Time-traveling Fashionista at the Palace of Marie Antoinette (9780316202961)

by Turetsky, Bianca

  “I’m going out to the garden,” Louise whispered back in a shaky voice. The princess excused herself and walked over to an empty stool and, with perfect posture, carefully lowered herself, arranging her billowing dusky pink satin skirts around her.

  Louise started trembling. This simply couldn’t be. The Princesse de Lamballe was basically just a teenager trying to please the popular girl in school. She suddenly realized with a shudder that if Gabrielle was one of Marie Antoinette’s close friends, then maybe she would soon be in danger of finding her head on a stake, too!

  Louise definitely wanted to get back home to her life in Connecticut before she found out if that was true and it was too late. If only she had done her school reading—maybe she could have remembered when, exactly, the French Revolution took place. Why didn’t she know by now to pay attention during Miss Morris’s boring but obviously critically important and now relevant-to-her-life history lectures?!

  This seemed to be a very dramatic way to learn her lessons. She needed to figure out a plan and clear her head… while she still had one.

  CHAPTER 20

  Louise quickly walked out of the lit-up palace, skipped down the low white steps glimmering in the deep red early evening light, and headed into the garden. The sun had almost set and the usually populated paths were nearly empty. She reached up to twirl her hair, something she instinctively did when she got nervous or tired, or just needed to think, and was reminded that she now had a coarse twelve-inch-high powdered Brillo pad attached to the top of her head. Gross.

  She turned down a narrow path, the warm rays scattering across the white pebbles, which made a satisfying crunching sound under her heels, and abruptly found herself face-to-face with her new gardener crush. Still in his uniform except for his three-cornered hat, which was on the grass by his black leather boots, he was leaning casually against a wide tree trunk and laughing at a newspaper he was intently looking at. When he smiled, his coffee-colored brown eyes gleamed. She could make out a cute dimple in his left cheek.

  “What are you reading?” Louise asked with a smile after she’d regained her composure. She had an annoying tendency to get weird and shy around cute guys, so she thought back to that gorgeous painting of Gabrielle and was given a jolt of confidence. It was who she was right now. At least on the outside. She made a swipe for the paper he was holding.

  “No… nothing!” he stuttered, quickly hiding the sheet of newsprint behind his back.

  “What’s so funny?” Louise asked again, now just curious, as it seemed the flirting part wasn’t going so well.

  “Nothing, mademoiselle,” he repeated as he lowered his flushed, tan face, still refusing to make eye contact.

  Then Louise realized… he was scared of her? Well, not her, but Gabrielle. And whatever she represented. How could she hint to him she really wasn’t that woman without actually exposing the truth?

  “I’m not like the others,” she finally said more vaguely. “You can trust me.” He didn’t say anything. The silence was deafening. “What’s your name?” She was hoping to get anything out of him.

  “Je m’appelle Pierre,” he replied quietly.

  “I’m… Gabrielle,” she answered, wishing for the first time on this crazy voyage that she could just be Louise again. She had a weird feeling this Pierre would actually like her more as herself.

  When he glanced up, Louise noticed his brown eyes had subtle flecks of green, and he nervously looked directly at her for the very first time. She felt her face start to turn hot and blotchy. Embarrassed, she did the only ridiculous thing she could think of and snatched the paper out of his hands.

  Louise opened up the now crumpled news sheet and discovered a crude black-and-white illustration that bore a striking resemblance to Marie Antoinette. In the drawing the dauphine was done up in clownlike makeup and an exaggeratedly tall hairstyle with a ship sticking out of it. The caption simply read MADAME DEFICIT. What did that mean? Louise could tell it wasn’t meant to be very nice, like a nasty note being passed around during math class behind someone’s back. She had a feeling if Marie Antoinette saw this, the gardener would be fired, or worse….

  No wonder he was scared of her! It seemed as though Gabrielle was one of the princess’s closest confidantes. Why would he be reading something like this? Maybe the news-paper was like In Touch Weekly or Us Weekly of eighteenth-century France.

