Finding Emilie (27 page)
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
“J
OSÉPHINE 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.
* * *
LILI AND DELPHINE
waited with Ambroise outside the king’s apartments until Marie Leszczynska had made her entrance. The Duchesse de Praslin accompanied her, along with Anne-Mathilde, who gave Ambroise a coquettish smile as they passed. Raising her chin slightly, she turned her face away without acknowledging Lili or Delphine.
Ambroise brushed against Lili’s skirt as he stepped back in reaction to the snub. Lili gave him a sideways glance and saw him staring with cold eyes at Anne-Mathilde’s back as she disappeared into the king’s apartments. Her heart leapt in delight. He doesn’t like her either.
“Well then,” Ambroise said. “We’re free to go in.” His face had lost its cold look and was open and pleasant again. “Shall we?” he said, taking Delphine’s arm. Her eyes shone as she glanced in Lili’s direction.
She’s met her prince. Lili’s heart soared, brushing away the thought that stories with princesses always have evil lurking in the shadows.
