The Indispensable Wife

by Philippa Lodge

  He shrugged again. “Everyone likes you. Besides, you have me and our brothers.”

  She sighed. “Boys are not the same. Do you remember how desperately I wanted a sister? I played dolls with my nursemaid. Maman’s lady’s maid taught me how to dress and how to put on face paint. Even once Papa started taking me to court, I was only allowed to spend time with carefully-chosen young ladies under strict supervision. If we wanted to sing and dance, we were given lessons, not permitted to sing for fun. You boys ran wild: challenging other boys to horse races, sneaking into ladies’ boudoirs, getting into fistfights in the stables. Even going with your tutors to meet with intellectuals was more than I was allowed. I begged to see Molière’s plays, but they were too dangerous for me. It was too important for me to be perfect.”

  Henri snorted slightly. “Perfect.”

  She smiled at him. “Ridicule, I know. Maman had a very precise view of perfection and slapped me if I didn’t live up to it. You were lucky she didn’t pay much attention to you.”

  “Lucky.” Henri sighed. “I was happy whenever you stopped following me around.”

  She swatted him lightly on the arm.

  ****

  Two hours later, they pulled up at the inn in Ris-Orangis, and Henri hustled Aurore inside. He took her up to her room and said he would check on the stables and let her know when Louise de la Baume le Blanc arrived.

  Not half an hour later, Aurore heard turmoil in the courtyard and peeked out to see Louise handed down from her carriage, her belly absolutely enormous with child, servants swirling and circling and rushing all around her. Aurore saw her walk into the inn and a ripple of excitement echoed up the stairwell, then was hushed to give Mademoiselle some peace as she retired to her room for a rest.

  There was a soft tap at the door, and Henri slipped in. “Did you hear? She’s arrived.”

  Aurore nodded.

  “She ordered supper at eight in a private parlor. A maid seemed to think she might dine in her own room instead.”

  “Thank you, Henri-chéri.” She tried to smile, but her gut was churning. It should be easy to talk to an old friend, but she had never had her entire future hanging on one conversation.

  Henri scowled, obviously not fooled by the teasing nickname. “It will be all right, you know. Even if she does not help, we can find another way. Cédric will get Dominique an audience with the king.”

  “I know, but I have to prove to you that women are as important in politics as men,” she said.

  He laughed and went out again, leaving her with her rapidly beating heart and sweating hands, wondering if it would be impolitic if she carried her knife in her pocket to petition the king’s mistress.

  ****

  An hour later, Henri led her down the stairs and pointed to a door. She dried her hands on her rough peasant skirt and straightened her headscarf before scratching lightly on the door and being bidden to enter.

  “Pour me a glass of wine, Mireille,” said Louise from the shadows.

  As Aurore walked to the table where there was a carafe of wine, she glanced at her old friend, who was leaning back on a chaise longue with a shawl over her legs, her eyes closed.

  Aurore went to her, the glass in hand, and said in a quiet voice, “Louise?”

  Louise’s eyes snapped open, a look of outrage on her face. She glared at Aurore for several seconds before her jaw dropped. “Aurore? What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?”

  Aurore held out the glass of wine to her.

  “You are working here? No, that cannot be. Pas possible!” Louise moved her great bulk as if she would sit up.

  Aurore laid a hand on her arm. “Lie back, chérie. It is a long story.”

  She then recounted the story of the taking of the château and how she was held hostage—she still could not speak the word “rape,” but somehow the panic was receding—and of how she had escaped. She told a little of her weeks as a traveling performer. She lifted her head scarf to show Louise the burn mark and let her examine the scar that ran beside her eye.

  Louise listened eagerly, gasping in horror at the right moments.

  There was a knock on the door a bare ten minutes later, just as Aurore was coming to the end of her tale and hoped to make her request for help.

  A maid slipped in and then cried out, “Who are you? Get away from Mademoiselle!”

  She grabbed for the door handle, but Louise cried out, “Stop, Mireille! This is a friend of mine whom I invited in to visit with me.”

