Tante Marie nodded in direction of the woman again. “Her Majesty Marie Therese.”
Louise turned and watched the lady again, struck by the melancholy emanating from her queen. She bit her lip and continued along with her aunt and escort once protocol allowed.
The royal entourage led northward to a rectangular building with three tall arches along the wide face. Wrought iron gates in each arch were flung wide, allowing the royals to enter. His Majesty stood in the center arch. A sun sporting a man’s face worked into the wrought iron shone above his head. “My friends. Welcome to you one and all. We wish to commend our dear friend and designer extraordinaire, Monsieur Le Norte who has graced our gardens with this—le Grotto de Thétis.” His Majesty flung wide his arms.
Louise jumped as spurts of water pounced at her and all in attendance.
Monsieur wrapped his cape about her, and they scurried away from the water jets. Laughter rang everywhere.
Her hair! Her gown! Then Louise caught sight of other nobles, frolicking in the water. If they didn’t mind, perhaps she should not worry. Even Tante Marie played with others.
“This way, Mademoiselle.” Monsieur patted her hand, still tucked at his arm, and led her along the path. “Our next stop is to see the new Basin of the Dragon.”
Louise nodded and tried to smile. She didn’t want him to think her unsophisticated, but if she opened her mouth, he wouldn’t think it. He would know it.
The gilded figures in the basin reflected the rays of the dipping sun, making the whole pool appear golden.
“Do you hunger? I believe our next stop will help with that. Come, I will show you the Bosquet de l’Etoile.”
Again, Louise mutely nodded. He must think her mute.
The Bosquet de l’Etoile was a junction of five allées. Long buffets stretched down each one, heaped high with meats. In the center of each table, a castle of marzipan and sugar stood triumphant.
Monsieur tapped her hand. “Look up.” He pointed to the trees.
Louise gasped. All sorts of fruit, both preserved and fresh, hung from the branches. Apricots and peaches, pears and Dutch gooseberries and Portuguese oranges all begging to be “picked.” She looked to Monsieur for permission.
He smiled, plucked a pear, and took a bite.
She reached up, her hand grasping a peach. A giggle escaped, and she bit into the sweet fruit, juice dripping down her chin.
A servant directed them to their chairs. Louise found herself seated between Monsieur de Crocketagné and a quiet man, dressed with less flamboyance than the others. He seemed to take in his surroundings with all his senses, always watching, always listening, as if trying to understand and store the knowledge. Before she realized it, the man had her deep in conversation.
“I have been traveling with Tante Marie for the past four months, Monsieur. She is my mother’s sister. My mother died when I was three, so my father raised me.”
“I am so sorry, my dear.” The man patted her hand.
“It is the way of it.” It still hurt, though. Yet the man’s sympathy felt genuine and comforting. “I hardly remember her. Rather, I have impressions of a soft scent and a gentle touch. My father, though, is wonderful.” She looked down, tracing the outline of design in the tablecloth with her fingertip. “I think a part of him always wanted a son, so he let me do many things other girls my age were never allowed to do. He also insisted I learn to read, write, and understand mathematical equations—in other words, to think. I believe he hoped the mothers of my friends would handle the process of making a lady of me.” Louise smiled at the thought of how upset Tante Marie had become seeing her ride astride when she came to visit. In fact, that was probably how her aunt convinced her father to let Louise travel as her companion. “To be perfectly frank, I am not comfortable with all the trappings.”
The intense look from Louise’s dinner companion caused the butterflies to dance in her stomach again. “Perhaps I should not be confessing all this. I am sure Tante Marie would remind me that I am not being very ladylike.”
The man smiled. “On the contrary, my dear, I find you quite the lady.”
“Merci, Monsieur, but, in truth, this all seems more than I can take in.” Louise sighed. “My tastes are much simpler.”
“Just how would you prefer to spend a relaxing vacation, Mademoiselle?” The voice of Monsieur de Crocketagné startled her, so intent was she in the conversation.
Louise looked to the other man, who appeared to be awaiting her answer, and back to Monsieur de Crocketagné. Now they both would, without a doubt, think she did not belong here.
