The Secret Diary of a Princess a novel of Marie Antoinette

by Clegg, Melanie

  Another letter has arrived from Carolina. She is not the best correspondent but then neither am I and I fear that we both wait a very long time to hear from the other. If I was being charitable, I would say that she sounds not entirely unhappy.

  'My husband, the King, is not at all what I had imagined. He is not handsome, clever, witty, polite or charming. In fact I would go so far as to say that he is absolutely stupid in every way imaginable and some that had not previously occurred to me. Fortunately he seems as disinclined to seek out my company as I am to spend my time with him. He is seventeen and ends all of his time with his stupid friends playing stupid card games or daring each other to do ridiculous pranks. I sometimes think that I hate him.

  It is not all bad though. The weather here is very clement indeed and we barely have any rain. Also, the views from our palace are quite spectacular. I have sent you an engraving of the Caserta Palace, which is my home now, so that you can imagine where I live now that we are so far apart. It is really quite huge and, I am told, looks almost exactly like Versailles. Just fancy, there are over one thousand rooms already and it is not even quite finished! It is not as rough as one would expect, considering that it has such a master, and is really quite exquisitely decorated throughout with an excess of marble, gilt and splendour that I think would not put even Mama to shame.

  I have my own apartment, which is really quite beautiful and filled with the most lovely objects imaginable. Here, I can be quite myself. I have my books, my musical instruments and my paints. I want for nothing but you.

  I am not completely happy but I find that I can be content with my lot in life. And what woman of our rank can ask for more than that?'

  Oh, Carlotta, Carlotta...

  Wednesday, 10th August, late.

  It is unbearably hot and I cannot sleep. My maids left my windows wide open tonight but there is not even the lightest breeze and the still night air is heavy, warm and richly scented with the lilacs and roses that grow beneath my windows. In the distance I can hear the faint sounds of the animals in the menagerie as they roam around their enclosures in the darkness and bellow mournfully at the moon.

  Oh, I am so tired and yet I feel like I will never sleep again as I just can't get comfortable in my bed. My embroidered linen sheets and pillows are fresh and newly laundered and still they feel itchy and uncomfortable. I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before giving up and coming to my desk. I could write a letter to Carolina or maybe read a book, as I am sure that is what Mama and the Countess would advise me to do if I am unable to sleep.

  I can hear the maids shuffling about and whispering to each other in their little room, which lies beyond the green painted panelling. Clearly sleep is eluding them as well, poor things. Maybe I should ring my bell and ask for a carafe of water and some cake and then we can all sit and chat together until we feel sleepy? That would be very pleasant.

  Saturday, 13th August.

  Happy birthday Carolina. I wish that you were still at home. God bless you, wherever you are.

  Monday, 15th August, late. I can't sleep again.

  A very dismal evening. Amalia and I were reading together in her lovely little pink and white sitting room when one of the many liveried palace footmen knocked on the door and announced that we were both wanted downstairs in the Mirror Room. We exchanged concerned glances (I immediately thought of Carolina and my heart began to thud most uncomfortably in my breast) but hastened to follow the footman, who was very young and had bright red hair peeping out from beneath his snowy white wig.

  'What do you suppose it is?' I whispered to Amalia, linking my arm with hers as we walked slowly down the long corridors and then the beautiful marble staircases, our high heels clattering loudly against the cold stone. 'Do you think that there is bad news?'

  She shook her head but I saw that she looked paler than usual beneath her bright red rouge. 'I do not know, petite. Let us hope that it is good news.' She smiled down at me. 'I am sure that it is nothing bad.'

  We paused for a moment outside the room to check our appearance in the huge mirror that hung opposite the door and then entered as the footman held the door open for us. To my surprise several dozen courtiers were already gathered and they all stared at us curiously as they bowed and moved out of the way to let us through.

  I suddenly thought that maybe the summons had arrived from France and felt quite sick as, still arm in arm with Amalia, I crossed the long green and gold room and went to stand beside my sisters and brothers. I looked about myself with satisfaction, thinking as always that we made a very good looking family and that Mama's pride in us was entirely justified.

  'Is someone going to be married?' Little Max was asking in a highly audible whisper as he danced impatiently on the spot. 'I hope that it is not Amalia or Antonia!'

  'Silence!' Elizabeth hissed impatiently from behind her black veil. ' I hope that it is you that is to be married, impertinent little whelp!'

  Max stuck his tongue out at her then ducked as she tried to slap him on the head with her richly painted fan.

  There was a buzz of excitement in the room as the door swung open again and Mama entered, dressed in black brocade and leaning heavily on Joseph's blue silk arm. We all watched them closely for clues as to what this was all about but they were giving nothing away.

  'I wonder what it could be?' I heard Elizabeth whisper to Marianna. 'Mama looks very happy but Joseph looks more serious than I have ever seen him.'

  Mama reached the ornate gilt chair that had been brought in for her and sat down, fixing each one of us with her bright blue gaze as she did so. 'I am pleased to see you all together,' she remarked with a smile. Did I imagine it or did her eyes linger on Amalia as she spoke?

