Hope of Earth (69 page)

“Come on,” Jessamine said briskly. “We must be ladies today.”

Lynne suppressed a smirk. At age fifteen—almost sixteen—she liked dressing up in skirts, but her big sister didn’t. Jessamine would much rather be garbed as a sailor on her husband’s ship, passing for a male sea hand. But today Ittai had to play the part of the rich merchant seaman he was, and Jessamine had to be a lovely lady. And so did Lynne. The others were closing down the farm and packing the ship, but Lynne was coming to the court because a pretty face just might incline the king toward their cause. Their mission was to support Pierre Boucher’s plea for aid for New France. So that it would be safe for them to move there.

They helped each other dress. Both of them had free-flowing gowns with laced bodices. When the laces were pulled tight, the bodices squeezed the breasts, making them swell out the top. Jessamine had put on some weight in recent months, and was more buxom than Lynne had thought. Lynne swelled similarly, though the bodice was uncomfortable and restricted her breathing.

They did each other’s hair, adding perfume and ribbons, making it curl just so. Jeweled combs made it sparkle. But the worst of it was the high-heeled shoes. They had to walk carefully, lest they stumble. “I feel like a clown,” Jessamine muttered. “I wish Snow could have done this instead. She has the bosom for it.”

“She would swell right out of this bodice!” Lynne said, giggling as she glanced down into her forced cleavage.

“Precisely. The king would surely like that.”

When they were fully prepared, Lynne drew on her gloves. The left one was specially made to conceal her embarrassment.

Ittai arrived. “Are we ready for the court?” he inquired from outside the room.

“Come on in,” Jessamine said. “We’re bedecked.”

He entered the room. He was wearing a long and ornamented vest, culottes gathered at the knees with buckles, lace stockings, and boots. Overall he wore a long open coat, whose wide sleeves were trimmed with lace, and a wide soft hat tilted up on three sides and sporting a plume of feathers. He had shaved his face, except for a great mustache. “You look lovely!”

Jessamine grimaced, but Lynne spoke up. “You’re really handsome!”

He doffed his hat to her and made a little bow. “Clothes make the man, fortunately.” He gave her a second glance. “You have grown, Lynne.”

“No I haven’t. It’s this squeezing bodice. Everything I have is outside it.” She tapped one of her bulges just above the lacing.

“It will do.” He turned to Jessamine. “Bear up, my love; soon we shall be free of this nuisance.”

“I’d rather fight a duel,” Jessamine snapped.

He smiled. “Dueling has been forbidden, fortunately for any knave who might cross you.”

“I’ve got my knife anyway.”

“But you couldn’t draw it without lifting your skirt, and showing the knave more delight than he deserves.”

“Stop making me miserable.” But Jessamine finally did return his smile. Jessamine did have good legs, because she was so active, and she liked having her husband-appreciate them. In fact Lynne suspected that Jessamine really didn’t mind being required to dress up and prove she was a woman. As long as she got chances betweentimes to adventure in the fashion of a man.

They went out to the coach. Ittai gallantly assisted them both in boarding, before joining them inside. “Remember: ladylike throughout,” he said gravely. “No fighting.” He glanced at Jessamine. “And no cartwheels.” He glanced at Lynne.

They both had to laugh. The thought of turning a cartwheel in this outfit was hilarious. “That knave’s eyes would pop out,” Lynne said.

“So would our breasts,” Jessamine added.

“And you would never get them crammed back in,” Ittai agreed. “Pregnancy becomes you, my love.”

“What?” Lynne asked, astonished.

“All the more reason not to get bound up like this again,” Jessamine said. Then, to Lynne: “Yes. I have missed two periods. I think I am with child. At last.”

“Great! Now you’ll really have to be a lady.”

“A woman.”

“A lady today, a woman always,” Ittai said.

The palace at Versailles was southwest of Paris. It was the biggest, fanciest building Lynne had ever seen. She was dazzled by its great brick walls and multiple stories. She knew it had started as a hunting lodge, some thirty-five years before, built by the king’s father, but it had been almost continually expanded. Indeed, there were signs of construction now, as outlying buildings were being added.

