He slammed his hand over his heart. “My lady, you do cut me to the quick. I will have you know this is the finest champagne in all of France.”
“Very well then, I suppose you may pour. I must say, those strawberries do look inviting. Do you not suppose I may have a few?”
“For you, my lady, your wish is my command.” He popped the cork with much flourish and poured for her.
Mademoiselle sampled the sparkling wine. “Ma foi! I believe you may be correct. This champagne is exceptional.”
Antoine sputtered on his champagne. “Where did you come to be such an expert, my lady?”
“My father is a connoisseur.” She blushed, and he enjoyed it. “I, ah . . . He has taught me how to appreciate the difference between what is passable and what is truly good. Due to business, he spent much time in England where he became adept at wine tasting. Without sons to train in the art, my father made do and handed down his wisdom to me.”
Antoine smiled and nodded. “Your father must be a very wise man. I hope I will have the pleasure of meeting him one day.”
At once her countenance clouded as if a rain of melancholy poured over her spirit. “I do not see him often enough. Ever since I began traveling with Tante Marie, I have had little to no contact with him. He sends the occasional letter, but it is not the same. I miss him terribly.” The edge of the lace tablecloth had wound itself about her fingers. “He hoped Tante Marie could help refine me. I have been through so many changes that I wonder if he would recognize me?”
“I am sure he would know you anywhere.” He briefly wondered what changes she’d experienced and poured more champagne.
“Merci.” She released the tablecloth, smoothing out the wrinkles she had caused and changed the subject. “I can see you are no stranger to horses. You are quite skilled.”
“I seem to recall I mentioned my weakness for horses. They are a passion with me. I dearly love the chance to ride without worrying about anything else. It is a good way to clear my mind and relax—my favorite distraction.” He leaned his chin on his fists, elbows planted on the table.
“I understand. There is nothing like outriding your troubles. I always feel like I can come back with a fresh view if I can just get away for a while. I was even thinking that just this morning.” Her eyes widened, and she popped a grape in her mouth.
Either she was too open to be a spy or a brilliant actress. Antoine leaned toward believing the first choice. “From what troubles would you escape?”
She shook her head and swallowed. “Nothing really. In fact, I think this ride and pleasurable company have put them right out of my mind.” Those lovely fingers became fascinated with her goblet.
Again, Antoine smiled and nodded. What secrets do you hide, Mademoiselle de Saix?
The conversation lagged while they ate in silence. All Antoine had learned about her—her abilities and shyness—only told him she was a delight. He still believed she harbored a secret, but he enjoyed his time with her so much, he was less inclined to worry about any mystery. Perhaps it even made her more attractive. If that were possible.
Antoine stood and held out his hand. “Shall we?”
She hesitated but took his hand and stood with him.
He led her to his horse where he removed a leather pouch. Linking her hand through his arm, he guided her toward the stand of trees to the north of the clearing.
“What are you doing?” Her steps slowed. Her gaze never left him.
He stopped. “Do you trust me?”
A fight of emotions showed in her eyes. She nodded.
As he led her a short distance among the trees, her grip tightened on his arm. He patted her hand and stopped before turning her around and pointing.
Louise brought her hands to her lips with a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, if only I had my sketch book. The way the oak branches curve around—it is almost as if they are framing the view.”
Antoine pulled the pouch from beneath his arm and opened it, removing a set of charcoals and paper. With a bow, he handed them to her. He then removed a small blanket and spread it on the ground.
Her mouth froze with a little o on her lips.
Antoine took her hand, kissed it, and then stepped back out of her way. She stood until he pointed to the blanket. “You now have your materials. Sketch and delight your heart.”
Louise lowered herself to the blanket and began. Once started, she never looked down at the paper but stared straight ahead, her hand moving continually. In a few short minutes she paused. Antoine moved behind her to observe.
“No, this is incomplete.” Bending over her work, she hid it from his view. “Go, stand over there.”
Antoine chuckled and headed where she pointed.
“No, no, no.” She popped up and pulled him by the elbow. “Over here.” Stepping back, she surveyed and shook her head. “That will not do.” She playfully pushed him.
His heart beat faster. “What?”
“Down. Sit and lean back against the tree.”
Antoine obeyed, laughing at her.
Posing him, she nodded her approval. “Now stay there.” She shook her finger at him as she returned to her seat on the blanket to begin sketching again.
“When do I get to see it?” Antoine scratched his ear.
“When I am done—if I ever get done. Sit still. I cannot do this if you keep moving.” She continued drawing the whole while.
“I am not moving, see?”
“Well, you were. Do not do it again.”
“Very well. Please, just finish.” He wiggled his toes. She could not see that. Delightful, that was what she was. One minute shy, and the next she bossed him with ease. He could not remember the last time he had such fun.
“Hold still only a moment longer. I am nearly through.” She finished with a few quick strokes and held up the sketch. “Voila`.”
Antoine shoved himself up and returned to Louise to view the finished product. It was by no means a masterpiece, but the lady’s talent showed through. “I am honored, Mademoiselle.”
