“You really like him, don’t you? It really isn’t anything to do with his status or his money,” she stepped toward me, trying to look into my eyes.
“I don’t know what I feel, Colette.” I turned and opened the door to my bedchamber, leaving her in the little boudoir, but she followed me, catching me by the hand.
“Now, Maddy. Wait,” she started, both of us stopping as the door opened. Brielle entered as we both turned toward her.
“Oh! Excuse me, Mademoiselle. This just arrived for you,” she said, walking toward us.
Colette went to reach for it but stopped as Brielle shook her head.
“I am sorry, Mademoiselle. It is for you,” she said to me, walking up to me directly.
I looked to Colette before I took the letter. I looked over the blank surface of it before I broke the red wax seal with a large, filigree “L” swirling around on it. I opened the letter and scanned down to see Lucien’s name scrawled at the bottom of it.
“That was fast.” Colette walked over to the bed, sitting down on it. “He certainly does not waste any time. What does it say?”
I read the letter over carefully, finding myself smiling as each of the words made my heart skip up, as if Lucien stood before me.
Tuesday, 5 of June 1770
Mademoiselle,
I hope this hasty note does not alarm you—I only wish to ask you if you have ever played croquet?
I know Armand, the Vicomte, is going to stop by again tomorrow afternoon. I figured while he is giving Colette her lesson, I could come by and keep you company, and perhaps have a game while we wait?
I anxiously await your reply.
I have the pleasure to be your most humble servant,
Lucien de Laurent
I looked to Colette, her voice finally ringing through.
“Hello, Madeleine. Anyone there?”
“Hmmm?” I asked.
“What does it say?” Colette reached for the letter, taking it from me and reading it over as I walked over to the end of the bed. A sudden thought filled me with dread. She smiled. “He wants to see you, again! And so soon. Tomorrow. Well, that does not leave us much time.”
I felt my heart drop and looked down at my hands.
“What’s wrong?” She stopped in the middle of the room before me.
I swallowed hard. “I do not know how to play croquet.”
“Oh,” she said, looking around the room. “Well, I will teach you. Come on. We haven’t time to lose!”
It was well after nine by the time Colette gave up on me. She made her way to her bedchamber to take supper in her bed, as I looked around my own bedchamber for the book I was reading.
“Where the hell is it?” I tore the room apart, looking in all the obvious places and not finding it. I decided to check the parlor. I made my way down the hall, looking into Colette’s room as she waved to me.
“Maddy, what are you up to?”
I stopped in her doorway. “I am looking for my book. Have you seen it?”
She shrugged as she looked at the Gazette. “No, but did you try the parlor?”
“On my way there now,” I called out as I turned and made my way down the hall. I looked at all the little tables, then on the sofas. I even got down on my hands and knees to look for the damn thing. I sighed as I turned, and Brielle stood in the doorway.
“Looking for something, Mademoiselle?” she asked, folding her hands before her.
I nodded. “Yes, my book.”
“I believe it is in the salon,” she said, pointing behind her. “Do you wish for me to fetch it for you?”
I shook my head. “No, no. I can get it myself.”
“Shall I draw your bath for you?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I will take it in the morning. I wish to curl up with my book right now.”
She curtsied as I passed by her. I made my way quickly to the salon where I saw my book sitting on the little, round table by the doors. I smiled triumphantly. As I walked over to it, a dark figure emerged from the shadows and pushed me up against the wall.
“Vachel!” I almost screamed. His body pushed against mine, keeping me still against the wall.
“Shhh! They will hear you!” He put his hand over my mouth.
I considered biting it, but thought against it. I went quiet as my chest heaved under me, and my heart galloped. “What are you doing?”
“Please,” he said. His eyes filled with tears as the smell of stale alcohol wafted off him. “Please. You have to help me. Only you can help me. I realize that, now!”
“Get off me!” I pushed against him, but to no avail.
“Please! Remember how it was in the beginning? We were friends, you and me. You helped me! You understood me. You have to help me, now. You have to help me get her back. I cannot live without her!”
“I will do nothing of the sort!” I fought against him once again, but his body was too muscular. Too much weight was against my own. “Let me go! Or so help me, I will scream!”
“You cannot! You must help me. You have to help me!” he slurred.
I shook my head vigorously. “I will not!”
“You bitch!” He angrily shook me. “It was you! All this time, it was you! You poisoned her, told her lies!”
“I did no such thing!” I pushed my hands against his chest, trying to get him off me. His grip on my shoulders hurt as he shook me, again. “So help me—”
His hand came up to my face. His palm was under my chin, keeping my mouth closed. His fingers pushed down on my nose painfully as his free arm pushed against my chest. “I will not forget this, Madeleine! I know it was you. I know it was!”
I shook my head. Tears filled my eyes as I pulled my face away from his hand. I was finally able to tear away from him, taking advantage of his drunken stumbling.
He pointed at me. “This is not the end of this, Madeleine.”
“Maddy?”
I turned as Colette stood in the doorway.
“Vachel?” she asked, confused. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” he said, his wig skewed on his head and his suit rumpled.
