The Launching of Roger Brook (56 page)

Marie-Antoinette loved to throw off the dignity of Queen for a few hours and she was gay and charming with everybody. Athénaïs said that it was a joy to see her acting the farmer’s wife and romping with her children, the young Dauphin and the little Princess Royale. Even the heavy-featured, tongue-tied King came out of his shell a little and joined in a game of blind man’s buff, when he was not too tired from hunting and fell asleep in his chair.

Athénaïs declared that he was very far from being the fool that many people thought him. He was, she said, a clever geographer, an expert locksmith, and spoke German and English well. It was his misfortune that he would much rather have been a bourgeois family-man than a King, and had it not been for his very simple tastes, gentleness and diffidence, he would have made an excellent Sovereign.

Roger could not question such a first-hand portrait but all the same he accepted it with reservation. He had heard M. de Rochambeau say more than once that the King was so bored by affairs of State that during the meetings of the Royal Council he often drew pictures of locks on his blotting-pad, instead of listening to what his ministers were saying to him; and that on other occasions he returned so exhausted from his favourite pastime of the chase that he slept solidly, snoring his way through discussions of the utmost importance.

Every time Roger saw Athénaïs he asked her if any decision had yet been taken about her marriage, dreading to hear that something definite had been decided which would soon put a period to their meetings; but each time she said that her father seemed in no hurry to dispose of her and, as summer approached, she sought to comfort Roger by saying that, even when her engagement was announced, a further two or three months must elapse while she got her trousseau together, so it was most unlikely that they would have to face separation until the autumn.

M. de la Tour d’Auvergne continued to show the greatest devotion to her, and she freely confessed that, of her suitors whom she had met personally, she favoured him far
above the rest; but, as all negotiations for her hand were conducted through her father, there were several that she had not seen and, perhaps, others that she did not even know about.

Roger had helped the Vicomte to find comfortable lodgings in the Rue de Richelieu, soon after Athénaïs had taken up her residence at Versailles, and he had since spent most of his time getting himself invited to every party at which he learned she was to appear; but he often looked in on Roger, or invited him to his apartment for a quiet talk about the object of their mutual devotion, and two or three times a week they fenced together.

It was on the 4th of June that M. de Rochambeau said to Roger: ‘On the 30th of this month I intend to give a ball. It is Mademoiselle Athénaïs’s eighteenth birthday, and on that night I propose to present her to her future husband. Their Majesties have promised to honour me with their presence on this occasion, so I desire that no expense should be spared to give them pleasure. I wish you to go into the matter with my major-domo and make all the necessary arrangements. Everybody of any importance should be invited so I should also like you to get me out a list of guests. I will submit it to the Sovereigns for their approval and when they have made any amendments they may wish, you can employ your assistant on sending out the invitations.’

Roger could feel the blood draining from his face, and he prayed that the Marquis would not notice the tremor in his voice as he asked: ‘E—is it your desire, Monseigneur, that the name of Mademoiselle’s future husband should be given out as yet?’

‘No,’ replied the Marquis, quietly. The match that I have arranged for Mademoiselle is extremely suitable and she could hardly hope for a better; but ’tis my secret, and I intend to keep it as a pleasant surprise for her on the night of the ball.’

At that, Roger had to leave it and, much as he hated the thought of Athénaïs marrying anyone, he could only pray that the pleasant surprise her father planned for her was his consent to the suit of M. de la Tour d’Auvergne.

When he saw her next he found that she was no wiser than himself and, although she knew all about the ball, she had not succeeded in securing even a hint as to whom she
was to be affianced. Her own belief was that her father favoured the young Prince de la Roche-Aymon, who was eighteen months her junior, but now that the day of her committal was fast approaching she hoped more than ever that his choice would be her devoted and charming Vicomte.

In the weeks that followed Roger and Monsieur Roland consulted together with great frequency and gave countless orders to ensure the success of the entertainment. The Hôtel was turned upside down and an army of workmen brought in to take down partitions, broaden doorways and erect canopies. The principal
salons
of the mansion were all earmarked as supper or card rooms; the great courtyard was entirely floored over and tented above, to form a ballroom that would accommodate a thousand dancers. The stables were evacuated, cleaned and converted into a mess for the troops of guards without which the King and his brothers never left their palaces. A hundred new liveries in the de Rochambeau colours were ordered so that every footman might have a brand-new one, and those hired for the evening not appear dissimilar to the permanent staff. Scores of additional candelabra were affixed to light the huge marquee and forty of the best fiddlers in Paris engaged to form the band. The Chef took on fifty additional scullions who worked for days to prepare a superb collation, and the wine butler got up over two thousand bottles of the Marquis’s finest wines from the cellars.

The list of proposed guests had been returned from Versailles and the invitations sent out. They included all the Princes of the Blood, except His Royal Highness the Duc d’Orleans, the twenty members of the Royal Council and, excepting the de Rohans, with their kinsmen, the Soubises. Guises and Lorraines, practically every great name that had figured in the history of France for the past three hundred years; Aiguillion, Beaufort, Biron, Bouillon, Bourbon-Condé, Châtillion, Choiseul, Crillon, Epernon, Estrées, Gramont, Guéménée, Lambesq, Longueville, Luynes, Montmorency, Montpensier, Nemours, Nesle, Noailles, Richelieu, Rochefoucault, Soissons, Sully, Trémouille, Villeroy, Vendôme, together with a host of others, and the whole
Corps Diplomatique
as at that date accredited to the Court of Versailles. Monsieur Roland was to be responsible for the service of the guests, and Roger was to be
at hand from start to finish, in case during the evening the Marquis wished him to execute any special commission.

