Redemption: Supernatural Time-Traveling Romance with Sci-fi and Metaphysics (21 page)

“Oh, you’ll get there alright,”
says her friend with a smile. “You’re a young, attractive lady. Where else are
you going to end up? And after that, well… don’t forget that King Louis is a
man!”

 
Chapter Nineteen

A
sharp rap on the door rouses Isabelle from her sleep. She listens
to Lucie’s footsteps below her and the sound of the door opening. There is a
short exchange, but she cannot make out any of the words, and then she hears
the door closing and the footstep treading the stairs and approaching her
chamber.

“Isabelle?” says Lucie’s voice
outside her door. “Are you awake?” Isabelle manages a muffled groan. Lucie
pushes the door open and strides into the room. “Well, you’ll want to be. It’s
a message from the King’s palace!”

“The King’s palace?” Isabelle is
suddenly awaking and sitting up in her bed. “Surely it can’t be!” She doesn’t
dare to finish the sentence and give herself even a glimmer of hope, but
reaches out to take the sealed parchment. The stamp breaks easily and she
wrenches it open, scanning it with darting eyes, hardly able to take it in. “It’s
an invitation!” she says, almost shouting with excitement. “An invitation to
sing at the palace.”

Lucie takes the parchment and
studies it. Looking up, she sees the panic in her friend’s face. “It’s okay,
Isabelle. Take it easy.” She sits down on the bed and lays a hand on Isabelle’s
arm. “It’s not an official court event. It’s a small gathering of the King and
some of His Majesty‘s friends. He just wants to check you out, that’s all.”

“But what if His Majesty doesn’t
like me?” says Isabelle, placing anxious palms on her forehead. “I’m sure he
won’t.”

“Come, come, my dear! This is a
wonderful opportunity. France is full of girls who would kill for such a
chance!” she takes Isabelle’s face in her hands and holds her gaze. “You have
the voice of an angel. His Majesty will adore you!”

His Majesty
will adore you. His Majesty
will
adore you.
These words still ring in Isabelle’s ears as, far too short a
while later, she finds herself standing in one of the ornate state rooms of
King Louis XIV’s palace at Saint-Germain-en-Laye. With Lucie’s help, she is
adorned in an exquisite new dress from one of the finest designers in Paris,
and she looks out at the gathering through the curls of fair hair that frame
her face. As expected, there are not too many people, around thirty men and
women, but there, enthroned among them, is His Majesty, King of France and
Navarre, Louis XIV. Isabelle has never seen him before, but somehow he is
immediately recognizable. Partly this is due to the golden leaf crown that
perches on top of an enormous, powdered wig, but mostly it is his presence that
somehow seems to draw all focus and attention to himself. His Majesty wears no
kingly robes this evening, just a simple jacket and knee-breeches, both of
white cloth embroidered with gold thread, above dark gray stockings, and yet
Isabelle knows with absolute certainty that this is
Him
.

The King catches Isabelle’s eye
and gives her the smallest of nods before clapping his hands twice. The
conversation in the room dies immediately and all eyes turn to look at her.
With a flourish of his hand, Louis gestures for the performance to begin.

The pressure of their collective
gaze almost overwhelms Isabelle, so she closes her eyes and tries to imagine
she is somewhere else. She thinks about her aunt, whose singing used to draw
crowds in the street and money from purses and pockets. She remembers how her
aunt would stand, her head up with one hand held out as though reaching for
something only dreamed of. And as she sang, people listened in spellbound
wonder, hardly able even to breath for fear of breaking that spell. As this
memory comes to her, Isabelle finds the fear and anxiety dropping away. She is
able to focus and her confidence returns. As Giuseppe, sitting behind her at
the piano, begins to play the accompaniment, she looks out at the faces of her
audience, taking that same posture that her aunt used to take, and begins to
sing. It is her best performance by far, her voice not only hitting every note
perfectly, but conveying such a depth of emotion and beauty that many of those
listening find tears welling up in their eyes.

