Finding Emilie (30 page)

“I didn’t like that at all,” Delphine said.

“Why?” Lili put down her notebook, grabbing it to keep it from slipping to the floor as the carriage wheels slid into another rut.

“I hate the rules. They say Anne-Mathilde will marry Ambroise.” Delphine buried her face in Julie’s shoulder. “I really like him, Maman.”

“I can tell,” Julie said, passing her handkerchief to Delphine. “Be careful not to muss my dress with your sniffles, ma petite. This velvet spots so easily.” Delphine gave her nose a dainty blow and roused herself just enough to settle in a limp heap next to her mother.

“And I wouldn’t be so sure about the rules when it comes to what a young man might do in his situation,” Julie went on. “No one has said anything about a formal engagement to Anne-Mathilde—”

“Do you think he might break off with her?” Delphine sat up so straight her back was no longer resting against the seat.

“Break off? I saw no evidence that Ambroise thinks anything is on. But it is a good match, and quite openly talked of, so I imagine the families may be viewing it favorably even if he is not. The Praslin family is not as wealthy as it once was, and though they make gestures like acquiring Vaux-le-Vicomte to make it look otherwise, I’ve heard rumors that their fortune is not terribly secure.”

She took back her handkerchief from Delphine and tucked it in her bodice. “Ambroise’s grandfather was much appreciated by Louis XIV for his discretion as the accoucheur who delivered the king’s seven illegitimate children by Madame de Montespan. He was made a member of the noblesse de robe at that time, and it was only a few years ago that the family received the king’s approval to purchase the château and lands around Étoges, and to use the title of count. So the Clément de Feuillet family will make a leap in status by marrying Ambroise to Anne-Mathilde, and the Duc and Duchesse de Praslin will place a daughter in a family with profitable lands in Champagne and the wealth to support her.” Julie looked at Delphine with an apologetic grimace. “It is a very favorable match.”

“Except that the bride is a dragon,” Lili growled.

Delphine slumped dejectedly against Maman. “I might as well become a nun right now.”

Lili and Maman burst into laughter, but Lili’s face grew serious again almost immediately. “People don’t get what they wish for very often, do they?” she mused.

“If they go through their lives wishing and wishing, probably
not,” Julie replied. “Especially if they hope for unreasonable things. But there’s often more than one good way a situation can work out, and I think people who understand that will be more satisfied than people who don’t.”

She thought for a moment. “When I was young, I used to pray for this and that, but as I saw more of life I realized how badly some of the things I wanted might have turned out, and sometimes the opposite, that a thing I didn’t want had consequences I liked. Now I’ve learned the most important thing to wish for is that I will have the grace and good character to handle whatever comes. And that you and Delphine will also.” She laughed. “And besides, can you imagine how impossible the world would be if everyone’s prayers were granted? There, ma petite, is something for Meadowlark to consider!”

A rut in the road sent Lili bouncing to the other end of the seat, and Maman and Delphine clung to each other to avoid being thrown into the bottom of the coach. “Mon Dieu,” Julie said. “We’re lucky we didn’t lose the wheel. You’d think with all the money to build Versailles they could have made a better road to it.”

Delphine had been lost in her own thoughts. “Maman?” she broke in. “Why didn’t Jacques-Mars marry Joséphine, if it’s true what people are saying about her?”

The mood in the coach darkened again. Julie pressed her lips into a line and looked away. “No parents in their right mind would allow their daughter to marry someone like Jacques-Mars. He cares about nothing but himself, and I imagine he is no more to be trusted with money than he is with women. I’ve heard that Joséphine is one of three girls, in the middle of five children, and her parents hadn’t seemed to pay her much mind until now. Even a little attention would have made them realize Anne-Mathilde felt no real bond with her.”

Julie’s eyes clouded and she seemed not to notice the jostling of the coach. “I pity poor Joséphine,” she finally said. “Obviously she was flattered by the attentions of someone as dashing as Jacques-Mars
and as pretty as Anne-Mathilde, and perhaps she wanted their friendship badly enough to do whatever they asked.”

“Do you think she really did, Maman?” Delphine was sitting up again. “You know—did that—with Jacques-Mars.”

