The Secret Diary of a Princess a novel of Marie Antoinette (38 page)

Of more interest was her beautiful blonde widowed sister-in-law, the Princesse de Lamballe, an ethereal vision in frothy mauve gauze and diamonds who twisted her ivory painted fan nervously between her long white fingers as we were introduced and bestowed upon me the only genuine smile that I was to see all that long evening.

I circled the splendid mirrored room and made sure to exchange a few words with everyone present, keen to make a good impression and hoping that everyone would go away raving about how lovely and kind I was. While deep in conversation with Madame de Lamballe I became oddly aware that I was being closely watched and glanced up to see that the King himself was gazing at me with an approving smile. He did not seem at all abashed when our eyes met and instead raised his glass of champagne to me in a silent toast.
 

Tuesday 15
th
May, La Muette.

And what of my new husband? What of him? He did not look at me once that evening in Compiègne and made his excuses and left as soon as he could. I do not understand it at all. Everyone else here seems to think that I am pretty so why doesn't he? I really want to talk to him but don't know how.

Madame de Mailly was very kind when she prepared me for bed last night and whispered that the King admires me very much and she heard him say several times how pleased he is with both my looks and my behaviour.
 

'Tell me about him,' I said, with a nervous look at Madame de Noailles, who was thankfully not close enough to hear our conversation. 'I find him somewhat perplexing and not at all how I imagined he would be.'

The pretty Comtesse rolled her dark eyes and laughed. 'Oh, I know what you mean. The King is a very complicated man and I believe that Madame de Pompadour is the only person to have ever truly understood him.' She lowered her voice as she said the name of the now deceased favourite as of course it is considered the height of bad manners to mention the dead at court.

'What was she like?' I recollected the lovely presents that she had sent to Carolina and remembered also that along with Choiseul she had been instrumental in arranging my marriage. 'Did the King love her? Does he miss her now?'

Madame de Mailly cast a cautious look at the Comtesse de Noailles who was busy reprimanding the maids at the other side of the room. 'She was very pretty, really quite charming and extremely witty.' She sighed. 'She really loved that man.'

I felt suddenly breathless, imagining some sort of mystery. 'What happened to her?'
 

As usual the truth turned out to be utterly commonplace, even banal. 'Oh nothing! She had been ill for a long time and then one day she went to bed and didn't get up again. The King was inconsolable when she died.'
 

'He always looks so sad,' I said now remembering the way that he had looked at the Dauphin and me in the carriage earlier. 'Sad and disappointed.'

Madame la Comtesse shrugged her thin shoulders. 'He has had much in his life to make him sorrowful,' she said. 'He once told me that he believed himself born to be unhappy as his grandmother was the daughter of the English Princesse Henriette and that like all Stuarts he has a melancholy, even morbid turn of mind.' She laughed. 'They also have a tendency to lose their heads.'

Tuesday 15
th
May, even later.

This morning we left Compiègne and travelled to La Muette, a beautiful little château nestled like a pearl in the verdant Bois de Boulogne on the outskirts of Paris. We stopped en route at the imposing, dark Carmelite convent at Saint Denis so that I could pay my respects to the King's youngest daughter Louise who came here a few months ago, determined to take the veil and become a nun.

Madame de Mailly told me all about it during the bumpy carriage ride there. 'It caused the most terrific scandal,' she whispered with relish. 'Madame Louise had been saying for a long time that she wanted to leave the court and devote her life to God but of course no one believed her and in fact we all thought that she was being rather melodramatic and attention seeking about the whole thing. However it turned out to be true!'

'What happened?' I couldn't imagine how anyone could possibly prefer the austere life of the cloister to the excitement of court. 'Did the King know?'

'Oh, well he apparently knew all about it and had refused his consent for many years until finally one day he decided that enough was enough and gave his permission. She left early the next morning and went straight to the convent where it is said that she spends her days praying for her father's soul.'

I laughed. 'How very noble of her! I do hope that he is grateful for her concern!'
 

Madame de Mailly joined in my laughter but then shook her head and tried to look severe. 'Oh no, we must not mock! You do not yet know how superstitious the poor King is about such things!' She smiled. 'I wish that you could have seen how furious Madame Adélaïde was when she found out. I could hear her screams of chagrin from several rooms away.'

'Did Madame Louise not wish to marry?' I asked, still curious about this princess who had abandoned her life to take the veil.

The Comtesse sighed. 'The King likes to keep his daughters close and only one, Madame Infante was ever sent away to be married.' She lowered her voice then, which I had come to realize was a sign that she was about to impart some particularly juicy morsel of information. 'I have heard that he had plans to marry Louise to Charles Edward Stuart, the pretender to the English throne but it didn't happen after all.'

I was rather disappointed to find that Madame Louise was not the gentle, beautiful heroine that I had imagined her to be but instead a rather dumpy woman with a loud voice, strident manner and the thick black eyebrows that afflicted her nephew, the Dauphin. She looked me swiftly up and down in the brisk way that all Frenchwomen do then gave an approving nod before talking at length about how terrible the dinners in the convent are. I am starting to realize that the Bourbons only really become truly animated when they are on the subject of food.

After I had bowed my head to receive her blessing we all left and drove on to La Muette, entirely bypassing the centre of Paris so that I caught only the merest glimpse from my window despite straining back to see as much as I could of the French capital.

'I had thought that we would see more,' I remarked in some annoyance to Madame de Chaulnes.
 

She gave a small shrug. 'The King does not like to go there.'

I immediately looked to the Comtesse de Mailly for an explanation but she just pursed her lips and shook her pretty head.
 