Colette walked up to me, looking me over. “Are you all right? What happened? What did you do?” She said, looking at him.
“I came to be with you. I need to be with you,” he said, as if he was convincing himself—not Colette or myself.
“Get out of here!” she yelled. “You are no longer welcome in this house, and if I catch you harassing Maddy or myself, my father will have your guts for garters!” She walked up to him and pushed him angrily. “Get out!”
“Colette—”
“Get out! Get out, get out!” she yelled and stomped, pushing him, again. Tears came to her eyes.
His eyes also filled with tears. He turned and knocked over a vase with flowers in it, and the water spilled everywhere as the flowers fell to the floor. He opened the door to the terrace, the way he probably got in, and nearly tripped down the stone steps as he disappeared into the night.
Colette turned to me, trying to contain her tears. “Did he hurt you?”
I wiped my own tears away. “No, I am all right. You?”
She took a moment and drew a deep breath. “I don’t know. I think I need to lie down.”
I nodded. “I second that.”
As we made our way to the doorway, she stopped and looked at me. “I do not want to speak of this, again.”
“Why?”
“If I think about it too much, I am liable to do one of two things: kill Vachel or run back to him. I just want to forget about him.”
I stood in the sunlight the next afternoon. Lucien walked up to me, smiling. “This should be fun.”
I smiled at him, my face slightly hurting from the night before. I shook my head. “I am warning you. I am terrible at this game.”
“You say that now,” he handed me my mallet, “but I bet you will whip me at it.”
I laughed lightly, shaking my head once aga
in. “No, I really am terrible. Up until last evening, I never even played the game. Colette tried to teach me how to play, and I was absolutely terrible!”
His deep laugh filled out the area. It was a welcomed sound, as I had been listening to Colette complain of Armand until he showed up. Then, I heard their constant bickering.
She didn’t breathe a word of the events of the night before, seeming to stick to her initial decision to forget about it. I toyed with telling her about Vachel’s visit upon me while he was sober, but again, I thought better of it. If she wanted to forget Vachel, then I would do as she asked and not speak of him.
“Why would you try to learn the game so quickly?” he asked, looking me over. My white and light yellow afternoon gown bounced the sunlight onto him.
I had yet another one of my own robe à la Française’s on—an off-white silk overskirt and stomacher over top of a yellow, embroidered petticoat. I also had fingerless, silk mitts that cut off at my elbows and a small and white tricorne hat pinned to my head. Large, white plumes lay against it and stuck out the back.
“I think it obvious. I don’t want to look like a fool, though it seems I always do in front of you.” I frowned.
“Well, I don’t think you do, but show me this horrible game you claim to have.”
I shook my head. “Oh, no. I will not embarrass myself.”
He smirked, and his dizzying eyes kept a hold of me, making my heart beat frantically. “Come now. Just show me once. Then, I will help you to improve.”
I eyed him, my mouth scrunching to the side. “How are you so well versed in the game?”
“My grandmother. She loves it.” He walked over, grabbed one of the vibrantly colored balls, and set it on the ground. “For an old woman, she sure as hell can hit a ball far and knock mine out of the way.”
I laughed lightly, walked over, and stood by the pole with the colors marked on it. I took the stance Colette taught me and hit the ball, missing the wicket completely.
I covered my face, turned away from him, and laughed to myself. “See! Terrible!”
“No, no. It is a good start. Here, let me show you.” Lucien laughed, placing his ball down on the ground by the post.
I smiled timidly as he came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my own. He held onto my hands on the mallet and pressed his body up against mine.
“Now, you have to hit it firmly. Are you ready?” He almost whispered it in my ear, and a long line of shivers traced down my neck.
I nodded as he swung my arms back gently, his lips up close to my ear once again.
“Ready…”
He swung hard with me, hit the ball, and caused it to shoot off and run through both the little wickets in the ground.
I smiled and turned to him, clasping my hands together in delight as he laughed, taking hold of the mallet.
“That is progress, I would say,” he laughed again, pointing toward the ball with his free hand.
“I would say so as well.”
When I turned back to him, his expression had softened, just as when we sat in the parlor the day before. His eyes met with mine and caused my heart to speed up.
He stepped forward slowly, his arm reaching for my elbow or my waist, and his face leaning into my own. His lips just lightly brushed against my own, barely even a touch. Just as before, Colette’s laughter filled the area. I quickly pulled away from him and stepped back, licking my lips. I patted at my face, which went scarlet once again.
Colette made her way to us with her arm in Armand’s, and Armand was holding her mallet.
I looked over to Lucien. His face held that same look of aggravation as he stood up straight. Colette approached us, looking us both over before her eyes came back to mine. Her smile fading. “Is everything all right?”
I nodded. “Yes. Lucien was just showing me how to improve my game.”
“Ah,” Armand said. “Are you sure Lucien is the right person to show you such? Perhaps his grandmother is better suited. She does have the better game.”
Lucien smiled angrily, shaking his head. “Done with your lesson so soon?”
Colette could see the agitation on Lucien’s face. Her smile completely melted away as she looked from me back over to him.
