Louis the Well-Beloved (34 page)

One of these friends was the rich farmer-general Lenormant de Tourneheim; this man was still enamoured of the handsome Madame Poisson and had been her lover for several years. Some people said that he was the father of Jeanne-Antoinette, for he showed he was very fond of the girl; however none but Madame Poisson could be sure about that – and perhaps even she could not be absolutely certain. However it was wise perhaps to let the rich financier believe the charming little creature was his – particularly when, with the flight of François, the family was left to look after itself.

François’ effects had been disposed of to settle debts, and the family would have found themselves destitute but for the kindness of Monsieur de Tourneheim.

Monsieur de Tourneheim was indeed a worthy protector; not only was he rich but was related to the Pâris-Duverneys who could exercise some influence in very high quarters.

Therefore when François disappeared, Monsieur de Tourneheim took charge.

Her daughter, said Madame Poisson, was clearly going to be a beauty, and she wanted the best possible education for her. As for Abel, he was going to be the brother of a celebrated beauty and must not therefore disgrace her with his lack of education.

‘What future do you plan for the child?’ asked Monsieur de Tourneheim amused.

‘The greatest that her beauty and education will bring to her,’ was the prompt answer.

The family moved into the large house which belonged to the farmer-general, the Hôtel de Gesvres; Jeanne-Antoinette was sent to a convent in Poissy, and Abel to a school for gentlefolk.

It was a happy household, for Madame Poisson was genial and good-natured as well as attractive; she was very content with her life, and having all that she wanted she gave herself up to contemplating her daughter’s future. It was after a visit to a fair that those ambitions took a definite turn.

This was a treat which she had promised the children, and Madame Poisson, setting out with one on either arm – her handsome son and her ravishingly lovely daughter – was so proud and happy on that day, particularly when people turned to stare at Jeanne-Antoinette and pass comments on her loveliness.

Jeanne-Antoinette begged to be allowed to visit the fortune-teller and, as she herself was eager to learn what great future awaited the girl, Madame Poisson did not need a great deal of persuading.

The old gipsy caught her breath at the sight of the lovely girl. Her complexion was fair, her skin seeming almost transparent; her eyes were large and alight with intelligence and vitality; she was extremely feminine and even at nine years of age she wore her gown with a grace and dignity which belonged rather to the Court than to a fairground.

‘Sit down, my beauty,’ said the old woman. She looked at the proud mother and added: ‘It is not often that I have the pleasure of looking into such a future as this one’s.’

She studied the small palm, the long tapering fingers, the delicate skin, and she sought to endow this fair young girl with the finest future she could imagine.

Why did she think of the King at that moment? Was it because she had seen him recently riding through Paris? – oh, such a handsome young man. He had been on his way to Notre Dame to give thanks for the birth of the Dauphin.

He had a Queen unworthy of him, it was said, one who looked more like a woman of the people than a Queen. The people said that with such a Queen such a King would have his mistresses, as his great-grandfather had before him.

Then the gipsy spoke: ‘There’ll be a great fortune for you, my pretty one.’ She brought her brown old face close to the dazzlingly fair one. ‘I see your hand in that of a King . . . a great King . . . the greatest of Kings. He is handsome. He loves you, my dear; he loves you dearly . . . and he puts you above all others.’

Madame Poisson doubled the gipsy’s fee. She could scarcely wait to get back to the Hôtel de Gesvres, to tell her lover of the gipsy’s prediction.

Monsieur de Tourneheim was amused, but so great was Madame Poisson’s belief in the gipsy’s prophecy that she thought of little else.

‘She must have the very best possible education now,’ she declared. ‘Only then can she be received at Court. She must be taught to dance and sing . . . everything that a Court lady should know. She must be clever as well as beautiful. How will she keep her place among all those jealous men and women if she is not equipped to do so?’

Monsieur de Tourneheim could not help being carried away by Madame Poisson’s enthusiasm. Jeanne-Antoinette should have the very best education his money could provide.

Madame Poisson was delighted. She would watch her daughter in great contentment.

‘That,’ she would cry, ‘that is
un morceau du roi
!’

Jeanne-Antoinette was not kept in ignorance of the destiny which her mother and Monsieur de Tourneheim planned for her.

From the age of nine she gave herself up to preparations for the part she must play. She learned to dance and sing; she had a delightful voice; she was fond of the theatre and wanted to act. This she did with grace and charm during the little entertainments which were given for friends at the Hôtel de Gesvres.

‘She would be a fine actress,’ declared Madame Poisson, ‘if a greater destiny did not await her.’

She painted with talent and played several musical instruments equally well. She was clearly very gifted and, marvelling at her beauty which became more enchanting every day, Monsieur de Tourneheim began to believe that Madame Poisson’s aspirations for her daughter were not so absurd after all.

Meanwhile Jeanne-Antoinette took every opportunity of seeing the King. There were not many, as Louis refrained as far as possible from appearing in public, but when the girl saw the handsome man in his robes of state she thought him god-like and fell in love with him.

