Before Versailles (75 page)

Louise walked with her toward the grand central garden path that led to the château’s big salon.

“I told a small lie,” said Madame du Plessis-Bellièvre. She smiled kindly, to assure Louise. “I have no acquaintance of your mother, though it would be an honor to meet her. Perhaps some day you’ll introduce me? Ah, did my lie disappoint you? Little dear. Do you miss your mother? Doubtless her duties keep her engaged. We’re going to be fast friends, I can feel it. There are some people I meet, and I just know that I will adore them. I enjoyed the performance, didn’t you? That Molière is quite droll.”

“My sides hurt from laughing. And the dancing was beautiful.”

“You yourself are a lovely dancer. I’ve often noted it at court.”

“Thank you.” Louise glanced back toward her friends, clustered with Madame, who was walking with the king and queen toward the house. It was easy to walk in the garden with lanterns everywhere, not quite day, but certainly not dark night either, but rather something enchanting, the soft light glimmering everywhere. She had promised Louis she would stay near, and yet she strayed.

“I can see you wish to join your friends,” said Madame du Plessis-Bellièvre. “I’ll take but a moment more. I asked you to walk with me because there’s someone here who very much wants your favor, and I am, oh, what shall we call me? An ambassador of sorts.”

“My favor?”

“Someone very high.” She waved her fan back and forth. “He owns all this.”

“The vi—”

“Hush,” she interrupted with a kind smile. “Don’t say his name. Just know he wishes your regard and congratulates you on your standing with his majesty.”

Louise felt rooted to the ground with shock. The viscount knew of her and the king? “There’s some mistake.”

“How discreet you are. He will like that, as it would be his honor to make you a quiet gift to show his admiration. No one need know.” Madame du Plessis-Bellièvre’s smile grew wider. “Say, perhaps twenty thousand.” She waited, quite certain of the effect the sum she’d just named would have. It could buy most anything.

“You’ve made a mistake. You must excuse me.” Louise gathered the wide skirts of her gown in each hand, trying not to look as if she was running for her life as she walked away, but all the same, she half-ran, half-walked back toward her friends, toward their laughter and pointless chatter and the place she had among them, simple Louise de la Baume le Blanc, no more, no less than they.

P
HILIPPE STOPPED
. They were on the edge of the gardens before a long arbor hidden deep in one of the side gardens. “Where is he?” he asked Fanny.

“Go in if you would, Monsieur.”

Philippe walked under the vines. He could see a figure sitting before a small table covered with candles, and as he walked toward their light, he saw it was an old woman, covered in shawls, a great feathered hat on her head.

“Tell your fortune, my lord?” she asked.

“Where is he?” Philippe demanded.

The woman grinned at him.

“Is that you?” Philippe began to laugh.

“None other,” said Guy. “Molière spent all afternoon on this. I intend to amuse myself telling fortunes to a very select crowd tonight.”

“You’re mad.”

“Very likely. How are you?”

“I miss you. Come back to court.”

“I’m banished from court, and it seems you’ve forgiven his majesty.”

“No.”

“I saw you together tonight. You’re friends again. You’ve forgiven him.”

“He’s asked my pardon. Belle died, and we both cried, and he told me he would always love me. He has sent to Spain for a horse for me like his—”

“My kingdom for a horse.”

“What?”

“Nothing, a play an Englishman and I once talked about. So you forgive that he gave the governorship of a province that was yours by inheritance to someone else. You’ve let that go completely, haven’t you? And there’s no place on his council yet, is there?”

“The viscount has my best interests at heart—” Philippe began.

“The viscount has his own best interests at heart. I just wished to see if anything had changed. I’d heard you threw quite a tantrum. I’d heard you weren’t going to his risings or going-to-bed ceremony, but I would imagine you are now.”

Philippe was silent. All the joy he’d felt at the sight of this man was destroyed, and in its place, anguish, and the old sense of failure.

“Go away,” said Guy. “You bore me, little man, little prince. That’s all you’ll ever be. Go away.”

Chapter 39

OUIS AND HIS FAMILY SAT AT A TABLE DRAPED IN EXPENSIVE
cloth. Kneeling to present trays of pheasants and quails roasted and tied with strips of ham, tiny baked apples and potatoes set around them, the viscount and his wife served them. It was their gesture to honor royalty and their right since royalty dined in their house. It would be the first of several courses. The plates they ate from were solid gold. Behind them, a long table held gold trays and urns filled with roses, lilies, and trailing vines. Louis ate calmly, as if gold plates and trays and urns were common, when they were the height of extravagance; not even the royal family possessed this much.

