by Jane Feather
"The white silk ones," Cordelia agreed. She didn't have any other kind of stockings, but presumably Elsie was not familiar with the contents of her wardrobe and dresser.
It took an hour of fumbling and innumerable questions before she was ready for the day. Elsie had volunteered no comment on Cordelia's bruises, but she had produced the hare's foot and box of powder without being asked. Cordelia brushed it lightly across her cheekbones. It didn't conceal the bruise completely, but as long as the marks on her neck and upper arms were invisible, she could find an excuse for a bruised cheek.
Monsieur Brion awaited her in the salon to escort her to the dauphine's temporary apartments on the ground floor of the palace.
She hadn't seen him since their strange, silent encounter that morning. She smiled quite naturally and wished him good morning. He bowed and a tiny conspiratorial smile touched his usually solemn mouth. "I trust you slept well, madame?"
"I find one sleeps much better knowing who one's friends are, Monsieur Brion."
"Quite so, my lady." He held the door for her.
Toinette was still in dishabille and jumped up from her chair when Cordelia was announced.
"Oh, Cordelia, how I've missed you. Come into my boudoir where we can talk privately." She cast her mentor, the Countess de Noailles, a look, half defiant and half appealing, as she said this. For all her newfound status as the wife of the dauphin of France, she was still awed by this stiff-necked arbiter of court ritual.
"You have but half an hour, madame, before you must be dressed for the opera."
"It's Perseus, isn't it?" Toinette wrinkled her small nose. "It's such a serious piece, and the music is tediously boring."
"It is His Majesty's choice," the countess stated, and that was the end of the discussion, at least in front of her.
"Maybe he did choose it, but I still think it a tedious and heavy piece," Toinette declared with a chuckle as she closed the door of her boudoir and at last they were alone. She flung her arms around Cordelia. "I have been so desperate to talk to you. What do they say about me? Do you hear anything?"
"You've been the cynosure of every eye," Cordelia said, happy to give her friend the information she wanted. "Everyone talks of your beauty, your composure, your grace. They say Louis-Auguste is a most fortunate man."
Toinette plumped down on a chaise longue. "What happened on your wedding night, Cordelia?"
Cordelia sat beside her. Not a comfortable question to answer. "The same as on yours, I imagine," she said noncommittally.
Toinette shook her head. "Nothing happened! Absolutely nothing. My husband kissed me on the lips at the door of my bedchamber and went away. He never came back."
Cordelia stared with incredulity at her friend. "Your marriage has not yet been consummated, Toinette?"
"No." The dauphine shrugged helplessly. "What am I to do?"
"Your women know this, of course."
"Of course. And my husband's gentlemen. I assume someone will tell the king. But was it my fault, Cordelia?" Toinette seized Cordelia's hand. "What did you do to entice your husband? I must have a child, you know that."
"I didn't need to do anything to entice my husband," Cordelia said on an acid note. "He was enticed enough."
"Then I do not appeal to my husband," Toinette wailed.
"Nonsense," Cordelia said briskly. "Even if that were the case, he would still bed you to get you with child."
"I suppose so. So what is the matter?"
"I can't imagine," Cordelia said. "Perhaps he's a virgin and he's scared."
"Perhaps I should write to madame ma mere7." Toinette considered. "But it's so embarrassing, Cordelia. I feel I'm lacking in some way."
"You are not," Cordelia reassured with the same briskness. "If anyone is lacking, it's Louis-Auguste."
"Oh, hush!" Toinette put her hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. "You mustn't say such things about the dauphin."
Cordelia grinned. "Between ourselves, we can say anything."
"Don't ever leave me." Toinette grasped Cordelia's hand tightly, all laughter banished. "I feel so alone. I don't know how I'm to find my way. The Noailles is no help at all. She preaches and prates and sniffs and looks down her nose at me. She's so starched I think she must spend all day at the laundress."
Cordelia hugged her, hearing the tears in her voice beneath the attempt at humor. "All will be well, you'll see."
"It will be once my husband beds me and I conceive," Toinette said with grim truth. For all her childishness, she knew why she was married to the dauphin. She was in France to breed, to produce the children who would cement the alliance between Austria and France-the children who, for the people of France, would justify burying the age-old enmity between the two countries.
"So, what of you? Tell me about your husband." The dauphine, with one of her swift mood changes, turned her attention fully on Cordelia. "Oh, what happened to your cheek? Did you knock it on something?" She touched the shadow of the bruise with a gentle finger.
