Affaire de Coeur

by Stephanie O’Hanlon

  I half smiled, almost a frown, nodding again to her to affirm her thought. “I bet you want to know the most gritty of details, then.”

  She scrambled forward, sitting in front of me cross-legged, “Of course! You are hiding things from me, Maddy. I thought we would never do such things. You are getting very good at listening.”

  I sighed heavily as I rolled my eyes, smiling at her. “There has been word that the Comte’s grandmother, so the Comte in turn, gets a hefty pension provided by the King. You remember her. We met her two years ago, I think, at your father’s little party. Being one of his favored, that only makes sense, especially if he has ties to Madame de Pompadour. Lucien, that is.”

  “He is favored. So what? He gets to ride in those amazing coaches and invited to balls and entertainments?”

  I nodded.

  “How much is this pension?” Her eyes swam with the thought of it. She sat up slightly as she eyed me carefully, preparing for my answer.

  “Somewhere around fifty-thousand livres.”

  Colette nearly choked from even the thought of that amount of wealth. “Fifty thousand? My, my. Should have gone after him myself.”

  I frowned at her, giving her that look she knew only too well. Not impressed, but still loving, nonetheless. Colette would always be Colette.

  She scoffed. “Oh please, Maddy. Are you not excited for the prospect of such a find in a man? I would. We can never be in the King’s presence or go to court, and my father does not have the blood or the land.”

  I stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out it over the large, twinkling garden as splashes came from the fountain. “I am not interested in the Comte because of his money. I find him…interesting. I cannot explain it.” I turned to her. “Do you know that he has studied with the best instructors? Philosophers, literary men, mathematicians. The best of their field. His grandmother insisted upon it.”

  Colette sat back lazily, stretching out her legs. “With 50,000 livres, I would say so.”

  I sighed. “They are just rumors, Colette, and I do not know if they are true. I have heard things about other people too, you know. As you said, I have honed my skills in listening, especially around Constanze.”

  She turned on her stomach, kicking her feet up, and pointing them straight up to the ceiling. “Oh? Who?” She smiled, delighted that our conversation had turned into a gossip session.

  I shook my head. “Oh, no. I am not going to tell you. You will get angry with me.”

  She sat up slightly as she crossed her arms on the bed, her violet-burgundy hair tossed down her back. “Oh, Maddy. Come now! Just tell me!”

  I stepped forward, sitting on the edge of the bed. “All right, but do not get angry with me. I heard some things about the Chevalier, about Vachel.” I quickly thought of his visit earlier and the things I had said to him. Thankfully, that was not gossip worthy.

  She continued to stare into me, her green eyes not moving from me. “And?”

  “Word is that his family bought the title for him.”

  She scoffed. “Chevalier is the best they could do? Vicomte would have been better.”

  I shrugged. “They poured all their wealth into securing it for him. Six thousand livres.”

  “Huh.” She sighed and turned over on her back, crossing her right leg over her left. “One of the many things he lied to me about. Let us not forget his entertaining of courtesans, the three women he convinced to let him borrow money from, and me stupidly believing that he wanted to marry me for love. All he saw was my father’s purse.”

  I looked down to the large, swirling patterns on the heavy coverlet, almost ashamed that I had brought the subject up. I had to admit, I didn’t like keeping things from Colette, especially since they had to do with the Chevalier.

  Colette looked at me before she turned back onto her stomach. “So, Lucien. When do you expect to see him, again? Are you going to call upon him, invite him for some brioche?”

  I shook my head vigorously, “I could never…I would never call upon a gentleman like that.”

  She raised her eyebrow, her voice gathering an annoyed tone. “Oh? What is wrong with calling on a gentleman so?”

  I looked up at her, struggling with my words. I knew I had offended her in some way. I had almost forgotten Colette had sent notes to all her preferred gentlemen when she wanted them to visit upon her, especially in the past two weeks, since ignoring Vachel. “No, no. You misunderstand, Colette. I mean, I could never do that. I would be afraid of what he would say, what he would think.”

