AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Those boys.” Madame shook her head with disapproval. “They’ll lame their ponies, galloping about on stone. And Berri is too bold for his own good.”
Monsieur rode toward them, flanked by Lorraine and Chartres. Marie-Josèphe looked wildly for a place to flee from Monsieur’s friend and Monsieur’s son.
Chartres favored her with his wild-eyed grin as if he had not offended her, as if she had never taken him to task. Monsieur gave her a strangely pitying glance, touched Lorraine’s arm, and bent toward him to whisper. She wondered why they always whispered.
Chartres, Marie-Josèphe thought, I can manage, but I wish I could avoid M. de Lorraine.
“My wild island maiden!” Lorraine said.
“I am not your maiden, sir,” Marie-Josèphe said coldly, “and your jest does not amuse me.”
Lorraine chuckled. “I will change your mind.”
“Her mind is made up, sir,” Monsieur said with unusual sharpness.
Suddenly the young princes pulled their ponies to a halt. They took off their hats. All the courtiers quickly joined them, lining up on either side of the Gate of Honor. Marie-Josèphe found herself with Madame on her right, a solid presence, and Chartres on her left, unpredictable. Chartres and Monsieur separated her from Lorraine.
She calmed herself. Chartres cannot insult me, Lorraine cannot abuse me, she thought, surely not, not in front of so many people, in front of Madame and Monsieur.
Her fondness for Monsieur and Madame increased with her gratitude. She felt safe with them. She wondered again what Maine had meant by his slander upon Monsieur; she wondered if he had meant his comment as a threat to his uncle, to his sister Madame Lucifer’s father-in-law.
His Majesty’s open hunting caleche drove through the gilded gate, drawn by four spotted Chinese horses with two postillion riders. Innocent sat beside the King on the gold-embroidered cushions; Mme de Maintenon and Yves faced them. His Majesty faced forward, Yves backward. Gun-bearers, houndsmen, and bodyguards followed.
As His Majesty passed, nodding to his court, the riders all saluted him and the men doffed their hats. Marie-Josèphe bowed as best she could riding sidesaddle. She suppressed a giggle, wishing she knew how to make Zachi bow. Perhaps Count Lucien would show her.
Count Lucien, polished, elegant, mounted on Zelis, rode at His Majesty’s shoulder. Zachi flared her nostrils at the sight of her stablemate Zelis, and Zelis pricked her ears and snorted, but both mares were too well-mannered to whinny. Marie-Josèphe bowed to the King, and then to Count Lucien, shy after all that had happened. He tipped his hat politely.
A sharp pinch stabbed the upper curve of Marie-Josèphe’s bottom. She gasped, stifling an outcry. She slapped the spot, hoping to kill or drive off the horsefly before it bit her again, or bit Zachi.
Her palm smacked not a horsefly, but fingers.
Chartres withdrew his hand, smiling at her, laughing silently at her shocked expression. He put his stung fingers to his mouth, sucking them, then kissing the spot she had slapped. She glared at him; she backed Zachi a few steps so she would be behind him. She carried no whip; a whip would be an insult to the horse she rode. No doubt it was for the best, for it would be a terrible scandal if she struck the King’s nephew with a riding crop.
To Marie-Josèphe’s relief, Chartres wheeled about and followed Monsieur and Lorraine in His Majesty’s wake.
“Did you see?” Madame said. “Did you notice?”
“What, Madame?” Marie-Josèphe exclaimed, equally afraid that Madame had observed her son’s behavior, and fearing she would believe Marie-Josèphe invited it.
“His Majesty. His perruke.”
“It’s very beautiful,” Marie-Josèphe said.
“It’s brown!” Madame exclaimed.
“Brown?”
“Brown! Dark brown, to be sure, but brown nevertheless, lighter, ever so much lighter than he’s been accustomed to wear for so many years.”
Madame joined the riders following the King; Marie-Josèphe rode after her, baffled by Madame’s joy.
“Do you think, Mlle de la Croix, that his coat is rather gold-colored, than brown?”
“I suppose, Madame, that one might call it dark gold.”
“I thought so!”
Ahead of Madame, courtiers jostled for position, gradually supplanting the musketeers protecting the King and the Swiss Guards watching over Pope Innocent. No one succeeded in supplanting Count Lucien, at His Majesty’s right, for he was too watchful and Zelis too bold. Monsieur and Lorraine took over the place next to Yves, on the left of His Majesty’s caleche.
“Mlle de la Croix,” Madame said softly, “forgive me if I intrude, but I’m somewhat responsible for your place at court...”
“I’m very grateful for your protection, Madame.”
“I believed you were fond of M. de Lorraine.”
“I believed so, too, Madame.”
“It would be a good match.”
“It will never be a match.”
“Have you quarrelled?”
“No, Madame.”
“And yet —”
“He revealed his true nature to me, Madame —”
“He told you — ?” Madame’s voice rose.
“I asked him — I begged him — not to let Dr. Fagon bleed me. Yet he held me for the lancet — and he smiled when I cried.”
“Oh, my dear...”
“Count Lucien would never have behaved in such a base way.” Marie-Josèphe blinked back tears, not wanting to cry in front of Madame, not wanting to spoil the beautiful day with tears and horrible memories. “Lorraine pretended to be my friend, Madame, but... he is pitiless.”
Madame squeezed Marie-Josèphe’s hand. “I hoped, with His Majesty’s influence, your goodness, he might — ah, never mind. I am sorry for myself, but glad for you.”
Marie-Josèphe kissed Madame’s hand. Madame smiled, but tears filled her eyes. She glanced toward her husband and Lorraine.
“I wish he would love someone worthy of him,” she said softly.
“Lorraine?” Marie-Josèphe exclaimed, shocked that Madame would insult her so bluntly.
“Not Lorraine!” Madame said. “Lorraine is a fool not to honor your regard.” She sighed. “Not Lorraine. Monsieur. My husband.”
“But, Madame! You’re worthy of him — you’re worthy of anyone.”
“Dear child,” Madame said. “Dear child. You’re as sweet as your mother was, no wonder the King loves you.”