Between themselves they could say anything. "Since you ask," Cordelia said decisively, "I knocked it against my husband's hand."
"What do you mean?" Toinette looked aghast. "Is he cruel to you?"
Cordelia shrugged. "Let's just say that if Prince Michael showed no interest in the marriage bed, I should be a happy woman."
"Oh." Toinette took hold of her hand and held it tightly. "Shall I tell the king?"
"Oh, no, of course not!" Cordelia cried in horror. "The king wouldn't involve himself in such a matter. A man is entitled to treat his wife as he sees fit, you know that. If the king said anything to Michael, I don't know what he'd do."
"But it's terrible." Toinette glared fiercely at a crystal vase of hothouse orchids on the table beside her. "We have to do something. What about the children? Is he cruel to them too?"
"No, I don't think so. He leaves them to their governess." She frowned. "That's the other thing, Toinette. He has forbidden me to make friends with them. I'm to teach them about society and prepare them for their betrothals, but I'm not to love them or play with them."
"You aren't to be their mama?" Toinette was indignant. Her own mother had been the most important person in her life, and in many ways still was.
Cordelia shook her head. "They're so lovely, too,
Toinette. They're completely identical and they have such funny ways. I know they like to laugh, but there's nothing for them to laugh about in that ghastly mausoleum with that prune-faced Nevry woman."
Toinette's eyes suddenly brightened. "I have an idea. Why don't we bring them here?"
"Here? To Versailles? Michael would never permit it."
"But I'm th
e dauphine. The first lady at Versailles," Toinette declared with a haughty little toss of her head. "I can command anyone, even your husband."
"What are you suggesting?" Cordelia asked, her own eyes now glowing with anticipation.
"I shall tell your husband that I would like to meet his daughters. I'll say that you've told me so much about your new stepdaughters and for friendship's sake I wish to make their acquaintance."
"Tell him to bring them to Versailles, you mean?" Toinette was not usually the ingenious one in their relationship, but she was doing very well this morning.
"Precisely."
"Toinette, you're brilliant." Cordelia flung her arms around the dauphine and kissed her soundly. "It just might work."
"Of course it will work," Toinette declared with the same mock haughtiness. "And since the king loves me, I'm sure he'll give me his support if I ask for it. I'll write the command immediately and you may take it back with you."
"That might not be such a good idea," Cordelia reflected. "I don't relish being the bearer of ill tidings. He's going to hate the idea and he certainly won't care to receive a direct command from you at my hands; it will hurt his pride."
"Yes, I suppose it might." Toinette was deep in thought, then she clapped her hands. "I have it." She was flushed with excitement. "At the opera, I'll ask for you both to visit me in my box, and then I'll casually bring up the subject of the children with the prince, and then have my wonderful inspiration. How will that be?"
"Perfect." Cordelia nodded her satisfaction. "You're a true friend, Toinette."
"But isn't there anything I can do to help you?" Toinette asked passionately. "How can you stay married to a man who likes to hurt you?"
Her friend's distress was genuine and Cordelia knew it would torment Toinette. She almost told her that everything was really all right, that she could endure anything now. That Leo would take her away from her bondage when he could. But she didn't dare share that secret with anyone.
"It might get better," she said vaguely. "Let's not talk of it anymore, it'll only depress us."
"Oh, very well," Toinette agreed, stating with another lightning change of subject, "I am determined that I shall not acknowledge Madame du Barry."
"Why ever not?"
"She's a whore. The empress would never permit such a one at court and I don't see why I should be insulted by her presence." Toinette looked proudly at Cordelia and she was suddenly her mother's daughter.
Cordelia could see that Toinette was going to get herself into trouble. "The du Barry is the king's favorite. By slighting her it could be said you were slighting the king."
Toinette shook her head, her pretty mouth taking a stubborn turn. "She is an immoral woman and the king is living in sin. He cannot make confession while he keeps a mistress, and it's my God-given duty to help him change his ways."
Cordelia stared incredulously. She knew that Toinette could take strange notions into her head and become obsessed by them. She knew that the empress had imbued all her children with strong faith and religious conviction. But Maria Theresa, despite her high moral tone, was also a pragmatist. Such foolish opposition to the king would make Toinette a laughingstock.
"I think you should consider this very carefully," she said. "There's more to this than simple immorality."
