“Your Majesty is too kind.” Celeste smiled sweetly through her tears. “Indeed, it’s enough reward to be allowed to be close to you. After all, I’m not even of French birth. I’d heard Spaniards were not popular at Versailles, and I never imagined when I came to court that the honor of being near you would be accorded me.”
How did her mother manage to keep the tears misting her eyes? Why did they not spill over and run down her cheeks? Juliette had noticed this many times before and it baffled her.
“I was a foreigner also when I came here as a bride from Austria. Both you and I became French when we married.” Marie Antoinette pressed an affectionate kiss on Celeste’s palm. “It is but one more bond between us. Our court is infinitely richer for your enchanting presence, Celeste. We would have been devastated if you’d chosen to stay in that horrid château in Normandy.”
The two women exchanged a glance of intimateunderstanding before the queen reluctantly released Celeste’s hand.
“And now I think we must do something to dry your daughter’s tears.” She dropped to her knees again, grasped Juliette’s shoulders, staring at her with mock sternness. “I do think such a passionate love for beauty should be rewarded, but your mother is right. A paintbrush should be allowed in the hands of a child only under a careful eye. I shall have my friend, Elizabeth Vigée Le Brun, give you lessons. She’s a splendid artist and very kind as well.”
Juliette gazed at the queen in disbelief. “I may keep my paint?”
“Well, you could hardly create pictures without it. I’ll send you more paints and canvases and I’m sure someday you shall paint many splendid treasures for me.” The queen ruffled Juliette’s curls. “But you must meet one condition.”
Disappointment made Juliette almost ill. It wasn’t going to happen. She should have known the queen was toying with her. Grown-ups seldom told the truth to children. Why should this lady be any different?
“Don’t look so tragic.” Marie Antoinette chuckled. “I ask only that you promise to be my friend.”
Juliette went still. “Your…friend?”
“Is that so impossible a task?”
“No!” Her heart was pounding so hard she could scarcely breathe. Paints, canvas, a friend. It was too much. For a brief moment she felt as if she were soaring up to the high-arched ceiling. Quickly she hurtled back to earth. “You probably won’t want to be my friend for long.”
“Why not?”
“I say things people don’t like.”
“Why do you say things people don’t like when you know they’ll be upset with you?”
“Because it’s stupid to tell lies.” Juliette met the queen’s gaze, and her voice held desperation as she continued. “But I’ll try to be whatever you want me to be. I’ll be so good, I promise.”
“Shh, I have no desire for anything but yourhonesty.” The queen’s voice was suddenly weary. “There’s little enough of that commodity in Versailles.”
“Ah, here’s Marguerite.” Celeste’s voice sounded relieved. But Juliette winced at the sight of the tall, black-gowned figure of Marguerite Duclos, escorted by the handsome man the queen had called Axel.
Celeste took Juliette’s hand. “My dear child must be put to bed. I’m sure your kindness has excited her until it will be impossible for her to sleep. I shall return as quickly as possible, Your Majesty.”
“Do hurry.” Marie Antoinette patted Juliette’s cheek but her gaze was already fixed dreamily on Axel. “I think we shall play a game of backgammon before we retire.”
“An excellent idea.” Celeste pulled Juliette the few paces to where Marguerite waited at a respectful distance from the queen.
Her mother was still angry, Juliette realized. Yet she was so full of joy, she could not worry. Paints, canvas, and a friend!
“You incompetent fool,” Celeste whispered to Marguerite as she released Juliette into the nurse’s custody. “If you cannot raise my daughter to display some semblance of meekness and decorum, I shall send you back to Andorra and find someone who can do so.”
Marguerite’s thin, sallow face flushed in distress. “I do my best. She’s not the sweet girl you were as a child,” she mumbled. “It was those paints. She was like a wild thing when I tried to take them away from her.”
“Well, now you must let her keep them until the queen loses interest in her. If you’d done your duty well, I would not have been put to this embarrassment.”
“The queen didn’t appear angry. I could not—”
“I want no excuses. Punish the child,” Celeste ordered as she whirled on her heel in a fury of violet brocade. “And keep her away from the queen. It’s fortunate Count Fersen was here tonight to put Her Majesty in a felicitous mood. I’ll not have Juliette with her bold ways spoil my chances of becoming the queen’s favorite. I have enough to contend with. That mewling Princess de Lambelle preys on the queen’s sympathy atevery turn.” She paused, glaring at Juliette. “You’re staring at me again. Why do you always stare at me?”
Juliette averted her gaze. She had displeased her mother again. Usually that knowledge brought an aching sense of loss, but tonight the hurt was less. The queen had not found Juliette either ugly or displeasing.
A brilliant smile lit Celeste’s exquisite face as she swept back down the hall toward the queen. “All is well, Your Majesty. How can I thank you for making my little girl so happy?”
Marguerite propelled Juliette forward, her clasp cruelly tight. “Are you satisfied now, you imp from hell? Making your sweet mother unhappy and disturbing the queen of France.”