“My pleasure, Monsieur. It is for you.” She presented him the sketch.
“I most sincerely thank you.” Holding out his hand, he offered her assistance. “You do know we will be spending a certain amount of time together over the next two weeks.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Oui?”
“Perhaps if I knew a few other things you like, I could arrange something else for your pleasure. I know you enjoy riding, and I could easily do that every day. May I include some of your other interests? Are there places you would like to go, things you would like to see or do? I am at your disposal, Mademoiselle.” Antoine bowed over her hand that he still held.
She pulled away. “This has been such a lovely day. I think I could do this over and over.”
“Then this is what we will do until you choose to do something else.”
She reached to pick up the blanket, and he noticed her shapely curves. This beautiful girl-woman was an enigma. Sometimes she seemed to relax in his company showing humor and fortitude. At other times, she withdrew.
He took the folded blanket from her and stuffed it along with the pouch of artist materials under his arm and tucked her hand under the other arm, leading her to the table.
She did not seem as nervous as before. Perhaps she was beginning to trust him.
Trills of a lark broke the silence between them. The warmth of her smile dawning at the sound rivaled the sun.
When back at the table, Louise began to pack up the basket, but Antoine stopped her. “Leave it be. Someone will retrieve it all after we depart.”
Louise stared at him.
He moved a loose tendril away from her face, tucking it delicately behind her ear. It was so natural. It was too intimate. She did not pull away. His fingers skimmed the surface of her velvet cheek as he pulled his hand back. He reached for her hand, capturing her gaze the whole time. He was earning her trust. He knew he should be glad about that, and he was in a way, th
ough he also knew he was deceiving her. His duty demanded he obtain her confidence.
Imperative though it may be that he learn of her connection to the Huguenot movement, if any connection existed, at the same time he found himself wanting her trust solely because he found her delightfully fascinating.
She was beautiful and intelligent and talented. Yet there was something more to her, something he had yet to identify, something very special. He could see it when she threw caution to the wind. Soon he hoped to understand it.
They retrieved their horses and led them off in the way they had come. There seemed to be no hurry to leave. She allowed him to hold her hand. The thrill running up his arm powered the thumping in his chest.
They spoke lightly every so often—not much, just little things. The silences in between were comfortable, as if their thoughts needed no verbal help to be shared. A woman who appreciated the quiet of merely being together both intrigued and elated him.
Antoine spotted a small, purple wildflower and picked it.
“For moi?” Her smile became a grin.
“But of course.” He pushed soft tendrils out of the way and tucked it behind her ear. Such a delicate ear. Such a lovely shade of rose climbing up her neck to her cheeks. He must stop now or he would be no better than Jean-Luc.
She ran to the other side of the path and picked a similar flower. As she turned back to him, her eyes had taken on a mischievous gleam. “For you, Monsieur.”
A warm heat spread up his neck and face at her touch. Her fingers brushed his ear lighter than a butterfly as she tucked the flower in place. Thought and breath left him.
She laughed, a pure melodic sound, and he joined her. They walked on. What had taken them twenty minutes to cover in the morning now took much longer. Antoine did not mind, though. There was no other place he would rather be.
By mid-afternoon, they arrived back at the stables and left the horses with the stable boy. Antoine escorted Louise back to her room.
“His Majesty is having appartement tonight in the royal suite. We are invited.” He enjoyed watching how she rested against her door. Leaning in more intimately, he propped his arm over her shoulder on the doorjamb. “There is to be a concert, followed by games, with supper most probably around ten o’clock. You may want a small bit of food and a nap before we go. Shall I call for you at seven?”
“Oui, merci. And, Monsieur . . .”
“Antoine, please.” It would be nice to hear her say his name.
“Antoine, thank you for today. I had no idea I could enjoy myself so much here. I— ” She stopped herself as if to say more but changed her mind. A soft pink tinged her cheeks. “Merci. I will see you at seven.”
She smiled.
He straightened, kissed her hand, and left.
* * *
Louise opened her door and carefully checked for others before hugging herself and making one big twirl around the room. She did not want to again be caught behaving the fool.
Being alone in her room allowed her more time to stretch out and daydream about her wonderful day. Humming to herself, she plopped on the big bed. Two seconds later, she was up pacing the room, too full of life to take the time to rest.
A knock at the door put an end to her flights of fancy. She opened it to a young woman, a maid she had not yet met.
“Mademoiselle de Saix?” The maid curtseyed.
“Oui, may I help you?”
“The Marquise de Montespan requests the honor of your presence in her chambers at your earliest convenience.” The young woman turned to go.
“Oh, wait, please.” Louise stopped her. “I do not know how to get to her suite, and I could go right now, if you would be so kind as to show me the way.”
“As you wish.” The maid spoke no more the whole way, stopping only at the door to announce Louise. “Mademoiselle de Saix to see you, Madame.”
“That will be all, Simone.” The maid was dismissed with a wave. “I am happy you could come so promptly, my dear. Please have a seat.” The Marquise lounged on a petite coucher in only her chemise, obviously quite comfortable.
