The table in the king’s dining room, to Lili’s surprise, was no larger than the one at Hôtel Bercy. He was seated with the queen in the middle of one side, while across the table, several courtiers in powdered wigs were taking their places. Their jackets were cut close to the body and worn open to reveal sumptuous vests in velvet and brocade. Milling around the room were several dozen similarly dressed men in tight silk breeches. An equal number of women maneuvered their panniers through the crowd, as they flirted with one person before moving on to share a confidence with another.
“I thought we were invited to dinner,” Lili whispered to Ambroise, gesturing to the small number of seats at the table.
Ambroise laughed. “When you’re invited to the king’s dinner it means just that, I’m afraid. Only a few of Louis’s favorites are invited to eat with him, and I suppose you can imagine how jealous that makes most of the rest. That’s my father,” he said, gesturing toward Julien Clément de Feuillet, the Comte d’Étoges, who was seated across from the king. Ambroise looked at Delphine. “I, for one, am glad I won’t be torn away.”
He turned back to Lili. “Don’t worry, Mademoiselle du Châte-let. You’d be surprised how little time this takes, since they only eat a bite or two of each course. There will be tables set up for us at the dance.” He motioned toward a huge salmon servants were whisking away nearly intact, and a suckling pig being paraded in. “Including both of those, I imagine. I’ve never heard of anyone going away from Versailles complaining they hadn’t had enough to eat.”
Appearing to watch the king, Lili examined Ambroise more closely out of the corners of her eyes. Taller than she by a head, he was wearing a wig the same chestnut color as the wisps of hair Lili saw poking out at his temples. His nose was a bit too thin, though his chin was strong and his eyes, a brown touched with yellow-green, were soft and appealing. It was more a good face than a tremendously handsome one, Lili decided, suggesting someone who found life pleasant most of the time and preferred cheerful amusements to vicious ones. A man of his description but lacking in his grace and charm might not have stood out at all, and yet he was easily the most appealing man in the room. And he liked Delphine.
“Most people who come to Versailles would die for the chance to go hungry in the king’s presence,” Ambroise was saying, “but they won’t make it halfway to the door. It’s best to just stand here and appreciate being among the lucky few, even if our stomachs growl while we’re doing it.”
The air in the room was growing stale and hot. Corpulent men were mopping their brows, and the women were moving as subtly as they could toward the open doors and the possibility of fresh air. Finally the king’s dessert, an éclair shaped like the statue of a god in one of the fountains, was brought in on an ornate, gilded tray. The pastry sat in a pool of rippling green jelly, and spun sugar burst up around it like jets of water. After the crowd applauded the artistry, the king belched loudly and waved it off uneaten.
As he and Marie Leszczynska rose from their seats, Delphine gripped Ambroise’s arm. “Oh dear,” she whispered before her knees gave way in a faint.
“She needs air,” Ambroise said to the people nearby. “Help me get her into another room.” One woman produced a vial of smelling salts from her bodice and held it under Delphine’s eyes, causing them to flutter open. “Can you walk?” Ambroise asked, as another man took her other arm to support her.
“I think so,” she said. “Everything went black.”
“It was the hot air,” Ambroise said. “It happens all the time.” By now they had brought Delphine into an adjacent room and helped her onto a daybed. In the commotion of the king and queen’s departure, only a few were aware of what had happened. Even Julie had been too far away to notice. The woman with the smelling salts and the other man were soon gone, leaving Ambroise, Lili, and Delphine the only people in the room.
“I’m so embarrassed,” Delphine said. “Did I make a scene?”
Ambroise laughed. “It was the most charming faint in years. It’s too bad so few people saw it.” Delphine smiled at him before casting a furtive, pleased glance at Lili.
“Honestly,” Ambroise went on, “I’m surprised any woman makes it through a day in a corset without doing herself injury. I did hear about one countess who cracked her skull on a table when she fell. Her corset was so tight and her panniers so wide that she went over like a felled tree.” He looked around. “There’s a decanter of brandy over there. Would you like a little? It would do you good, I think.”
Delphine smiled sweetly. “A little then.”
“Mademoiselle du Châtelet, would you like some too?” He went over to the sideboard and held up the decanter.
“A bit,” Lili said. “And could you tell me if There’s some rule that forbids you from calling me Lili?”
Ambroise laughed. “Absolutely. The law says I am to be thrown into the Bastille if I call you Lili before you call me Ambroise.” Lili gave him a sly smile.
