The Casquette Girls

by Arden, Alys

  There is a strong sense of camaraderie amongst the orphans, despite the seasickness and only having the slightest amenities. Every day I grow more jealous of them because they have all become friends. The orphans have each other, the DuFrenses have each other, and the nuns have each other – even the crewmen have each other. I try not to wallow in my own misery because, as you know, being emotional makes it more difficult for me to control myself.

  Captain Vauberci senses my loneliness and sometimes allows me to sit next to him while he uses foreign instruments to study the stars and keep us on track even as Mother Nature fights his efforts. He tells me stories as he drinks spirits in between shouting commands at the crew, always trying to make up for lost time. I often wonder if his kindness to me is just out of obligation because of the fame your name carries, Father? But I do not care either way; he is the only companion I have. If only the society ladies could see me now, sitting alone with the drunk, middle-aged captain. It would be enough gossip to keep them entertained all season.

  23rd March 1728

  As my loneliness continues to grow, there are three girls in particular whose relationship drives me mad with jealousy. They are sisters – triplets, in fact, with the exact same fair skin and blonde hair so bright it shimmers white like the moon. They don’t get the same special treatment that my ticket affords me, but they are the ones I previously mentioned who have their own cabin to share, despite being with the “King’s daughters” (as I have heard the orphans being called by the crew). These triplets have a sense of spirit that seems to transcend societal constraints, yet they still do not speak to me. I cannot understand why not, and this drives me mad.

  I long to talk, to laugh, to sing, to dance, but more than anything, I long to know these sisters. And yet every time I approach them, they stop their excitable whispers. They don’t look at the ground when I pass like the other girls do; they look at me with suspicion, as if trying to figure out whether or not to trust me – a feeling I am all too accustomed to from hobnobbing with the Parisian aristocracy. Sometimes at night, I pass a cabin and can hear them singing to entertain or comfort the other girls, and last night I caught them on deck, dancing under the light of the moon! They looked like goddesses, with their hair loose and wild, and their nightgowns fluttering in the nautical breeze. They danced and giggled, utterly unconcerned that their bare feet were exposed to the elements! I have never wanted anything more than to join them, but fear of rejection kept me in the shadows, alone in my misery.

  Each day, I find myself becoming more and more withdrawn, Papa.

  This is absurd! Let it be written that I am determined to befriend these girls. If I can survive sixteen years of the scandal and rumors that come with being the daughter of le Comte de Saint-Germain, then I can certainly win over three sisters aboard this ship. Tonight, I will devise a plan.

  24th March 1728

  At breakfast, I snuck my lump of sugar and dried fruit into a fold of my dress, along with a seashell given to me by a sailor, and left these small tokens (wrapped in a hair ribbon) on the pillow of the sister who I’ve heard called Cosette.

  28th March 1728

  After three days of leaving small treats to no avail, I returned to my cabin to find the hair ribbons tied to my doorknob. I hope this is a sign that things are progressing favorably.

  29th March 1728

  Today was the most eventful evening I’ve had since you left me in Paris, Papa. I was feeling restless and could not sleep, after another day that had dragged, and even though we are not supposed to leave our cabins after dark, I threw my cloak over my gown and slipped into the narrow path of light created by the beams of the crescent moon.

  On deck, nightfall had unveiled a sky of a million stars.

  The sounds of the crashing waves disturbed the silent night, and the cold spray enlivened my senses. The closer I got to the far end of the ship, the more I thought that I heard the beautiful sounds of song. I hurried to find the source.

  At the end of the stern, I saw the backs of Cosette, Minette, and Lisette. They were sitting with their feet dangling, seemingly without fear of being washed overboard, singing “Au Clair de la Lune.” The melody blended with the rippling waves in a delicate harmony, as if the ocean itself also knew this tune. The sailors sat perched like stone gargoyles at their night posts, so comforted by the lullaby that they allowed the girls to continue rather than sending them back to bed.

  Careful not to disturb them, I sat next to Cosette, and after a breath I joined the verse: “My candle is out, I have no more light.”

  They looked at me for a moment, and then we continued the lullaby together, looking back toward the hidden horizon. As I searched for the line where the real stars ended and their reflections on the black waves began, all thoughts emptied from my head. I closed my eyes and became lost in the motion of the boat.

  Soaking wet, we continued to sing for another hour through our chattering teeth. At some point during the song, everything became as it should. We knew that our voices blended together were stronger than each was on its own. It was a feeling of kinship I had never felt before. A feeling of great power.

  I had thought nothing could ruin that moment of perfect serenity, until a bloodcurdling scream suddenly tore through the S.S. Gironde.

  Instantly the four of us, along with several of the lullaby-hazed seamen, took off running towards the screaming. By the time we reached the dormitory corridor, there were already half a dozen sailors with swords in hand, ready to battle any intruder who may have stowed away and only now been discovered.

  We found a nun cradling an orphan inside one of the cabins. Another nun was holding up a lantern to the girl’s ghostly face, and a third began shooing the men out of the room. Sweat fell from the girl’s shaking face and there was a smear of blood across her neck. Minette took her hand and called out her name, but, despite her chest rising and falling, nothing made her respond.

