Affaire de Coeur

by Stephanie O’Hanlon

  “Oh, I will know it back to front and play circles around you, Monsieur,” she quipped back, her green eyes sparkling in delight.

  Lucien turned to me, taking my hand gently and kissing the back of it. “I still have your permission to write?”

  “Of course.” I nodded. I was somewhat surprised he still wanted to do so. I felt my skin crawl a little, the heat from my blush suppressed, but still there nonetheless.

  He bowed before me, turned, and took his leave.

  Colette and Armand were still flirting as I turned and walked into the stateroom. I looked through the window and watched as Lucien jumped into his carriage.

  I turned as Colette walked into the room, her green afternoon robe à la Française filling the doorway. “We interrupted you, again. Didn’t we? While you were playing.”

  “Well…” My face somewhat winced as I began, trying to word it so she wouldn’t feel as bad as I knew she did.

  “Oh! Shit! I’m sorry, Maddy. I keep bursting in on you at the worst possible moment,” she said, her hands flying about. “He tried, again? He tried to kiss you?”

  I nodded, my face flushing again as I thought of Lucien’s soft lips lightly brushing against my own. It was barely even a touch, but just enough to drive me wild and make my heart beat frantically. “He seemed angry, didn’t he?” I asked, looking to my hands.

  She turned to me, walking up to me. “He was upset, yes. Not at you, Maddy. He might be frustrated. This is the second time he has tried, and both times he was unable to complete it.”

  I felt tears rise in my eyes. I waved my hands about, just as she had moments before. “I suppose he will see me as too much trouble and just…give up.”

  Colette put her arm around me, letting my head rest on her shoulder. “No, you know that will not happen. Don’t be so silly.”

  I shook my head. “I said something wrong, today. I do not know what it was, but I said something wrong. He was barely speaking to me while we were in the parlor.”

  “Shhh.” She put her hands on my face. “Now, it is all right. Perhaps a subject troubled him. It has nothing to do with you or what you said. He is still going to write you, is he not?”

  I nodded, wiping my tears away from my face carefully, as not to disturb my face powder or rouge. “He is. He asked before he left.”

  “Well,” she hugged me, putting her head against mine, “there you are. It is fine, Maddy. He is not on his way to Yolande’s or anything like that, because you said something that changed his mood. What do you think will happen when you two are seeing each other regularly or even married?”

  I laughed lightly. “Planning my wedding, already?”

  She let out a laugh, turning and grabbing my hand. She pulled me with her out of the room. “Of course! Now, you must come with me and help me with this stupid piece of music. I want Armand to eat his words, tomorrow!”

  Chapter Eight

  I sat in the music room as Colette played the piece of music Armand assigned her. He stood beside her in his usual cream justaucorps and black breeches. His brown, powdered wig head nodded along as she played.

  I had some embroidery in front of me. I sewed along as the music filled the walls. Colette’s flawless playing from her endless practice the night before was paying off.

  It was one in the afternoon. Both Colette and I were matching in pink robe à l’Anglaise’s. Colette’s was a darker pink, dark red ribbons along the neckline, and oceans of white, frothy lace at her elbows. I suppose she tired of wearing one of the select colors for the day.

  My own was a very light pink with white passementerie around the neckline and down the trim of the open robe. Pretty pleats filled out the bottom of my petticoat, six inches above it in a wavy cut piece of the same material with more passementerie along the top of it.

  I smiled as I looked down at my needle, working away.

  “Ow!”

  I looked over. Colette rubbed her hand from Armand slapping it with his baton, obviously after having made a mistake.

  “Again,” he said.

  My eyebrow raised as I looked back down to my work just as Brielle walked in, placing two letters down on the silver tray.

  “These just came for you, Mademoiselle,” she said quietly, curtseying.

  “Oh, thank you.”

  She pointed to the coffee before me on the little table. “Would you like another cup, Mademoiselle?”

  I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

  She curtsied once more, backing up and then turning, making her way out of the room.