  “A friend? A gypsy! You, who are so pious, cannot be encouraging a witch!”

  “Mireille, du calme. Of course she is not a gypsy. She is an old friend who has fallen on hard times. Now bring in my dinner and keep quiet,” said Louise.

  When the girl had gone, Aurore said, “You are so very commanding now, Mademoiselle de la Baume le Blanc.”

  “I have become quite formidable, n’est-ce pas?” asked her old friend with a gay little laugh. “Even though I was raised to it, I was unready for court politics five years ago, when my king first noticed me. I hoped I would make a good marriage, though.”

  Her famous blue eyes filled with the equally infamous tears, and Aurore held her hand.

  “I am disgraced, and my Louis is out of patience with me, and yet le bon Dieu still hasn’t given me children. Even this one will surely be taken from me,” said Louise, tears running down her soft, pale cheeks.

  “I learned only yesterday that your Philippe had passed away, and I am very sorry,” said Aurore.

  “The tragedy was not his death but his birth,” said Louise on a moan.

  Aurore’s heart felt as though it had been stabbed. She had never seen a baby of her own alive, never held one and heard it cry. Even though any child of Louise’s was illegitimate, Aurore could not see how a baby could ever be a tragedy. Especially now that she knew that Michel was her half-brother, she could not bear to think of a baby as anything other than a blessing.

  There was another light tap on the door, and Louise wiped her eyes and called out. The same maid came in with a tray and a jug of milk. She glared at Aurore, who got up and took the tray from her.

  “Come back in half an hour, Mireille,” said Louise loftily.

  The girl curtsied and went out again.

  “She is a spy for Athénais, of course,” said Louise.

  “For Madame de Montespan?” Aurore gasped. Would Montespan side with Dom or against him? She wondered if Mireille even recognized her. She would surely learn who Aurore was when they rejoined the court at Vincennes.

  “She is plotting to take my place. She is so happy and witty, while I am just a placid old cow who cries,” said Louise on a sigh.

  “Oh, non, ma chère Louise!” said Aurore, patting her friend on the hand. “You are such a lovely, gentle creature.”

  “I was once.” Louise sighed again. “My heart has turned hard, and I regret more and more how I forsook my morals to be Louis’ mistress. Dieu will punish me, I am sure. Though I pray constantly to the Holy Virgin, I don’t know if she hears me. Surely it is punishment that none of my children have survived.”

  Aurore had prayed to the Holy Virgin and every other saint she could think of, asking for a healthy baby and asking to be freed from her captors. The freedom had happened only after disfigurement and rape and the loss of her unborn child. She felt certain the saints didn’t listen to every single plea, but would never say so to her pious friend. Maybe if Aurore had been more biddable and less of a trial for her mother, maybe if Louise had married and not joined in the king’s adultery, maybe then they would both have their prayers answered.

  They sat silently for a minute in thought, or perhaps prayer, before Aurore roused herself and brought the tray of treats to the little table and served Louise, just as a lady in waiting would.

  “Oh, you must have some, too, my dear Aurore,” said Louise.

  Aurore thanked her and served a few bites onto one of the little plates.

  “No
w, Aurore,” her friend said when she had finished nibbling at her repast and drinking a large glass of wine. “Now, you must tell me what brings you here.”

  Aurore took a deep breath and did what she had sworn to herself many years before that she wouldn’t do: ask her friend for royal favors.

  Louise waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t know. Is your husband not suspected of treason?”

  “Treason? Of course not. The rumors are completely ridiculous. He has lost everything these last months, and these terrible enemies are dirtying his name, trying to keep him from fighting back.”

  Louise reared back, affronted by her vehemence. “I am sorry, my dear Aurore, but I cannot beg the king’s favor without some sort of remuneration. I have to assure my own well-being.”

