucked me on the chin. “I thank you for your counsel, little queen, but I hope you can trust me to form my own judgments.”

In his guise as Count Falkenstein Joseph was determined to play the vulgar German in the presence of the French aristocracy, perversely encouraging their negative impressions of our countrymen. At his first royal dinner, having insisted that he not be treated with the deference due to his rank and title, Joseph dined with Louis and me in my bedchamber, the lavishly laid table shoved up against the bed while the three of us perched upon identical folding stools. My husband was indifferent as always when he had food in front of him, and Joseph was amused by the entire charade. I could not stomach any more than a serving of chicken breast, mortified at such a humble reception when my brother was the first emperor to visit a French king in his own
palace in nine hundred years. I departed anxiously after the meal to have my hair dressed for the evening, dreading the thought of leaving my brother and husband alone together.