Taking a deep breath, she plunged in. “I would spend my time leisurely reading, taking quiet walks, laughing with a friend, or taking a brisk ride, perhaps to a place by a brook—somewhere to have a meal outside and perhaps sketch a little. I prefer the companionship of one or two close friends to a large gathering, a good book to the latest gossip, and the out of doors to formal rooms no matter how beautiful.” She shrugged. “I hope I have not offended anyone. The company of this night is quite enjoyable, but then, you did ask.”
“You are correct, Mademoiselle, I did.” Monsieur de Crocketagné’s gaze held no condemnation.
* * *
After dinner, the assemblage moved to carriages. Antoine helped Louise inside, catching a glimpse of His Majesty riding by in his calèche. Her Majesty, carried in her sedan chair, followed. Everyone rode around the grand roundeau to the theatre of Vigarani.
As seating was prearranged, Antoine quickly found their places, still enjoying the lovely view his assignment made. The quiet dinner companion, who with amazing skill drew out the story of Louise’s life, walked to the front of the stage and began to speak.
Louise stared, her eyes wide. She leaned in close and whispered. “Who is he?”
Antoine quietly laughed. “You just had dinner with Monsieur Jean Baptist Poquelin.”
The look of confusion on her face told him that information meant nothing.
“You have most likely heard of him by his pen name. Molière.” Just when he thought Louise’s eyes could not get any rounder, she proved him wrong.
“You mean I just poured out my life to a famous playwright? And not just any playwright, but the greatest comic playwright in France.” She gripped his arm, and his pulse raced.
“I take it you know his work.” Antoine found it harder and harder to bite back the laugh wanting to erupt, though whether it came from the situation or his nerves, he could not say.
“I told you I like to read. I have never seen a performance, but he makes his social commentaries so humorous. It is a guilty pleasure I acquired in Paris, though my priest at home would be appalled.”
Antoine winked. “I will not tell.”
She turned in her chair to face him. “What are we viewing tonight?”
Ahh, she does know how to have fun. “George Dandin.”
Now Antoine believed Louise’s eyes would pop from her sockets. “Ooo, that is new. I so enjoy his satire.”
“Then I am sure you will enjoy this. It is otherwise known as The Fool Who Chooses Not to Be Wise.”
Louise nodded and turned back to the stage just as the curtain opened.
All through the play, Antoine could not keep his eyes off her. When she turned her head, he quickly made sure his focus returned to the play. Such a dichotomy, this one. She changed from well versed to innocent in a finger snap.
* * *
Afterward, Antoine noticed the queen had taken leave before the final curtain. The king escorted another woman. He led the mademoiselle in their king’s direction.
She curtseyed, and Antoine, hat tucked under his arm, bowed.
“Marquise,” His Majesty began, “may I present to you my lovely cousin, Louise de Saix and her escort Monsieur Antoine Desaure Permonette de Crocketagné. Louise, this is my friend, the Marquise de Montespan, lady-in-waiting to the queen and the daughter of the Duc de Mortemart.”
“Madame, it is a pleasu
re.” Mademoiselle curtseyed again, this time to the woman, while Antoine bowed over the lady’s hand.
“The pleasure is mine.” Although the Marquise returned a smile, it never seemed to reach her eyes. “Are you staying long?”
It did not escape Antoine that the question calculated time rather than offered a friendly inquiry. Had Mademoiselle done something to offend the woman? What could she have done in so short a time?
“We are here only two weeks before we begin our trip back to our home.”
“We?” The Marquise's brows rose.
His Majesty patted the Marquise’s arm. “Oui, ma petite, Louise and her aunt, who is also my cousin, are my guests for only this short visit, unless Antoine and I can convince them to enjoy court hospitality a bit longer. N'est-ce pas?”
Mademoiselle smiled, and Antoine’s heart fluttered. “That will depend entirely upon Tante Marie. I am only along for the fun, as they say.”
“Are you having any?” Again, the Marquise’s smile appeared forced.
