Affaire de Coeur
Page 32
“Your note was not funny,” he said, taking off his left boot.
I smiled. “I know. It was rather wicked of me, wasn’t it? Do you know anything of the situation with Armand?”
He shook his head. “I tried to send him a note and stop by his apartments today, but he was not there. Perhaps, he really does have something going on. Though, it sounds very unlike him to break with a student through a letter.”
“Something is going on there.” I stood in front of him, my hands on my small hips. “Colette has been running about with Étienne.”
“Oh?” He smiled, handing me his boots. “What have they been up to?”
“I didn’t ask, and I really do not want to know.” I bit my lip before I walked over to him, sitting down beside him and grabbing his hand. “You know that in a way, I have always admired Colette. Her talents with men and such…I can feel the shift in the house. Both of us have changed considerably, and in such a short amount of time.”
“How do you mean?” He looked into my eyes, knowing that our conversation was a serious one, and that my thoughts were serious. His voice was still soft, not quite at the coo that thrilled me so much, but low as not to raise any suspicion that I was talking to someone in my bedchamber.
“I think I am losing respect for her with the way she is toying with these men, Armand really cares for her, dare I say loves her. Has he mentioned that to you before?”
He shook his head. “No. When we do speak, it is usually of you.” He smiled sheepishly, squeezing my hand.
I smiled lightly. “Oh. Well, obviously something upset Armand. Do you think he heard of the rumors about Colette? Have you heard them?”
He nodded. “You know I have. Courtiers think it appropriate conversation: speaking about someone else and their downfalls, humiliating facts and stories. I heard that one you told me about her and Étienne getting caught by the servant. Only it was not Colette on her knees in this story. It was her bent over a billiard table.”
I frowned. “Do they not notice the inconsistencies of the stories? How one person heard this and another heard that? Each story is different.”
“No, all they care about are the basic facts. A servant caught Colette and Étienne doing something sexual or immoral in the Du Lorme home. That is all that matters. They can pick and choose their details at will, whatever is more obscene.” He stroked my face gently before leaning forward and kissing me on the cheek.
“Colette never mentioned anything about a servant finding her and Étienne. That is something she would have caused an uproar about. You know how she values her privacy.”
“Yes, but not other people’s privacy, it seems,” he turned from me, annoyed.
I leaned forward, resting my cheek on his shoulder. His blouse felt soft and warm with him underneath me. “I know that bothers you, but I am sure if it had happened, she would have had the servant dismissed. If a servant saw her and Étienne, wouldn’t that mean it is possible that someone has seen you coming into my bedchamber?”
He looked at me, his mouth pouting slightly as he thought.
“We both have not heard anything about it, so I would assume that perhaps the rumor is just that—a rumor and nothing happened,” I rubbed his chin gently as I looked into his eyes.
He leaned forward and grumbled as his head hit my chest, his arms wrapping around me tightly. “All this talk of rumors and courtiers makes my head hurt.”
“I know.” I sighed, my hand coming up and stroking his cheek and jaw. “Is it bad that I cannot wait to go home?”
“Want to get rid of me, already?”
I shook my head, smiling, “No, no. I don’t want to leave because of the rumors, just because…I feel unwelcome. I can feel the shift, Lucien. I just can. I know that things are not right.”
He sat up straight, turning toward me. “Perhaps it is the realization that things are not as they seemed. You want something familiar, again.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, scooting toward him. “You are familiar. I want you, right now.”
His lips pursed together in his usual smirk as he shook his head. “You won’t when I tell you of my itinerary next week.”
“Oh no. Why?” I felt my heart drop.
“I have to go away to Versailles for three days.”
“Three days?” My arms dropped from around his neck.
He nodded, his face saddening. “Yes. Sunday through to Tuesday, so I will see you Saturday night and stay here, but it will only be a quick rendezvous, as I need to make back to my own manor to prepare for the journey. Then, I will be gone all of Sunday, and Monday, and then Tuesday evening, I will be back here.”
My shoulders slumped as I raised my feet up off the floor. My knees came up, and my arms wrapped around them. I was not happy.
“It is a celebration of sorts. I cannot escape it…unless you want to come with me?”
He leaned forward, smiling. He tried to look me in the eyes.
I buried my head into my arms, shaking it. “No. We agreed…another three weeks.”
His hand came up and stroked my back softly, making my whole body shiver and my eyes close. He leaned toward me, his lips pressed against my ear. “I will write you every day, every minute. We can meet out in the hedge maze, so we don’t have to worry about being heard or seen, and have a few moments to really see each other before we go about our usual business.”
I turned my head toward him, pouting. “This isn’t fair.”
“What makes you think I want to go, Madeleine? I don’t want to spend any time at all with those people, but as a patriot, I must.”
He kissed me on the cheek once again before he stood up in front of me, crossing his arms.
I sighed heavily, annoyed. I stood up with him and walking into him, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face into his shoulder.
“What are you doing, tomorrow?” he asked as he held me tightly.