  Cosette grabbed the hand of one of the other girls in the room and demanded an explanation. The girl told Cosette they had all been asleep in the pitch-black room and not seen a thing, and the other girls, all trembling, nodded in agreement.

  As one of the nuns cleaned the wound, it was deduced that the sick girl must have suffered a terrible nightmare due to seasickness and scratched herself in her sleep. Nevertheless, the captain stationed a sailor to guard the door, and the novice stayed with her throughout the night in case she woke.

  Alas, I just saw shadows pass through the faint light shining under my door. I must now extinguish my flame, as we are not allowed to use candles or lanterns in our rooms, not that I have either.

  1st April 1728

  The injured girl, Sophie, keeps a temperature too high to wake from. Cosette sneaks into the girl’s room in the middle of the night with a pulp made from herbs she brought onboard from Paris. She applies this to the girl’s wound, which she seems to have developed a mild obsession with. I find this to be a tad gruesome.

  Some of the girls continue to suffer from seasickness, especially in the mornings, but the symptoms usually dissipate by lunchtime. Nothing more out of the ordinary has happened. I spend my days either on my own or with the DuFrenses, and my nights with my three new companions.

  7th April 1728

  Sophie continues to live without waking. The nuns pray over her every morning and evening, but I am beginning to fear the worst.

  Madame DuFrense does not approve of my spending so much time with the triplets, but their friendship keeps me from the brink of insanity whilst aboard this ship. We read to each other, play cards, or make up silly games to pass the time. Sometimes we gossip – we suspect one of the orphans is having an affair with a sailor! Lisette, or Lise (as she prefers to be called), claims to have seen the silhouette of a man sneaking into said orphan’s room in the middle of the night…

  I’m not sure who I would fear the most if they were to be caught – the captain or the Mother Superior, who has a kind face but whom I sometimes
think is the one who truly rules the S.S. Gironde.I hate to laugh at the misfortunes of others, but at this point, the entertainment of it all would be grand.

  It is a pity that we have aboard this ship a well-known opera singer and three sisters talented enough to have sung for the King of France, yet we spend the days and nights with no entertainment. It is my new mission to arrange a performance for everyone on the boat. I believe it will do wonders for the spirit of Martine DuFrense.

  Allow me to explain my previous comment. Like me, the triplets are sixteen years of age, and they, too, lost their mother early on, but even worse, they also lost their father and were made wards of the state at the age of seven. At thirteen, they ran away from the orphanage to join a traveling theatre troupe, who eventually received an invitation to perform at the palace. The King loved the audition but especially loved the triplets, and so the whole troupe was invited to become a regular act in his court, and soon they were entertaining the French elite duringsoirées at the palace. Lise told me that Cosette is such a talented pianist the Queen herself arranged for private lessons, which caused quite a scandal with the more tenured court musicians.

  Papa, for the first time in my life, I wish I had accepted more invitations to the palace— it’s quite crazy to think that I could have possibly seen a performance! Never would I have guessed in a million years that I would meet girls aboard this ship who were able to trade stories about members of the King’s court. These sisters know far more than any socialite, for they have witnessed so many events, so many parties, so many nights of debauchery.

  “I don’t understand,” I told them late one afternoon while we were braiding each other’s hair. “How did you end up on this ship? Why would you ever want to leave your troupe?”

  Their heads shifted like dominos, as if to silently agree on how much information to share, and then Lise admitted with a sigh, “There was a scandal at the palace.”

  Minette clarified, “Well, not really a scandal, because nothing had actually happened.”

  “It was arumor,” said Cosette, but then Lise explained, “You see, many of the ladies at court envied Cosette. Everyone was jealous of her beauty and her talent.”

  Her words made Cosette blush deeply. “They were jealous of all of us. We are identical, remember?”

  Her sisters giggled, and then without a twinge of jealousy, Lise said, “It’s true that we look the same, but you are modest, sister, for it is you whom every man is drawn to.”

  Cosette peered out the tiny round window. “Yes, it was me who caused our demise…”

  “Oh, don’t be so theatrical,” said Minette. “You know that is not what she meant.”

  I understood. All three look identical at first glance, but once you spend time around them, they begin to appear as different as the sun, moon, and stars, because their personalities are in such stark contrast. Lisette is cheery and optimistic, which makes her seem younger; Minette is bookish and shy, which makes her appear delicate; and Cosette is utterly fearless both with her actions and her tongue, yet somehow everything comes out of her mouth in flowery song. It is easy to see how any man would vow to follow her to the end of the Earth. I could imagine the ladies in court, whose riches make them bitter and plump, hating any girl with Cosette’s magnetism, especially if she also had intelligence or talent, of which she has both.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Cosette said. “Once a few of the ladies got it into their head that we were to be removed from court, it was only a matter of time.”

  “We’re lucky we got out with our heads,” said Lisette.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, for that seemed a little extreme, even for the French.

  Minette pulled me next to her on the bed. “Those women did everything they could to have us removed. They went to work digging up our past. You see, Adeline, we had been traveling with our troupe under the name of Les Sœurs d'Or.”