As the echoes of the last note
die away, there is silence for a moment and Isabelle wonders if she has done
something wrong.
Maybe they did not like
it! Have I offended His Majesty
in
some way?
But such thoughts are quickly dispelled as the gathering bursts
into applause. Cries of “Bravo!”, “Magnificent!” and even “Encore!” fill the
room. Isabelle observes all this in stunned amazement, almost unable to move
and she looks round at the delighted crowd. In their midst, Louis gets to his
feet, and the applause slowly fades.

“Well, young lady,” says the
King, fixing her in his gaze. “I was told you had the voice of an angel, but I
could never have imagined it would be quite so divine. You have enchanted us.
But you surely cannot leave us hungry. Will you not sing again, my dear?”

And she does. Two more songs, in
fact, and the reaction of her listeners increases with each performance.

Afterwards, she is invited to
join His Majesty the King and his guests as they gather in another part of the
palace for dinner, a room even grander and more ornate than the one where the
concert was held. As she enters the room, Isabelle is stunned by the décor; the
vast carpet, deep and rich, the tapestries hanging around the wall depicting
various hunts and battles, and the gold leaf that covers almost every inch of
the ceiling. Looking along the long, oak tables around which the guests are
gathered, she notices that there are only three seats, all of which are empty.
His Majesty the King is not here. One of many servants, far too large a number,
surely, for such a select gathering, ushers her to an empty space by the table.

Who are all these people, she
wonders. Such grand faces. What am I doing here?

Her concerns are interrupted,
however, as the main doors open and the King of France and Navarre strides in
and everyone falls immediately silent. Isabelle’s eyes widen in surprise. Where
before his wig was fairly conservative, he is now sporting a huge affair, great
masses of towering curls tinged slightly red. And where before he was wearing a
simple jacket, he now has long flowing robes of purple velvet and lace above
bright, white stockings.

His Majesty looks like a completely different person,
thinks Isabelle, and eventually tears her gaze from the King to
take in the two women accompanying him.
I
guess that one must be his wife,
she thinks, looking at a slender,
dark-haired woman.
Which means the other
one must be his mistress. Well, she has a fairly nice figure, I’ll give her
that. Shame about the face!

Louis XIV takes his seat, with
his wife on his right and his mistress in front of him, and claps his hands.
Immediately the hordes of servants burst into action and the meal begins.
Platter after platter is placed on the table, two different soups and shellfish
bisques to begin, then scallops, wild duck and royal fish followed by salads,
soufflé and eggs. Through the meal servants hurry around with wine and water,
six alone serving the King with a single glass! Isabelle looks round at the
unfamiliar food on offer and, though she feels as though she is in some
strange, wonderful dream, she hesitates, worried about doing something wrong. A
few places away, a couple of ladies are busy watching her, clearly amused, so
she smiles at them gracefully and turns her attention to the young woman standing
across the table. Without making it too obvious, Isabelle copies the woman,
dish for dish, drink for drink, utensil for utensil, and soon begins to enjoy
the occasion. His Majesty the King also seems to be relishing the evening,
tucking in with a voracious appetite. When, at last, he signals that he has
finished, the servants swoop in and clear the table in moments. Raising from
his chair without a word, Louis XIV sweeps from the room, heading through a
pair of large, glazed doors which are opened at his approach. As Isabelle joins
with the rest of the party as they follow him, she finds herself in a
beautifully tended garden lit with torches and dotted around with more servants
carrying trays of champagne
and
canapés. She shakes her head as a servant approaches her with a tray.

How could anyone possibly eat anymore?
she thinks, running a hand across her stomach.
I feel like I’m going to burst out of this corset at any moment!

“I haven’t seen you in here
before.”

Isabelle turns to see the young
lady who was located opposite her at dinner.

