Chapter Twelve

Colette was already in her nightgown, lying on her side in the bed, awaiting me when I walked into my bedchamber. I looked to the clock. Only just ten, and she was dressed for bed?

“What are you doing in here?” I asked her, carefully hiding Lucien’s letter under my shawl.

She sat up, crossing her legs beneath her. “So? What happened?”

I walked over to my secrétaire and placed the shawl down on to it casually. I could have jumped from my agitation. I wanted to read that letter!

“Nothing. Our suspicions were correct. He has a new lady he is interested in, but he still wants to be my friend. In fact, he will be here promptly after your music lesson for croquet.”

She slumped down, discouraged. “Oh.”

I frowned and walked over to her. “I am actually quite pleased to be his friend, Colette. After actually speaking to him, we have very little in common, so the attraction is certainly not as strong.” I could have hit myself for such lies! The attraction was not only strong, it was stronger. Though I was unsure of Lucien and my common interests, I knew we shared a similar past. Granted, we hadn’t really been speaking when we had our moments to ourselves.

“Oh. Well, then,” she said, turning as she pushed her hair off her shoulder.

“Why are you ready for bed?” I asked, sitting down on my pink velvet chair by my vanity.

“I was playing sick, remember?” She smiled, though it quickly disappeared. “All for nothing, it seems. Damn. I was so sure he wanted you. I wonder who the woman is. Did you ask?”

“I did, but he wouldn’t tell me. He said it was no one we knew. Perhaps someone at court?”

She lay down on the bed, sprawling herself out as she looked up to the ceiling. “Probably one of the Princesses of the Blood or some twit courtier. A Duchesse or a widow, or something like that.”

I almost wanted to laugh, and my lips pursed together as I held it in as best as I could. I shook my head and cleared my throat.

“So, what of you and Étienne? Or is it Armand?”

She looked at me, her neck craning. “What are you going on about?”

“I am confused as to who your suitor is,” I said, looking down at the light violet of my gown, which had darker embroidery around the neckline and bottom of the petticoat. I often liked the simplicity of the English fashions, though I would always be happy to have a sacque back as well.

“Ha! Well, things with Étienne are going nowhere. And Armand? Why do you go on about him? I have shown nothing but immense dislike toward him from the minute he opened his mouth.” She lifted her leg up, resting her ankle on her other knee, and the skirt of her nightgown slipped down toward her stomach.

I frowned. “Come now, Colette! You and Armand flirt nonstop, and shamelessly so! If things are going nowhere with Étienne, then why not entertain Armand? He is a Vicomte. Think of the delight your parents would have in such a pick, if it came to that.”

“I do not know why you think me such the harlot, Maddy. Like I should have one of those petite maison’s where I meet my various lovers,” she said angrily.

My mouth fell open with shock. “I never said that! I just do not understand why you are constantly denying that you are attracted to Armand!”

“Because I am not!” she snapped, sitting up on the bed. “If you keep going on about it, I am going to really get angry!”

I closed my mouth, looking down at my hands as she got off the bed and walked over to the door to the boudoir. She stopped and turned to me.

“Does it really matter, anyway? He is so infatuated with Rose that I am nearly invisible to him!” Her eyes strained, as if she was trying not to cry.

“He is not interested in Rose,” I said.

“Oh, what do you know? You cannot even steal a kiss!” she snapped as she turned and stormed through the boudoir, slamming the door shut.

I shuddered as it slammed, wincing. Brielle and her ladies entered, looking over the room for broken objects.

“Is everything all right, Mademoiselle?”

“Yes. I think I am ready to make my couchér, now.”

“Would you like a bath?”

“I will take one in the morning.”

I quickly dressed for bed, waiting for Brielle and her ladies to leave the room before I snatched up Lucien’s letter and ran over to my bed, jumping inside and tearing it open.

Monday, 11 of June 1770

Mademoiselle,

I am hoping you are reading this in the safety of privacy, for it is quite lengthy and speaks, at times, about our private matters.

