Before the Storm (16 page)

‘Oh, here she comes!’ Eliza whispered to Clementine, clutching her arm in her excitement. ‘Just look at her dress! Do you think they are real diamonds? Oh won’t Phoebe just
die
when I write to tell her about this!’

Clementine rolled her eyes. ‘Do you only write to her when you have something to crow about?’ she whispered back, laughing.

Eliza looked confused. ‘Of course I do. Poor thing, she is stuck in Bath at the moment with her awful mother and sister. Imagine being there instead of lovely Paris!’

‘Sssh, you two,’ Mrs Garland hissed, fanning herself furiously as she took in every detail of the French Queen’s gorgeous blue and silver silk dress, her tall thickly powdered
coiffure
 
which was topped with a cluster of silver and pearl spangled white and blue ostrich feathers and the red circles of crimson rouge that she wore high on her cheekbones. ‘What a crush there is in here. I declare that I will faint if we can’t leave soon.’

‘Do not, under any circumstances, faint, Mrs Garland!’ Venetia ordered with a stern look. ‘If you faint in front of the Queen at Versailles, you might as well just pack up and go back to London because you will be laughed at by all the court.’ She turned to Clementine with a wink. ‘Women do it all the time, you know. Her Majesty made the mistake of being very kind to the first fainter and rushing to their assistance, which of course encouraged hundreds more to give it a try.’ She smiled. ‘She just steps over them nowadays.’

‘Oh my goodness, she is coming over,’ Eliza breathed, as they all sank into low curtseys. She could hear her mother becoming flustered and prayed that she didn’t faint or do anything to embarrass them all. They’d come so far - it would be terrible to ruin things now when the eyes of all Versailles were fixed upon them.

‘Madame la Comtesse, how pleasant to see you at court again,’ Marie Antoinette addressed Venetia with a gracious smile. Her accent was a peculiar but not unpleasing mixture of German and French. ‘You have been much missed.’

‘Your Majesty is too kind,’ Venetia replied with another curtsey. Her prowess at the card tables had made her a favourite guest at the Queen’s card parties. In the past, Marie Antoinette had been ruinously fond of gambling but her parties nowadays were far more sedate affairs.

‘I see that you have brought some friends today?’ The Queen turned to Eliza and Clementine, who both hastily curtsied again as Venetia introduced them and their mother, who mutely dropped a low reverence but mercifully failed to faint although she went very pale and trembled alarmingly. ‘It is always a great delight to me to welcome our English neighbours to Versailles.’

‘Thank you,’ Eliza murmured, flushing with nervousness as Marie Antoinette gave them both an approving look then moved on to the next person, leaving a trail of delicious tea rose and violet scent in her wake.

‘Well, my dears, your social success is now assured,’ Venetia murmured to her friends, slipping her arms around their waists and hugging them. ‘I could not have contrived it better had I deliberately set out to do so.’

‘How very gracious her Majesty is,’ Mrs Garland was murmuring, gazing after the French Queen in awe. ‘My word, if only Mrs Knowles had been here to see it. How she would have stared.’

After this the crowd began to disperse in search of further entertainment in the vast palace, where stalls selling anything and everything you could possibly imagine were set up on the stairs and in the long, vaulted echoing galleries and corridors. As Clementine followed the others down a sweeping milky white marble staircase, she stared around her at the gorgeously dressed courtiers who strolled along chattering loudly to each other and petting the tiny little silken eared dogs that they carried under their arms.

‘So what do you think of Versailles, girls?’ Venetia asked over her shoulder as they stepped out into the famous gardens. ‘Is it not the most splendidly ridiculous place on all earth?’

‘I think it is wonderful,’ Eliza replied, her eyes shining as she looked around the colourful parterres of crimson, pink and white flowers, ornamented at intervals with huge stone urns and writhing marble statues. She had been intoxicated by Versailles from the very first moment that they arrived and now wished never to leave. ‘And you prefer Paris to this?’

Venetia laughed and did a twirl so that her pale green silk skirts circled around her. ‘Oh but there is no contest, my dear! Versailles is all very well if you like that sort of thing but it is not a patch on Paris!’
 

