Finding Emilie (31 page)

Lili could see Delphine’s resolve immediately begin to crumble. “Come with me to the Jardin de Roi,” she implored, clasping Delphine’s hands in her own. “It will be so good for you to have something to do. And I know the Comte de Buffon could use you. He never has enough time to sketch all his specimens himself, and Jean-Étienne and I are not half as good as you would be at that.”

“Jean-Étienne?” Delphine said with a sly arch of her brow. “A little familiar, non?”

Lili blushed. “Monsieur Leclerc.”

“Monsieur Leclerc!” Delphine sang in a lilting voice as she tugged on one of Lili’s curls. “Bonjour, Monsieur Leclerc,” she said in her most flirtatious tone as she danced away.

Lili’s temper rose at Delphine’s mockery, but it felt so good to see her smile and laugh that she kept her annoyance to herself.

“And is this Jean-Étienne handsome? Unmarried?” Delphine asked. “Hmmm?”

“Delphine!” Lili felt her face grow hot. “He’s—” What is he? “He’s more like a brother than a man!” she said, regretting immediately how foolish that sounded.

Delphine laughed. “Brothers are men, you silly girl!”

Lili sighed. “I know, but that’s how it feels.” It wasn’t entirely true, but she wasn’t going to give Delphine any additional fodder.

“All right. I won’t ask any more questions,” Delphine said. “You invited me, and I will simply have to go see this Jean-Étienne Leclerc for myself.”

WITHIN A WEEK
, Julie had arranged with the Comte de Buffon for her daughter to make a visit to the Jardin de Roi to sketch. “I think I’ll wear my green dress,” Delphine said at supper the night before. “The one with the skirt the same color as the embroidery on the sleeves. It should look quite nice with all those plants.”

“You can’t wear panniers,” Julie said. “One of your dresses for receiving guests at home will be fine.”

“No panniers?” Delphine pouted. “Even though the count’s an old man, that doesn’t mean he won’t appreciate a pretty girl.”

“He’ll appreciate a pretty girl who doesn’t knock things over and break them with her skirts,” Lili said.

“But I’m meeting your intended!”

“He’s not my intended,” Lili snapped, “and I’m staying home if you’re going to embarrass me!” Lili gave Julie a pleading look. “This was a terrible idea, Maman.”

Julie put down her napkin. “It’s wonderful to see you wanting to flirt and be pretty again,” she said to Delphine. “But the Jardin de Roi is a serious place. The Comte de Buffon has dedicated his life to science, and I won’t have you treating his—his heaven on earth—as if it’s just a place to drop in for cakes and tea.”

“Oui, Maman.” Delphine looked down at her plate, but Lili heard the irritation in her tone.

“It will be good for you to get some practice at being gracious among people who are different from those at court. I assure you that you will impress the count most by being quiet, and taking up as little room as you can. You’ll wear a high-cut bodice and only petticoats under your skirt, or you won’t go at all.”

The stridency in Maman’s voice was so rare that both girls turned to stare at her. “The count is one of my dearest friends,” Julie explained. “He has done an immeasurable service for you, Lili, giving you a respectable place to exercise your mind and be of use. And you, ma chérie,” she said to Delphine, “I’ll wager you will soon discover that the count will stretch your mind in ways that will satisfy you far more than choosing the lace for a sleeve.”

Delphine was not one to sulk or take umbrage when a bet was in the making. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth turned up slyly up at one corner. “A wager, Maman?”

Julie thought for a moment. “Two new pairs of kid gloves from LaCroix et Fils, in whatever colors you choose.” She leaned over the
table toward Delphine with a sly smile. “I’ll wager you’ll give up the gloves after the first visit, just for a chance to go back again.”

“It’s not much,” Delphine said. “But I accept.” She turned to Lili. “I’m glad to be going, really. At least I’ll have some new things to sketch. And I won’t embarrass you, I promise.”

“And I won’t let the count scare you either,” Lili said.

Delphine looked first at her and then at Maman. “Scare me?”

“There’s this pink flower in a cage,” Lili said with a grin. “Oui, ma petite,” Maman added. “Don’t scream when it bites.”

JEAN-ÉTIENNE GREETED THEM
at the greenhouse door with a capuchin monkey on his shoulder. It shrieked when it saw Lili, pumping its body up and down with excitement. “Bonjour, Tatou,” Lili said, reaching up to scratch its tiny head.