“Going with Colette to pick out our material and get measured for our gowns for my birthday event.” I looked up at him. “You are still coming to it, right?”
He nodded. “Of course.” He then smiled, looking at my mouth.
“What?” I asked, my brow scrunching down.
“Oh, nothing. I am just thinking about the reaction I am going to get when I give you your gift.” He continued to smile, swaying his body and rocking me in his arms.
“What is it?” I tried not to laugh, not to smile at all, but it was no use.
“Ah! That is a surprise, Mademoiselle. You will have to wait until that night.”
I raised my chin, “Fine, I will.”
My arms fell from his neck as I went to turn from him, but he quickly pulled me back into his arms, leaning down and kissing me before he picked me up and set me down on the bed.
He looked down at me, stroking my hair off of my shoulder. “I am going to miss you those days I go to court. I wish you would come with me.”
I ran my fingers across his forehead and down his cheek, cupping his face in my hand as I stretched up to him and pressed my lips against his.
I didn’t know how I would make it through three days of not seeing Lucien at all, but I suppose, as Colette would say, I lived without him before. I could live without him, again…but only for three days.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Waking promptly for our early outing in town, I was dressed in a light, robin’s egg blue petticoat. It was a robe à la Française, and the overskirt was the same shade of blue with thin strips of white and little, golden chains lining each one in a serpentine pattern. An échelle of large, pink bows filled out the stomacher, and large flounces of lace took up nearly my entire arm at the sleeves, with little, magenta ruffles around the neckline.
I was honestly not looking forward to our little trek into town, as I was quite tired from the night before, and I disliked the awkward silence that would fill the carriage.
Colette, of course, wore green—one of her usual green gowns, her light gree
n gown with a cream colored petticoat, and dark green échelle of bows on her stomacher.
She sat in the carriage, looking out the window, as she watched the landscape slip by. The cabin rocked as the horses trotted along.
I pulled my shawl up over my shoulders, though I didn’t know why. It was still stiflingly hot, since the storm quickly and easily passed over us. I tried to busy my mind with anything but focusing on the silence in the cabin: playing with my fingers, straightening out my back, or running over the night before in my head.
Sometimes, I thought about Lucien’s body—imaging every line of him—but of course, I would blush, clear my throat, and pat my face.
When we arrived at the merchant des modes, a woman in a bright orange gown, with intricate beading and detail on nearly the whole gown, greeted us at the door. She led us over to some delicate, gold and brown armchairs. A maid brought us some tea and pastries as the merchant des modes set a book of swatches in front of us, telling us all we need to do is put a pin in the fabric we wish to use.
Colette finally spoke up, looking over each of the pieces of fabric. “I like this dark violet piece in a robe à l’Anglaise. A sacque back would get in the way of dancing. I should think I would like black lace for the sleeves, around the petticoat, at the bottom, and over the pleating. Black passementerie on the bodice and around the trim of the gown, as elaborate as possible. I want dark and seductive.” She stuck the pin in the dark royal purple swatch, pushed the book toward me, and sat back with her tea.
The woman took note of everything Colette said, nodding along and smiling. She knew this was a sale that would garner her at least 1,500 livres. “An open robe, Mademoiselle?”
Colette nodded. “Of course.”
The merchant des modes nodded, then turned to me, watching me and hoping I would give her the same type of order.
I looked over each swatch carefully, finally coming to a shimmery cream piece of silk taffeta. The color reminded me of the filling in some pastries. I put the pin in it and handed the book back to the woman. She looked at me, expecting more.
Colette elbowed me. “What style do you want?”
“I just want it to be simple, plain. Perhaps a robe à l’Anglaise, like yours will be. Just the cream taffeta.” I shrugged my shoulders, pulling my shawl up around me, again.
Colette rolled her eyes. “That’s boring!” She turned to the woman, “Make sure there is pink muslin around the sleeves and jeweled embroidery on the stomacher. Lots of pink and white gemstones. Perhaps the petticoat needs some ruffles and pleating around the bottom. I want it to be extravagant, just the same as my own. Even more so, as it is a gift for her. Maybe some of the same pink muslin around the neckline. Something light and airy.”
The woman took note of everything, scratching away with her quill and nodding along with it.
Once Colette set everything up to be charged to her father, we made our way out, heading to our next stop—a jeweler down the way a bit. As soon as we walked in, all the men working there ran up to Colette—a frequent patron of the shop. They fussed over her about the party she was throwing in the coming weeks.
I turned and looked around at the various cases. Hats with large diamonds on the walls, pamphlets with artistry displaying such gems as they had in the shop, masquerade masks, as well as simple domino masks decorated the store. My eyes went straight to a mask on the wall that was pure white. It was much like a domino mask, though it was most certainly a masquerade mask, embellished extravagantly.
The mask itself had white passementerie lining the eyes and a winged tip coming up to the very edge of the mask, which was lined with small, delicate pearls before a woven, white rope in the same shape.