“Oui, tonight has been lovely. Merci beaucoup, Your Majesty, for including me.”
“You are quite welcome, my dear. Antoine will see that you enjoy the rest of your evening, as well. The Marquise and I have some unfinished business to attend to, and so, if you will excuse us.”
As the couple left, Mademoiselle again curtsied, and Antoine bowed before tucking her fingers onto his forearm. “Would you enjoy a walk by the fountains? They are exquisite in the moonlight.”
She agreed.
What had gotten into him? Much of the evening surprised him. The lady could be both introverted and open. For one so private, she had revealed much. He must remember to thank Monsieur Molière. Perhaps it was due to the opulent surroundings.
“Your mind is far off, is it not?” Antoine realized he had let his mind wander. When he looked over at her, it seemed she had as well. “You are thinking too much for such a splendid night.”
“I apologize, Monsieur.” Mademoiselle looked around. They had wandered through the fragrant gardens of the southern façade and stopped near a fountain of mythological nymphs and sea people caught in the act of raising a cascade above their sea home. It looked playfully lifelike with the dancing moonlight reflecting off the water. “This is wonderful, Monsieur.”
“It is called The Fountain of the Pyramid. I think it is Girardon’s masterpiece—my favorite of all the fountains on the grounds.”
She sat on the edge and stuck her fingers in the misty spray. “You are right. It is too lovely a night to be lost in thought.” She closed her eyes and sighed.
Antoine stared. The moonlight paled in comparison to her beauty.
Mademoiselle traced the edge of the fountain’s pool with her finger. “Perhaps you should tell me about you.”
“Moi? There is not much to know.” He kicked a pebble into the grass.
“You are too modest, Monsieur. I am sure there are many things you could tell me of your life here.” She brushed her fingers dry on her skirt and folded her hands in her lap. “Seeing that you have already heard my life’s story, it is only fair you oblige me.”
“As you wish.” Antoine smiled, clasping his hands behind his back. “You already know my name—all of it, since His Majesty likes to use it in its entirety.” He laughed, and she joined him. Propping a boot against the edge of the fountain, he leaned against his knee. “I grew up in the country around Montaban in Tarn-Et-Garonne. My father has a villa there where he raises horses. My mother died when I was four, so my two sisters became my mothers. They now have families of their own.” He pushed off from the fountain and straightened, hands behind his back, keeping memories at bay. “I have been employed by the king here at Versailles since my twenty-first birthday. My favorite color is blue, and I have two weaknesses—one is horses and the other I cannot tell you.”
“You do not trust me? And after I have answered all of your questions so honestly.”
“Oh, I do trust you, Mademoiselle, I do. But no, I cannot. You would think I made it up.” Antoine shook his head and winked at her. “I believe it is better if I do not reveal everything to you. Think of what happened to Samson when he gave in to Delilah and revealed the truth. No, some secrets are better kept.”
“Very well, then. It shall be my vocation while here to discover the mystery of your hidden weakness.” Mademoiselle smiled and then shivered.
Antoine removed his cape, concerned that her clothes had perhaps not completely dried. “The evening has cooled. Perhaps I should escort you back before you become chilled.”
“Oh, it is so beautiful here.” She sighed in tune to the music. “Perhaps you are right, though. I wonder about the time. It must be getting rather late. How long do these parties usually last?”
“They can sometimes go on all night.” Antoine held out his hand, suddenly anxious for her touch. “This one looks as though it might. Are you tired?”
“I guess I am a bit.” She chuckled and accepted his assistance.
A lovely jolt raced up his arm.
“I am not used to such late evenings. Would you mind terribly if I went back to my room? I am enjoying your company but would be embarrassed if I fell asleep on you.”
“It would be my pleasure to walk you back. I have also enjoyed your company very much, Mademoiselle.” Antoine tucked her hand back into the crook of his arm. “The morrow is soon enough to begin seeing the rest of Versailles.”
They walked, Antoine filing away every nuance of the evening until they arrived at her room. “Mademoiselle, I look forward to seeing you again on the morrow. Sleep well.” He bowed and kissed her hand, again lingering in that position an instant longer than necessary to peek up at her.