They introduced themselves to the gatekeepers, who checked their roster and verified that these visitors were expected. A page guided them to the breakfast chamber of the king. Pierre Boucher was already there, in his best clothing, along with a number of courtiers Lynne didn’t recognize. There they waited until Louis completed his breakfast and acknowledged their presence. The king was a handsome man in his early twenties, quite well dressed and surprisingly free of affectation. He wore a magnificent head of golden curls, his hair surrounding his face and covering his shoulders. Lynne might have mistaken him for a woman, as he wore neither beard nor mustache, had he not been so obviously the king.

“Ah yes, Monsieur Boucher,” Louis said. “From New France. I am so pleased to meet you. And your fine merchant captain, Ittai, of whom I have heard good things. And—” He glanced meaningfully at the women.

“My wife, Jessamine,” Ittai said quickly, and Jessamine made a curtsy. They had practiced, to be sure to do it correctly. “And my wife’s sister, Lynne,” he continued after a moment. Now Lynne curtsied, relieved to accomplish it without mishap.

“Charming, charming,” Louis said. “Come with me to the council chamber, and we shall see what all this is about.”

He meant only the men, of course, as women had no place in governance. The two of them had ceased to exist.

But as they turned to leave, a woman approached them. “Lynne,” she said. “We have met before.”

Startled, Lynne looked at her. The women was indeed somehow familiar. She was beautiful, but that wasn’t it.

“We knew your brother Bry,” the woman said. “When he was lost in the storm.”

Then it registered. “Annette!” Lynne exclaimed. “You danced!”

“Yes, I am here with my husband to instruct courtiers in the new dances,” Annette agreed. “He is busy elsewhere at the moment, so I thought I would tour the palace, which I understand is a marvel. Would you and your friend care to join me?”

Lynne realized that she had been guilty of a breach of etiquette by not thinking to introduce her companion. “This is my sister, Jessamine. Her husband is with Pierre Boucher, of New France.”

“How nice to meet you,” Annette said.

“Likewise, I am certain,” Jessamine said politely.

“She wasn’t with us, on that trip,” Lynne said. “She was in the other party, looking for Bry.”

“A fine young man,” Annette said.

“You should see her dance,” Lynne said to Jessamine. “It’s wonderful!”

“We shall be holding a class in dance this afternoon,” Annette said. “Perhaps you would like to join us then.”

“Yes!” Lynne said eagerly.

Jessamine shrugged. Annette smiled. Then she guided them to the marvelous chamber of the palace. There were magnificent paintings on every wall, and statues in every hall. Even the tables were richly ornamented, with glistening surfaces. In fact the floors, too, were tiled with repeating patterns. A number of other people were touring too, admiring the phenomenal display of art.

But after two hours, Lynne was getting bored. She realized that she was not yet of an age to properly appreciate such a display. Fortunately they were able to go to the kitchen and get some rolls of sweet bread to eat.

Then Annette took them to the chamber reserved for practice. There were a number of ladies there, and a few men. One of the men turned out to be Annette’s husband Hugh, who Lynne noticed was left-handed. It didn’t matter, as he was putting together a nice wooden flute. In a moment he was playing, and the melody was sprightly. Lynne already felt like dancing.

“Today we have a new dance,” Annette announced. “The dance itself is a variant of ones you may be familiar with, involving a couple, but the music differs. Now my husband will play the music, so I will need a partner to demonstrate with.” She looked around smiling. She was a lovely woman, so several of the men were interested.

But before any of them stepped forward, there was a voice from the entrance. “I will do it, if you please.”

Lynne looked—and was amazed. It was the king! He was surrounded by the courtiers who had the daily honor of walking with him. There was a murmur, and the men bowed and the women curtsied.

Louis paused to allow them to complete their devotions, then nodded graciously. He was every inch the monarch.

“This is a simple demonstration of the dance, perhaps beneath your notice, Your Majesty,” Annette said, seeming slightly daunted herself.

“No dance is beneath my notice,” Louis said, striding forward. He was resplendent in a voluminous robe, which he doffed and handed to a courtier in order to free his body for the dance. His legs were in snug white stockings, showing their perfection halfway up the thighs, and his delicate feet were in high-heeled sandals. “This is a dance lesson. Treat me as you would any other partner.”