  Joseph stepped forward, clearing his throat as he did so. 'I... we have gathered you all together today to hear some good news.' He looked at Mama and she gave a tiny little nod. 'Our prayers have been answered and on this day, the envoys of his Royal Highness the Duke of Parma have asked for the hand of our dearest sister, Maria Amalia.'

  I heard Amalia give a gasp beside me and immediately took hold of her hand, which trembled pathetically within mine. How could Joseph and Mama have thought it a good idea to surprise her with such an announcement? How could they? It seemed and still seems so unkind and cruel, especially as it is common knowledge that she is in love with someone else. I looked for Karl amongst the gathered courtiers but thankfully he was not there to witness this. I saw that all eyes were upon my sister and that some smiled mockingly as she struggled to hide her misery.

  Joseph turned to Amalia and held out his hand. He was smiling but I could see that his eyes were pleading with her to play along and not to hate him for what was about to happen. 'Come, my sister,' he said when she did not move from the spot. 'Come.'

  I looked up at Amalia to see that she had tears in her eyes and was staring at our brother almost pleadingly. 'I... I can't,' she whispered as a ripple of whispers and laughter ran through the room. 'Joseph, please.'

  'Count your blessings and do as you are told,' Elizabeth hissed, poking her with her fan.

  'My daughters are raised to be maidenly and innocent,' Mama said loudly, beckoning to Amalia with fingers that were heavy with diamonds and rubies. 'Come, daughter, don't be shy.' She smiled and spoke in the most caressing tones but there was a subtle edge to her voice that made me tremble. I would not have dared to disobey her if she had spoken to me in such a way.

  As if in some terrible dream, I watched as Amalia released my hand with a final reassuring squeeze then slowly took Joseph's and allowed him to lead her to our mother. 'I am truly thankful for the honour that has been shown to me,' she whispered as with a swish of her green silk skirts she curtsied to Mama, who raised her to her feet and kissed her on both cheeks before slipping a diamond ring on to her finger.

  I blinked away my tears before the cynical, all seeing eyes of the court but as soon as we were free to leave, I ran up the stairs to my room, told the hove
ring, curious maids to leave me alone and then threw myself across my bed and cried.

  It is all too unfair and so unjust.

  Friday, 19th August, after dinner.

  We still know next to nothing about the Duke of Parma. His splendidly dressed, swarthy envoys are still in Vienna but they speak only Italian and keep to themselves, smiling charmingly and lisping 'si, si, si' to everything that one might say to them. They whisper together as I walk past.

  'They think that you are very pretty,' Elizabeth told me with a smile. 'They wish that you were going to be their Duchess instead of Amalia. They think that she is grumpy and ungrateful.'

  And with good reason. We have learned that the Duke is only seventeen years old, the same age as Carolina's bridegroom in Naples and in fact the two princes were born within weeks of each other. He is also said to be immature and to have childish tastes, but then he is not much older than myself and I still like to play with dolls if no one is about to see it.

  What else? He is an orphan, the grandson of King Louis of France and the younger brother of the still much missed Isabella, who was married to my brother Joseph. I remember her as quiet, artistic and melancholy and wonder if the Duke is the same. She was very pretty as well with a heart shaped face and wide blue eyes, so maybe Ferdinand of Parma will not be ill looking. That is something at least.

  'Parma was entirely governed by the late Duchess before her death,' I overheard Joseph telling Amalia. 'She introduced French manners and customs to the duchy and I believe that you will be very happy there.' He took her hand. 'Isabella...' He paused and I knew that he was thinking of his dead wife, the mother of his only child. 'Isabella always spoke very fondly of her brother and I believe that he will make you a good husband.'

  'Do you really think so, Joseph, or are you just trying to appease your conscience?' Amalia said, pulling her hand away.

  Sunday, 21st August.

  I have been spending a lot of time with the Princesses Friederike and Charlotte of Hesse-Darmstadt, a pair of pretty and utterly charming German princesses that I have known for virtually my entire life. We have always been friendly but now that Carolina is no longer here, I have found myself becoming increasingly close to them both, not that they could ever be substitutes for my sister.

  Friederike is romantic and loves to read books and day dream about romantic heroes sweeping her off her feet. I have seen her watching Karl of Zweibrücken from beneath her eyelashes and blushing whenever he happens to glance in her direction. I do not entirely blame her for this, despite my loyalty to Amalia, for he is exceedingly dashing.

  Charlotte, however, is my special friend as she is just three days younger than myself and shares all of the same interests and dislikes. We are in agreement that there is nothing in the World that is worse than Italian lessons and that really we should be left alone to do as we please.