"I know my duty," Toinette stated, folding her lips together. "I know what my faith requires of me. I will not acknowledge that vulgarian whore."
Cordelia sensed she would get no further at this point. Perhaps during the wedding celebrations over the next few days Toinette's attitude to the king's mistress would not be noticed.
"Madame, it is time for you to dress." Countess de Noailles appeared unannounced.
Cordelia rose to her feet. "I'll see you later, Toinette." She kissed her, then stepped back and dropped a low curtsy. "I beg leave to depart, madame."
Toinette chuckled, much to the countess's disapproval. "You're supposed to curtsy three times to the future queen of France."
Cordelia did so, backing out of the dauphine's presence. Her eyes, alight with mischief, held Toinette's, who adopted an arrogant tilt of her head, until her ever ready laughter got the better of her.
Cordelia, thoughtful but still smiling, left the royal apartments. She glanced around the thronged hallway, where courtiers gossiped and servants scurried. She could see no sign of Monsieur Brion. He had said that since she presumably had not yet learned her way around the palace, she could summon any flunky to escort her back to the prince's apartments on the imperial staircase. Was it safe to suppose that for this moment she was out of her husband's observation? Surely he wouldn't have spies in the crowd. It was worth the risk.
But could she remember the way? It would have been easier if she'd walked it herself, but Leo had carried her. On the way to his apartment, she had been almost unconscious, and on the way back, she had been aware only of his arms around her, his closeness, her mind and body filled to overflowing with the memories of his bed.
She made her way through the throng to a footman standing at the foot of a staircase. He bowed as she approached him.
"Do you happen to know where Viscount Kierston is lodged?"
"On one of the outside stairs, madame." "Can you be more precise?"
The man's eyes sharpened. He had no idea whom among the hundreds of unfamiliar wedding guests he was talking to, but his service at Versailles had taught him to smell out an intrigue. "I could escort you, madame."
"That will not be necessary. Just give me directions."
She listened attentively. It sounded relatively straightforward, and if she became lost, she could always ask someone else. With a nod of thanks, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving the curious footman to his speculations.
Once Cordelia had left the state apartments, she found herself traversing long marble corridors, climbing wide, shallow marble staircases, meeting only servants and the occasional hurrying courtier. Everyone at Versailles seemed to be in a tearing hurry, which, given the vast distances they had to travel and the frequent events they were required to attend, was perhaps understandable.
By the time Cordelia reached the staircase where Leo's apartment was situated, she felt as if she'd walked miles, but she'd recognized certain landmarks on the way and was certain she could find her way back to her own apartments.
Cordelia raised her hand to knock on the narrow wooden door, then decided against it. Boldly, she lifted the latch and pushed open the door. The room was empty. She stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind her. Then she took a deep breath of relief. For the mom
ent, she was safe from prying eyes. She looked around the small chamber with a sense of wonder. Everything was just as she remembered it. The room was filled with Leo's presence. She could almost smell his own special scent in the air. She touched the bed, the pillow, looking for the indentation of his head, his body, remembering the crispness of the sheet against her back as he held himself above her.
She opened the armoire and stroked his clothes, taking secret guilty pleasure in the feel of the garments that had touched his skin. She rested her cheek against a velvet coat that she remembered him wearing at Compiegne.
"Cordelia, what in the devil's name are you doing here?"
She jumped, spun round. Leo stood in the door.
"What's happened?" He kicked the door shut behind him and came toward her.
"Nothing." She ran to him, flinging her arms around his waist. "Nothing's happened, but I had to find out if it was real. Did it really happen? Do you really love me, Leo?" She looked up at him, her head tilted against his breast. "Tell me I didn't dream it all."
"You didn't dream it all," he said wryly. "But you shouldn't be here, Cordelia."
"No one saw me." She released his waist and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. "Prove that it wasn't a dream, love."
The passion in the sapphire depths of her eyes was purely erotic, and Leo felt his bearings slip. She came into his embrace with a little sigh, her face lifting for his kiss, her eyes wide open, her lips parted eagerly, a soft flush on her cheeks.
He took her mouth with his, felt her lean into him, yielding every muscle and fiber to his hold so that if he dropped his arms from around her, she would sink to the floor.
He bore her backward to the bed. She fell in a tangle of skirts, her arms around him, pulling him down with her. She wouldn't release his mouth, her hands clasping his head as she drank greedily of his mouth as if it were a goblet full of the sweetest hippocras.