“As you wish, Sire,” Annette said respectfully. “But I shall have to presume to give you direction.”

“I take direction well, from lovely ladies,” he said, with a slight bow. There was an appreciative chuckle among the courtiers. The king had a reputation, and evidently fostered it, for no such notice would have been taken without the knowledge of his approval of it. The courtiers struck Lynne as fawning sycophants.

The music started over, with a new cadence and melody, and Annette stood beside the king. “The motions are very small, even delicate,” she said. “In fact we call it the ‘minuet.’ This dance is stately rather than active, but it gives a nice effect for spectators. Now you will hold my hand, so, and we shall turn around each other, facing, in measured step, so.” She demonstrated, smiling at the king, and Louis moved with her, following her motion so perfectly that it seemed he had always known it. “You are apt at this,” she said approvingly.

“I like the art of dance,” Louis said. “I believe it to be one of the most important disciplines for training the body.”

“I certainly agree.”

They continued with the demonstration, and Lynne was enraptured. Annette was a perfect dancer, and so, it became clear, was the king, whose poise and grace were phenomenal. It was as if the two had always danced together. Taken as a whole, the little dance was a work of art.

The demonstration must have taken some time, but to Lynne it was only an instant before it ended. The music stopped, and Annette and Louis made token bows as the small audience burst into applause. Everyone was taken with this charming little dance, and it would surely be popular at court.

“Now we must teach the rest of you,” Annette said. She glanced at the king. “Your Majesty, if you would be so kind as to choose another partner—”

Louis nodded. As Annette selected another man to dance with, the king looked over the women. Every one of them was eager to be his partner, for not only was he a monarch, he was a handsome and exceedingly graceful man. Then he strode across and proffered his hand, making another little formal bow to the one he had chosen.

“Go, girl,” a woman murmured behind her. Lynne jumped. The king was asking
her!

Dazed, she tried to curtsy, tripped, and stumbled forward toward the man. Horribly embarrassed, she realized she was about to crash into him. There was nothing she could do about it, though she seemed to be falling ever so slowly.

Then his hands were on her shoulders, steadying her with a power that shot right through to her ankles. “That is not the step,” he murmured with a smile.

She tried to speak, but her tongue was stuck in her mouth as the flush spread across her face. What a fool she was making of herself!

“Face me, and step so,” he said, taking her right hand and guiding her. He made a mincing step. She mimicked him, feeling unreal.

Then, slowly, it worked. They stepped together, she following his lead, and they were dancing the minuet. Near them Annette and her new partner were dancing too, the man following the woman’s lead. He looked as uncertain as Lynne felt. But her concern was fading, as the reassuring competence of the king guided her, and after a while she was matching his steps with increasing competence.

Then the little dance was done, and she was finishing with a twirl under his hand. She saw her skirts spread out as she turned, showing her legs; it was as if she were watching from across the room. Then she finished, with a curtsy that worked just right this time, matching Louis’s token bow. There was another round of applause from the audience. She had done it! She had danced the dance.

After that, it multiplied. The king danced with other ladies, and Lynne danced with other men, showing them the nice little steps. She had always liked to dance, and this was hardly a complicated or demanding one, but she was amazed at how well she had picked up on it. Louis’s guidance had really helped her. She was having a wonderful time.

In due course the multiplication had taken all the men, including the courtiers who had accompanied the king, and Lynne found herself without a partner. She stood at the side, watching the others, admiring the niceties of the minuet, its little mannered moves. It was easy to do, yet also wonderful to behold. Jessamine was dancing with a courtier, and seeming to enjoy it.

Then Louis himself dropped out and came to stand beside her. “I know about your hand,” he murmured.

Lynne’s world imploded. “Oh!”

“Be at ease, pretty maiden. I speak not to disparage you, but to ask a favor.”

“A favor,” she echoed numbly.

“The politics of the court can be difficult. There is a noble for whom I would like to do a favor, so that he will not oppose support for New France. His word carries considerable weight in certain quarters. I think that if you, a lovely maiden from that province, were to dance with his son, it would be effective.”