  “I don’t know if I get it,” she admitted finally. The gardener breathed an audible sigh of relief. “But I want to.” Pierre tensed up again. “Please, trust me,” she pleaded. “What is it like outside the palace? Are the French people happy?” She had a feeling from her history class she already knew the answer to that question.

  “Happy?” he asked, confused, as though the concept of happiness was a modern-day construct.

  “Are they… content?” Louise asked again. “Please tell me the truth.”

  Pierre paused, tight-lipped, unsure how to respond. “They are suffering. There is not enough food. People are starving,” he replied softly but with intense emotion. “There are frequent revolts over the cost of grain. But please do not say anything about this. I would lose my job, and I need my salary to support the rest of my family.”

  Whoa, this guy, maybe a few years older than Louise, was supporting his family and not the other way around? She suddenly missed her parents and couldn’t help but feel a little guilty right then about the spoiled way she’d acted during her last few days at home.

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could help,” she said, truly meaning it. “And maybe I can. Marie Antoinette needs to know what’s going on outside of Versailles. She’s isolated here. Maybe if she understood, she would get the king to help….” Louise inadvertently placed her hand on his. She felt a small electric jolt course through her body and quickly pulled her hand away. He jumped slightly.

  Before she could examine and reflect on the intensity of the charged moment, Pierre hastily grabbed back the paper, scooped up his hat, and took off running through the freshly trimmed hedges without even a quick glance back or an au revoir. Apparently he had been shocked, too, but clearly not in a good way.

  CHAPTER 21

  Deep in thought, Louise went back up the ever-darkening path toward Versailles. The illuminated palace was humming with energy. Maybe she could use Gabrielle’s influence with Marie Antoinette to help the French people and possibly avoid the bloody revolution. But how?

  From the terrace she could hear the buzz of conversation mingled with classical harpsichord music and laughter. Taking a deep breath, or one as deep as possible while wearing a corset, she said a silent prayer that she’d be able to pull this one off. She was starting to feel less like Gabrielle by the minute.

  The party was the most decadent and debaucherous affair Louise had witnessed in her twelve years. Even the first-class dining room on the Titanic seemed uptight in comparison. Her mom would most definitely not approve, she thought as she politely refused a crystal glass of champagne that was immediately offered to her as she walked in through the tall, arched, glass-paned door.

  Uniformed card dealers were presiding over an intense hand; there were roulette wheels, poker chips, and dice games in play. The triumphant shouts of the winners were almost drowned out by an orchestra that was playing in the far corner of the salon. A waiter poured frothy champagne over a pyramid of crystal glasses in the center of the long dining table. The tabletop was also piled high with sweets and cakes and a rainbow of dainty, pastel, iced pastries that guests greedily grabbed at with their fingers, smearing frosting on the expensive-looking upholstery and grinding crumbs into the jewel-toned carpets with the high heels of their diamond-buckled or shiny, tasseled shoes. Ohmigod—her mother would die to see such well-dressed adults behaving like unsupervised toddlers.

  Louise immediately spotted Marie Antoinette, glowing and looking fabulous in a new ivory-and-gold dress (How many times a day did this girl change her outfits? She counted three wardrobe changes so far!), and fli
rting and giggling like any high school–age girl at a party. She looked like a natural hostess, gliding her way around the room as though on ice skates, her posture perfect and her head tilted up in such a way that there was no doubt this was her party. She paused to sample a bite-size cake as she roamed around with delight, naturally making everyone feel welcome. Marie Antoinette was definitely in her element now—the “It” girl of eighteenth-century France.

  It seemed like her husband was far less social. Instead of dancing or gambling, Louis XVI was sitting at a table of somber-looking men and showing off some sort of steel lock-and-key contraption that he was nervously toying with.

  “He’s obsessed with those locks.” Louise jumped. She hadn’t noticed that Adelaide was now standing next to her. “The dauphine finds the whole thing quite boring, and I don’t blame her. Do you?”

