The Secret Diary of a Princess a novel of Marie Antoinette

by Clegg, Melanie

  'I know.' She looked at me then and I saw that her blue eyes were wet with unshed tears. 'I wish that too. It is so hard to see him and know that we will never be permitted to be together and that now it is too late to do anything about it.' She smiled ruefully and raised one white hand to her eyes. I remembered that Amalia had never liked to be seen crying.

  'Was there ever a time when something might have been done about it?' I asked, curious despite myself.

  She smiled again, this time sadly. 'Perhaps.' She sighed then and shook her head. 'No, no I am deceiving myself. There was never any chance for Karl and I and we must resign ourselves to being separated forever, however much it hurts to accept this. I have loved him ever since I first set eyes on him and I could not stop myself, even though I knew all along that we would never be permitted to marry.' She leaned forward and took my hand in an urgent grip, which forced me to raise my eyes to her face. I had not really noticed before how pale she looked. 'Antonia, promise me that you will not fall in love before you are married.'

  I stared at her. 'What do you mean?' I think that some of the young men at court are very handsome but it has never once occurred to me that I could fall in love with one of them as my elder sisters have done.

  Amalia gripped my hand. 'Promise me, Antonia. I never ever want you to feel the torment of being wrenched away from the man you love as I have been.'

  'I promise.' What else could I do?

  Wednesday, 21st September, after dinner, Laxenburg.

  Today I met my new tutor and it was not nearly so bad as I had feared. Mama herself brought him to the schoolroom and I looked up from my German exercise to see a small, neatly dressed little priest standing before me, smiling rather awkwardly as Mama prodded him forward and said her piece.

  'Child, this is the Abbé Vermond, who has been sent from Versailles in order to overlook your education.' Mama could hardly conceal the note of intense satisfaction in her voice. 'Be sure to pay attention to him at all times.'

  'Your Highness.' The little man gave an elegant bow. These French! Even their priests are perfect courtiers. Not that our priests here in Vienna are peasants, but not one has half the elegance of little Abbé Vermond with his flashing dark eyes, his faint tang of Lavender water and his habit of clicking his polished heels together whenever he bows.

  Mama and the Countess left us alone together and for a moment we looked warily at each other before the Abbé gave a sigh, cracked his knuckles in a businesslike manner and then pulled forward one of the chairs that stood against the wall. I had watched the knuckle cracking with some misgiving but was thrown by the chair.

  'Do you not wish to sit behind the desk, Monsieur?' I asked in French. 'That is where Madame la Comtesse likes to sit.'

  The Abbé smiled and shook his head. 'No, no, Your Highness, I will be quite comfortable here, I thank you.' He placed the chair on the other side of my desk and settled himself in it. 'I find desks so very off putting, don't you?'

  'Yes, but you are here to be my teacher,' I pointed out, rather primly. 'And teachers sit behind desks.'

  'Not always.' The Abbé looked at me for a moment, with his head to one side and then picked up my shamefully blotched piece of work as I instinctively stiffened, waiting for the inevitable criticisms. 'You are not fond of writing at length, I see,' was all that he had to say however.

  I shook my head and brought out my ink stained hands for his inspection, as I had previously been doing my best to hide them under the desk. 'I start off well but then my arm begins to ache and then I get so very bored.'

  'You prefer to talk then?' he enquired, after a solemn inspection of my poor stained fingers.

  I nodded. 'Oh yes, infinitely.' I lowered my voice, well aware that some of the maids like to listen through keyholes. 'The Countess does not like to talk to me and I find it very dull to always be reading and copying things out. I do not feel like I ever actually learn anything.'

  'But of course,' said the Abbé, while nodding as though he really understood.

  'And then of course I feel so stupid,' I rushed on, instinctively knowing that I should and could trust this man. 'The Countess is so very strict and Mama expects excellence at all times and I am afraid that I am a disappointment to her.'

  He smiled. 'I doubt that very much, Your Highness. I would even go so far as to say that I believe your Mama is as proud and doting as any Mother could be.' He stood up then and took a wander about the room, picking up books and looking out of windows. 'May I be frank with you, Your Highness?'

  I smiled and nodded, pleased that someone was contemplating being honest with me for once. 'But, of course, Monsieur.'

  'Thank you.' He sat down again and pressed his finger tips together. 'It is my belief that you are not at all stupid, Your Highness. In fact, it is my belief that you are actually a very intelligent girl with a quickness and understand that does you credit.'

  I blushed. No one had ever called me intelligent before. Is that very sad? 'I... I thank you.'

  The Abbé smiled and inclined his head. 'However, I do not think that you are at all academic and there is no point in us pretending otherwise.'