Eliza frowned. ‘That sort of thing?’ She gestured towards the vast palace, more magnificent than beautiful, gleaming softly in the mid morning sunshine. ‘But what could be better than this?’

Venetia sighed and shook her head, recognising that her friend was a lost cause. ‘When you have had the ill luck to spend more than a few days here you will realise just how stuffy, old fashioned and pompous Versailles really is,’ she said. ‘Paris is like a breath of fresh air in comparison.’

‘This is not a place for the young,’ Clementine said thoughtfully, standing still and looking back at the palace. She gave a little shiver. ‘It’s almost as though all time has stood still here.’

‘It wasn’t always so,’ a male voice said behind her, making her jump and spin round to face the unknown young man smiling down upon her. He was wearing the most gorgeous peacock feather coloured velvet jacket with rich gold embroidery at his cuffs. ‘When the great King Louis first conceived his palace at Versailles, he was a young man, vigorous and in the prime of life. He built it as a testament to his great love for the beautiful Duchesse de la Vallière.’ He turned to Venetia with a smile and reached out to take her hand. ‘Madame Sister, how pleasant to see you here again. I thought you were going to remain buried with the old people at Clermont forever. And how is my little nephew? Still determined to cut me out of my inheritance, I trust?’

‘Edmond,’ Venetia said with a nod, before pulling the blushing Eliza forward. ‘May I present...?’

‘Ah yes,’ he interrupted her as Eliza curtsied. ‘Mademoiselle Garland. I am truly sorry that I could not meet you when you were at Clermont but I am afraid my affairs kept me away.’ He took her trembling hand and bowed low over it. ‘I hope that you will allow me to make it up to you one day.’

Eliza looked quickly up at him, taking in his admiring dark gaze, full lips and firm jaw, that were so similar to those of his brother, Comte Jules. ‘It is of no matter, Monsieur le Comte,’ she murmured, straightening up and running her hands nervously down the voluminous dusky pink silk skirt of one of her new Rose Bertin dresses.
 

He bowed. ‘No, I quite disagree, mademoiselle. It was unpardonably rude of me not to attend.’ He turned to Mrs Garland who was practically fainting with delight as she watched them both. ‘And this must be your so charming mother?’ He bowed with great reverence. ‘
Enchanté
, madame. I have heard so much about your delightful daughters that I must confess that I was quite wild with curiosity to behold them for myself. They attract praise wherever they go.’

‘You are too kind, Monsieur le Comte,’ Mrs Garland murmured in an almost coquettish manner from behind her fan as her daughters laughed and rolled their eyes at each other.

‘Not at all.’ Comte Edmond smiled, showing his straight white teeth, absolutely certain of his success with at least one of the Garland ladies now if not all three. ‘I trust that I will often see you at Versailles,’ he said with a last admiring look at Eliza before he strolled away to the steps leading down to the Orangerie, very much pleased with the impression that he had made upon them all.
 

He had been absolutely furious when his mother had written to demand that he come to Clermont to meet Venetia’s English friends and in a fit of pique had replied that his affairs were not in such abject disorder that he had sunk so low as to be rescued by a chancy foreign heiress, whose fortune came from trade. He was well aware that despite his title and the inherent grandeur of the family name, he was not precisely the most eligible bachelor on the market, however he was nonetheless determined to find a bride on his own terms or not at all.

Now though, having actually met Eliza and seen her flaxen haired beauty for himself, he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he had acted in haste in having refused to meet her. For a start she was far lovelier than Venetia’s description had led him to expect or than she frankly had any right to be considering the eye watering huge extent of her prospective inheritance. It was unfortunate, of course, that the said fortune should have had its origins as something so grubby as trade but that could perhaps be overcome. He smiled as he recalled her blushing and trembling, which of course were very flattering but also something of a relief as they meant he was still in with a chance.
 

‘What have you got to smile about?’ He didn’t notice the woman in crimson taffeta until she had stepped out boldly in front of him, forcing him to come to an abrupt halt. ‘I saw you talking to Comtesse Jules’ little English friends,’ she said accusingly. ‘Don’t tell me that one of them caught your fancy.’