  She sat upright, leaning on her right arm casually. “What is it that he could possibly think? You are staying with the daughter of the Marquis du Lorme. If he does gallivant around with royalty, then he would be used to being called upon for such social occasions. He visits court, and trust me, there are many women there who would do just about anything to be Comtesse.”

  I looked down to my hands, trying to keep my eyes away from her. “So?”

  “So,” she said as she got up off the bed, walking to the end of it, “you may have a bit of competition for him.”

  “Why should that concern me?”

  “Look, Maddy,” she started, “we both know that you like him, that you want him. There is nothing wrong with being concerned with procuring what you want, but if you are not careful, what you want is going to end up in someone else’s arms.”

  She shrugged her left shoulder as she made her way to the door into the boudoir and to her own bedchamber.

  Chapter Six

  Brielle opened the curtains around the bed, letting the warm, morning sun fall over the room and cast through the crystals of the chandelier. The little, jewel box bedchamber literally sparkled.

  I looked over to the clock on the mantelpiece. I was still tired, but I knew it was time to rise, no matter what time I retired at.

  Eleven…ugh.

  I sat up slowly, looking to the window. The tip of the high spray from the glorious fountain just reached up to the height of the bedchamber.

  I quickly made my toilette. My gown choice for the day was a white silk gown with violet-patterned daisies and green vines crawling all over it. Ruffles deliciously filled out the neckline, and little bits of lace stuck out from the tight sleeves.

  I made my way down the stairs, reaching the bottom landing just as I heard a familiar voice fill the halls.

  “Well, now that he is making an appearance, I think you should not waste time with that Englishman.”

  I shuddered at the sound of Constanze’s voice, quietly walking toward the doorway to the dining room.

  “He has land in England, though,” Yolande’s unmistakable voice replied to her.

  “Think about it, darling. You could be Yolande Beaumont, Comtesse de Laurent.”

  My whole body froze, and my heart almost wrenched out of my chest. I only had moments to regain my composure as they walked out of the room, nearly colliding into me.

  “Oh!” Constanze placed her hand over her heart over dramatically. “Madeleine. You just sneaked up on us there.”

  I swallowed hard, pushing my shoulders back, and feeling the stiff pleat from my sacque back pushing against them. “I apologize. I have just risen, and I did not know that you were going to stop by.”

  “Well, it was only a quick visit. We were on our way to a friend’s in the area, and Colette offered to pay for my broken china. I thought I would stop by and collect.” Constanze ran her fan through her hand, looking me up and down before she smiled and turned. “We must be going. Adieu!”

  She shuffled off, her shocking yellow gown billowing from her pace as a servant opened the door for her. She disappeared through it with Yolande in tow.

  I stood for a moment, a pain in my chest from the thought of Yolande getting her hands on Lucien de Laurent. She was certainly capable of it.

  Yolande was always at Constanze’s side, though she seemed more like a fashion accessory than a friend—her gowns always complimenting Constanze�
��s. Her hair was brown, often powdered with white and always pulled up, her face square-shaped with a rather high forehead and large brown, vacant eyes, almost like a doll’s.

  Was she competition? Was the Comte really interesting enough to feel so distraught over?

  I felt my skin flush and my heart start to beat frantically. I could hear the sound of it beating throughout my body, my eyes almost feeling like they were going to fill with tears. There was only one word for it. I was distraught with the thought of the Comte’s affections being with anyone but me.

  I turned into the dining room, forgetting my feminine gliding, and stomped through the salon. Colette sat out on the terrace with the Gazette strewn to her left and a handful of playing cards before her.

  “Ah, Maddy. Did you see Stanzy and Yolande?”

  I sat down beside her, clearing my throat as she looked to me. “How do I…win over the Comte’s affection?”

  Colette smiled slyly. “Simple. You need to seduce him.”

  I took a deep breath, swallowing hard. “How do I do that?”

  She smiled as she dropped her cards, leaning forward to me. “Now, if you are going to do this, you are going to follow exactly what I say. No questions asked. Right?”

  I nodded.