  I looked over at Colette and Armand, who were extremely close to each other as he showed her something on the keys, explaining his method to her. I placed my embroidery down beside me on the sofa, sat forward, and grabbed the letters.

  The first I recognized as my father’s. I smiled as I eagerly opened it and read it over. It was the usual, short letter—something he sent me during the week before sending me a larger, lengthier letter filled with all the details when he had the time. So far, it looked as if he was not going to make his quota as early as he thought. He may even have to lengthen the trip by another two weeks.

  I sighed, folding the letter up, and set it back down on the tray. I reached for the other letter, looking to the large, red seal with the filigree “L” on it. My heart instantly skipped, and my hands shook as I recognized it.

  I opened it excitedly, reading it over, and my smile melting away.

  Thursday, 7 of June 1770

  Madeleine,

  I suppose you noticed that I did not mention my coming by to see you today, and I did so for good reason. I will be out of town for a few days at court…I suppose that may not be a good enough reason, but it is still my obligation.

  You may write me back and send it to my grandmother. She will see it safely to me at Versailles.

  Lucien de Laurent.

  To court? I thought. For a few days?

  My heart sank at the thought of it. Something pressing brought him to Versailles. He would be going to those parties, those entertainments that Colette and I always talked about. The women there tried their best to marry one of the King’s favorites. They dressed in oceans of lace and silk with diamonds on their red-heeled, aristocratic shoes, as well as their gowns, hair, and everywhere else.

  Colette looked up to me. “Maddy?”

  “Yes?” I looked over to them.

  “What’s wrong? You look ill,” she asked, standing from the bench. “Excuse me,” she said to Armand, nearly climbing over him.

  I shook my head as she sat down beside me. “It is nothing, I am fine. I think it is from being inside all day.”

  Armand stood, sauntering over to us. “You know, I think you are right. You ladies have been stifled for the past few days. Why don’t you both accompany me to a little party this evening?”

  Colette smiled wide, nearly giddy from the excitement.

  I nodded my head, agreeing for the sake of agreeing. If Colette wanted to go out, there was no two ways about it. We were going.

  “Maybe Lucien will be there,” she added, grabbing my hand.

  I nodded. “Perhaps.”

  I, of course, knew there was no chance of Lucien coming to the fête this evening. We were going to a gambling party held by an English aristocrat named Rose Downs.

  Rose was a widow of a wealthy Duc, having no children and no other family to tie her down in her native homeland. She threw three parties a week and filled the rest of the days with going to other parties, having nearly every man chasing after her in the process.

  From what I heard, just from walking through the doors, she was romancing a Russian fop, but she could have been quite possibly romancing one of the many Frenchman who were also present.

  Colette decided on her color for the evening would be red—a shockingly bright crimson, nearly pink. The Vicomte Armand dressed to match, who always gained approval from everyone attending.

  I had no one to match with, so I wore a light blue
gown, which was getting stares, as that was not the color in vogue.

  The dress was a very light blue, silk robe à la Française with silver embroidery around the hem of the petticoat and crawling up nearly six inches. The sleeves cut off at my elbows, large bell-like ruffles and lace stuck out from it, and there were bows on each of my shoulders on top of more ruffles around the neckline. The stomacher was plain—no designs, bows, or ruffles on it. Most of the attention being drawn to everywhere else on the gown.

  Of course, the gown belonged to Colette—another discard from her growing trousseau.

  We walked into the large apartments, which were much like Constanze’s, except there were two more rooms added on to it, off from the one end room. They were bedchambers, from what I gathered.

  Armand pointed toward the hostess—someone I almost didn’t think could possibly be the woman Armand had spoken about. I had a completely different person worked up in my head. One extremely promiscuous.

  She saw Armand, waving to him and pushing through the crowd around her. “Armand, darling! There you are!” She ran over and kissed him on the cheek, turning toward Colette and myself and smiling. “Two beautiful ladies. My, my. You certainly have improved yourself!” She had a beautiful, English accent on top of her flawless French.