When she was nearing the end of her teens Madame Poisson decided that it was time she married. Who would make a suitable husband for this woman of destiny? A Comte? A Duc? Either was impossible. No Comte or Duc would be allowed to marry a girl whose father had been little more than a tradesman. Madame Poisson was worried. Jeanne-Antoinette could not become the King’s mistress until she was married, and she must have a husband. What a wonderful thing it would be if someone, say from the Orléans or the Condé families, became so enamoured of Jeanne-Antoinette that in spite of family opposition he determined on marrying her!

She turned to her benefactor, Lenormant de Tourneheim, for help.

Monsieur Poisson had returned to Paris; the influential Lenormant had arranged for the charges against him to be quashed, for, said Madame Poisson, now that Jeanne-Antoinette was growing up it would not do for her to have a father who was still under a cloud. François settled in quite happily at the Hôtel de Gesvres, and Madame Poisson was able to keep the two men contented.

Now Monsieur de Tourneheim had a prospective husband for Jeanne-Antoinette. The heir to his fortune was his nephew, Charles-Guillaume Lenormant d’Etioles; this young man should be Jeanne-Antoinette’s bridegroom.

When the young man heard that he was to marry the daughter of François Poisson, the man who had been involved in a grain scandal, he was indignant.

‘I refuse,’ he told his uncle.

‘My boy,’ said Monsieur de Tourneheim, ‘if you do, you forfeit my fortune.’

That was a shock to the young man who hesitated for a while and then ungraciously gave way.

They were married in March of the year 1741. Jeanne-Antoinette, just past twenty, was a beautiful bride and the young man found his excitement and interest in her growing with every minute.

After the wedding night he was deeply in love with her, and Jeanne-Antoinette, who had accepted the marriage as a necessary step on the road to her destiny, was astonished by his passion. However she resigned herself to accepting it.

‘Swear,’ said the young husband on one occasion, ‘that you will always be true to me.’

‘I will be a faithful wife,’ she answered gravely, ‘except, of course, in the case of the King.’

Charles-Guillaume was bewildered, but believing this was some sort of joke, thought no more of it.

Jeanne-Antoinette was discovering that it was very different to be the wife of a rich young man, heir to a great fortune, from being merely the daughter of a rich man’s mistress. Charles-Guillaume was ready and able to give her all she wanted, and she had her chance of displaying those talents which since she was nine years old she had been busily cultivating.

In the Hôtel de Gesvres she set up her
salon
, and here she welcomed the intellectuals of Paris. Writers and musicians flocked to her parties, and always in the centre of these gatherings was the exquisite Jeanne-Antoinette, charming them all with her appearance and her conversation.

Two children were born to her, a girl and a boy; and, although she loved them devotedly, she never lost sight of what she had come to think of as her destiny.

Voltaire, who was a frequent visitor to the gatherings in the Hôtel de Gesvres, was very attracted by her, for she delighted him by discussing his work with great intelligence and by encouraging him to visit her and give that
éclat
to her gathering which, she said, radiated from his genius.

One day she said to him: ‘If it should ever be in my power to help you, you may rely upon me to do so.’

Voltaire kissed her hand and, because she felt that he had not completely understood, she added: ‘I have a presentiment that one day – very soon now – the King is going to fall in love with me.’

‘He would but have to look at you,’ was the answer, ‘– that would suffice.’

She smiled at him. ‘He is surrounded by beautiful and accomplished women, women who have been born to the Court life, and who therefore fit perfectly into Versailles and all it stands for. But I know. Something within me tells me. As for myself I loved him from the moment I saw him. Indeed, I think I began to love him
before
I saw him.’

She could see that the writer did not take this conversation very seriously, and she was amused. One day he will remember, she told herself.

She began to feel a certain disquiet. Time was passing, and if she were going to captivate the King she must not delay too long. Already she was past twenty and the mother of two children.

Then she heard that Louis occasionally hunted in the forest of Sénart, and she remembered the ramshackle old château which was close to the forest and in the possession of the Tourneheim family.

‘Why should we not have a place in the country?’ she demanded. ‘Let us go and inspect that old château.’

So she and Charles-Guillaume went. It could be made into something quite attractive; even Charles-Guillaume agreed to what Jeanne-Antoinette planned with enthusiasm; she herself designed the alterations; the architects and builders were put to work, and very soon she had her château in the country.

Jeanne-Antoinette planned an exquisite wardrobe, and ordered two or three carriages to be made for her – they must be different from other carriages, light and dainty, merely designed to take her for little drives about the château. They were made in colours which suited her – those delicate shades of rose and blue.

Thus it was that she brought herself to the notice of the King when he was hunting in the forest. That might have been the great moment, she believed, but for the fact that the King was already under the spell of that strong-minded woman, Madame de Châteauroux.

The day when the King’s party sheltered in the château during a rain-storm seemed like a heaven-sent opportunity. But again Madame de Châteauroux was there to prevent the long-laid plans coming to fruition; and alas, the King had not been sufficiently aware of his destiny to help matters along by insisting on the beautiful Madame d’Etioles being brought to one of his supper parties.

Worse still, Madame de Châteauroux had begun to suspect that she had a rival in the pretty lady of the forest château, and from then on had made it quite impossible for Jeanne-Antoinette to put herself in the way of the King.

That had been most depressing. But now Madame de Châteauroux was dead.