“One of my stepsisters, Alexandre, raves constantly about how beautiful the Hall of Mirrors is,” I said brightly, as if I’d never brought up Papa. “But I never thought it would—”
“Françoise!” called an older woman in a precariously placed fontange and a cream-colored dress embroidered with cherry blossoms. She practically shoved me to the side in her excitement to talk to my godmother.
“Adalene! You just pushed my goddaughter.” Lady Françoise glanced at me apologetically. I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. It didn’t bother me. I was more concerned with whether or not Lady Adalene’s bobbling fontange would topple right off her head. Considering the way she was vibrating in place with excitement, setting the fontange to swaying, it seemed a real possibility.
“You’re late! You missed the king’s announcement,” Lady Adalene said, ignoring me entirely.
“What did he say that was so important you had to dispense with all social graces to come and tell me about it?”
If Lady Adalene picked up on the sarcasm, she didn’t react, her smile remaining firmly in place as she soldiered on with her gossip. “The rumors about Prince Louis finding a wife at the celebrations were correct! The king announced that the dauphin will be picking twenty-five girls tonight to court. By the end of the season, one girl will be chosen to become his bride! Isn’t it exciting?”
Lady Françoise opened her mouth to speak, but Lady Adalene cut her off. “I need you to come speak with my daughter. You remember Margot, don’t you? She’s grown up to be such a lovely girl. I’m sure she’ll be one of the girls chosen tonight.”
“Why do you need me to speak to Margot?”
Lady Adalene leaned forward and whispered loudly, “You know the king better than most, what he likes, what he disapproves of. He will surely be helping his son choose from amongst the girls. I’m aware that it’s been a number of years since your liaison, and that Madame de Maintenon knows the king best now, but I don’t know her. I know you.”
“What are you saying, Adalene?”
The other woman didn’t seem to notice Lady Françoise’s face fall when she brought up her former relationship with the king, but I did. Should I intervene? Would the indomitable woman even listen to me, or would she simply brush me off again like a pesky insect?
“I want you to help prepare my Margot for a possible future relationship with the dauphin. Tell her what it’s like to be so intimately acquainted with royalty. I’ve only ever spoken a handful of words to the king, and that was years ago. I wouldn’t even know where to start. But you do.”
“I really don’t think that would be appropriate,” Lady Françoise said, but Lady Adalene grabbed her hands and started pulling her back into the crowd of courtiers.
“We’ll only take a few minutes of your time. Please, Françoise. I won’t take no for an answer.”
I wanted to laugh at the look of surprise on Lady Françoise’s face. I’d never seen her so flustered before.
“I suppose it will do me good to sit down—I am a bit tired. Would you like to come with us?” Lady Françoise asked.
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
Lady Adalene led her away. “Enjoy yourself while I’m gone. Maybe find a nice young gentleman to dance with,” she teased.
I smiled and waved her off. There would be no nice young gentlemen for me tonight. I wanted to enjoy the atmosphere and watch the proceedings, not participate.
Within seconds, Lady Françoise disappeared into the throng, and I was all alone in the midst of the ball.
Placed along each mirror were three little silver stools where people could sit. Many were already occupied, but I managed to swoop in and take one that opened up after a very intoxicated nobleman awoke from his nap and stumbled off into the crowd.
It was quite the chore to sit down in a dress with such large skirts. I had to position myself so the skirts remained under me without riding up or subsuming the stool entirely, making for an embarrassing scenario when I needed to stand, and also making sure that the delicate satin didn’t wrinkle too badly.
I had a wonderful view of the dancing from my stool, one that was relatively unobstructed by roving courtiers. The current dance was a rigaudon, which brought back certain memories of Auguste, who didn’t seem to be anywhere. He was also the king’s son, after all, and royalty tended to appear at balls. No. I wasn’t going to muse on things that would make me melancholy. I was going to focus on the dancing in front of me. It was exciting to watch. I enjoyed listening to the dancers’ shoes clacking reassuringly against the parquet floor. If I could have spent the rest of the night sitting and watching the dancing, I would have been satisfied.
The dim lighting in the hall was making me feel a little sleepy, even amongst all the noise of the revelry. One effect of the many mirrors was that the light from the crystal chandeliers and candelabras reflected in the mirrors to create a warm golden glow. That glow felt heavy and tangible on my skin, as if I could take it in my hands and wrap it around me like a cape.
Outside, where night pressed against the windowpanes, I was an orphan girl living with a stepmother who hated me. Inside the Hall of Mirrors, I was a mysterious noblewoman in a shimmering sapphire dress who belonged with these glamorous people. It was all so much like a dream, a magical, pleasant dream from which I didn’t want to wake.
My eyes lazily drifted up to the ceiling, which was painted in a similar style to the ceilings of the state apartments, deep, rich colors bringing to life angels floating through the heavens and men in fine armor.
“Are you admiring the paintings? They are impressive, aren’t they?”
I nearly fell off my stool. The voice, startlingly close to my ear, pulled me roughly from my daze like a child dragged from the warmth of their bed in the early morning. I turned to see a boy where there had been none a moment ago, sitting on the stool next to me. He had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a crooked smile on his face as he looked at me far too intently for my liking.
“Charles Le Brun, one of the greatest painters in France, created them. They depict some of the many successes of my father’s reign.”
“Your father?” I said slowly, the boy’s smile growing as he saw the realization of who he was cross my face.
I stood up as gracefully as I could while still making sure that my skirts were in the right place, spun around and dipped into a low curtsy in front of none other than the Grand Dauphin of France, Louis.
“Monseigneur le Dauphin, I apologize for not recognizing you sooner. I am . . . new to court.”
The prince stood up. He was tall and broad-shouldered, so tall that I had to crane my neck to look up at him. So, this was the awful boy from the Orangerie, all grown up. He was certainly handsome in his burgundy justaucorps with gold braiding and buttons, paired with matching breeches, dark stockings, and a lacy cravat with a black satin ribbon at the throat. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that made them hard to look away from. It was difficult to believe that this was the same spoiled child who made fun of me for being friends with Elodie and Marius and needed his brother to stop him from throwing a tantrum after I told him off. He cut quite the regal, poised figure now. Hopefully, his manners had improved along with his looks.