Last week we’d spent three hours talking about the etiquette of seating in the presence of the royal family. Only the king and the queen are permitted to sit in armchairs, and only members of the royal family can sit in chairs with backrests, but only on certain occasions. Everyone else allowed to sit could only do so on little stools. There were entire procedures about who could sit and when based on rank. In the presence of the king, only members of the royal family, duchesses, and princesses of the blood were allowed seats on stools. Everyone else had to stand. The further down in rank the royal family member was, the more the rules changed for them.
I couldn’t keep any of it straight. The one thing I knew was that since I was neither a princesse nor a duchesse, I would always be standing in the presence of royalty.
Courtiers at Versailles were obsessed with etiquette. They immersed themselves in it because breaking the rules could lead to scandal. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes when Lady Celia mentioned that, when the king wasn’t in attendance at Versailles, his royal portrait represented him, and we must bow or curtsy to it as we did to him.
Papa was never one for overly strict rules or enforcing etiquette at home, and Lady Françoise never mentioned anything like this when she spoke of Versailles. They were both very easy and familiar with each other when she visited us, dining together and walking arm in arm around the grounds, which wasn’t done at Versailles especially by unmarried couples. Coming from such a home, I was having a difficult time adjusting to such strict regulation of time and behavior. It might’ve been easier had I someone to commiserate with.
Lady Celia’s gaze fell on me as, at last, she asked her question: “When attending the king’s public suppers, what must one do when faced with the king’s dishes?”
I was about to admit that I was unable to answer the question when there was a commotion at the door. All eyes were drawn to the front of the room as a boy with dark hair and bright green eyes walked in and approached Lady Celia. It was the kind boy from the gardens, the brother of the arrogant boy.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice me tucked away in the corner. Having Severine and Alexandre here was already bad enough. They certainly noticed him, though, immediately pressing their heads together and whispering.
“Oh! Welcome, Your—” Lady Celia said, pausing at a strange look from the boy. “Welcome, Auguste! What brings you to our lovely little corner of Grand Commons today?”
The boy leaned in toward Lady Celia and handed her a letter bound in red ribbon, his whispered words too faint to make out. While Lady Celia read the letter, the boy’s eyes darted around at all the curious faces staring back at him. I scooted farther down in my seat and tried to hide behind my fan, but it wasn’t enough. Our gazes met, and he gave me a little crooked smile. It was so unexpected, I almost dropped the fan.
“Well, Auguste, you can tell Madame de Maintenon that I would be more than happy to arrange private lessons for you. These lessons are for the young ladies of the court. I should be able to arrange something for you tomorrow, but you can stay for today. As long as you don’t tell anyone,” Lady Celia said with a pointed look at him.
He nodded quickly, and Lady Celia continued. “There’s no point in making you walk all the way back to the palace and miss out on valuable knowledge. Besides, I’m sure you won’t mind spending time with the ladies. There’s a chair for you in the back next to Cendrillon. Please take a seat and we’ll continue.”
Auguste picked his way carefully through the press of chairs and sat down beside me. Lady Celia went on with the lesson, forgetting entirely that she’d asked me to answer a question. Small blessings. I returned to staring out the window at the gardens, hoping Auguste wouldn’t try to talk to me.
Though I tried to focus on the lord outside trying very hard to prevent himself from being thrown off his horse, I could feel Auguste’s eyes on me.
“I’m truly sorry about my brother’s behavior a few weeks ago,” Auguste whispered. “He was terribly rude to you and your friends. Please accept my humblest apologies.”
I tore my eyes away from the window to face him, relieved that at least there were no hard feelings from his end. When I looked at him, Auguste offered me a small, slightly nervous smile and glanced down, his cheeks pink.
“You have nothing to apologize for. You weren’t the one being rude.”
“I should have stepped in sooner. I know what my brother is like better than nearly anyone.”
“Well, thank you for the apology. I accept. But I do realize that you can’t control your brother and your friends,” I said, nodding at Severine and Alexandre.
Auguste grimaced at the word friends. “I only met them for the first time that day, and I haven’t seen them since. They were not very happy that I called them rude.”
Auguste glanced at the girls, who promptly spun around and pretended that they hadn’t been staring.
“You and me both. They haven’t talked to me once since I joined the lessons a few weeks ago and—”
“Lord and ladies, please pay attention. There is far too much whispering going on,” Lady Celia said, scanning the room.
I would’ve felt guiltier if we were the only ones whispering, but we weren’t. In addition to Severine and Alexandre, whispers had cropped up throughout the room. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one growing bored with the lessons. When all the whispering quieted down, Lady Celia resumed her pacing.
“Where was I? Oh, yes, the king’s public suppers. If you are attending one of the king’s suppers, you must bow or curtsy when the royal procession brings the dishes into the antechamber. If you aren’t attending but happen to run into the procession elsewhere in the palace as it makes its way to the king, you must still bow or curtsy, as it is another representation of the king.”
I sighed more loudly than I would have liked and quickly glanced around to see if anyone heard. Lady Celia continued talking, but Auguste was looking at me and smiling. Of course he had heard.
Auguste whispered, “It is a bit silly, isn’t it? Bowing to the king’s supper?”
“Just a tiny bit,” I replied with a raise of an eyebrow.
“Okay, quite a bit silly,” he said, laughing. “The king loves pomp and ceremony above all else. It’s difficult to master all the rules, clearly. I find it’s best just to go along with them while silently bemoaning their absurdity. Or making fun of them with someone who understands.”
I smiled at Auguste. Maybe I wasn’t so alone in my opinions as I feared.
Chapter Five
My shoes clacked loudly on the wooden floors, the sound echoing off the empty walls of the classroom. The rigaudon was a beautiful dance to watch, with graceful, energetic dancers leaping up into the air in a complex twist of quick steps. But that was the problem. Those complicated steps. I couldn’t master them, no matter how much I practiced. And I’d been practicing for the last hour, and an hour before during the last lesson. As I stumbled and nearly fell for the twentieth time in a row, I started to realize that the rigaudon may not be the dance for me.