Lili turned to look at Delphine and saw that her eyes were not on the monkey, but on how close she and Jean-Étienne were standing. Tatou gave a loud, demanding call, and as if responding to an order, Lili leaned in to touch shoulders with the young man. The monkey immediately hopped across, riding with her as they made their way toward the greenhouse.

“You’d better slip this under there,” Jean-Étienne said. Picking up Tatou by the back of the neck, he took a piece of stained linen from his shoulder and draped it over Lili’s dress before gently setting the monkey back down. Lili caught Delphine’s eye and looked quickly away. This must look quite cozy, she thought.

It is cozy. He was her only real friend, other than Delphine, and Buffon was like an eccentric grandfather of the sort who, in the novels she and Delphine read on long winter nights, would show up with candy for the children and then feign grumpiness about having his pocket emptied.

What would it be like if, as Delphine suggested, Jean-Étienne were more than just her friend? What if when she came to the Jardin de Roi, he bowed to her with a special, approving look in his eyes?
What if just once he invited her for a walk? For the last month she had been taking special pains with her clothes and hair on the days she would see him, but he hadn’t seemed to notice. What if he actually saw me not just as someone to talk to but as … Lili let the thought settle in. As a woman.

At Maman’s salon, interaction with every man seemed to require flirtation of one type or another, but Jean-Étienne never flirted. Is there something wrong with me? Lili wondered from time to time. Something unattractive? But after watching a lovesick Delphine suffer all winter, she talked herself out of feelings of disappointment. Jean-Étienne’s behavior had not brought painful complications to her life, and that was something to be grateful for.

Her situation was painful and complicated enough, having to fend off a disapproving Baronne Lomont, who found the work at the Jardin de Roi unbecoming for a young lady in need of a husband. After finishing the labels in the museum, Lili now worked in the greenhouse and laboratory, learning to use calipers and other measuring devices, and keeping precise notes about the varieties of orchids the count was cataloging and crossbreeding. She assisted him in his dissections and no longer flinched when he cut into the dead animals whose anatomy he studied.

Visiting Baronne Lomont, Lili felt like a stranger who had dropped in from another world. Forced by the demands of conversation to say something about how she had spent her time since her last visit, she gave desultory accounts of things that had thrilled her—the arrival of a dozen new butterfly species from Africa, the change of color in some kinds of flowers when transplanted into different soil. Most things she didn’t speak of at all, glazing over her face as she performed the rituals of visiting.

Her boredom with Monsieur Barras had to be obvious. She was certain of that, and every contact made her more uneasy. The baroness’s assumption that they were suited for marriage was as relentless as water running under the bridges of the Seine. Doesn’t it matter that I feel nothing for Barras, or he for me? Apparently
not, Lili decided, stunned by Baronne Lomont’s stony indifference.

Sometimes she wanted to stand up and behave as if she had suddenly gone mad, just to call attention to the deepening horror she felt. Perhaps I would go mad if I married him, Lili thought. Publishing her writing as a way of fending him off seemed to be coming to nothing. Months had passed, and Diderot had not come through. The only time she felt comfortable with her life away from home was among the orchids and monkeys, the calipers and dissecting tools, at the Jardin de Roi.

Buffon had already greeted them at the greenhouse door and was ushering Delphine toward a table where she could lay down her pencils and portfolio. “Draw whatever you like, Mademoiselle de Bercy. I will do my best not to disturb you,” he said. What he really meant, they both knew, was that she was not to disturb him. All afternoon Delphine moved around so quietly that Lili often forgot she was there. Then, as the light began to dim, Buffon took off his spectacles and declared that the work was at an end for the day.

“Would you like to see what I’ve drawn?” Delphine asked.

“Of course!” the count said, motioning her to a desk where an oil lamp was already casting its glow into the darkening room. Turning up the flame, he sat down and bent over the first sheet of paper, leaning to one side so Lili and Jean-Étienne could see. On it, Delphine had drawn one of the cabinet tops, lined neatly with jars portrayed accurately to the smallest detail. On the following page she had drawn one of the birds, both at rest and fluttering its wings.

Lili gasped at the third sheet. Staring out at her was the monkey, its white face fading out to deep brown at its temples and crown, perfect even in the imperfection of its rumpled hair, with eyes so bright that Delphine seemed to have captured it contemplating its next prank. Jean-Étienne was standing just behind her, close enough that she heard his startled intake of air.