“I think your jailers might argue that you just did—Ambroise,” she said, trying his name out for practice.
A soft voice came from the couch. “And call me Delphine.”
The sweet breathiness of her tone brought back memories of times long ago when Delphine had laid her head on Lili’s lap and listened to stories.
“What are you doing in here all by yourself?” Anne-Mathilde swept across the room toward Ambroise, who was finishing pouring the brandy. She turned around and saw he was not alone. “Oh,” she said flatly. “And what is this?”
“Delphine fainted,” Lili said, “and Amb—” She paused. “Monsieur Clément was kind enough to help her.”
Anne-Mathilde rushed to the daybed where Delphine was reclining and sat down near her feet. “Oh, you poor dear!” she simpered, reaching for her hand. “Are you all right now?”
“We’re having something to restore ourselves,” Ambroise said, ignoring the unctuousness of her tone as he handed Lili a glass with a thimbleful of golden liquid shimmering in the bottom. He went to Delphine and put hers down on the table next to her. “Would you like a little as well?” he asked Anne-Mathilde. The change in his voice was so noticeable it reminded Lili of a cloud passing across the sun.
“Oh no,” she said with a demure sniff. “I’m afraid it simply doesn’t agree with me.”
Ambroise had by now gone back to the sideboard. “I’m going to have more than a little, after the fright Mademoiselle de Bercy gave us all.” He poured about three times as much into his glass and sat down in a fauteuil across from Delphine. “That’s what agrees with me.”
“Just don’t be too long about it,” Anne-Mathilde pouted. “Can you hear the musicians? They’ve started to play and you know I do so depend on having my first dance with you.”
“I believe I’m quite recovered,” Delphine said to Ambroise. “Could you help me get up?”
Ambroise leapt to his feet and took her outstretched hand to help her into a sitting position. “Stay like that for a minute,” he said,
watching her face. “Your color’s better, but we want to be sure the blood has gone back to your head before you try to stand.”
“My, my!” Anne-Mathilde’s voice had taken on a frosty edge. “Versailles has no need of doctors as long as you’re here.”
Ambroise shrugged. “It’s just a precaution. I’d do the same for you—for anyone really. It’s only common sense.” His eyes crinkled. “Although you know what Voltaire says, that common sense is not so common.”
“Odious little man! Really, monsieur, I’m surprised you read drivel like that.” Anne-Mathilde stood up with a haughty sniff. “I’m going to the dance, and I would appreciate having an escort.” She gave Delphine an imperious stare. “Mademoiselle du Châtelet should be able to provide the assistance you require at this point, is that not so, Mademoiselle de Bercy?”
“Oh, please stay a little longer, Mademoiselle de Praslin,” Lili said in a deliberately lilting voice. “I’m curious what you have heard from Joséphine de Maurepas.”
“Joséphine?” Anne-Mathilde’s eyes opened slightly and then tightened to a narrow-eyed stare. “And why do you imagine I would be the one with news?”
“Oh, come now,” Lili said. “You, Joséphine, and Jacques-Mars Courville were inseparable at Vaux-le-Vicomte and that was when? Four or five months ago? I would have thought you would be the first to hear that she had arrived safely at Ferrand.”
“I’m afraid you are ill-informed. I’ve been at Versailles almost the entire time since last summer, and Joséphine was in Paris.”
“That would be, of course, after we saw the three of you at the opera. It was the premiere of Tom Jones, if I remember correctly. The light was dim, but now that I’ve met Monsieur Clément, I’m quite sure he was the one with you in your box. And Joséphine and Jacques-Mars—”
“I don’t recall,” Anne-Mathilde interrupted, looking away with a haughty jerk of her neck.
Ambroise looked over at Delphine and then back at Lili. “I remember,” he said. “You pointed out some friends from the abbey who were sitting in the box across. They were Mesdemoiselles de Bercy and du Châtelet, I’m sure of it now.”
“Really,” Anne-Mathilde sniffed indignantly. “Unless there’s a point to this, I’d much prefer to be dancing.”
“When I saw Monsieur Clément de Feuillet in the forest today,” Lili said, “it took a moment for me to recall why he looked familiar. And I saw Joséphine and Jacques-Mars without you at Notre-Dame, and they seemed such intimate friends, I simply assumed …” Lili endured Anne-Mathilde’s cold stare without flinching. “I just assumed that the special friendship the three of you had at Vaux-le-Vicomte had continued.”