I suppose you could call this a love note—a little letter telling you of how happy I am that you share my feelings and wish to explore them as I do. I do not think you quite understand how happy I really am.

I will start—though, technically this letter has already begun—by painting a picture for you of what I am doing right at this moment. I am sitting at my secrétaire in my office. There are many papers around me, and the gleaming, June sun is coming through the large window before me, soaking into me.

I can tell you, though it should not surprise you, that you are present in my thoughts. You are really all I think about. Too soon for such words?—Perhaps, but I can tell you honestly I wish to be with you. I have not felt this way in a very long time, if ever.

I want this to be easy, but we both know it is going to be extremely hard. I do not know what will come of it, what our future will hold, but I do know that we will face it as best we can.

I believe I wish for its ease for your sake. You are not used to my world, not used to Paris. Though you fit in seamlessly to most, to me, you stand out because of your differences. Mainly that of your beauty. May I go off on a tangent about that?

I noticed you from across the room. In Constanze’s little dining room, you sat on an armchair. Though I don’t remember what color it was, I do remember you were wearing white and a striking, turquoise petticoat. Your one powdered curl sprung down and cast over your shoulder as you looked about, a glass of spring water in your hand.

Now, it wasn’t until I actually approached you that I fully understood how beautiful you were. Though, I was afraid I had frightened you. You seemed so shocked at my presence, but I cast that off to concern for your friend, Colette.

As you know, I sought you out. Standing in the corners of noisy rooms, pining and hoping I could catch just one glimpse of you, and that your beautiful smile would enter the room and catch my attention. We both know that fate had other ideas on that notion. You were few and far between at those events I chose to attend.

It made me a desperate man! I actually asked the Duc, and though he knew the Marquis and was good friends with him, had not thought to invite either him or his child and her friend to attend a performance. Yet, there you were! You attended, and your smile instantly brightened this entire world for me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you for even one moment.

I can honestly say it truly astonished me that you would think anyone else would be in my affections. I do not know what fate has in store, what God has in store. I cannot think of anything like that, because my thoughts are of you and only you.

I can tell you now of my excitement for seeing you this evening, and how badly I wish that we could just do as normal couples do. I will graciously and skillfully think of ways for us to be together on a more regular occasion and appreciate what time we do have.

For now, I must make to my appointments—

Do I still have permission to write you? I wish to write you often.

Adieu.

I have the pleasure to be your most humble servant.

Monsieur B.

I blinked tears away as I smiled, bringing the letter up to my nose and taking in the scent of Lucien, which was on the page. Oh, I loved him. I most certainly was in love with this man. There was no doubt about it in my mind.

How am I to go about it? How swept up would I get into this all?

Perhaps it was the thought of Lucien admiring me, of his thinking I was beautiful. I did care how he felt about me, but I could only assume that was because I cared about him. I wondered if that was really part of love: jealousy and questioning whether or not someone feels the same about you, on the same level, and just as much.

I took a deep breath, placing my hands over my face. My head hurt thinking about it! My chest hurt thinking about Lucien. I felt a deep ache whenever his face flashed before my eyes, his voice lingered in my ears.

I laid back, my body sinking into the pillows around me, and the warmth from the June air blowing in through the window. I had the letter clutched to my chest as I closed my eyes tightly. Lucien’s face flashed before me once again, burned into my thoughts.

* * * *

Lucien sat beside me, to my right, on the sofa in the music room. The loud slap echoed through the room from Armand’s baton hitting the back of Colette’s hand.

“Watch your thumb. I don’t want to tell you, again,” he scolded, pulling the lace out of his cream colored sleeves of his justaucorps. Armand, formal as always, as was expected.

I looked to Lucien, who rolled his eyes and tried to suppress a laugh. All the little diamonds and gems lining the feathery silver embroidery on his dark green, stiff-collared justaucorps picked up the light, glittering. He looked handsome and beautiful, just like always. His pursed smile made my toes wiggle in my slippers.

I then looked to Colette. Her face went red with anger, only a shade or two darker than her gown. She took a big, heated breath in before she straightened her shoulders out and started to tap away at the keys once again.