  I could not help smiling at this woman, who had the most infectious smile. She was not at all how I imagined her and it was a pleasant surprise. She was as tall as me, though she wore heels. Her hair black was pulled up largely on her head, with orange feathers sticking out. Her face was heart-shaped, her eyes large and brown, and she constantly smiled. She wore a bright orange robe à la Française that looked similar to Colette’s red gown—bows on the sleeves, embroidery on the stomacher, and scalloped ruching trimming it in a brownish gold on the open robe. Colette’s, of course, was a dark burgundy color instead of the brown that favored the Duchesse’s gown.

  Armand smiled and pointed to Colette and myself. “Rose, this is Colette du Lorme and Madeleine Dumont.”

  “Du Lorme. Like the Marquis du Lorme?” she asked, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing servant.

  Colette nodded. “Yes, he is my Pa-pa.”

  “Rose is a Duchesse,” Armand said, and my eyes went to the large diamond necklace around her neck.

  She nodded. “Yes, but a widow. Let us not forget that.”

  “Oh, I am sorry,” I said, looking to her glass of champagne.

  “Oh, it’s all right. He was a terrible man,” she laughed. “Very abusive, used to chain me up in the house. Though, he still technically chains me, as I cannot marry again or risk losing my title.”

  Armand laughed. “Not that you would ever want to be chained down by another man.”

  Rose let out a laugh. “Of course not! Oh, Armand. You know me so well! How long has it been, Darling. Nearly two years, hasn’t it?”

  “Rose and I met while I was studying in England some years ago. I was at one of her little parties,” he said, turning to Colette.

  “Ages ago, really. We were merely children.” Rose turned to me, looking me over. “I do say. That is a gorgeous gown. Madeleine, was it?”

  I smiled and nodded. “Thank you. It was Colette’s.”

  “Well, it is so much lovelier than these damn orange gowns. I am always nearly blinded from such bright colors—the greens, the yellows. I cannot wait until the middle of the summer when we get a change over.” She took a sip from her glass, waving at someone passing by.

  “How long are you here for?” Colette asked.

  “Oh, until I fancy it. Probably a year or so. Then, I will go back to London,” she stopped, looking over to one of the card tables in the corner of the room. “Ah, we must start a game of Faro. Come now!”

  She grabbed my hand and pulled me along, sitting me down at the table across the room.

  “Now, Maddy darling. Can I call you Maddy?” Rose asked, grabbing a deck of cards.

  I nodded and laughed lightly. “Yes.”

  “Well, Maddy darling. Do you know how to play Faro?”

  “Yes, Colette taught me, but we never have enough players.”

  “Well,” she looked to Armand, who sat down with Colette, “we shall have enough, tonight! Let us get some cakes and more champagne over here. Would everyone like some champagne?”

  I shook my head. “Oh, no. Thank you. Spring water would be fine.”

  Rose raised her hand up. A servant walked over and brought some glasses. “I think we need some spring water here for Madeleine. Anyone else? I think I shall have a glass as well.”

  I smiled as she dealt the cards to each of us.

  Colette looked at me in the carriage, sitting across from me with her hands folded in front of her. “So, the Comte was not there this evening.”

  I looked to her, my smile fading. I realized all the fun I had with Rose had taken my mind off of Lucien.

  “That other letter was from him, wasn’t it? It said something about not being there, not seeing you?” she asked, her voice quiet.

  I nodded.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked as the carriage bounced about.

  “It was a cold letter. I was…I am glad we went out. It took my mind off of it. Rose is nice, isn’t she?”

  “Do not change the subject, Madeleine. What did the letter say?” She caught me, pulling the subject back to where it probably belonged.

  “He went to court and will not be seeing me,” I said, looking down to her hands and keeping my eyes there.

  “So, he has gone to Versailles?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Among all the other courtiers like himself.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You are not defeated yet, Maddy. Do not act like it. It is not like Yolande will to go to Versailles and mingle with him. He is in a tighter circle that does not allow her there.”