“I’m quite shocked to find myself pressed in this fashion,” Anne-Mathilde retorted. “Monsieur! Please!” She held up her elbow to indicate she expected Ambroise to comply with her wishes. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was at Versailles. I really don’t see how I am supposed to know what people do when I’m not with them.”
Anne-Mathilde touched her hair and gave the lace on her sleeve an angry brush with her fingertips as she waited for Ambroise to come to her. He knows what she is, Lili thought as they left the room. A conniving little hypocrite who bats her eyelashes while plotting against her friends. And if he didn’t see that before, please let him see it now.
“I’m sorry if I—” Lili stopped short and turned to Delphine.
Delphine was rosy-cheeked again, and the sparkle in her eyes conveyed the huge grin she was hiding behind her fan. She hunched up her shoulders and said gleefully, “What did you think of that? Anne-Mathilde was raging!”
“I wasn’t going to let him leave with Anne-Mathilde until I’d gotten her to stop acting as if she’s some sweet young girl he ought to hurry up and marry,” Lili said, sitting down next to Delphine. “He’s far too nice a man for her. Did you see how disloyal she was to José
phine? She acted like they hadn’t really been good friends at all!”
Delphine didn’t seem to have heard. “He is a nice man,” she said dreamily. Turning toward Lili, she took her hand. “Do you think he’ll marry her anyway? Even if she is”—Delphine shuddered—“such a wolverine?” Her eyes glistened with sudden tears, but she shook them away. “It isn’t right. I’d be so much better for him.”
“You would be perfect for him,” Lili said. “And I think you need to get to that dance so he sees nothing but that all evening.” She got up. “Mademoiselle de Bercy?” She bent forward stiffly in her corset and panniers, in imitation of a courtier’s bow. “May I have the honor of being your escort?”
HUNDREDS OF CANDLES
in the chandeliers of the social hall known as the Salon de Mars cast their light on the gilded ceiling and red walls. Former rulers gazed over the room from life-size portraits in heavy gold frames. A fire crackled in a marble fireplace at one end, near which a chamber orchestra was playing. On a raised dais, the queen sat watching the dancers, including the king, paired with a young woman whispered to be his new mistress.
Lili and Delphine stood in the doorway, taking in the scene. “Where have you been?” Julie rushed over. “I was coming to find you. Anne-Mathilde told her mother you fainted!”
“I’m all right, Maman,” Delphine said. “Lili and Monsieur Clément de Feuillet helped me.” She looked over Julie’s shoulder. “Have you seen him?”
“I believe he’s dancing with Anne-Mathilde,” Julie said. She looked closely at Delphine. “You’re pale. And neither of you has had anything to eat. Come along.”
She took them to the Salon de Vénus, a smaller room off the Salon de Mars, where huge platters of delicacies were arrayed. They sat at a table and after Julie motioned for a servant, plates of cheese and meats were brought to the table. “There’s chocolat and little sweets to fortify you in the Salon d ‘Abondance,” she said. “Wine
too, and brandies. Take a little, even if it isn’t a proper meal, and I’ll make sure you’re invited to someone’s quarters for a real supper after the king and queen retire for the night.”
Delphine chewed pensively on a piece of meat. “It’s that little suckling pig,” she said. “It’s quite delicious. And it’s rather special to know one is tasting what the king ate.”
“Or didn’t eat,” Lili said, spearing a morsel of cheese. She looked up at Delphine and in a mirror behind her, she saw the reflection of the Duchesse de Praslin coming toward them.
“Madame de Bercy,” the duchess said, ignoring the two girls. “May I have a moment with you privately?”
Julie looked quizzically at them. “Of course.” Rising from her seat, she moved out of earshot with the duchess.
Lili’s back was to them, but Delphine had a clear view. “What are they doing?” Lili asked. “Do you think she’s complaining about how I treated poor Anne-Mathilde?”
Delphine moved the food around on her plate, glancing furtively toward the two women. “I think she might be,” Delphine whispered. “The duchess just looked over this way and she doesn’t look happy. Maman is nodding.” She looked up. “Here she comes!”
The duchess had left the room by the time Julie sat down. “I understand you upset Anne-Mathilde.” Lili’s heart thudded at the serious look on her face.
“Oui, Maman,” she said. “I asked about Joséphine and she was being so false that I—”
“She lied, Maman,” Delphine broke in. “She forgot we’d seen her at the opera, and said she’s been at Versailles the whole time.”