I had a saucer and cup of tea in my left hand on my lap, my right hand resting on the sofa. The feeling of fingers on my own took my attention away from Colette’s prattle. I looked down to see Lucien’s hand grabbing my own, behind my knee and folds of my light green gown, hiding it from sight.

This is not behaving…

“Would you please! I am not going to sit here and be abused because my finger simply slipped from a key!” Colette called out, and my attention brought back to her. “I do not plan on playing for a grand audience, so why does it God damn matter!”

I winced, shaking my head.

Armand smirked—his usual, devilish smirk—and pointed his finger at her. “You, Mademoiselle, have quite the temper. Why is it that you are taking these lessons? You must play as if you are preparing for greatness, not that you already have achieved it. You have a long way to go before that, Mademoiselle.”

“Oh, Lord,” I said, looking to Lucien and sighing heavily.

“What are you ‘oh Lord-ing’ about, Madeleine,” Colette began, getting up from the bench. “How come you are not sitting here, being assaulted?”

I shook my head. “No, no. Your father has only funded your lessons.”

“Yes,” Armand said, grabbing Colette’s hand. “So sit.”

He pulled her hand down, jerking her whole body down and forcing her to sit back on the bench.

I grimaced as I placed my teacup down, turning toward Lucien. “Shall we go and see if the table is laid out for our game?”

“I’ll come with you—” Colette started.

“No,” Armand grabbed her, stopping her from standing. “We are not leaving here until this piece is perfect.”

Lucien and I stood, making our way hastily to the door as Colette’s painful banging on the keys filled our ears. She was not happy.

I grabbed Lucien’s hand and quickly pulled him into the dining room and ran through to the salon, where I shut the door behind us. I threw my arms around him, his lips pressing against mine and intoxicated me instantly.

“I read your letter,” I panted, my hands grasping his shoulders tightly.

“More than once, I hope.” He smiled, kissing my cheek.

I let my head fall back, closing my eyes. “Possibly a thousand times. I fell asleep reading it.”

He grinned lightly. “Ah, so it bored you?”

I laughed, shaking my head.

“So…” His voice dipped low, my toes curling from his coos. “Do I still have permission to write you?”

Breathing became almost impossible. My face contorted in pain as my heart ached. A twinge of desire built in my thighs, up my loins, and into the pit of my stomach. I never felt something so powerful before, and I was sure that the only one who could rise it out of me was Lucien.

His lips brushed against mine, as light as a feather, and my whole body shook beneath me as my grip on his justaucorps tightened. He pulled away from me, shaking his head. “You are going to be upset with me. I have to leave early today. I was invited for café au lait by one of the courtiers.”

I groaned, my head falling to his shoulder as he stroked my back.

“I know, but I couldn’t say no. They would ask me what I was up to, and it would all over town that I declined an invitation. Then, there would be word about me coming here. They would soon know it was a lady in this household that I was seeing.” He stroked my hair, kissing my forehead gently.

I nodded, sighing. “Yes, I know. Will you be back tomorrow?”

“I will be here as soon as the sun rises, if that is what you wish.”

He got a smile out of me, kissing my forehead once again.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand. “We have to get out there before those two find us.”

“Well, I am sure Armand would not be surprised. It would be Colette who would be in a blind rage,” he said, trailing after me as we made our way out onto the terrace.

“Well, I really do not wish to put that to the test.”

Thankfully, for the next week, we did not face a test of that sort.

Armand was at the manor on Wednesday and Thursday afternoon, each time demanding that Colette stay because she was “not concentrating hard enough.” He demanded that she get the sonata right—no mistakes and no apprehension.

Lucien and I either went up to the parlor or out on the terrace to wait for them.

I did not see anything suspicious about it and certainly did not mind, as Lucien and I were able to have at least half an hour to an hour of privacy for us to do with as we pleased. Such passion. Held in each other’s arms, feverish kisses, hands pulling and groping.