  'No indeed!' I laughed then, pleased to have it finally in words and delighted that finally someone had understood me. 'I do like to know things, you know, but I am just not very good at learning. It makes my head hurt and is always so tiresome and there are always a dozen things that I would much rather be doing.'

  'Then we must find a way to make it easier for you,' he replied with another smile and at that moment I decided that we were friends indeed.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon talking together about Versailles and the great families who live there. Choiseul, Noailles, Stainville, Grimaldi, Rochefoucauld, Montmorency. Their names are elegant and intricate and weighty with history and tradition. The Abbé told me about each one and after a while they ceased to be mere names but instead began to be actual people that I will one day meet and live beside. To outsiders our conversation would have sounded like mere gossip but I know that it was all valuable information, if I am to live with these people and safely navigate their feuds and ambitions.

  'Tomorrow we shall start to learn about the French kings!' the Abbé said as I prepared to leave him at the end of the day. I paused and pouted at him. 'Now, do not look so downcast. I promise that it will not be very dreadful.'

  I think that I like him.

  Thursday, 22nd September, late.

  No more brace! It has gone forever and instead I have perfectly straight, white teeth. I can't stop smiling at myself in mirrors, the Abbé and any passersby who make the mistake of meeting my eyes.

  The brace itself has been consigned to the stove in my bedroom. Hideous thing!

  Wednesday, 28th September, after dinner.

  Vermond has been here for a week now and already I feel like I know so much more. I think that he is pleased with my progress as well, although he has not said so and I do not know what he says to Mama about me. She does not seem displeased though.

  It feels like I spend less time at my lessons now but really we spend hours just talking together about France and its people, the court at Versailles and also French art, literature and history. He makes it possible for me to remember facts without even realising that I am in fact learning something.

  I am ashamed of how ignorant I was before he came to me. I dreamt of going to France and being their Queen one day, but I had no idea what that meant. I still don't really know but I am getting an idea and I find myself becoming fascinated by this far away land that will one day, hopefully, be my own.

  Vermond also teaches me French, which is more formally done although he believes that conversation is the key to my learning it properly and so I do my exercises in my books and then we sit and chat together, with me trying out my new vocabulary and the Abbé gently correcting my mistakes.

  'It would really be better if Your Highness were to only ever hear French spoken,' he mused this afternoon as we sat together
in the schoolroom. 'I shall speak to your mother about it.'

  I stared at him, aghast. 'You mean that everyone should speak French to me and nothing else?' The windows were open as it was a bright, sunny day and I could hear my brothers Ferdinand and Max playing a noisy game outside on the lawns. I longed to be running around with them.

  'Yes, that is precisely what I mean,' he said with a smile. 'It will be hard at first but I am confident that in only a very little time, Your Highness will be conversing in French as confidently as any native born speaker.'

  I felt like crying. 'Oh, it is too hard! I thought I was doing well at our lessons? I am definitely getting better!' I jumped up and closed the windows, slamming them shut so that I couldn't hear my brothers any more. 'Please, Monsieur.'

  Vermond sighed. 'No, no, it will not be so bad as all that, my child,' he murmured gently. 'Your French is improving all the time but it would be infinitely better if we could only make this small extra effort.'

  I stamped my foot. 'You call it a small effort but it is a huge one for me!'

  'As you wish,' he replied mildly before turning away and picking up a book. An awkward silence fell between us and I began to feel a little ashamed of my outburst. I had vowed to impress him with my elegant behaviour and here I was, stamping my feet like a servant girl. 'Shall we read together, Your Highness?' He turned back to me and smiled as though nothing had just happened, which made me feel even more guilty.

  I took a deep breath. 'You are right, Monsieur,' I said penitently. 'My French is indeed far from perfect and this would indeed help me to improve it.'

  The Abbé raised an eyebrow. 'So I should speak to your mother?' he asked. 'I should not like to act without Your Highness' permission.'

  I nodded, blinking back tears. 'Yes, you should ask her and tell her that it is my particular wish that I should only hear French spoken in my presence from now on.'

  If he felt any triumph, he was clever enough to hide it as he bowed over my outstretched hand. 'I will do as you wish.'

  Monday, 3rd October, I am supposed to be writing to Carolina.

  Monsieur l'Abbé takes his duties very seriously indeed. This afternoon he took Friederike, Charlotte and me for a long walk around the gardens here at Laxenburg and talked to us about Versailles and how the entire court there is passionate about gardening.

  'I love flowers,' I confided, as I gently touched the delicate pink petals of a full blown rose. 'I like to have fresh vases of flowers in my rooms all the time.'