Tuesday 15
th
May, later still

Upon our arrival at La Muette I was immediately taken to my own rooms, which are really quite delightful. 'It is the custom that all royal brides spend the night before their wedding here,' Madame de Noailles said as I looked about myself with pleasure, admiring the pale blue and gilt panelling, the pretty pink silk curtains embroidered all over with flowers and peacock feathers and the huge arrangements of flowers that stood upon every surface. Someone had put a lot of thought into making the room as pleasant as possible.

'It is charming,' I said to Madame de Noailles with a smile, still hopeful that I could win her over.
 

She remained impervious and looked coldly and unsmilingly back at me. 'The King had the room refurbished before your arrival in the hopes that it would be to your taste.'
 

'How kind of him,' I replied, sitting on the bed and bouncing on it a little to see how comfortable it is.

'He wanted to make sure that you were shown all proper attention,' Madame de Noailles replied stiffly. My goodness, I do wish that she would unbend a little. I wonder if she ever smiles at anyone or is it just me that she holds in dislike? Madame de Mailly told me that apparently Madame de Noailles absolutely adored the old Queen and resents the fact that I, a mere girl have taken her place. That is hardly my fault though is it?
 

It was a delightful day so we went for a walk in the gardens and for the first time since coming to France I felt entirely and wholeheartedly happy and comfortable as I strolled between the Duchesse de Chaulnes and Abbé Vermond, half listening as they talked at length about gardening and invited each other to sniff particularly lovely flowers. I can tell that the Abbé very much admires Madame de Chaulnes' soulful good looks and she in her turn simpers more than usual when she talks to him, which is a frankly nauseating amount of simpering.
 

After a while I fell back, hoping that the Dauphin would see me walking alone and come and join me but he remained steadfastly at his grandfather's side and so after a while I was forced to give up and instead link arms with the Princesse de Lamballe, who is thoroughly delightful, smells like lilacs and roses and had swapped last night's gown of mauve gauze for an exquisite ensemble in flounced pale blue silk trimmed with blue and white striped ribbons and lace. 'You seem so much happier today,' she remarked with a friendly squeeze of my hand. 'I felt very sorry indeed for you yesterday.'

I looked at her in some surprise. 'Did you? Why?' I am so used now to thinking myself the luckiest girl in the world that it was a shock to hear someone say that they pitied me.

The Princesse hesitated. 'The Bourbons are not an easy family to enter and you looked so very young and lost and exhausted when you walked into the
salon
at Compiègne.' She gave me a sidelong smile. 'I confess that I was longing to run up to you and give you an enormous hug. It must be quite intolerable for you at times.'

I sighed. 'Yes. Yes, it is.' I thought of Vienna, Joseph and Mama, now all so very far away and then I remembered all the hundreds of miles and the long tedious hours sitting bored out of my mind in a carriage which had brought me here to this moment, to this garden in Paris. 'I can hardly believe that I am here. I still sometimes feel shocked when I wake up in the morning and realize that I am no longer at home in Vienna.'

She nodded sympathetically. 'I came from Turin in Italy to marry my husband and found it very hard.' She gave me a rather embarrassed look and bent over a lovely pink rose in order to hide her blushes. 'I expect that Madame de Mailly has told you all about my marriage?'

I couldn't meet her candid gaze and looked away. 'Um, yes, a little bit.' Actually, Madame de Mailly told me all about it last night as she helped me prepare for bed and I know all about how Madame de Lamballe's handsome young husband had been a dissolute wastrel who had abandoned her shortly after their wedding day and then conveniently died of some hideous disease caught in the brothels of Paris a year later leaving her mistress to an enormous fortune.

The Princesse sighed. 'I was stupidly excited when I first learned that I was to be married to a French prince and indeed I felt very fortunate when I first met my husband and saw that he was both handsome and charming.' She shrugged and tried to smile. 'Of course, in his case a handsome face and a charming manner only served to disguise the libertine and horrible aspects of his personality.'

I saw that she was on the brink of tears and took her hand in a comforting clasp. 'It must have been terrible. I am so sorry.' I smiled at her, thinking that this poor unhappy princess badly needed someone to pay attention to her and make her feel loved again. I decided that I would be her friend and as I found that the thought of this made my own spirits rise for I too felt abandoned and out of place and in need of a friend in this strange country.

Madame de Lamballe smiled back and snapped a beautiful yellow rose from a nearby bush before handing it to me. 'No, it is I who should apologise for talking about my own personal misfortune with you,' she said. 'Please, forget I said anything.'

I accepted the rose and tucked it behind my ear, which made her laugh. 'There is no need to apologise, Madame,' I replied shyly. 'I am interested in knowing all about you as I want us to be friends.'
 

She returned my smile. 'I should like that very much.'

At that moment there was one of those sudden delightful rain showers that are so typical of Spring and our conversation was rudely interrupted as all the ladies ran shrieking and laughing for cover, lifting their pale silk skirts and holding their fans and parasols vainly over their powdered heads as they went.
 

15
th
May, very late.

There was a private dinner party tonight in the beautiful pale green and gold dining room in La Muette. It was for the royal family only and after being met at the door by the King himself who took me gracefully by the hand and led me, blushing and self conscious into the room, I was finally introduced to the Dauphin's two younger brothers the Comte de Provence, a sly looking fat youth only a few weeks younger than myself with sleepy brown eyes and the youngest of the trio, the Comte d'Artois, who is the best looking of the princes with a distinctly Italianate look about him and full, sensual lips.

The Comte de Provence almost made me laugh behind my fan when he gave me a quick look up and down rather as all the ladies do. 'I am very pleased to meet you at last,' he intoned with a heavy courtesy in German. 'I have been studying your language with my tutor,' he said when I looked surprised and perhaps I imagined it but did I detect a hint of triumph in the look that he shot towards the Dauphin? 'I thought it would be nice for someone to greet you in your own tongue.' No, I didn't imagine it at all, he was definitely trying to get one over his elder brother.