  Louise shook her head. The whole scene still felt quite surreal.

  “Let us sit, shall we? These shoes are getting most constricting.” The woman sighed as she pulled out a red upholstered dining chair, and they sat at the table among a group of party guests.

  “Who is that lady?” Louise asked, discreetly pointing at a raven-haired woman in a particularly low-cut scarlet gown practically dripping with diamonds and rubies. She was seductively perched on the arm of a high-back chair with a live green-and-blue parrot on her arm. The regally dressed older man sitting in the chair held up a pair of dice, and she blew them a kiss before he threw them out on the green felt-top gaming table. Everyone cheered as they raked in the chips. “Great roll, Your Highness!”

  “Ha,” Adelaide snorted. “That’s Madame du Barry, of course.”

  “Du what?” Louise asked, confused. Then she remembered to keep her poise.

  “Du Barry. King Louis XV’s mistress,” a woman seated nearby finished with a raised eyebrow. “Did you not know? I personally find the whole affair quite offensive.”

  “Seriously?” Louise asked again, trying to figure out exactly what that meant. Like his girlfriend but not really? “I mean, of course I did. She just looks different with that bird on her arm or something….”

  Madame du Barry was whispering in the king’s ear and tickling his cheek with a long black ostrich feather. The rest of the people at the table were either pretending nothing was happening or blatantly gossiping about it as Louise and these women were. It was superweird. Louise was convinced Madame du Barry had shot her and Adelaide a dirty look, realizing they must have been staring. Oops.

  Before visiting Versailles, Louise had imagined that in a royal court everyone would be very uptight and respectful. She was shocked to discover her nightly dinners at home with her parents were more formal than in this palace. Red wine was spilled in blotchy pools all over the tablecloth. Poker chips and playing cards were dropped haphazardly, and fluffy cats were everywhere, eating off half-eaten dinner plates around the table. She lifted her arm to discover it was resting in a pile of greasy crumbs. Maybe this was where the no-elbows-on-the-table rule first originated, she thought as she brushed off the oily debris, which left a wet stain on her emerald satin sleeve. Yuck. Adelaide laughed at Louise’s disgusted expression.

  Marie Antoinette was only a few years older than Louise, and yet, in this moment it felt like decades. She wished they were back at Petit Trianon playing hide-and-seek. Or that she was back in Connecticut picking out a playlist for Brooke’s thirteenth birthday party.

  She picked up an oversized puffy yellow macaroon from the top tier of a display of sherbet-tone cookies and took a huge bite, breaking the delicate shell and getting a mouthful of tangy lemon-flavored cream. Tomorrow would be the day when she would confront Marie Antoinette and try to help Pierre and the rest of the French people, she decided as she took another heavenly bite. Louise wondered if she would be carrying ten extra pounds back with her to Connecticut or if these stayed in the past. She’d have to ask Marla and Glenda about that one and hope for the best. These French pastries were way too good to miss, and they were impossible to—they were everywhere. Huge, artfully arranged towers of pastel-colored sweets covered all the available tabletops, adjoined by platters of wild strawberries with clotted cream. Versailles was not the kind of place you’d want to be if you were contemplating a diet.

  “Oh, you must try this one,” Louise urged Adelaide, picking up an oozing pink cream-filled raspberry cookie despite the fact that her whalebone corset was strongly urging her otherwise.

  “Why, thank you.” A smooth ivory-colored hand plucked the sweet from Louise’s outstretched palm. Marie Antoinette took a tiny bite of the pastry.

  “Now, isn’t this simply a marvelous party?” she asked with a wink. “I do believe the Swedes are enjoying themselves. Let’s go outside for the fireworks. The night is only just beginning!”

  CHAPTER 22

  Marie Antoinette led Louise, Adelaide, and a select group of her closest friends out onto the vast, manicured lawn, laughing as she dragged her pearly white silk train through the dirt and dewy grass. Louise realized that it didn’t matter if this gown got ruined. There would always be a new, more fabulous dress waiting for her in the morning.