  “Because of your golden hair?”

  “Precisely. But when the women of court discovered our birth name was really Monvoisin, suddenly one of the servants turned up dead. When the doctor announced that the cause of death was poison, someone conveniently announced our relation to La Voisin.The women of the court demanded we be sent to the guillotine, but luckily for us the King’s mistress understood what was going on and begged him to have mercy on us. The King consented, and so we found ourselves being smuggled out of the palace, each of us with acassette containing a wedding dress and dowry, to join the girls being sent to marry the townsmen in La Nouvelle-Orléans.”

  “Lucky us,” said Cosette.

  Knowing the triplets were descendants of Catherine Deshayes Monvoisin, therefore connected by blood relation to l’affaire des poisons, only made me sympathize even more with their plight and feel closer to them. Living with the reputation of those that came before us is just one more thing in common that we shared.

  10th April 1728

  I knew deep within my soul that it was bound to happen. Tonight was the night, Papa.

  Despite the late hour, I was in the Monvoisin sisters’ cabin. Minette was teaching me how to mend my skirt and Cosette was writing in her diary when Lise burst through the door.

  “He’s here! He’s here!” she yelled, but then clammed up when she realized her sisters weren’t alone.

  She looked at Minette with duress, who asked, “Who is here?”

  The question was not enough permission to get Lise to speak. Worried, Cosette wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulder and sat her on the bed next to me. Minette dropped to the floor in front of us, took her sister’s hand, and asked in a hushed voice, “Are you trying to say what I think you—”

  “Oui! He’s here. The man from the dock is here, on this boat.”

  “What man from the dock?” I asked, trying not to become agitated by the sudden cryptic atmosphere.

  “Shhhhhhh!” all three of them hissed at once.

  “What man from the dock?” I whispered, my curiosity now fully piqued, but again, Lise looked to her sisters, unsure whether or not to divulge the answer.

  The idea of having secrets between us broke my heart. I knew the possible implications of revealing myself to them – you have warned me of the consequences ever since I was a child, but as they continued to debate my trustworthiness in hushed voices, my shoulders burned. I sprang off the bed, yelling, “I cannot stand for there to be any secrets between us!” My words shook, knowing what I was about to do, although deep down inside, I trusted Cosette, Minette and Lisette completely.

  As I raised my arm to a small iron candelabrum on the wall, my heart pounded so hard it felt like my chest might rip open. Without moving an inch, I ripped the iron fixture from the wooden plank. The room became perfectly silent as the dusty, candleless piece of metal flew into my palm. I grasped it with my left hand and cupped the top of the metal. Almost instantly, the light shining between the cracks of my fingers glowed so warm I had to move my hand and expose the flame to the wide-eyed girls.

  I looked at each of them and then said, “You know my secret. Now, what man on the dock?”

  I watched the reflection from the fire flicker in Cosette’s golden-brown eyes. As her smile grew, I knew things would never be the same, nor would I ever again be alone with my secret.

  Chapter 23 A Whirlwind Romance

  October 25th

  “Don’t rush. Precision is key. The more you learn to control your movements, the better you’ll be able to control the outcome of the piece,” said my father, a faint drone in the back of my head. Sitting in his studio, surrounded by tools used to work with fire, I couldn’t stop thinking about Adeline. Two brass candlesticks he had made before the Storm, now hidden in a pile of metal awaiting polishing, kept grabbing my attention. I refused to let myself look at them, fearing a flame might suddenly ignite due to my own lack of control. You’re being ridiculous.

  “Ha. I thought control was for the scientists,” Isaac joked.

  “There is a fine line
between art and science when it comes to working with metal. Blurring the two dates all the way back to the Bronze Age… which is the perfect transition to today’s lesson on casting. Take out your wax sculptures.”

  I peeked at Isaac’s piece. Even in the cobalt-blue wax, the perfectly sculpted feather looked real – he must have spent hours scraping out each little hairline wisp. For someone with such an abrasive personality, he certainly had a delicate hand when it came to his art. It was going to look amazing once it was cast in silver: this lesson’s metal of choice.

  My fingers were still raw from accidentally scraping my skin with the metal files while carving my wax star. I’d become obsessive over the symmetry of the eight points, wanting the little lines to match up perfectly like patchwork. Next to his piece, it now looked basic, but I wanted to replace the missing star on Adeline Saint-Germain’s necklace— on my necklace. I’ll do something more complicated next time, I reassured myself, looking at the flames I had drawn in my sketchpad. My thumb rubbed over the rough impression the original star had left behind on the medallion. The little wax sculpture fit perfectly over it. I envisioned what the silver version would look like after I cast it, and then came to a realization that made my breath cut short.

  “I am such an idiot,” I whispered.

  “What?” asked Isaac, looking up from his carving tools.

  “Nothing,” I snapped. I smiled to make up for the tone. “Just talking to myself.”

  “Right.” He raised one eyebrow and then went back to his feather. My father was mixing plaster. I grabbed my phone and quickly banged out a text to Brooke, who still hadn’t returned any of my messages since our call.