  Aurore nodded and looked down at her folded hands. Her fingertips were bright red and her joints ached from the squeezing she had been giving them. “All we ask is that you arrange a meeting between my Dominique and your Louis. The more private the better. He wishes only to explain his own side of the story and to gain the king’s favor. Once he has the king on his side, he can rally others and gather his friends. He will not ask the king for money or weapons or soldiers, though he wouldn’t turn down the help. He asks that His Highness recognize his right as the Comte de Bures and Vicomte Dumouton and all the other titles and lands. He asks the king’s favor to strike down illegal usurpers who bear the king ill will.”

  Aurore took a deep breath, realizing that her friend might not care as much about treason and friendship as she did about money and land. “If Dominique is dispossessed of his birthright, then how will others retain theirs? Because Dominique has no direct heir, he has been an easy target, but as long as he lives, the lands are his. The king may take the holdings and do as he wishes if Dominique dies and the titles go into abeyance.”

  Louise looked away but appeared thoughtful instead of haughty. Aurore hoped she was thinking of her own lands and her own future bastard child.

  ****

  Aurore slept that night—not very well—guarded by Henri, who tossed and turned on a blanket on the floor. She reached out for Dominique, waking up repeatedly with panic and loss. She wasn’t going to have intercourse with him ever again, probably, so how long would he be willing to lie next to her? She should get used to lying alone. She had thought she was used to it over the years of strain and separation, but as soon as he was back in her bed, she knew she had been fooling herself.

  She rose early to be sure Louise de la Baume le Blanc didn’t leave without her. She needn’t have worried, as it was nearly noon by the time Louise had risen and breakfasted and dressed. It was another hour before her trunks had been packed and loaded and a hamper of food was made up for her.

  Henri shifted from foot to foot, anxious to return to his duties and yet unwilling to leave his sister stranded. Aurore found him waiting at the door when she went down after helping Louise with her wig. She pulled him into a tight embrace. “She will get me an informal audience with the king. She hasn’t promised anything else.”

  Henri nodded. “We all should have spent more time deciding what help we wanted from the king.”

  “We want his full confidence and help from his musketeers or a detachment from the army,” she said. “But I really do not think he will be so helpful.”

  Henri shook his head. “Me neither.”

  They stood side by side and contemplated a beautiful carriage accompanied by liveried riders as it swept past the inn on the main road. Some member of the nobility on their way to Vincennes.

  “Will you be back in Paris tonight?” she asked.

  He frowned. “I will ride back, staying in front of the king’s party to be sure that all is ready. We will be at Vincennes by nightfall. I will find you when I arrive.”

  After a tense silence, he added, “Paul-Bénédicte is to be gone from my rooms by the time I get back. I shall have to find a new manservant.”

  “And a new love,” she said softly.

  He looked blankly out at the road. “No.” He sighed.

  “I really… I’m sorry.” She hugged his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. She wanted to say she had thought Henri would stay with Paul-Bénédicte forever, but she realized that saying so wouldn’t help Henri.

  There was a great clatter on the stairs behind them: Louise and her servants descending the wide staircase. Henri bowed deeply as de la Baume le Blanc nodded regally to him.

  “Thank you, Mademoiselle, for seeing my sister to Vincennes,” he said.

  Mademoiselle de la Baume le Blanc accepted his thanks with another nod and was helped up into her lavish coach by a huge footman. Aurore smiled and nodded at her brother in a way that she hoped was reassuring as she joined her friend. He scowled.

  ****

  They stopped at nearly every village and inn along the way for Louise to descend in all her bejeweled glory for people to bow to her and for her to use the privy. Aurore began to appreciate the king’s habit of not letting his passengers descend. It was after dark when they arrived at Vincennes instead of merely late afternoon. Aurore hoped she had been a restful and yet lively companion, but her thoughts kept straying to what she could possibly say to sway the king. She found herself staring out the carriage window, eager to arrive and yet eager to escape.

  Louise’s servants swarmed out and helped her into the palace, dragging Aurore along in her wake.

  Aurore kept her head down as they went through the corridors, already bustling with the servants of the nobility and a few stray nobles wandering around, showing off for each other.