  “All right,” she began, turning to me in her chair. “First, you are going to write a letter to the Comte. You are going to invite him here for a late dinner, some tea, and music, provided by that music teacher my father wants me to start taking lessons from. He should be here by dinner around two to meet with us formally.”

  I nodded. “That sounds simple enough. Wait, what do I write?”

  “Hmmm,” she almost hummed, looking about as she rested her fingers daintily on her chin. “Ummm…Bonjour, Monsieur. I request the pleasure of your company for some music and dinner today at the Marquis du Lorme’s home. I hope this does not inconvenience you and would be my greatest pleasure. I have the honor to be your humble servant. With respectful regard, Madeleine Dumont.” She sat back, looking over her nails, impressed with her quick concoction of words.

  I nodded, running over the words in my head before I stopped, looking down to my hands. “Yolande is planning on pursuing him.”

  She pushed a plate of macarons toward me and turning it so that a fluffy, violet one was my first choice. “More motivation to win.”

  I moved as quickly as possible, writing out the letter in a shaky hand and giving it to Colette to send off with her father’s valet. The post would obviously take far too long. Besides, the valet would be in town running the Marquis’s usual errands, and could hand it off to the courier, who was already in town, delivering the Marquis’s business.

  Colette and I sat out on the terrace in the sun, anxiously awaiting a reply from the Comte.

  I licked my lips nervously, “So, what do I do when the Comte arrives?”

  She looked up at me, thinking for a moment, “Well, try your best to be in his sights, playfully tease him, and stroke his arm. Men like being the center of attention, just as a woman. Make him feel as if he is the only thing that keeps a smile on your face.”

  I swallowed hard, “If I cannot do that?”

  “Be yourself, then,” she shrugged, looking back down to the paper. “He seemed quite entranced by you and your fumbling last evening. Perhaps that is all that will be needed.”

  “What happened to doing exactly as you say?”

  “I told you what to do. It is up to you to follow through,” she said, her eyes still on the paper. “If I may add, it was my pushing you to attend my social events that had him noticing you in the first place.”

  “What shall I do, though? You say treat him like the center of attention or be myself.”

  “You cannot do both?” She looked up at me.

  “I don’t know,” I said, unsure.

  The Marquis stepped out into the sun, clearing his throat to catch our attention. Colette was reading again, not bothering to look up at her father.

  “Colette, it would be nice to know I have your attention,” he said, looking down at me as I smiled at him.

  “What makes you think I am not completely capable of doing two things at once?” she asked coldly, not taking her eyes off the paper.

  He sighed heavily, crossing his arms at his chest. “I am quite pleased that you have agreed to the music teacher, but your attitude rubs me the wrong way, Colette.”

  “What rubs me the wrong way, Pa-pa, is the simple fact that I do not need a music tutor seems to slip right by you.” She looked at him, the coldest stare of fury in her eyes.

  He almost looked as if he was going to strike her, something he honestly would never do. Instead, he backed off as usual and turning to walk away. “You will come to the foyer to greet him.”

  I looked over to Colette, panicked. “He is here, now?”

  The Marquis nodded his head, marching back into the salon ahead of us.

  Colette and I rose from the table, following him. My heart nearly dropped out of me from not receiving a reply from the Comte. There was no more time to receive such a reply. The music tutor had arrived.

  Colette nodded to me, patting my arm reassuringly. “It is all right. Perhaps other business of the Comte’s messenger delayed him. Pa-pa’s valet has not even returned yet, and I have yet to see the courier.”

  I nodded lightly, unsure of the thought, as we made our way to the foyer where a very familiar person stood.

  “You!” Colette shrieked. Her face mixed with the worst possible combination of surprise and anger as, standing before us, Armand Durand smirked. He extended his arm down and bowed to Colette and myself.

  Unsure, I curtsied back to him, and Colette hit my arm. “Do not show any respect to him!”

  The Marquis walked up to Colette, grabbing her arm, his face pleading with her. “Colette—”

  She turned to him. “No! If you heard the words this man had for me at the performance last night, you would not be so humble to him!”