  'You are all very silly,' Amalia said with a laugh and a fond look as we all ran indoors earlier on after an exhausting afternoon spent chasing Mama's spaniels about the park. Charlotte was quite red from the exertion and Friederike's long flaxen hair had fallen down in a tumble about her shoulders while I had grass stains down my flounced pink cotton skirt. 'Hoydens!' Amalia reproved with a chuckle. 'Friederike, please remember to pin your hair back up before you are seen and Antonia please change your dress.'

  'You are not really cross are you, Amalia?' I coaxed with what was supposed to be my most winsome smile.

  My sister tried to look solemn but had to give up when she couldn't help but laugh. 'No dearest, not cross at all,' she said, kissing my forehead and smoothing my hair back, 'just sincerely pleased to see you looking so happy again.'

  Wednesday, 24th August, afternoon.

  My lovely, amusing French tutors have been sent away. I went as usual to my classroom only to find that only the Countess was waiting for me.

  'Monsieur le Duc de Choiseul has sent word that it is considered entirely unsuitable for an Archduchess of Austria and future Princess of France to be taught by what are fundamentally a pair of strolling players,' she said with cold look. I always knew that she hated poor Aufresne and Sainville and I suspect her of having engineered their dismissal in some way.

  'They were real actors!' I protested, stung by her description of them as 'strolling players'. 'Why must you always be so unkind, Countess?'

  Countess Lerchenfeld raised one finely plucked eyebrow. 'I beg your pardon, your Highness?' She sounded shocked.

  I raised my chin. 'I liked them and I do not wish to hear them spoken of in such a way.' I sat down at my desk and picked up my rough book and pen. 'Now, if you please, Countess.' I tried to appear entirely composed but I had to lay my pen down on the wooden desk as my fingers were shaking so much.

  The Countess clicked her tongue against her teeth angrily. 'Such behaviour will avail you nothing, your Highness,' she remarked. 'Your mother ordered me to inform you that another teacher has already been chosen from you and is even now on their way from the French court.'

  I did not reply but my mind was working quickly. Another teacher was being sent directly from the French court? Mama must be beside herself with joy as French interference in the matter of my education must surely be a confirmation that the French King also wishes for a match between myself and the Dauphin Louis. I must ask Amalia.

  Friday, 26th August, late, I cannot sleep.

  Amalia agrees that it must be so. If the French did not want their Dauphin to marry me then they would not care who taught me French.

  I do not know what I think about all of this. On one hand, of course I wish to be married but on the other, well, France is so far away and so strange.

  'Papa considered himself to be French,' Amalia reminded me with a smile. 'He was born there and his Mama was a French princess and niece of their Sun King, Louis.'

  I sighed. 'So in a way I am a part French too? I always forget that.' A portrait of our Grandmama, the Princesse Élisabeth Charlotte d'Orléans hangs in what used to be Papa's room in the Hofburg and I have often admired her pretty, heart shaped face and large brown eyes which she had inherited from her wicked papa, Philippe d'Orléans.

  Monday, 5th September, late.

  I was walking in the gardens earlier when I came upon Amalia and Karl sitting on a bench and kissing passionately. I backed immediately away and hid behind a hedge so I do not think that they saw me. How fortunate though that no one else was with me as I had asked my maids and footmen to fall behind so that I could be alone.

  My heart troubles me and there is nothing that I can do to help my sister.

  Oh, Amalia.

  Tuesday, 6th September.

  Amalia and I were sitting together in her sitting room, both quietly stitching baby shirts for yet another one of Leopold's babies, while outside the rain lashed against the windows. He and his ugly Spanish wife have two children now and yet another one on the way which Mama is in transports about. 'It must be very boring in Florence,' Joseph remarked with a grimace when he was told the happy news.

  'I know that you saw us,' Amalia whispered so quietly that at first I wasn't sure that I had not imagined things. 'Yesterday in the gardens.'

  I stopped sewing and looked at her, completely startled. 'I did not mean to... I won't tell anyone!' I could not help blushing, as though I had been caught out in some terrible misdemeanor. 'I was not spying on you, Amalia!'

  She laughed. 'Oh, I know, silly girl! Spying was always Carolina's special talent wasn't it?' She put in a final stitch and then laid the little white linen baby shirt aside. 'I did not know if it was wise to talk to you about such a matter but it occurred to me that you might have been troubled in some way by what you saw.'

  'N-no,' I stammered, thinking immediately of this book and wondering if she had discovered it and read my entry from yesterday. 'I am worried about you but there is really no need for us to discuss what happened.' I felt quite panicky at the prospect of being taken into Amalia's confidence as it all felt so grown up and beyon
d my comprehension.

  Amalia looked at me then for a moment and then nodded, as though she had read my thoughts. 'You are quite welcome to ask me anything that you like,' she said. 'I do not want to keep any secrets from you, Antonia.'

  I looked away, feeling quite uncomfortable and unable to meet her eye. 'I am sorry for your situation,' I murmured, not knowing what else to say. 'I would not wish to pry.' I stole a look at my sister and saw that she was not watching me at all but instead gazing calmly out of the rain splattered window and across the park. 'I wish that you were at liberty to marry the man of your choice.'