Glass
Beauty begins the moment you decide to be yourself.
—Coco Chanel
Chapter Nineteen
“Shall we go into the ball now?” Lady Françoise asked, her hand resting on my shoulder. “If you want, I’ll stay with you the entire time. I promise.” Her voice was scratchy and weak, and I worried for her health once more, but when I mentioned it, she dismissed it with a wave of her fan. “Oh, I’m all right, I have the heart of a bull,” she said, laughing, and I felt assuaged.
Lady Françoise and I were huddled in a corner of the Salon of War, watching the crowds of lavishly dressed nobles wander in and out of the doorway leading into the Hall of Mirrors, where the ball was being held. My confidence had remained strong during the carriage ride to the palace, but as soon as we entered the state apartments and joined the massive procession of people making their way through the palace, I started to panic at the very real possibility that my stepmother would notice me and have me thrown out of the party.
I’d thought the ball Elodie, Marius, and I snuck into had been crowded, but this was so much worse. The heat from all the bodies pressed together and the overpowering smell of perfume and musk nearly smothered me. When we finally made it to the Salon of War, I had to drag Lady Françoise out of the procession and into the corner so I could breathe without so many people close by, and attempt to calm my racing heartbeat. I don’t know what I thought the ball was going to be like. People from all over France were attending. Of course the crowds would be enormous.
“Cendrillon, you do not have to worry,” said Lady Françoise as she rubbed my back soothingly. “I know there are a lot of people here, but it won’t feel so crowded once we get inside the Hall of Mirrors. It’s such a large gallery, you’ll hardly even notice.”
She was right. I was being foolish. After everything I went through tonight to get here, was I really going to throw it all away because of a fear of running into Lady Catherine? That would be ridiculous. So what if I ran into her? There was nothing she could do to me here, in front of all these people. And as soon as we picked up Elodie after the ball, I would never have to set foot in that château again. I took one last deep breath of relatively fresh air and turned to Lady Françoise with what I hoped was a reassuring smile on my face.
“Let’s go in. If we wait any longer, I’ll lose my nerve entirely. I’m ready now.”
The skeptical look on Lady Françoise’s face made me assume that my smile wasn’t particularly reassuring, but she still took my arm and led me out of our corner. We slipped back into the procession behind two giggling girls not much older than me, their arms linked and heads pressed together, so consumed with their conversation that they barely looked up at their surroundings.
“You’re going to have so much fun tonight,” Lady Françoise whispered as we approached the archway leading into the Hall of Mirrors. “I still remember my first ball. It was a magical night.”
I nodded distractedly, too absorbed with making sure my sweaty palms didn’t leave stains on my godmother’s lovely dress. That would be disastrous. I crossed my fingers behind my fan as we made our way through the archway into the Hall of Mirrors.
The gallery was dazzlingly beautiful. It ran the length of the central block of the palace, stretching so far ahead of me, I had to squint to see the other side. I stood still in the entranceway, enchanted by the splendor. It was crowded, to be sure. Courtiers were standing shoulder to shoulder in tight clusters, talking and laughing so loudly, it was hard to hear the music over their chatter, but the length of the hall and the impressive height of the soaring ceilings made it feel larger than it really was. So consumed was I with gawping like a child that I didn’t notice I was blocking the people behind me from coming in.
“Let’s go this way,” said Lady Françoise, taking my arm again and pulling us farther into the hall.
To our right, massive windows that reached nearly to the ceiling ran along the entire length of the gallery, and within each window embrasure were tiered seats packed with even more courtiers. Some sat with glasses in hand, chatting with their neighbors, while others turned to look out through the windows at the gardens beyond. It was dark enough that they couldn’t have been able to see much. Some people even stood on the seating, their backs pressed against the windows or those sitting behind them, gazing at the crowds with much the same look of awe on their faces as I assumed was on mine.
Directly across from each window, ensconced in their very own arches, were the massive mirrors that gave the hall its name. Each mirror, made up of many smaller panels, stretched up nearly to the ceiling, pairing perfectly with the windows on the opposite wall. On either side of the mirrors and windows were mottled-red-marble pilasters topped with gilded capitals. If I looked hard enough, I could just make out what was carved into the capitals: a sun atop a fleur-de-lis, between two Gallic roosters. All three were symbols that represented France. Really, everything about the Hall of Mirrors represented the glory and power of France and its king.
The king himself sat on his throne on a dais at the other end of the gallery, raised high enough that he could comfortably survey the entirety of the hall and all his assembled subjects. Arrayed behind him on the dais were men whom I assumed were his advisors, or perhaps favored courtiers. I strained to see if I could find Auguste anywhere.
I grabbed Lady Françoise’s hand and pulled her with me as I wove through the crowd. It wasn’t as difficult as I’d feared; many of the men even bowed to me, while the women looked appreciatively at my dress. All the nobles seemed to be in a wonderful mood. Maybe it was excitement at the prospect of a royal marriage. Maybe it was the flowing wine. Either way, we made quick work of getting to the other side of the hall.
The mirror I chose to examine was very near the dancers. While both ends of the narrow Hall of Mirrors were occupied with mingling courtiers, the very center of the gallery was reserved for dancing. I could see them in the mirror behind my own reflection, face flushed and eyes wide, a rainbow’s assortment of colors twirling in the background. The dancers moved so quickly that their forms blended in the mirror to become an indistinguishable blur in the dim lighting. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight.
“What do you think?” Lady Françoise asked, standing by my side to gaze into the mirror with me.
“It’s wonderful! So much grander than I imagined. I just wish Papa could be here with us.”
Grief for Papa always slunk back in, no matter how hard I tried to push it away. He should have been here with us, twirling Lady Françoise around the dance floor or competing with me to see who could eat the most candied orange slices.
“I know. I wish he were as well.” Lady Françoise’s words were barely more than a whisper. Sadness was etched deeply on her face. I shouldn’t have said anything. This wasn’t supposed to be a sad night. We both deserved to have a little fun.