say.
“What we must do,” said Louis, smiling as if he had not just been accosted by a friend, “your ladies and I, is go out into this night that—” he looked in Louise’s direction, and it was clear that he didn’t know her name.
“Miss de la Baume le Blanc.” The words came out in a high-pitched croak, and Louise curtsied to cover embarrassment.
“—that Miss de la Baume le Blanc has reminded us exists and look at my carp.”
“He’ll be angry.” There was a begging tone in Henriette’s voice.
“Monsieur?” said Louis. “He doesn’t even know you’re not in the ballroom. Trust me in this. He hasn’t beaten Madame de Choisy in a game of ombre in three years. It’s an obsession with him.” His voice changed. “Walk with me outside. Please?” Now, begging colored his voice.
There were steps in the hallway again, and then two of the king’s friends rushed into the bedchamber.
“Sire,” said Vivonne, a plump open-faced man, the son of a duke. “I told Guiche Madame wasn’t to be disturbed, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Words spilling out, hands waving, the other, Péguilin, captain of the guard, as short as Vivonne was tall, said, “Guiche is my cousin, your majesty. I could see he was up to no good, but I couldn’t stop him. I beg you, don’t imprison him. I’ll have to be arrested too to keep him company. Family, you know.”
“This is a tempest over nothing. I happened upon Madame and her ladies repairing her gown and chose to stay. The count was jealous of my good fortune at being surrounded by no one but lovely ladies. We’ll forgive him that. We were just going to walk to the carp pond—” Louis glanced toward Henriette, but Péguilin’s words, the excitable shortness of him, Vivonne’s large earnestness, had already altered the mood, lessened the distress of Guy’s entrance.
“It would be my pleasure if you joined us,” Louis said to the men, and so it was a laughing group that wound its way toward stairs that would lead them to the fountain courtyard. Vivonne and Péguilin were like court jesters, performing anything, from standing on chairs to making faces to force the maids of honor and Catherine and Madame to laugh.
And then they were outside and all walking down the broad, even steps that led them into the courtyard bordered by the carp pond. Louise inhaled the scent of the jasmine growing in great stone pots set here and there. Everyone seemed calmer, she thought, skipping down stairs, her gown held up, Péguilin at her side, absolutely determined to flirt. Certainly she felt calmer inside. Yes, she thought, the king and Madame don’t look so wild, now, so startled and yearning. If Monsieur had seen them in that bedchamber, he would have known they were falling in love. The count knew. Louise had seen the shock of it in his face. Above them was a beautiful night with stars in the sky no less bright than the candles in lanterns. She raised her face to the night, feeling vulnerable and shaken.
“Your eyes are stars.” Péguilin went to one knee like an actor. “I adore you. Be mine.”
“Hush,” said Louise. “His majesty will hear you.”
“I care not who hears me. World,” Péguilin bellowed, “I adore this one.” But he’d moved to stand before Catherine. “No. It’s this one. You have my love. And you know it, fair cousin.”
Louis stood at the stone balustrade pointing out carp to Henriette. “Some of the fish in this pond were admired by my great-grandfather. Some are a hundred years old,” he told her.
Louis could feel himself begin to steady inside, calm a little. He’d been brittle and unanchored since finding the Mazarinade, and the kiss they’d exchanged moments earlier had ignited a fire in him that he thought would burn his heart to ash. Henriette leaned over the balustrade, and in the leaning, her breast crushed against his hand. She met his eyes for a deliberate moment, and it felt to him as if the world stopped spinning. I
“What we must do,” said Louis, smiling as if he had not just been accosted by a friend, “your ladies and I, is go out into this night that—” he looked in Louise’s direction, and it was clear that he didn’t know her name.
“Miss de la Baume le Blanc.” The words came out in a high-pitched croak, and Louise curtsied to cover embarrassment.
“—that Miss de la Baume le Blanc has reminded us exists and look at my carp.”
“He’ll be angry.” There was a begging tone in Henriette’s voice.
“Monsieur?” said Louis. “He doesn’t even know you’re not in the ballroom. Trust me in this. He hasn’t beaten Madame de Choisy in a game of ombre in three years. It’s an obsession with him.” His voice changed. “Walk with me outside. Please?” Now, begging colored his voice.
There were steps in the hallway again, and then two of the king’s friends rushed into the bedchamber.
“Sire,” said Vivonne, a plump open-faced man, the son of a duke. “I told Guiche Madame wasn’t to be disturbed, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Words spilling out, hands waving, the other, Péguilin, captain of the guard, as short as Vivonne was tall, said, “Guiche is my cousin, your majesty. I could see he was up to no good, but I couldn’t stop him. I beg you, don’t imprison him. I’ll have to be arrested too to keep him company. Family, you know.”
“This is a tempest over nothing. I happened upon Madame and her ladies repairing her gown and chose to stay. The count was jealous of my good fortune at being surrounded by no one but lovely ladies. We’ll forgive him that. We were just going to walk to the carp pond—” Louis glanced toward Henriette, but Péguilin’s words, the excitable shortness of him, Vivonne’s large earnestness, had already altered the mood, lessened the distress of Guy’s entrance.
“It would be my pleasure if you joined us,” Louis said to the men, and so it was a laughing group that wound its way toward stairs that would lead them to the fountain courtyard. Vivonne and Péguilin were like court jesters, performing anything, from standing on chairs to making faces to force the maids of honor and Catherine and Madame to laugh.
And then they were outside and all walking down the broad, even steps that led them into the courtyard bordered by the carp pond. Louise inhaled the scent of the jasmine growing in great stone pots set here and there. Everyone seemed calmer, she thought, skipping down stairs, her gown held up, Péguilin at her side, absolutely determined to flirt. Certainly she felt calmer inside. Yes, she thought, the king and Madame don’t look so wild, now, so startled and yearning. If Monsieur had seen them in that bedchamber, he would have known they were falling in love. The count knew. Louise had seen the shock of it in his face. Above them was a beautiful night with stars in the sky no less bright than the candles in lanterns. She raised her face to the night, feeling vulnerable and shaken.
“Your eyes are stars.” Péguilin went to one knee like an actor. “I adore you. Be mine.”
“Hush,” said Louise. “His majesty will hear you.”
“I care not who hears me. World,” Péguilin bellowed, “I adore this one.” But he’d moved to stand before Catherine. “No. It’s this one. You have my love. And you know it, fair cousin.”
Louis stood at the stone balustrade pointing out carp to Henriette. “Some of the fish in this pond were admired by my great-grandfather. Some are a hundred years old,” he told her.
Louis could feel himself begin to steady inside, calm a little. He’d been brittle and unanchored since finding the Mazarinade, and the kiss they’d exchanged moments earlier had ignited a fire in him that he thought would burn his heart to ash. Henriette leaned over the balustrade, and in the leaning, her breast crushed against his hand. She met his eyes for a deliberate moment, and it felt to him as if the world stopped spinning. I
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