“It’s so real, I almost expect it to jump onto my shoulder,” he said.

“Or shriek at us,” Lili replied. His presence so close to her made
her feel odd, as if an imminent bolt of lightning was raising the hair on her skin.

“At medical school we have to be taught to observe as well as you do, Mademoiselle de Bercy,” Jean-Étienne told her. “And most of us never do.”

As Delphine thanked him, her eyes darted between Lili and the young man, as if she was calculating the space between them at various points from head to toe. She handed another sheet of paper to the count. “I made one more, as a special gift for you,” she told him. “To express my gratitude for letting me come today.”

In Delphine’s drawing, Buffon was bent over his microscope, one lock of hair dangling askew, as it always did. “I put in Tatou, just for fun,” Delphine said, pointing to where she had drawn the monkey sitting on the table, bent over in the same pose as it examined the spectacles Buffon had put aside. “I hope you’re not offended,” she said. “It’s just that one can’t help but notice how much they resemble us.”

“Offended? Not at all! I’d rather be compared to our little friend here than many of the people I’ve had to suffer through a dinner with.” The count took Delphine’s arm. “You are most gifted, Mademoiselle de Bercy, and I can’t remember having more delightful company than I’ve had today.”

“I hope I didn’t interfere too badly. And I’m quite hoping you’ll invite me again.” Delphine cast a triumphant glance at Lili as the count and Jean-Étienne walked them to their carriage.

“
HE’S SMITTEN WITH
you,” Delphine said the minute their coach was back on the Rue Saint Victor.

“Who?”

“Who do you think?” Delphine retorted. “That sweet old man?”

Lili laughed. “He’s your conquest for the day. He obviously adored you.”

Delphine grinned. “Well then, that makes one for each of us. But
don’t you go changing the subject—you do see the way Jean-Étienne looks at you, don’t you?”

“He doesn’t look at me at all.”

“Lili, you are as dense as a rock. He watched you all day. And I saw the two of you with the monkey. You looked like an old married couple taking care of a child. ‘Let me put a cloth on your shoulder, mon amour. Don’t want you to get a spot on your dress!’ ‘Oh, thank you, mon chéri. Isn’t our baby sweet?’”

Lili shook her head, amused in spite of herself. “I think he’d do that for anyone.”

“Well, I don’t. And he’s terribly shy—that’s the only reason he doesn’t say anything to you. But when he was looking over your shoulder, I saw a man not nearly as interested in anything I’d drawn as in how it might feel to kiss your neck.”

“Delphine!” Lili sat back in feigned shock, but immediately leaned forward again. “Do you really think so?”

Delphine smirked and said nothing.

Lili shrugged. “Well, a lot of good it would do if he did want to kiss me.” For some time now she hadn’t shared what she was thinking about Jean-Étienne, afraid that saying her thoughts aloud would give her fears more substance. Now the words came tumbling out. “He complained once about having his time wasted by someone, and it sounded as if he might already be promised to a woman about as perfect for him as Robert de Barras is for me.”

The gaiety vanished. Lili felt a familiar rise of acid in her throat. “What if I end up with a house full of Robert de Barras’s babies, pleasing him only when I remind him of his dead wife?” A shudder came from somewhere deep within her. “I’m scared, Delphine.”

The smirk disappeared from Delphine’s face at the serious turn in the conversation. “Me too,” she whispered. “All I really want is a good marriage—and I’ve accepted that it won’t be to Ambroise—but I’ve been back from Versailles for months, and nothing’s happened. Even that silly Joséphine de Maurepas seems better off now than I am, with her husband and a household to rule over, even if it is
in Ferrand, wherever that is.” She sniffed and pulled out a scented handkerchief from her bodice. “And a baby on the way, despite it being—”

The carriage fell silent for a moment at the thought of Jacques-Mars. “Well, you are still only sixteen,” Lili reminded her. “You haven’t exactly been passed over.” She was a bit disappointed that as usual, Delphine had managed to turn the conversation to herself, but at the same time she was relieved she wouldn’t have to talk any more about something so painful.

“Sixteen now, but seventeen is quite old enough, I think,” Delphine replied. “And Jean-Étienne is perfect for you but he’s too thickheaded to know it. I wish he would burst into Baronne Lomont’s parlor and whisk you away from that awful corpse of a man. Tell you ‘I adore you, Lili,’ because he does, you know.” She thought for a moment. “He never actually said he was promised to anyone, did he?”