  “Let’s play a game!” Marie Antoinette decided, clapping her hands excitedly. “Everyone will hide, and Count Fersen and I will find you,” she decided, pointing to a tall, handsome blond man dressed in a military uniform. “I’ll count to ten. Un, deux, trois… ”

  Louise smiled. She and Brooke used to play this game all the time when they were younger. The Lamberts’ house was loaded with lots of nooks and deceptively deep closets. The women kicked off their high-heeled shoes, and everyone scattered in different directions. Louise took off running toward the rose garden, feeling free and happy in that moment to act like a kid again. Racing in her stockinged feet through the moist grass, she never wanted to go back to her old life where she had to turn thirteen and change somehow. Where she found it almost impossible to run through the grass without thinking about how childlike that would look.

  Then she saw him and stopped. Pierre was wandering through the rosebushes, whistling some song she didn’t recognize and looking up at the sky, lost in his own thoughts. He looked startled at first and then almost seemed to smile.

  “Bonsoir,” he said, taking off his hat in a chivalrous gesture.

  “Good evening,” Louise responded shyly. “Nice to see you again. The garden looks lovely.”

  “Merci.” He nodded, brushing a stray piece of wavy brown hair off his forehead and looking genuinely pleased by the compliment. “My apologies for running off earlier.”

  “It’s okay. I thought it was something I said.” She tried to discreetly adjust the twisted bustle of her skirt.

  “No, of course not,” he quickly answered.

  “I’d like to hear more about your family. What are they like?” Louise felt a little guilty that she had let herself get so distracted earlier by some fancy cookies.

  “My father is a cobbler. My mother does her best to take care of my brothers and sisters; there are six of us, but it has been tough as of late. It seems like there is not enough of anything to go around for most people. Although here you would never know it.”

  “I know; Versailles is like a dream. My family is having some trouble with money right now, too,” Louise said, thinking of her dad’s job, although she had a feeling that it was a different level of financial trouble from what Pierre was experiencing.

  “Thank you. You are very easy to speak with. I did not think you would be like this.”

  “Umm, thanks?” she replied, not sure if that was a compliment.

  Louise looked down at her shimmery dress and felt a mixture of confidence and sadness. She wasn’t herself right now. This felt all so surreal. Maybe too surreal. She was playing the role of a fancy royal court girl, which was fun, but she also wanted it to seem like her real life. In a weird way she kind of wanted something really awkward and embarrassing to happen just so she’d be able to recognize herself and know that she hadn�
�t created this whole fabulous scenario in her head. She didn’t have to wait for long.

  “It is a beautiful evening, is it not?” Pierre looked down into her eyes and leaned closer as though he were about to kiss her, but before anything could actually happen, they were startled by something that sounded like gunfire going off all around them. Ohmigod. Had the revolution started already?!

  “Duck!” Louise screamed, diving to the ground.

  She looked up through her fingers to see a colorful shower of cascading fireworks exploding in the sky above them. Louise awkwardly got up from the grass and dusted off her gown. Pierre began to retreat, the loud blasts snapping him back to reality.

  Typical. Finally, Louise’s life was like a movie, a really good foreign movie, but a sudden fireworks display had ruined her chance at her first kiss! She should know better than to wish for a more “real” experience. She couldn’t help but wonder where Todd was at that moment.

  But still, Louise almost had her first kiss with a totally hot French boy. She was sure of it. No one would believe that at Fairview and she didn’t quite believe it herself. Ummm, he’s really cute, French, from the olden times. No, you probably haven’t run into him before. Yeah, it’s kind of a long-distance thing. Like really long distance, pre-Skype. Like 250 years.

  The last burst of royal-blue-and-white sparkly light trailed down in the sky, and the garden was quiet again. “Wait, did you hear that?” Pierre asked, putting his hand on her arm, which set off a million butterflies in Louise’s stomach.