“We thought it was a lovely day. Too lovely to waste indoors,” Armand replied, pointing around to the sunshine. “Are we all in for a game?”
I shook my head lightly and patted my face to calm my blush. “No, I think I am going to sit out. I feel a bit tired.”
“Are you all right?” Colette asked. Both her and Lucien walked toward me to my aid.
I smiled and nodded. “Yes, I am fine. I just think all the exertion from yesterday has caught up to me. Too much excitement. You go on and play. I will watch from the side.”
I looked into Lucien’s beautiful eyes one last time before I walked off to the little table and four chairs that some of the male servants had set up for us. A maid poured out a cup of tea for me as I sat down.
“Thank you.”
I grabbed the cup and took a nice, long sip, taking comfort in my ability to fib my way out from playing. I really did not want to witness Lucien’s agitation or Colette’s shameless flirtatious anger toward Armand, and vice versa.
Lucien walked over to the table. “Oh, you don’t want to play?” I asked as he sat down beside me.
“Well, not if you are not. You looked as if you could use the company, anyway. Wouldn’t want you to catch those dreaded vapors,” he said. The maid offered to pour him a cup of tea, but he shook his head and held his hand out, stopping her.
“Well, I still want you to have fun. You really do not want to sit here with me.”
He looked up to me, nodding his head. “I really do. Now, tell me about yourself, tell me what it is like living in the country outside of Paris.”
My mouth scrunched to the side slightly as I thought, shaking my head. “I cannot seem to find the words…I do not think there is any way to compare it. I mean, Paris is so much faster, so much louder, and colorful.”
“I know what it is like here. What is it like there? I have never been out to the country, unless passing in a carriage or hunting, and those are distractions. I cannot appreciate it wholly,” he interrupted, his eyes not leaving mine.
“Well, ummm…it is peaceful. I often find myself sitting in our little garden. It is nothing like the one here, the Marquise’s, but it’s still beautiful. Colette’s grandmother is actually the one who planted most of it and tends to it often. She’s a wonderful lady,” I smiled, remembering her soft, Austrian accent overtop of her flawless French. Those soft, dark eyes and wonderful smile always made me smile, no matter my mood. “If the day is not as one would hope, I would sit in my father’s study and read. Colette says I read far too much.” I looked over to her as she smiled and playfully pushed Armand away from her as he laughed.
Lucien smiled lightly, shaking his head. “I do not think there is such a thing as reading too much. You enjoy it, though? Who are your preferred authors?”
I shrugged my shoulders lightly. “I have read so much, I just…I could not choose.”
“All right,” he said as he sat back, crossing his arms, “tell me what you are reading right this moment. What book is strewn on your bedside table?”
“Oh, ummm…some works by Jonathan Swift. My father had it in his library, so I brought it along with me. I suppose it brings me closer to him while he is away.”
“What does he do? What is his trade?” Lucien’s masculine voice broke through my thoughts.
“The spice trade. He is in Sweden at the moment. He always brings me back a gown or some sort of jewelry.” I smiled, suddenly wanting to put on the white gown he had brought me home—my favorite thus far.
“What of your mother?”
“She died of consumption when I was age nine.” I looked down to my hands, the thought of my mother paining me. “She was a seamstress. She hoped to be a merchandes de modes, though one usually has to be
the wife of an aristocrat for such a thing. I don’t know. Perhaps she thought there would be a wave of change that would open a door for her.”
He looked down, his eyes away from me. “I am sorry for bringing up such painful memories.”
I shook my head, smiling. “No, it is all right. I enjoy talking about her. What about you? You have been asking all the questions. What of your parents?”
He sat up, straightening himself out. “They both died when I was very young. I don’t even remember them all that well. My grandmother and grandfather raised me, though my grandfather died three years ago of the pox.”
“Oh,” I said. “It seems we have similar pasts that deal with tragedy.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
Colette and Armand ran over to us, Colette smiling from ear to ear as she laughed, “You were cheating!”
“I am a respectable man, Mademoiselle,” Armand said. “I would never do such a thing.”
Lucien smiled. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
I pointed to Armand. “How do you two know each other?”
Lucien stood from the table and walked over to Armand, who was at Colette’s side. “Armand was tutored by the same music teacher I had. We took lessons together a handful of times.”
“Oh, I see.” I smiled, standing.
Colette dropped her mallet, putting her hands up in the air. “Well, shall we all go to the parlor for some coffee and macarons? I know Maddy would enjoy that.”
I frowned as Armand put his arm out for Colette, taking the lead on the trek back into the house. Lucien put his arm out for me, smirking to me as I took it.
I was really rather starting to enjoy our little group. Armand’s sarcastic jokes left me constantly smiling, and Lucien’s stare always captivated me as he spoke. He was a little standoffish toward me, sitting away from me in the parlor and not making as much conversation as I would have liked. I was slightly worried that perhaps our conversation from before had upset him.
An hour or so later, Colette and I were seeing the men out. Lucien put his hat on his head as Armand’s voice filled the foyer.
“I expect you to know that first movement tomorrow. No mistakes,” he said to Colette, who sneered at him before she smiled teasingly.
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