‘Parlez-vous anglais?’ Elliot asks, hopefully.
‘Oui, a leetle. The director is this way,’ our guide confirms. ‘Your names, please?’
Elliot introduces us and receives a nod of acknowledgement.
Nervously, I smooth down the lapels of my suit jacket and give Elliot the once-over. We both look the part, anyway. Calm and professional – well, at least on the surface.
The man promptly stops to rap his knuckles on a door and, swinging it open, ushers us inside. He approaches a young woman, who rises from her seat in front of a computer desk, but he speaks too fast for me to catch much of what he says. He turns, giving us another quick nod of his head, before exiting and closing the door behind him.
The woman picks up the phone on her desk and speaks for several seconds before replacing the receiver. My French is rather basic, but she mentioned our names and asked if it was convenient to take us through.
‘Please to follow me,’ we are instructed.
On the wall to the rear of the room is a large painted mural of what I assume is a group of courtiers. Both men and women are finely dressed in the most opulent of outfits. Rich, colourful fabrics now slightly muted over time, but the attention to detail and embellishment are incredible. Either side of the door we’re approaching is a stone column with intricate scroll work around the top. Our escort raps twice and as the door opens, we find ourselves entering a rather impressive-looking study.
The portly gentleman behind the enormous solid oak desk rises, extending a hand towards us.
‘Ah, Monsieur Nielson et Madame Winters, welcome. Please sit.’
We shake hands cordially, delighted and a little relieved at such a warm welcome. Settling ourselves down, we wait as a few papers are shuffled on the desk in front of us.
Elliot clears his throat and I hope for his sake it doesn’t turn into a coughing fit. ‘Thank you for seeing us, Monsieur Tibault. It’s an honour to be here.’
Much to my relief he recovers well.
‘We have a few formalities, as you say, to attend to while we await Madame Forand’s arrival. She will be a little late, I’m afraid, but I can sign off the paperwork for your team’s passes ready for her to collect them later today. Unfortunately, I have one or two amendments to make to the schedule that was previously submitted to you, due to changes in our staff rotas.’
He produces a printed draft of the email attachment I sent across yesterday.
‘Of course.’ I pull the file from my backpack and he indicates for me to place it on his desk.
Scrutinising the planner, the amendments are fairly minor, mainly a few dates where the names of the people we will be filming have changed. He explains that the large team of gardeners is comprised of only a small core of permanent staff. A large contingent is hired on a set contract for specific months of the year. In addition, there is a small army of trainees and interns from various programmes and collaborations. It sounds like quite a task to organise the workload and Elliot interjects, adding that we can be very flexible throughout our entire schedule of visits. This seems to go down very well with Monsieur Tibault and it doesn’t take long to run through the changes to everyone’s satisfaction.
There’s a tap on the door and a woman enters.
‘Ah, this is Madame Forand from our marketing and partnerships department. She will be your guide and contact while you are here filming.’
The very petite dark-haired woman immediately steps forward, thrusting out her hand.
‘Please call me Solange,’ she confirms as we shake. Her smile is warm and friendly, and her English is good.
I shake her hand. ‘I’m Lexie,’ I reply, then take a step back.
‘Elliot. Pleased to meet you, Solange.’
Monsieur Tibault stands, signalling the end of our meeting.
‘I think we are done for now and I’m sure you would like to begin your tour. Welcome to the Palace of Versailles.’
‘Have you visited before?’ Solange asks as she escorts us from the building, and we head up towards the main palace gates.
‘Yes,’ Elliot answers. ‘But it’s Lexie’s first time. I was involved in the filming of a series of documentaries here about two years ago. We were following the renovation work on the Queen’s House in the Petit Trianon Park.’
‘Ah, bon, I did not know that! I’ve only been here just over a year myself. It will finally be unveiled on the twelfth of May and we are all very excited about it.’
‘It’s an enormous task, but an important project and at some point, I’d like to get a peek, if that’s at all possible.’
‘Of course. Sadly, I only have an hour free today, but once your work has started, I will arrange for someone to give you the tour. I suspect it will be of much interest to you, Lexie. The first visit to Versailles is always special.’
Her accent is so charming, and I’m delighted at how welcome we’re being made to feel. I nod, giving an appreciative smile. ‘That would be wonderful, Solange, thank you so much.’
‘And what is your first impression, Lexie?’ she asks. I can feel her eyes scrutinising my face with interest as I gaze up at the magnificent structure in front of us.
‘A lot to take in! Lavish, opulent – I wasn’t expecting everything to be quite so… golden,’ I admit. The gilding on and around the gates is even more magnificent up close and prolific – everything seems to glisten as the sunlight bounces around. Louis chose as his emblem a mask set within the rays of the sun. This heavenly body has always been associated with Apollo, the god of peace and arts. Louis saw the analogy as a fitting symbol for his own absolute role – a patron of the arts, a warrior king bringing about peace, and what he perceived as his God-given authority.
She laughs.
‘The dreams of the Sun King were without boundary. The royal gates were torn down during the French Revolution. It took over two years and a hundred thousand gold leaves to make replicas of the eighty metre baroque-style gates. It was completed in 2008. But it is the crowning glory, yes?’
‘Absolutely,’ Elliot replies. I nod my head in complete agreement.
‘We traverse now the Court of Honour and these outbuildings each side were the Ministers’ Wings, originally housing the King’s Secretaries of State. All of the government offices were here, not just the court itself.’
Ah, that accounts for the grandeur of the buildings. Solange inclines her head in the direction of the main gate in front of the palace.
‘The area beyond that is known as the Royal Court, where Louis’ equestrian statue was originally sited, and the other side of that is the inner Marble Court. Notice the distinctive black and white marble tiles adorning the terraced floor.’
‘The attention to detail everywhere is incredible,’ I affirm as I crane my neck to get a better view, given that the crowd in front of us is constantly shifting.
‘We head to the Orangery now. Monsieur Tibault has arranged for some of your interviews to be conducted there. Others will be at Le Potager du Roi, which was the King’s kitchen garden. It is run by the National School of Landscape Architecture and is close by.’ She turns, extending her arm to point in the general direction to the left of us. ‘It has two hundred landscape architecture students and in excess of three hundred continuing education students.’