“That’s not surprising,” she
replies, grateful to have someone to talk to. “This is the first time I’ve been
invited here. You?”

“Oh, I am a court lady. I spend
most of my time in the palace.” She smiles and holds out a hand. “My name is
Babette.”

Isabelle takes her hand gently. “I
am Isabelle. Pleased to meet you, milady.”

“Come, let’s walk together,” says
Babette, letting go of her hand and setting out across the garden. “So how did
you come to be at Saint-Germain-en-Laye?”

“I am a singer.”

“Yes, of course!” says Babette
delightedly. “You were singing to us earlier. Oh, you have a gorgeous voice,
Isabelle. Where did you learn to sing so well?”

“It all started with my aunt,”
Isabelle explains, trying to avoid mentioning her deprived background. “She
used to sing all over the city and her voice would draw hundreds of people. So,
as soon as I had the chance, I started singing lessons with an Italian master.”

“And how did you end up here?”

“One of the King’s favorites
heard me at a concert. He got me the invitation.”

“Well,” says Babette, clearly
impressed. “You certainly seem to have been a hit with the King. He’s a great
music lover. And a great dancer too!”

As the two women make their way
around the garden, they come across a couple of elegantly dressed men who turn
to face them as they approach.

“This is my cousin, Albert,” says
Babette as she and Isabelle draw up in front of the men.

 
“Nice to meet you, milady,” says Albert, bowing towards her. “You
are a blossom fitting for such a beautiful garden.”

Isabelle looks down, uncertain
how to respond. “Thank you, milord,” she says at last, using a curtsy to cover
her embarrassment. “You are very generous.”

“My pleasure,” says Albert,
peering down the neck of Isabelle’s dress as she curtsies. “Definitely my
pleasure!”

“Your cousin is certainly
handsome,” says Isabelle as she and Babette continue their promenade around the
garden.

“Not only that,” says Babette,
putting an arm through Isabelle’s. “He’s also rich and extremely
well-connected. His father, my uncle, is one of the King’s advisors. He has
been part of Louis’ court since he first became King…”

As Babette tells her the story of
her uncle’s rise in court, Isabelle finds her thoughts drifting back to Henri,
his face, with its elegant black moustache, almost pearl white in the darkness,
his lace cuff framing those
sleek
hands as he tossed her
the coins. She shakes her head, trying to focus.

“… and of course that leaves
Albert as one of His Majesty’s favorites, a man of great influence.” Babette
stops and turns to face Isabelle. “You know, he could arrange you a place in
the King’s palace.”

Isabelle stares at her in
disbelief. “A place in the palace? Here?”

“Of course. If you want it, that
is.”

“But. . .” says Isabelle, still
stunned by the idea. “But Albert is so handsome. And rich. He could surely have
any lady that takes his fancy. Why on earth would he do me such a favor?”

“Why? Because he’s a man, of
course.” Babette winks at her. “As you say, he can have his pick of the ladies,
but poor Albert does get terribly bored by such easy prey. You just have to be
different, that’s all. Don’t be easy like those other women.” She flaps a
dismissive hand at a nearby group to illustrate her point. “Be cold and aloof.
Keep him at a distance as long as possible. That way you keep him interested.
That way, you make him
want
to favor
you.”

“Thank you, Babette,” says
Isabelle to her new friend. “You are too kind.”

~

Since the dinner party,
Jean-Pierre’s business has kept him away for longer and longer periods of time.
Sometimes he is called away for several days at a time and on these occasions
Isabelle visits either the Marquis or the Vicomte in the evening and spends her
earnings on the best finery Paris has to offer during the day. Her taste is
excellent and she builds up a large collection of dresses, shoes, hats, jewelry
and other accessories all in the latest style, transforming herself into a very
attractive and fashionable young lady. Her gentlemen lovers are well
experienced in love-making and Isabelle soon improves her skills in the art of
foreplay, seduction and sexual congress.