Our clothes were really the only barrier—the only thing stopping us from being found in a more compromising position. The thought of such situations terrified me beyond reason. Not only of Lucien and I being found, but also of Lucien touching me in such a way! My virtue, as of yet, was still intact. I heard stories, and I had an imagination, but I could not even begin to think of what I was to really do in that situation.

Would Lucien laugh? Would he be upset that I was a fumbling novice, a naïve beginner?

I shuddered at the thought of it. I hadn’t been worried about our first kiss, swept up in the moment, but that could also be a factor in making love to Lucien. My face blushed at the thought of it, of making love to such a man. I couldn’t even really think those words without my face going scarlet right to my ears! I also found myself thinking about if Lucien imagined such things, and my face went so scarlet that I began sweating because of it.

Of course he thought about it. Many a times he had pulled away from our passionate entanglements and simply turned away from me. His continence would go deadly serious as he talked himself out of something. What, I never knew. I suppose I never had the strength to ask. I just sat pretty on the sofa, or stood completely still out in the maze, not saying a word.

Within that week, along with the post from my father, I received Lucien’s little love notes, each one getting more romantic and more serious on the subject of our relationship. I had received a total of ten letters from him, and all were locked up in one of my trunks in a little, hidden compartment with a key only I possessed. I was actually sure I was the only one who knew about the compartment as well.

Colette only asked once who the extra letters were from. I was able to use the story Lucien and I had come up with—a friend from the country who I had not seen since we were children, and he wished to correspond. The fact that this person was a man delighted her and even threw her off the scent of the status of Lucien and my relationship, thinking that he was just a lonely person.

Each of his letters said the contrary. He was happy with how things were, though he disliked having to hide away. I wept with each of his words, not only of our situation but how he felt about me. Though, he never dared utter the word “love” or anything of that sort. He spoke of never having felt this way about a woman in his life before, how it confused him.

I, myself, was confused, though I knew for certain that I loved him more than anything or anyone. It got to the point where my father’s letters bored me, and my responses to him were short and quite honestly pointless. My responses to Lucien, on the other hand, were lengthy though careful. I did not want to overstep my bounds and blurt out how in love with him I really was.

I usually received the letter late in the evening from him, reading it over nearly a hundred times before I could pull the strength out of myself to sit at the little secrétaire and write a response. Then, early in the morning with the Marquis’s courier, I would send it along to Lucien, who would usually visit when Armand was there. He was starting to spend time with us more than just on the days he was teaching Colette, which were only supposed to be every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.

It was now Tuesday again, just before nine in the morning, and I was sitting at my vanity and looking at my reflection as Brielle swept a single, powdered curl over my shoulder. Colette suddenly burst through my doors, still in her peignoir, shaking a letter at me.

“Oh, the nerve of that man!”

I looked to her as Brielle put earrings in my ears. “What?”

“Oh, like you do not know whom I speak of!” she yelled, pacing angrily across my floor.

Another note from Armand?

“He is just so…ugh! There are no words for it!” She stomped her feet like a little child. The back of her peignoir billowed out from her as she turned abruptly and paced toward the bed.

Brielle fastened a black ribbon tightly around my neck, making a bow as quickly and shakily as she could. I knew she was frightened of Colette. Who wouldn’t be when she was in such a rage?

“The way he acts. He just…he is so two-faced! I cannot believe him!”

I stood up as Brielle took off my toile, stepping away from me.

I looked at the letter and cleared my throat, the smell of powder still hanging heavily on the humid air. The open window did nothing for ventilation. “What are you going on about? Calm down, take a deep breath, and tell me what is going on.”

Colette stopped in front of me, an unspeakable anger crossing her before she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her arms relaxed to her sides. “Armand has sent me a note.”

“I figured as much.” I knew she had given him permission to write her, but I did not know the extent of the letters. Colette was extremely protective and easily agitated by the subject of Monsieur le Vicomte Armand Durand.

“Well, he just…there are just…Oh, to Hell with it!” She turned and slammed herself down on the bed, crossing her arms tightly.

I turned to Brielle, trying to be as gentle as I could. “Could you please return in five minutes? Mademoiselle needs a moment before she makes her toilette and I to finish my own.”

