The Moon and the Sun
Page 26“I must, it is true,” Madame said. “For I failed your brother in the matter of his marriage — his father failed him, his uncle the King failed him, and our family is full of mouse droppings!” Madame sighed deeply. “If Chartres had fewer foolish notions, fewer dangerous occupations —”
“Mama, you forget —”
“That Father de la Croix has the same sort of notions? I forget nothing, Liselotte. He can afford his new-fangled ideas.”
Madame sat down. Elderflower clawed his way into her lap; snuffling and sputtering, the evil pug sat its bottom on her velvet skirt and pawed the gauze covering her bosom. Madame petted the creature fondly.
“Everything’s different for a Grandson of France. What His Majesty approves in a Jesuit, he cannot approve for his nephew.”
“Madame, your son loves science,” Marie-Josèphe said. “Forbidding him his studies would cause him infinite distress.”
“And allowing him to continue might cost him his life. The suspicions could drag your brother down as well. And you, you must take care.”
“Suspicions!” Marie-Josèphe shook her head in confusion. “Who could suspect Yves of any base act? Who could suspect Chartres? Madame, he is sweet and good and intelligent —”
“My husband is sweet and good and intelligent as well,” Madame said. “For all his faults, and even for his sins. That kept no one from gossiping that he poisoned Henriette d’Angleterre — or that he should be burned.”
“Nonsense, mama. Everyone who knew the first Madame says she died because she never ate anything. She pined away for love of —”
“Hush, you know nothing of her, you were no more than a glimmer of duty in your father’s eye.”
“And you were still in the Palatinate with Aunt Sophie!”
Madame bent to lean her forehead against Elderflower’s soft golden fur. Youngerflower snuffled around her feet, his nose to the floor, seeking his elder companion without success.
She gazed at Lotte for a long minute. Her rough breath slowed and deepened and she did not cry. Marie-Josèphe’s heart broke for Madame, so far from home.
“I will find you a prince, Liselotte,” Madame said. “My duty is to find him, and your duty will be to marry him. I hope you will not hate me on that day... I hope you will be happier than I.”
“Mama, never worry about my wedding day. You’ll be proud of me, I promise. Oh, what shall we do about your hair?”
“Give me a ribbon to tie it with,” Madame said, glancing critically at Lotte’s headdress. “You have plenty to spare. No one will notice me.”
“Marie-Josèphe, mama needs your help.”
“I can only defer to Odelette, Mademoiselle.”
She drew Odelette forward and held the pins and ribbons while she worked. Lotte joined her, playing the part of hairdresser’s assistant with enthusiasm.
“Mama, please smile,” Lotte said. “You look magnificent. Will you send for some chocolate and cakes to sustain us for the afternoon?”
“I should not smile because my teeth are too ugly and I should not have cakes because I am too fat,” Madame said. “But I will do both, my dear, to please you.”
As Odelette finished dressing Madame’s hair, Monsieur and Chartres and Lorraine arrived, trooping into Madame’s private chamber like a trio of jeweled and bewigged peacocks. As if from nowhere, servants appeared with more pastries, with plates of fruit, with wine.
Moving with her usual stolid energy, Madame rose from her chair to curtsy to her husband. Monsieur formally returned her salute.
“I’ve brought my hairdresser for you, Madame.” Monsieur stroked a curl of his massive black wig and sipped wine from a silver goblet. “Do let him —”
Lorraine and Chartres looked on, drinking wine, critical and amused. Bowing, disappointed, the hairdresser withdrew.
“Have you a new hairdresser?” Monsieur asked. “The arrangement is adequate — more than adequate. With the addition of a ruffle or two —”
“I am far too old for a fontanges. No, thank you, Monsieur. I prefer my hair plain — and so does your brother the King.”
Monsieur and Lorraine exchanged a glance; even Marie-Josèphe knew that the King, in his wilder youth, paid his serious attentions to beauties.
“Who did your hair?” Monsieur asked his daughter. “It’s quite delightful.”
“Mlle de la Croix, Papa,” Lotte said. “I’m so lucky to have her — she might have been trapped at Saint-Cyr forever!”
“Odelette is entirely responsible,” Marie-Josèphe said.
Odelette curtsied shyly. Monsieur felt around in his pockets, came up with nothing but crumbs, unpinned a diamond from his waistcoat, and gave it to Odelette.
“Where is Father de la Croix?” Madame asked. “He promised us a few moments — a story or two of his voyage.”
“He will be here soon, Madame.”
“If he’s late, Mlle de la Croix,” Chartres said, “I’ll be pleased to escort you.”
“You’ll escort your sister,” Madame said severely. “As your wife doesn’t see fit to grace my rooms.”
“Madame Lucifer has better things to do than spend her time with me,” Chartres said. “To my everlasting gratitude.”
“I so want to hear your brother’s adventures,” Madame said. “If I miss them, I’ll wait another decade for any excitement.”
“If you miss a single story, Madame,” Marie-Josèphe said, “he’ll tell them all over again for you. I promise.”
“You are a good child.”
“Mlle de la Croix, I have a present for you.” Chartres limped toward her, his blind eye wandering. Marie-Josèphe always feared he would fall at her feet.
He pulled the stopper from a beautiful little silver bottle and thrust it at her.
“What is it, sir?”
“Perfume — of my own making.” He dropped to one knee before her. Embarrassed, Marie-Josèphe stepped back.
“Do get up, sir, please.”