  'There are flowers everywhere in Versailles,' the Abbé replied with a reminiscent smile. 'The gardens are enormous and filled with every sort of tree, flower and plant imaginable including rare specimens sent from overseas. Inside the palace there are hundreds of orange trees in silver pots and beautiful vases full of colourful, fragrant flowers on every possible surface and even standing on the floor. The King is passionate about flowers and loves to have them around him.' He gave me a quick look. 'He himself is very knowledgeable about the different species and likes to talk of them with his intimates. He has even created a wonderful botanic garden at Versailles, which has enormous greenhouses filled with several thousand species of plants.'

  I nodded, understanding perfectly. 'My knowledge is not great but I am keen to learn more.'

  The Abbé smiled and picked a splendid yellow rose, which he presented to me with a courtly bow while Friederike and Charlotte giggled behind us. 'I shall make a Frenchwoman of you yet,' he said.

  Wednesday, 26th October, back at the Hofburg.

  I have started to attend Mama's weekly card parties in her rooms at the palace. I was always considered too young before for such activities but last week Amalia and Joseph came together to my sitting room to tell me that in future I will be involved as much as possible in the life of the court.

  'The intention is to prepare you for your life in France and get you used to appearing in public and mingling with the court,' Joseph said with a grin as he carelessly pinched my cheek. 'Amalia will accompany you for the first time and advise you on what to wear and how to behave. Follow her lead and we shall not be disappointed.'

  Amalia smiled at me. 'The first thing we need to do is teach you how to play cards, otherwise you will be like a lamb to the slaughter.' She produced a well thumbed pack of cards from her green silk reticule and fanned them out on the table beside her. 'Care to join us, Joseph?'

  The card party was fun, I suppose although I am not very good at playing and much prefered to walk about the room with one of my sisters or my friends, the princesses of Hesse-Darmstadt and make conversation with the courtiers, who stared at me curiously as they bowed and then addressed me politely in French. I caught many admiring looks as well and thought them well deserved as I did look very well that evening and was wearing a dress of pink taffeta, embroidered all over with gold and with rich lace at the hem and sleeves.

  'I do not think that they like me very much,' I whispered to Amalia as we walked slowly around the card tables. A multitude of candles had been lit in the green and gold reception room and the soft, light flickered across the card players as they played. The air was filled with the sound of muted laughter, the roll of the dice and the chink of coins.

  Amalia looked at me in some surprise. 'Now, why do you think that?' she asked, tapping me on the sleeve with her gold embroidered fan. She looked wonderful that evening in a gown of rich green and gold silk with diamonds hanging from her ears and a long string of pearls wound several times around her white throat.

  I shrugged. 'They stare at me so,' I replied, not a little petulantly. 'They never really talk to me.' I could see the Abbé walking about with a friend at the other side of the room and for a brief instant he met my eyes and smiled. Mama treated the Abbé like a favoured guest rather than a tutor and he was included in all court occasions, which I could tell pleased him very much.

  Amalia laughed. 'They stare because they do not know you and because everyone knows that you will soon be going to France.' She smiled. 'They will never get to know you as well as they know myself or Elizabeth or Christina and so lazily they, do not take the trouble to even try.'

  I gasped. 'I had not thought of that like that,' I said, rather shocked. 'So they do not really consider me to be one of them?' I looked around at the courtiers, most of whom were intently staring down at their cards, throwing dice down upon the table or helping themselves to wine from one of the several footmen circling about the room.

  My sister linked her arm in mine. 'Never fear, Antonia, once you are Queen of France, they will all be tumbling over themselves in their haste to claim you as one of their own.'

  Wednesday, 2nd November, my birthday.

  I am thirteen today. So old.

  The day started with breakfast with Mama in her private breakfast parlour, which is very cosy and has walls lined with pastel portraits of my sisters and brothers. I am there too, looking cheeky and slightly mutinous in a beautiful pink taffeta gown and somewhat improbably holding a tatting shuttle in my hand. I look at this during my breakfast of pastries and hot chocolate and avoid glancing at the companion picture of Carolina, in which she holds a rose to her flat bosom and gazes into the distance with a look of amusement on her pretty face.

  'Thirteen years old,' Mama says with a reminiscent smile as she helped me to another pastry and then poured herself some more hot chocolate. 'And how does it feel, Antonia?'

  I smiled. 'It does not feel any different yet, Mama.' I bit into the pastry and savoured the warm sweetness. 'I do not feel very old at all.' I was enjoying our private breakfast together which was a special treat just for my birthday. We spend so little time alone and there is always a crowd of family and courtiers around us, jostling for favours and attention so this was truly a special time.

  'Enjoy it while it lasts,' Mama said, stirring some sugar into her hot chocolate and then lifting the delicate porcelain cup to her lips. 'Youth is so fleeting.' She heaved a heavy sigh and I knew that she was thinking about poor, dear
Papa.