  They were just to Louise’s rooms when there was a great hue and cry and the king’s arrival was announced. Aurore was in the hall with a few of Louise’s servants and curtsied deeply as the king, the queen, and Madame de Montespan whisked past and into their own rooms without glancing at anyone.

  Chapter Seven

  After dinner, there was a knock on the chamber door. Louise pulled Aurore from the boudoir and into her dressing room. Trunks and canvas bags had been shoved along the side of the room, some unpacked, some vomiting masses of frothy white linen and lace. A lady’s maid jerked upright, startled away from her work. Louise snapped at her to keep quiet. The wardrobes already held brightly colored skirts, plain and fancy petticoats, a massive collection of ornate shawls. One seemed to be devoted entirely to shelf after shelf of glittering, heeled slippers.

  Aurore had almost forgotten that this was how she had lived. She smoothed her hands over her rough beige bodice and felt the lightly boned stays underneath. She had worn the stays every day for two months and the bodice and skirt on half of those days, joining Marie-France and the women of the travelling troupe at the edges of creeks and around village wells to wash clothing by hand. She looked at her palms, roughened by the weeks of washing and cooking and carrying.

  She looked around again at the fine fabrics, and her head spun. She had forgotten to breathe. Her own dressing room had been raided and emptied by the men who worked for Saint-Ange and Poudrain while she lay helpless on her bed. They had laughed at her and talked loudly of which whore they would give the fine clothing to once they had a moment to visit the village. Aurore had been too frightened, clutching at her shivering lady in waiting, Mathilde, to point out that there weren’t any whores in the village as far as she knew. She shuddered to think they would be forcing the girls of the village to be their whores. That was on the very first day she was held hostage, before she had even imagined that she herself would be forced…

  She clapped her hands over her mouth to hold in the panic.

  Louise’s hand tightened on her arm, and she remembered the king’s mistress was with her and she was in a dressing room in the Palace of Vincennes and she was safe. Probably safe. They heard the king speaking with someone; Aurore thought it was the girl whom Louise said was a spy for Madame de Montespan. Soon afterwards, there were the unmistakable noises of lovemaking.

  Aurore stared at Louise, who
kept her eyes closed as her lips and hands worked through her rosary.

  When she crossed herself and noticed Aurore looking at her, she shrugged stiffly. “I really can’t help him, in my condition.”

  Aurore glanced at her enormous belly and then had to look away so that Louise would not see her envy, tinged with fear, for Louise’s pregnancy. Or her disgust with their monarch.

  Louise whispered, “He is very busy in the evenings. He cannot wait for me to be ready. He still will have his official Coucher and hear some petitions and then will go to the queen’s bed.”

  The noises came to their usual peak, and then there was a minute of silence before the king’s voice was heard, followed by the maid’s voice. A minute later, there was a sharp rap at the dressing room door, and Louise signaled to her lady’s maid to open it. They all curtsied deeply as the king came in.

  “Mademoiselle de la Baume le Blanc,” said the king, his bearing stiff and formal.

  “I am pleased to see you have arrived and are in good health, Votre Altesse,” said Louise, rising and holding her hand out for a kiss.

  The king bent over his mistress’ hand, and they murmured a few words to each other. As he rose, his gaze settled on Aurore. His eyebrows rose for only a moment. “Madame la Comtesse de Bures. Now, this is a surprise.”

  “Yes, Your Highness. I joined Louise on the road this morning.” Aurore curtsied again, even more deeply than before.

  He was silent as she stayed as steady as she could, her knees bent and her head down. Finally, he said, “Rise up, Madame la Comtesse. I assume this is to do with your husband?”

  She glanced at him and, though his expression was faintly bored, found his eyes focused on her completely, stabbing into her. She nodded. “Of course, Votre Altesse.”

  His mouth tightened only slightly. “And he sent you instead of facing me himself? Does that indicate a guilty conscience, I wonder?”

  Aurore’s stomach dropped. “Oh, no, Votre Altesse. Of course not. I was merely hoping to speak with Mademoiselle de la Baume le Blanc about speaking to you to arrange a time when my husband could speak to you.” She sounded dimwitted.