Louise chose a chair with a straight back and waited. Why had she been summoned?
“I understand you have been out today with that fellow, what was his name? Ah, Monsieur de Crocketagné. This is correct?”
“Oui, Madame. We went riding.” What was this questioning about?
“I see. Do you know the man’s intentions?”
“Madame, I am sorry, but I only met him yesterday. I believe he was assigned to escort me, so his intentions have to do with doing his duty to the king.” Funny how that thought just popped into her head. Louise surmised the statement was as much to herself as to the Marquise.
“Oh, I see.” The Marquise fell silent for some time.
“If there is nothing else . . .” Louise rose to leave.
“Oh, but there is. You need not be in such a hurry. We have only begun to chat.”
“Oh.” Louise sighed and sat once again. Little hairs at the nape of her neck tightened while thoughts of danger whispered in her ear. What had she done?
“I also hear you like to take nightly strolls through the halls of Versailles. Is that also correct, my dear?” Her tone became as frosty as the coldest day in January.
“I could not sleep and went for a walk. Is that a problem? I understood it was permitted.” Louise’s temperature rose, but she tried to control her anger. If she got angry, she would, without a doubt, start to cry. The Marquise would pounce on any weakness.
“No, no that is not a problem. Who am I to say what you are permitted? I merely asked.” Smooth, like oil. “Oh, by the by, is dining with His Majesty in his boudoir also going to become part of your nightly routine?” The razor-sharp smile seemed almost as lethal as the daggers shooting from the Marquise’s eyes.
“Excuse me? I am not sure I understand.” Louise’s anger increased her courage. She stood and took a deep breath. “Do you have a problem with my accepting an invitation from my cousin, who also happens to be the king, to have an evening morsel with him? Perhaps if Her Majesty, his wife, asked this I might understand the problem, although it was just an innocent meal in the outer living quarters of the Royal Suite. You, Madame, are not his wife, and I see no reason to explain things to you.”
“Sit down.” The Marquise stood, anger marring her cold beauty. Her face contorted, and the smile returned. “You really do not know who I am, do you?” She gave a mirthless laugh. “My dear, I am the king’s favorite. Before me, there was a young woman whose mother brought her to the court for the sole purpose of giving her to the king. She has borne him four children, and because His Majesty felt sorry for the public humiliation cast on the little wretch, last year he made her a duchess. He keeps her where he can keep his eye on her. I make sure that is all that goes on.”
“But you are married. The queen’s lady-in-waiting.” Tante Marie always said she was too innocent. She should have called her ignorant. How could His Majesty do such a thing? She wanted to go home.
“Poor, doe-eyed little thing. Have you not even a clue? My marriage brought me to the palace. The queen’s chambers brought me to the king. One day my marriage will be over and so will his. I carry his child right now, and I will be his next queen.”
Did this really happen? Were the nobles this shallow and callous? What kind of people lived here? She did not belong at Court.
“So, do not think, for even one second, that you can oust me with His Majesty. I have worked hard to be in this position, and I will not be thwarted from my goal by you and that Mademoiselle Innocent act.” The Marquise sat and arranged her chemise. “Have I made myself clear, my dear?” The frost chilled more like an avalanche now.
“Oui, quite.” Crystal clear, in fact. Louise wanted only to leave this place.
“Bon. Now that we understand each other, I think we might be friends. Oui, that could be quite fun with your innocent view of life. For now, I must rest. When we have appartement, i
t takes much skill to play the games, and I so enjoy winning. Perhaps we might talk later.”
Louise stood, knowing she had been dismissed. She stepped out the door just as the maid, Simone, returned to the room of her mistress. Very well. She would have to find her own way back to her chamber.
A mixture of fear and relief flooded over her. As much as she worried about becoming lost in the construction, she did not want to see anyone. She could not hold back the tears another second. With a little effort, she should be able to retrace her steps and make it back to her room by herself before anyone found her with red eyes and stuffy nose.
She caught herself twice as she was about to make a wrong turn, but she at last made it to her chamber. The success of that feat only slightly helped to alleviate the humiliation she wore like sackcloth and ashes. Nothing could wipe the scene from her memory.
Louise closed the door to her room. Not at all like the last time she had entered here. No happy feelings, no urge to dance.
Changing out of her riding costume, life drained from her. She poured water into the basin, rinsed off the dust from outside, and then lay down on the bed in her chemise.
The cruel words of the Marquise returned to her, again and again. There was truth in them. She was innocent. So many things went on at Versailles, things the residents took for granted. They understood the rules of this game. She did not. Did they merely look the other way?
Innocent, a good description of her.
She had not appreciated to the full the implication of the conversation at first. When the king invited her to dine with him, that is all she thought would happen. That is all that did happen.
If the Marquise thought something else might have transpired, might someone else think the same thing? Who else knew about her late-night meal? What if someone told Antoine? Would he think of her in that same light?
That was another thing. She enjoyed her time with Antoine and believed he was enjoying his time with her as well. However, they had only met the day before. It was his job to be her escort.
Maybe he did his job well.
The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection Page 6