The maid was all too happy to leave, nodding vigorously. She was almost thankful as she curtsied, turned, and dashed out of the room. The little sacque on the back of her pet-en-l’air—the customary uniform for the help—waved out the doorway with her speed.

I turned to Colette, taking a deep breath as I walked toward her. “All right. What is going on? You have been extremely annoyed with the subject of Armand, so I tend to keep quiet about it, but now is the time for you to tell me what is going on.”

She looked up at me, pouting before she looked down to the letter, which she brought down to her lap, picking at the parchment. “Well, I think it obvious. Armand drives me absolutely mad.”

“I can see that, but to what degree? You get so angry by the mention of his name, but when he is in the room, you flirt nonstop!”

She leapt up. “Because he is not Vachel! He is not truly who I want. I dislike feeling anything for him at all!”

I pointed at her. “Ah, so you do feel something!”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that means anything at all!”

“Yes,” I started, “it does, Colette. So, what? Have you two been wrapped up in each other when Lucien and I are sent away? Has he stolen a kiss, Colette?”

She glared at me, crossing her arms yet again.

“Oh. Silence, hmmm? Well, that is just fine. I can then assume what you have done, which will be far worse than anything you probably have done with him,” I turned away from her, ready to walk over to the door and summon back Brielle.

“Oh, Madeleine. That is all you do—assume! You assume the worst, and your mind goes off on a tangent! It will not further you any!”

She turned away from me, toward the window. She kept her back to me and her arms crossed, like a child.

I crossed my own arms, my mouth scrunching to the side in annoyance.

She turned to me, her head held high. “So what if Armand and I have kissed? It means nothing! A kiss to me is like a handshake. It means absolutely nothing!”

“To some people, it means absolutely everything, Colette. No wonder he is so cross with you!” I countered, stepping forward. “I do not understand why you resist. He is a very good man, talented, handsome—”

“Then, you take him!”

She turned and stomped off into the boudoir, slamming the door shut and making the chandelier above me shake.

Brielle was back in my room moments later, her hands shaking as she removed my peignoir and nightgown and put on my fresh chemise. She was obviously rattled by Colette.

A light pink petticoat was the order for the day. A light yellow overskirt went over top of it, cutting off short around knee length—a pet-en-l’air, much like what Brielle and the other women-servants wore. The smaller sacque back was obviously a cooler.

Feathery silver embroidery was on the bodice in the shapes of flowers, as well as around the tight sleeves that cut off just before my wrists. Delicate, cool lace stuck out from all the edges, and a single bow adorned the neckline.

I decided on the cooler attire due to the stifling heat that only grew over the week, reminding me why I so hated the month of June. What of July, just around the corner, and of August—only a month away? Probably just as hot! Oh, how I wished to run away to the eastern part of the country, away to Lucien’s grandmother’s cabin that they have in the mountains. Lucien used to visit it with his grandfather. It was where he learned to hunt.

I really had to be thankful for Colette and Armand’s presence in the room when I was with Lucien. I truly learned about him, really got to know him, instead of just kissing him and lusting after him.

I sat in the salon, a cool glass of spring water in my hand as I sat back lazily on the chaise longue while awaiting Colette, who did not come down for breakfast. I knew she would make her appearance before Armand arrived.

Her favorite person. I rolled my eyes.

I looked up just as Lucien ran into the room, his hands behind his back.

I smiled, “What—”

“Close your eyes,” he said quickly, trying to hide a smirk.

“What?”

“Close your eyes!” he demanded, smiling like a little devil.

My brow furrowed, but I did as I was asked. I closed my eyes and laughed lightly.

A few moments passed before Lucien’s voice rang out. “All right. Now, you can look.”

I opened my eyes to a pair of large, jewel blue eyes in mine. A fuzzy, snow-white kitten reached out its paws as Lucien held it in front of my face. I smiled with delight as I took it in my hands and held it to my chest. “What an adorable little creature!”

Lucien laughed. “He is from a litter that the King’s favorite cat had. I thought you would like him. Besides, there are enough cats prowling about Versailles. He will not be missed.”