  “Constanze could invite her, and you know as well as I do that just about anyone can waltz into Versailles. You don’t need a title.” I tucked my hands under my cloak. I suddenly felt chilly, which was impossible. The night air was humid from the hot day. “All one needs to do is show up to watch them dine. The favorites will be there.”

  “Oh, please,” she said. “If she wants to mingle with the people Lucien mingles with, she needs a title.”

  “So would I if I were to go to court.”

  “That is not the point, Maddy. As long as she doesn’t—”

  “Oh come now, Colette!” my voice raised, almost yelling. “There are other courtiers there. Others who would do anything to be Comtesse.” I quoted her, making sure she understood.

  She turned and looked out the window. “You are being ridiculous.”

  “Perhaps,” I said, looking out the opposite window to my right.

  The coach was quiet the rest of the way to the Du Lorme home. Colette coldly walked ahead of me and up to her bedchamber, not even taking time to say good night.

  I walked into my own bedchamber, making my couchér and getting into bed as quickly as I could. I hugged my pillow close, stifling tears that were trying to break through.

  I went over the conversation Lucien and I had the day previous, trying to pinpoint where I went wrong. What is it I said that upset him so?

  Colette was right. Yolande was my main problem, but I was not even aware if she had been seeing Lucien as I had in the past few days. Constanze did not invite us to any of her fête’s, but that did not mean Lucien was not invited. We hadn’t seen each other in the evening; he only came by during the day the two times he visited.

  Wasn’t it silly to be so concerned over two little days?

  I awoke in the morning and made my toilette as slowly as possible, drawing it out to nearly an hour and a half. I wanted to avoid seeing Colette. I knew she was going to rip my head off for my tone the night before.

  I decided on yellow for the day: a sunshine yellow with silvery brocade patterns. The petticoat was plain and matched my caraco. Pretty ruffles filled out the pleats of the caraco, which swirle
d and flared out, cutting off at my hips and sitting on top of my panniers. The sleeves were three-quarter length with the same ruffles around the cuffs. I had a fichu around my shoulders, tucked into the bodice. I wore the only diamonds I had on my ears and powdered my hair white.

  I walked into the salon. Colette was already sitting at the table, her plate empty while she read the Gazette. She wore a light yellow robe à la Française with light green stripes, and her petticoat matched the stripes. Ruching swirled in a snakelike patterns up the trim of the open robe, three sections on the sleeves, and around the neckline where a big bow sat in the middle. She had a blue ribbon around her neck, and all her jewelry was missing for once.

  She looked up to me. “Ah! So you decided to join us, now. Did you?”

  I sat down, picked a croissant out of the pile of bread and a block of cheese, and set them down on my plate. “I do not want to discuss anything from last night.”

  “Neither do I,” she said, turning back to her paper. “Rose is coming by, today. She is going to have tea with us.”

  “Oh, and Armand is not making an appearance?” I broke off a piece of the croissant, buttered it, and placed a thin piece of cheese on it.

  She shook her head. “He has another student, today. He will be seeing us only three times a week. Oh, and Étienne is going to join us for supper.”

  I stopped, surprised, as I hadn’t heard Étienne’s name since the arrival of Armand. I looked to her, swallowing my croissant. “So, he is still in the picture?”

  She looked at me. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

  “Armand. I just thought…”

  “You thought I was going to get caught up with Armand? Oh please, Maddy.” She placed her paper down, grabbed a piece of brioche, and slathering it with butter. “Armand is such an arrogant little thing. I could never see myself with such a man.”

  My eyebrows raised as I looked her over. Her obvious liking for this man reeked off of her.

  We sat in silence for almost an hour. Colette’s eyes fixed on her paper as I sat and looked out to the terrace. The clouds were getting thick and black, covering up the sun.

  “Madame la Duchesse Rose Downs,” the servant called out. My head whipped around to see her smiling in the doorway. She wore a solid green robe à la Française, the same scalloped, ruched green fabric edging it, and an échelle of bows descending in size on the stomacher. It was somewhat similar to Colette’s. When I really thought about it, weren’t they all quite similar?