  Armand stood, still smirking, his creamy cashmere breeches and matching silk and silver embroidered justaucorps gleaming from it, and his solitaire in a perfect bow.

  It was only after seeing Colette’s face start to turn a violent scarlet in anger that he stepped forward. “I apologize. It seems that the Mademoiselle was unaware at the performance last evening that I was to be her music tutor. She seems to be unable to take a critique with much grace.”

  “Oh, Lord,” I whispered under my breath, turning as I put my hand to my forehead.

  Colette stepped toward him, “What did you just say?”

  The Marquis stepped in, putting his arms out between them and looking Colette in the eyes. “You will enhance your calm.”

  Colette raised her chin defiantly, scowling to Armand. Her eyes fixed on him in utter contempt.

  “Monsieur le Vicomte Durand is a very respectable man, being suggested to us by the Duchesse of Anjou. You will sit pretty and do exactly as he says,” the Marquis scolded. Colette protested before he stopped her. “Not another word.”

  Vicomte? My mind shockingly repeated. Who knew this rude man was, in fact, of noble birth? A Vicomte!

  He turned and smiled to Armand, pointing down the hallway. “I believe I should ask your pardon for Colette’s mood, today. The summer heat I am sure is to blame. Why don’t I show you to the music room?”

  Armand nodded, still smirking to Colette as he glided past her and followed her father. She turned to me, her jaw clenched in anger as she shook her head, refusing to follow.

  I grabbed her hand and pulled her along, forcing her to do exactly as her father had said, no matter the consequence.

  The music room was one of the smaller, if not the smallest, rooms in the Du Lorme home. The floors were all a dark mahogany wood paneling, the walls painted and gilded wood. The Marquise’s trademark sculptures of Apollo were all around the room in various forms.

  When one walked into the room, the first thing the eye was drawn to was a cream and gild
ed harpsichord off in the corner and a gold music stand beside it. Off to the left of the room was a lustrous, red and gold brocade sofa, a matching armchair on the left side of it, and a low glass tea table in front of it.

  Of course, as no one in the Du Lorme family since Colette’s grandfather had played more than one instrument, the harpsichord was the only musical instrument in the room. Off to the right was a large secrétaire with an antique, wooden chair in front of it, as if it was awaiting someone to write a piece of music to fill the empty walls of the neglected room.

  The Marquis offered Armand the armchair to the left of the sofa. Colette and I sat on the sofa. I made sure to keep myself in the middle as not to put Colette too close to the man she so detested.

  “I hope that our little music room is quite acceptable for the lessons you will provide,” the Marquis asked. A maid bustled in and placed a silver tray down on the tea table. She then poured out three cups of coffee for us.

  Armand looked around, nodding. “Yes, it should do splendidly. I can always have one of my many instruments brought in if you wish your daughter to learn them. The violin, perhaps? Or would she prefer the harp. I am sure she would not mind straddling such an instrument.”

  I spit out my coffee, coughing. Colette took a deep breath as she roughly gripped the handle of her little porcelain cup.

  The Marquis was distracted elsewhere and didn’t even hear the rude comment, nodding, “Yes. Well, good. I shall excuse myself. My apologies. Colette, behave yourself.”

  As soon as he dashed out of the room Colette placed her cup down angrily and turned to Armand. “Are you quite done, Monsieur?”

  He smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I think rather not. It is far too much fun, Mademoiselle.” His piercing, blue eyes sparkled with delight as his extremely masculine, heart-shaped and chiseled face smirked at her discomfort.

  “Why must you torture me so?” she asked, glaring at him. She had her hands set on the sofa, almost as if she was ready to push herself up and pounce on him, maybe claw his eyes out.

  “Hmmm,” he hummed, much the same as Colette. He looked around the room for a moment. “I would suppose because I like seeing you ruffled. That anger, that passionate hatred, is exactly what you will need to become a versed student of music under my tutelage.” He looked to me, smiling warmly. “I am sorry. We have missed our introduction, Mademoiselle.”