The little animal purred as it tilted its head against me, its paw wagging at my finger. “I have heard about the King’s affections for cats. I suppose that does not favor well with the courtiers love of dogs.”

“It is an awful racket. Constant barking, hissing, and the smell. Ugh!” He sighed, turning and sitting beside me as he covered his eyes with his hand.

I pouted lightly as I snuggled the little kitten into me, scooting closer to him, and turning toward him.

He looked at me, pointing to the kitten as it pounced on my lap and up to the bow on my bodice. “Do you like him?”

I nodded. “Of course.” I smiled at the little creature as it looked about the room, its attention elsewhere. “You do not like Versailles, do you?”

He sighed, looking me over. “Sometimes I do. We have one of the apartments, one of the better ones there—a pied à terre—for when we go to a ball or soiree of some sort, such as a private showing of an opera or a debut. Since my grandmother has fallen ill, she cannot visit as she wishes. I am obligated to go whenever they wish me, being one of the King’s as well as the Dauphin’s favorites. I wish I could take you there, though Versailles is worse than Paris. There is a pair of eyes and ears on you at all times. An abode of treachery and hatred fuelled by personal interest.”

“Oh,” I said, looking down to the kitten. He blinked tiredly, seemingly spent from his few moments of playing.

“What shall we name him?” Lucien smiled, taking his mind elsewhere.

“I don’t know. What are the favored names at court?” I looked at him, noticing how tired he looked. How long had been up for? Was he up at dawn for hunting? Is that how he was able to get the little kitten? Of course, all I wanted to do was kiss him and possibly doze off in his arms, but that was not something we had the liberty of.

“Oh, God. Stupid names. How about…Toulouse?”

The kitten looked up to Lucien, seeming to recognize the name.

Lucien laughed. “Well, I think we have a winner. You really like him?”

I smiled and leaned forward, kissing him softly and quickly before I picked the kitten up and turned him toward me. “I adore him. Colette will adore him as well.”

“Colette will adore who as well?” Colette asked, shining in a yellow frock quite the same as my own. Her eyes went to the little kitten, a smile bursting on her face. “Oh, how darling!”

She ran forward and sat beside me, grabbing the kitten out of my hands. A big smile spread across her face.

I couldn’t help but smile as well, sighing as she cooed to the little creature. He obviously was none the wiser of being ripped from my hands and quite enjoyed the attention he was getting.

“His name is Toulouse. Lucien brought him for me. The King’s cat had a litter,” I explained, looking to Lucien for only a moment before I looked back to her.

She looked up at me. “He is positively adorable! Aren’t you, Monsieur?”

I expected some off-hand comment from her about it being a royal cat, but instead, she petted and baby talked to it. She laughed as it bounced about, trying to attack the bows on her bodice.

One of the servants came to the door of the salon and stood next to Armand in his usual cream suit with gold braid frogging, holding his black tricorne hat in his hand.

“Monsieur le Vicomte Armand Durand.”

Colette looked to him, still smiling. If possible, she smiled larger at the sight of him, holding the kitten up to him. “Look! Look what Lucien brought for Maddy.”

Armand looked the kitten over, nodding. “Yes, that’s nice. Are you ready for your lesson?”

I noticed as I glanced into Armand’s piercing, blue eyes that something swirled behind them. It was similar to the look Lucien got whenever we were alone, whenever we had a moment to fall into each other. As soon as I recognized it, I almost gasped. The lusty stare he had for Colette sent my mind into a frenzy, assuming what he really wanted with her.

Was that not what Colette complained about so often? All the men who often chased after her only wanted her for her body or her father’s purse. It never made sense to me, because the more she complained, the more seductive she made herself around these men. Especially in the past month since Vachel and his doings. Of course, it was all something she refused to speak about. It seemed Armand and Vachel were in the same area.

Colette turned, reluctantly handing me the kitten and standing up. She gracefully swayed her way over to Armand and led him out through the dining room.

I looked down at Toulouse as he leaned against me. His eyes slowly closed as he fell sleep.