“Well, I think you’re pretty. You have exquisite skin and lovely brown eyes. You are such a big girl, Juliette.”
“Almost seven.”
“A great age.” The lady dabbed at Juliette’s lip with the handkerchief. “Your lip is bleeding. Did someone hurt you?”
Juliette looked away. “No, I fell against the door.”
“What door?”
“I…don’t remember.” Juliette had learned a long time before that all bruises and cuts must be explained away in this fashion. Why was the lady so interested in her? In Juliette’s experience, adults accepted any untruth that made them most comfortable.
“Never mind.” The lady held out her arms again. “Won’t you come out from behind the Wind Dancer and let me hold you? I like children. Nothing will happen to you, I promise.”
The lady’s arms were as white and plump and well-formed as those on the statues of the goddesses in the garden, although they were not as beautiful as the golden wings of the Pegasus, Juliette thought. Suddenly, though, she was drawn to those open arms as she had been drawn to the statue the lady had called the Wind Dancer.
She inched out of the shadows.
“That’s right.” The lady drew Juliette into her embrace. The scent of violets, roses, and perfumed powder surrounded Juliette. Her mother sometimes smelled of violets, Juliette thought wistfully. If she closed her eyes, perhaps she could pretend this lady holding her with such tenderness was her mother. She would run away soon but it would do no harm to stay for just another moment.
“What a sweet, shy child you are.”
Juliette knew she was not a sweet child. Marguerite always called her an obstinate spawn of the devil. The lady would find out her mistake soon enough and push Juliette away. If her own mother considered her too wicked to be pleasing, she would not be able to deceive a stranger for any length of time.
A mirrored door next to the statue was thrown open, and a burst of laughter and music entered the gallery along with a woman.
“Your Majesty, we miss your lovely voice in our harmonies.”
Her mother!
Juliette stiffened and burrowed her head in the lady’s powdered shoulder.
“In a moment, Celeste. We have a small problem here.”
“May I help? What pro—Juliette!”
“You know this child?” The lady stood up, still holding Juliette by the hand. “It seems she’s in great distress.”
“Juliette is my daughter.” Celeste de Clement came forward, her exquisitely shaped mouth tight with displeasure. “Forgive her, Your Majesty, she’s not usually so naughty and uncontrolled. I’ll send for her nurse who must be searching the palace for her.”
“I’ll go, Your Majesty.” The handsome man rose to his feet, smiled, bowed. “It’s my pleasure to serve you.” He paused. “Always.”
“Thank you, Count Fersen.” A faint smile on her lips, the lady’s gaze followed him as he turned and strode down the hall. When he vanished from sight she looked again at Juliette. “I think we must find out why she’s so unhappy, Celeste. Why were you hiding, child?”
Your Majesty. This lady was thequeen? Juliette swallowed. “Marguerite said she was going to take away my paints.”
Marie Antoinette looked down at her. “Paints?”
Juliette held out her clay pot. “I have to have my paints. She cannot take them away.” Tears of helplessness and anger began to well in her eyes again. “I won’t let her do it. I’ll run away and hide them where she’ll never find them.”
“Hush.” Her mother’s voice was harsh. “Have you not shamed me enough with your behavior?” She turned to the queen. “My father gave her an artist’s brush and that pot of red paint when we visited him in Andorra and the child does nothing but cover everyscrap of parchment in our apartments with her daubs. I told Marguerite to take them away from her so she wouldn’t disfigure your beautiful walls.”
“I’d never do that.” Juliette looked pleadingly at Marie Antoinette. “I want to paint splendid pictures. I wouldn’t waste my paint on your walls.”
Marie Antoinette burst into laughter. “That relieves me exceedingly.”
“She’s done nothing but wander about the palace, gazing at the paintings and sculptures, since we arrived here at Versailles a fortnight ago.” A veil of tears turned Celeste’s blue-violet eyes moistly brilliant. “I know she’s unruly, but since my dear Henri was taken from me I fear I’ve neglected her supervision. It’s not easy being a woman alone in the world.”
The queen’s expression softened as she looked at Celeste. “I, too, am a woman who knows the trials of being a mother.” She reached out and took Celeste’s hand in both her own and raised it to her cheek. “We’ll have to endeavor to make things easier for you, my dear Celeste.”