In other chambers of the château and out in the gardens, the court sat on chairs or atop cushions eating from silver plates and drinking from silver goblets. In the outbuildings, the fireplaces roared as cooks and servants stood before them tending pots and sweating like fiends in hell. Small boys turned the spits that held rows of chicken and quail. There were almost as many servants as there were guests. Spoons frothed cream, cups ladled expensive sugar from faraway islands, knives folded butter. Profusion. There must be more than enough. All of it must be delicious. Not a single guest should leave unsated. Those had been the orders from the viscount himself.

Supper finished, Nicolas led the royal party back into the gardens again, cooled and changed by night. Lanterns rimmed the edges of every fountain, and in their light, the water jetted high, caught gleams of lantern light, and disappeared into the dark.

“This is so much fun.” Henriette turned around, spinning like a top. She’d had a little too much to drink. Several of the young men she’d flirted with during the festivities waited like bees for another sip.

Fanny approached. “If you would follow me, Madame, there is a surprise for you. And both of you.” Fanny pointed at Louise and Lorraine. “There’s a fortune teller, but she’ll only see a select few.” It was a fashion of the times, to consult fortune tellers and have horoscopes drawn. Everyone did it.

“Not Monsieur?” asked Lorraine in surprise, but Philippe was already walking away.

They followed Fanny until they were standing before the arbor in the side gardens. Louise narrowed her eyes. She could just make out a figure sitting before a table upon which candles blazed at the end of the arbor.

“First, Madame,” announced Fanny.

It was difficult to see much once Henriette stepped inside. Candles glimmered at the arbor’s end, where an old woman waited. Henriette sat down where the woman indicated.

“A large smile, but a sad heart.” The woman’s voice was gruff, raspy. The sounds of laughter, music, conversations were faint, in the distance, as if they were in a secret, leafed world and somewhere near was a party, but it didn’t extend to here. “His majesty doesn’t love you anymore.”

Shocked, then furious, stung to the heart to hear the truth so boldly, Henriette stood.

“Are you going to run away from me, after I’ve gone to all this trouble and been so patient?” Guy’s voice said from under the hat. “Sit down and talk with me a while.”

“I think I’ve had too much wine,” Henriette said, peering at him, trying to ascertain it was truly him inside the disguise.

“Aren’t you glad to see me? Here is your fortune. There is a man who loves you with all his black heart. You’re a fool to turn your back on him. Answer his love letters. Allow him a secret tryst. Come to this bower at midnight and be kissed.”

“What if I don’t wish to be kissed?”

“Oh, but you do.”

In spite of herself, Henriette laughed. “I am glad to see you again.”

“You’ll be more glad at midnight. Don’t make me find you, because I will.”

Henriette tilted her head to one side, bit her lip. How soothing it was to be admired. How much Louis would dislike this if he knew. And Philippe, too. She didn’t wish to hurt Philippe, but he was ignoring her.

“Yes,” said Guy. “It’s going to be fun to love me. Now go away before I tear off this disguise and begin my kissing lessons now. Send in Miss de Montalais.”

“Well?” said Lorraine, when Henriette appeared at the arbor’s entrance.

Henriette ignored him. “Your turn,” she told Fanny.

At the other end of the arbor, Guy opened his arms, and Fanny whirled past the table and sat in his lap, covering his face with kisses.

“You’ll ruin my makeup,” he told her, “and Molière was hours on it. You’ve been a good girl tonight. You’ve been my sweet messenger more than once, and I thank you for that.” He kissed her again. “My little trick has begun to bore me, so send in my last two victims, then meet me in an hour by the circle pool.”

Louise walked slowly toward the figure at the end of the arbor. Madame and Fanny had both worn smiles from their fortunes. What was hers? She crossed her fingers for luck.

“I know your secret.” Guy spoke in his own voice.

It took a moment for Louise to fully recognize him under the hat and wig and face paint.

“You’re a whore,” Guy said, “and it doesn’t matter that the one you bed is a king.”

Louise ran out of the arbor, past the Chevalier de Lorraine, who stared after her, an eyebrow raised, and then, intrigued, entered for his fortune. Guy lounged back in his chair, not even pretending anymore.

“Well?” Lorraine said, impatient, not yet realizing who was in front of him.

“You possess a malicious heart and the sting of a scorpion, and you won’t be good for him, but he’s yours. I won’t take him away.”

Lorraine recognized Guy and challenged, “Do you think you can?”

“I know I can. Lucky for you, I have no interest. Go away and play nicely with your little prince, whose heart I broke tonight. Again. I’m good at that.” Guy stood, dropped the hat on the candles, half of which guttered out and began to smoke. The hat’s feather disappeared in a blaze, and while Lorraine was still gaping at that, Guy walked away, out into the dark.