“I think we’ll know soon enough, and Anne-Mathilde seemed too concerned about appearing innocent for me to believe she really is. I think she’s done herself a great deal of harm, especially if gossip about a scheme to ruin Joséphine gets back to the queen. Marie Leszczynska has suffered too much to take it lightly when a young girl is despoiled.”

“I’m sorry about the dauphin,” Delphine added. “And that his little boy doesn’t have a father. Even if he is going to be the King of France someday.” She thought for a moment. “If anyone told me that to become queen I’d have to lose you, I’d tell him to take his crown and throw it in one of his stupid fountains.” She dabbed her eyes and sniffed. “Why does everything have to be so sad?”

“And I pity Marie Leszczynska too,” Julie added. “She’s lost so many of her children. I’d never choose to be queen over the life I have with both of you.” She sat mulling something for a few moments. “Aren’t either of you curious about why Jacques-Mars wasn’t bothering you after Delphine and Madame Sophie’s recital?”

Had it been just yesterday? “He wasn’t at the dance,” Lili suddenly realized.

Delphine scowled. “He was probably off seducing someone.”

Julie smiled. “I doubt it. I saw how he and Anne-Mathilde were watching both of you, and when I saw him coming in your direction, I took him into one of the other rooms for a little tête-à-tête. Shall I say we came away with an understanding that it would be in his best interests not to pursue either of you?”

“Maman!” Delphine covered her mouth so that only her eyes showed above her gloved hand. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him that I was fully prepared to speak to the queen about the rumors regarding Joséphine, and offer what happened last summer—”

Delphine gasped. “In strictest confidence, ma chérie,” Julie went on. “To offer it as evidence of the unsuitability of his presence in her chambers.” She drew up her shoulders. “As I suspected, the ridicule to which he would be exposed at being unable to cross the queen’s threshold was quite sufficient to make him agree he would have no contact with either of you whatsover. I took the fact that he did not appear at the dance to be a sign of “—her mouth turned up in a sly smile—“his sincerity about the matter.”

Delphine slumped in her seat. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Why? I didn’t tell the queen anything.”

“But would you have, Maman?” Lili asked.

Julie cocked her head. “I was quite sure I wouldn’t have to,” she said with a smile. “So I guess the answer is, we’ll never know.”

1766

BY THE TIME
the trees blossomed, Paris had put behind its sadness. The future Louis XVI was installed at Versailles with his mother, Marie-Josèphe of Saxony, and the cafés, theaters, and salons of the city were again bustling with life. Green shoots and blossoms burst out at the Jardin de Roi as well. Since her return from Versailles, Lili had been spending two afternoons a week in the private natural history museum on the ground floor of the Comte de Buffon’s house, replacing with neatly written Latin labels the tattered and yellowing ones in the specimen drawers and cabinets de curiosités.

On days when Julie could not spare the carriage, Jean-Étienne Leclerc came to fetch Lili at Hôtel Bercy. Jean-Étienne cultivated exotic medicinal plants, going back and forth between the greenhouse laboratory and his experimental plots in the garden, and since Lili’s tasks for the time being were mostly in the museum, they saw little of each other after they arrived. The twenty-minute ride to and from the Jardin de Roi was all the time they had to talk, and it was scarcely
enough for a breathless summary of what each had seen and done.

“I don’t think I’m really much use to your uncle, but I’m certainly learning some astounding things,” Lili said to Jean-Étienne as they crossed the Pont de la Tournelle and passed under the arch of the Port Saint Bernard on the way to the garden. “Like shapes of beaks—some longer than the body of the bird, all to be able to get at food.” She laughed. “I don’t suppose I’d want to try to eat a saddle of lamb with the bill of a toucan or hummingbird.”

“It might be rather wonderful to be able to live on nectar from flowers, or—” Jean-Étienne thought for a moment. “I don’t know exactly what toucans eat, but you can be sure they would be most unhappy to have to do it with a knife and fork. But you’re wrong about my uncle. Perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but we’re the best substitutes at hand for some rather disappointing grandchildren.”

Lili smiled. “He is such a kind man. The only thing that seems to rouse his temper is the church.”

“And I agree with him,” Jean-Étienne said as they turned onto Rue Saint-Victor. “It’s quite appalling how instead of saying ‘think harder’ they say ‘pray harder,’ as if keeping one’s hands clasped and eyes closed is what God intended. I think we’re supposed to use the gifts we’ve been given, not show our devotion to the Creator by refusing to do so.”