Lace in floral and filigree patterns swirled around on the left side of the mask, stretching down an additional two inches. More pearls lined all the swirls, with larger ones set in the middle of the little flowers. Four stark white, soft bursts of ostrich feathers stuck straight up and bowed slightly from all the lace, which crawled up the feathers themselves with white sequins and little, oval-shaped pearls on little stems that stuck up by the right eyehole. A wooden handle painted white and a little more than twelve inches in length emerged from it, and the same white passementerie wound around it.
I stood in awe of this thing of beauty. This mask was nowhere near simple, but it was white and pure and filled me with an angst to wear it.
Colette walked up behind me, gasping lightly. “Oh, Maddy. That mask matches your gown perfectly. Is that the one you want?”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I just stared at it. A man in a powdered bagwig stepped forward, pulled the mask down, and handed it to me. “I think you should try it on for size.”
I held it up against my face, and everything aligned perfectly. My violet eyes peeked through the eyeholes as I looked in the looking glass they held before me. I could feel the soft, white felt against my face. The smell of wood lingered with a hint of vanilla, which I was unsure if it came from my perfume or the mask itself.
“Oh, well. That does it. We are getting that mask,” Colette called out, her voice lingering in my ears faintly.
Colette got a similar mask but in violet. The only difference was it had peacock feathers sticking out instead of ostrich feathers. We would be opposite birds on the night of the ball—both beautiful, but completely different. Perhaps it was the right analogy for Colette and myself.
Those were really the only words that Colette spoke to me. It was another awkward ride back to the manor.
I spent most of the day sitting alone and writing a letter to Lucien, though I had no intention of actually sending it to him. It was my own way of sorting out my thoughts, the only way I knew how, without a friend to lend me an ear.
A week went by, much the same as that Friday. Colette and I barely spoke, and she entertained Étienne nearly every night, except for the two nights he invited her to his apartments in town.
I readily took advantage of said events, sending the courier to give word to Lucien that he could visit upon me earlier, which he did. It somewhat made up for the three horrid days I was unable to see him while he was away at court.
I sat on my bed, my knees drawn up under my nightgown and my arms around them tightly as I watched him change, while the morning sun peeked through the window and warmed the room.
“You have not told me how court was,” I said, watching as he carefully buttoned his golden brocade waistcoat.
“Hmmm.” He looked up to me. “It was court. The courtiers questioned me like a convict. Who is the woman I am courting? What is she like? They heard this, and they heard that. All the same nonsense. What of you and Colette?”
“What of it?” I rolled my eyes.
“I figured by now you two would have sorted it out.” He turned and grabbed his green justaucorps out of my wardrobe, shoving his arms through the sleeves.
I shook my head. “We both obviously do not want to talk to each other. Oh, did I tell you we were fitted for our ball gowns today?” I stood up, walked up to him, and smiled as I smoothed out his apparel.
He smiled, shaking his head. “No, you did not. I suppose things went well with it. Do you like that dressmaker?”
I nodded. “I do. She was very offhand when Colette and I met her in town at her shop, but she was rather pleasant, today. The gown is a work of art, though Colette gets the praise for that one.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” He leaned down to me and kissed my cheek. “What color is it?”
“White, a cream color, and some pink,” I turned from him, leaning against the bottom post of the bed. “Why?”
“I will be dressing to match.” He pulled his left boot on and then right, standing up straight and sighing before he walked up to me, pulling my waist forward. “I don’t want to talk about that, now. We can talk about it later on tonight when I come by.”
I nodded, looking up at him, into his eyes. I pouting lightly as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
I rested my head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath. His cologne wafted up and swirled around me, making me suddenly feel very tired. I then stood up straight with a sudden spike of pain in my lower back.
He looked me over, still holding onto me. “Are you all right? What was that?”
I shook my head. “A pain in my back. I’m fine. It’s gone, now.”
He eyed me for a moment, looking me over. “Are you sure?”
I nodded, rubbing the area that had hurt a moment before, just by my hips. “I’m fine. You better run along. The house will be awake any moment.”
He leaned into me, kissing me softly on the lips before he turned and kissed my cheek. “Good night, my love.”
I held onto him for a moment before he broke away from me, turning toward the door and sneaking out.
I couldn’t help thinking how easy everything would be if I had a secret passage to my room, like other women did for their lovers. It was common knowledge that those women who had lovers, had husbands as well who were well aware of their indiscretions. Husbands who they themselves had lovers, their own indiscretions. It seemed that privacy and the business of secrets was a frivolous thing.
I fell asleep uneasily, the pain in my back and hips returning and making it almost impossible to find a comfortable position. Before I knew it, Brielle was in my room, pulling back the drapes on my bed and helping me to get ready for the day.
She put bits of orange and vanilla into the bath, making the whole room fill with a delicious aroma. The two scents mingled together and calmed me, and I nearly fell asleep in the bath.
Brielle helped me out of the tub, dried me off, and dressed me in a fresh smelling robe à la Française—a pink and white striped frock with yards of lace at the sleeves and ruffles filling out the stomacher and trim of the gown. I noticed the lace was growing on me considerably.