Chapter Four
I said, hello. Are you awake?”
Antoine looked over at Albert and realized his friend had been speaking to him, but he had not heard a word. He could not even remember how he arrived at the barracks so quickly. One minute he told Louise goodnight at her door, and then, voila´, he stood next to his bunk.
“You are home early, my friend.” Albert had that twinkle in his eyes again. “The special duty is not to your liking?”
He was not going to play cat and mouse with Albert tonight. “The mademoiselle was tired, so I took her to her room. We had a nice evening.”
“That was all?”
“Oui, that was all.”
“Then I believe you, that was all.” Albert grinned with a wink.
Antoine got ready for bed. “Really. We ate, we watched, we talked, we walked, we said au revoir. A nice evening by all accounts. And that was all.” He did not even give Albert the satisfaction of looking up.
“I am happy to hear it. His Majesty will be pleased.” Albert paused. “Especially when he finds out you are becoming infatuated with his young cousin.”
“What?” Antoine spun and glared. “Who says I am infatuated with her? We had a nice evening. I am just performing my duty.” Then, after a minute, he punched Albert on the shoulder. “Fortunately, the duty has turned out to be quite pleasant.”
“Oh?”
“So, merci. I will thank His Majesty when I next see him.” Antoine grinned.
“You are welcome, my friend.” Albert chuckled. “You are quite welcome.”
Antoine plopped down on his cot, lacing his fingers beneath his head. “Mademoiselle de Saix is quite different from the other women we meet at court.”
“Before you get your head too high in that cloud, you need to remember who employs you.”
Antoine sat up. “What do you mean? I know who employs me.”
“So, you understand that although His Majesty might enjoy playing matchmaker with you and the lovely mademoiselle, he will not take kindly to you putting her wishes ahead of his.”
“We only met this very day.” Antoine lay back again. “I fear you are getting ahead of yourself.”
“Perhaps, but I would be cautious when it comes to affairs of the heart and state. Allowing Mademoise
lle, or anyone for that matter, to have more importance to you than His Majesty would have dire consequences.”
“I will be on my guard, beginning on the morrow. For now, I would like some sleep, if you please, Vieille.” Antoine punched his pillow and rolled to his side. “Old woman,” he muttered under his breath.
But the warning still echoed in his head.
* * *
Louise floated into the room and leaned back against the door, closing her eyes. She could almost hear the music whispering in her ear while the heady fragrances of the garden carried her thoughts away. Gently, under her breath, she hummed the tune and stepped from the door, swaying to the rhythm. The romance of the evening danced with her, twirling her in invisible arms.
A soft cough froze her mid-twirl, her eyes popping wide. Directly in front of her stood Mimi. Then, as she turned her head to look to her right, there stood Mimi, as well. Louise turned her view from one Mimi to the other. Her brain could not assimilate the information. Perhaps the whole evening had been a dream and she continued to sleep in the luxuriant bed.
“Pardon us, Mademoiselle.” The Mimi on the right spoke. “We do not mean to intrude.”
“Oh, ah, no—that is fine. I must have looked silly.” Which one was Mimi?
“You had a pleasant evening, oui?” The Mimi on the right continued to speak.
Louise nodded, still looking back and forth between the two girls. “Oui, yes I did.”
“I should explain. This is my sister, Monique. We call her Momo.”
“Oh!” Twins. That explained it. “I should have known. Momo, it is nice to meet you.”
Momo curtsied but remained silent. Louise quickly studied her. The resemblance to Mimi proved identical; no one could notice the difference without previous knowledge and a practiced eye. Yet, as Louise studied the girls, she noted Momo appeared less gentle, less sweet. Or perhaps, Momo was not as shy as Mimi.
“I have just received information from home. It is important I return there, but only briefly. Momo has agreed to be here so you will not be left alone. I will only be away a short while. I promise to return no later than the morrow’s eve. May I have permission to go?” Mimi’s voice quivered as she asked.
The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection Page 3