Lili giggled. “Did they let you get away with those ideas at school?”

“I learned to keep my thoughts to myself after a few priests mistook my backside for my brain and thought a flogging would have a salutary effect on my thinking.” He caught himself. “I’m sorry. The bodily reference was unsuitable for present company. I’m taking courses at the medical college, and prudery is quickly swept away.”

“I’m not offended at all.” A medical student?

“That’s what Uncle and I like about you. You don’t waste our time with demands for attention.” His pleasant expression faded. “Feigning offense at every little thing so we’ll have to stop what we’re doing to placate you.”

Struck by the bitter edge in his tone, Lili cocked her head. “You have to deal with people like that too?”

“Only one.” He thought for a moment. “Well, several really.” He fell silent again. Who is he talking about? Lili wondered, but something about his demeanor suggested that she shouldn’t pry. “The work in the laboratory and museum is important,” Jean-Étienne said, breaking the silence. “We’re trying to understand as much as we can about the world, and leave behind a good record for others to build on.”

“And that’s why you’re studying medicine?”

“Exactly!” The exasperation in Jean-Étienne’s tone had vanished. “There’s nothing people can’t come to understand, and as we do, so much of what makes people suffer can be alleviated. Could there be any better use of a life than that?”

“But you’d have to pay taxes if you worked, wouldn’t you?”

Jean-Étienne looked puzzled. “It seems like a small price to pay for what I’d gain, and it’s only fair after all, isn’t it? I’m quite sure I’d still have enough for a comfortable life, although a modest one compared to some people I know …” His thoughts trailed off again, and Lili saw the bitterness return to his eyes.

But only momentarily. The carriage slowed to a stop in the gravel driveway between Buffon’s mansion and the greenhouses, and Jean-Étienne, as usual, did not wait for the coachman to open the door. He bounded down, his face glowing with the excitement of getting to work. He wants to do something useful with his life, Lili thought, as he helped her down from the carriage. I’ve never heard anyone talk like that before. She gave him a sidelong glance, suddenly interested in fixing every detail about him in her mind. He was quite tall and very thin, with fine, sandy-colored hair and pale skin with a light sprinkling of freckles. He’s rather attractive, but in a healthy rather than a handsome way, she decided. But most of all his heart is kind, and I love every word he says.

*   *   *

DELPHINE HAD SPENT
most of the winter in her own quarters, sighing, and dabbing away tears when she thought of Versailles and the lost opportunities the dauphin’s death had cost her. “It’s bad enough that I barely got to dance,” she said, “but I never got to dance with him at all.”

No one needed to ask whom she meant. The news of Ambroise was all bad. He was still a regular in the theater boxes of the Duc de Praslin, and Delphine had caught an agonizing glimpse of him with Anne-Mathilde on Easter at Notre-Dame. “I will be miserable forever,” Delphine concluded, to which Lili could do no more than offer a heartfelt sigh.

As the sap rose in the trees in the Place Royale, Delphine took the first steps out of her self-imposed lethargy. “I think a new spring cloak and several new hats will go a long way to lift my spirits,” she told Maman, who had hovered over her all winter and was happy to oblige. The new apparel in the end only sent Delphine to her room in tears, at the realization that the only person she wanted to wear them for was probably right at that moment amusing himself with Anne-Mathilde.

“I hate to see you like this,” Lili told her one April afternoon. “The problem is you’re letting other people decide whether you’re going to be happy. I think that’s up to you.”

Am I happy? Lili wondered. She wasn’t sure what she meant. Jean-Étienne’s face came into her mind, how his pupils stood out against their blue-gray color like black dots of ink, and how his almost blond lashes seemed thin when he looked straight at her, but thick and luxurious when the sun caught them in profile. I think at the very least I’m quite content, she decided. I have Maman and Delphine. I have my writing. I have a new friend, who likes the same things I do and has a heart as big as Paris itself.

Still, life could not feel good with Delphine so sad. And now, at Lili’s challenge, something seemed to be quickening in her eyes.

“You’re right,” Delphine said, with a shake of her head. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sick of myself, and I’m going to be happy.” She
stood up and looked around the parlor as if a hidden solution to her distress could be ordered to reveal itself.