He sighed and kissed her hand, which glittered with several diamond and sapphire rings, carefully chosen because they matched the deep blue of her huge eyes. ‘I have never had my fancy less caught, Corisande,’ he murmured, pulling her reluctantly towards him for a kiss. ‘Oh, don’t look like that! I told you that I wasn’t going to let my mother or Venetia fix me up with a wife and I meant it.’ He laughed softly, kissing her neck. ‘I’d be a poor sort of fellow if I did, wouldn’t I?’

Corisande pulled back and gazed up into his face. ‘Should I believe you?’ she asked, reaching up to gently trace the shape of his jaw. ‘I want to, but I’m not sure if I can trust you this time. I saw the way that English girl was looking at you.’ She couldn’t prevent a note of jealousy creeping into her voice. ‘She looked at you as though she wanted to eat you alive but of course when one is as rich as she is...’

‘Stop it.’ He jerked his face away from her touch. ‘I hate it when you talk this way, my dear. Spite doesn’t become you.’

Her eyes blazed. ‘And what would you have me say instead, Edmond?’ she whispered furiously. ‘Do you want me to be happy for you as you walk away from me? I am sorry that my husband died and left me penniless. I’m sorry that I will never be anything more than an amusing diversion for you. I’m sorry that I will never be considered worth anything more than to be your mistress.’ She furiously wiped away a tear. ‘I am resigned to the fact that you will one day find a suitable bride, just don’t expect me to be overjoyed about it.’

They carried on walking in silence down the wide, sweeping staircase to the Orangerie, where hundreds of orange trees stood proudly in matching green painted wooden pots around a large pool. It was not the first time that they had argued about his future marriage but he didn’t think that he had ever before seen her cry about it.

‘We have been lovers for four years now,’ she said at last, turning to him with a sad smile. ‘The least you can do is be honest with me, Edmond.’

He took her hand and kissed it. ‘I promise that I will always be honest with you,’ he lied. ‘It has never been my intention to hurt you, Corisande. You know that if I could marry you, I would do so in a heartbeat.’

‘I know.’ She sighed and leaned against him. ‘If only I had Mademoiselle Garland’s fortune.’ She looked up at him mischieviously from beneath her long dark lashes. ‘But not her hips. Or her mother. My darling, how on earth will you bear it?’ She gave a shudder. ‘The thought of Madame Garland running wild at beautiful Clermont is enough to give me nightmares.’

To her relief he laughed. ‘I know. I am not exactly enamoured with this prospect myself but one must make sacrifices.’ He led her through a glass door into the deserted Orangerie where the warm air was heady with the scent of oranges. ‘You really have nothing to be envious about,’ he said, bending his handsome head to kiss the lobes of her ears, the hollow of her neck and then finally her lips as she sighed and clung to him, her fingers slipping beneath his powdered wig to entwine in his long dark hair.

Still kissing her, he lifted Corisande up into his arms and carried her into a corner where they were hidden by several large potted orange trees. ‘You are the most desirable woman that I have ever known,’ he murmured against her breasts as he pulled up her ruffled crimson taffeta skirts then fumbled with the laces of his breeches. ‘Every time I see you, I am overcome with the need to possess you.’

‘Edmond, my Edmond,’ she whispered as he plunged inside her over and over again, his lips warm against her skin, his hips pressing hard against her as she wrapped her long legs around his waist and moaned with delight.
 

Chapter Sixteen

‘I am devastated, absolutely devastated that it has come to this,’ Corisande murmured to Madame d’Albret, ‘but it’s about time that I faced up to the truth and accepted that I can no longer afford the upkeep of my little house.’ She shrugged sadly and played nervously with the rope of pearls that she wore twisted around her wrist. ‘I was hoping that you would know of someone who would be able to take it off my hands, just until I have managed to raise some more funds.’

Madame d’Albret sighed but nodded sympathetically. ‘And where will you go instead, my dear?’ she asked.

Corisande shrugged again. ‘I will have to retire to my brother’s château near Fontainebleau for a while. It could be a lot worse but I will feel the lack of my own home very keenly.’ She pulled a face. ‘My brother has a wife and seven children. You can imagine how it is.’