On the great night, Athénaïs, her powdered hair ornamented with ostrich feathers and little garlands of fresh flowers, and wearing a dress of cream satin sewn with pearls, took her place beside her father at the top of the grand staircase, to receive her guests. By eight o’clock they were arriving in a constant stream, and soon Cardinals, Duchesses, Ambassadors and Marshals of France were mingling together in a dazzling concourse. At a quarter to nine the Captain of the King’s guards arrived to take possession of the house in the name of His Majesty.

At nine o’clock there sounded a loud fanfare of trumpets, announcing the approach of the Sovereigns, and Athénaïs and her father went down to receive them. Bowing or curtseying at every third step, the de Rochambeaus walked backwards before their royal guests right across the parquet floor of the great marquee until they reached the two high thrones, covered in blue velvet spangled with gold
fleur-de-lys
, that had been prepared upon a daïs. When the King and Queen were seated their host and hostess personally offered them refreshments, and they formally broke little cakes on the gold platters and sipped wine from the crystal goblets.

For the entrance of their Majesties the other guests had formed ten deep on each side of the room into a glittering lane, and sunk in a flurry of silks and ribbons, like corn before a gust of wind, in deep obeisance as the Royal couple advanced. Now they formed in a great half-circle, leaving an empty space before the thrones, to the right and left of which the Princes of the Blood and their ladies had seated themselves on brocaded
tabourets
.

The King signed to one of his gentlemen, who handed him a jewelled casket, which he gave to Athénaïs with his good wishes for her birthday. It contained a pair of beautiful emerald drop-shaped ear-rings. One of the Queen’s ladies gave her a long, carved ivory box. Beckoning Athénaïs to her she kissed her lightly on the forehead and laid the box in her arms. On opening it a feather fan was disclosed made with infinite labour from thousands of woodcock points. ‘Monsieur’ the King’s eldest brother gave her a pair of diamond buckles; the little son of the Emperor of Cochinchina, then on a mission to the French Court, a
beautiful lacquer box; Monsieur Simolin, the Russian Ambassador, a cape of sables; King George’s emissary, the Duke of Dorset, a fine pair of Chelsea figures; the Comte de Mercy, a case of Imperial Tokay; and so for an hour it continued, while the splendidly clad denizens of the
ancien régime
paid homage to birth and beauty, laying at her feet enough treasure to keep a thousand poor families from want for a twelvemonth.

When the present-giving was over, at a sign from the King, the band struck up a minuet. Louis of France rose from his throne and led Athénaïs de Rochambeau out on to the floor; Marie Antoinette laid her tapering fingers on the arm of the Marquis, and the two couples took up their positions to open the ball.

For two hours the stately dancing continued; myriads of candles making the jewels of the courtiers scintillate and sparkle as they threaded their way in and out of the complicated evolutions, their silks, satins and velvets blending and merging in a kaleidoscope of riotous colour.

Most of the time Roger stood a little behind the row of
tabourets
to the right of the thrones, glorying in the beauty of his lovely Athénaïs, but always keeping the Marquis in view in case some service was required of him. From time to time various friends came up and chatted to him for a while; M. de la Tour d’Auvergne—as anxious as Roger was to know his fate—Count Louis de Narbonne and the Abbé de Périgord among them.

The lame Abbé, clad in a suit of dove-grey silk, his piquant face alight with animation, was, as usual, enjoying himself immensely. The fact that he was lame made other men always get up on his approach and offer him their seats, while he was never expected to extend a similar courtesy to them. In consequence, he gravitated gracefully from one to another of all the loveliest women present, and lingered at their sides whispering amusing immoralities to each of them behind their fans for as long as he listed then, with apparent regret, tore himself away to murmur the latest scandal into the willing ear of another.

Roger proved poor company that night for the people who talked to him. He knew the programme; dancing till midnight, then the announcing of the engagement, then an adjournment for supper, then dancing again until two o’clock, at which hour their Majesties would leave; but the
band would play on till four, and by five it was hoped that any lingering drunks would be carried off to their coaches by their servants.

The two hours’ dancing before supper seemed an eternity to him and afterwards he only remembered one episode during it. He had moved out a little down one side of the room and was standing behind two men who were some way apart from the crowd.

Suddenly he heard one of them say in English: ‘I’d give a thousand guineas to know what’s inside that damn’ fellow’s head. If ever there was a mischief-maker, he is one.’

The other replied quietly: ‘Don’t worry, Your Grace. We’ll know in due course. We have a very reliable agent here. It seems that he is averse to contacting the Embassy, but, no doubt, should any crisis arise he will return home and report to Maxwell personally.’

Roger saw that they were both looking intently at the Marquis, and he knew that the first speaker was the British Ambassador, the Duke of Dorset. It flashed into his mind that the other was probably Mr. Daniel Hailes, and that he himself was the ‘very reliable agent’ referred to.

The fact that his King’s representatives knew of and counted on him came as a shock, and even more so the intimation that, in the event of a crisis, he was expected to go home and report in person.

At last the band stopped playing, the Sovereigns returned to their thrones and the glittering throng formed again into a great half-circle before them. Under the direction of Monsieur Roland scores of footmen had appeared carrying silver salvers loaded with glasses of champagne. The major-domo himself brought two lovely Venetian goblets on a gold salver to M. de Rochambeau. Going down on one knee the Marquis offered them to their Majesties and each took one.

The King then stood up and addressed the assembled company. ‘Cousins, my lords and ladies; it is our Royal pleasure this night to er—thank Monsieur de Rochambeau for the very pleasant entertainment he has afforded us. It is also our, er—pleasure to give our Royal consent to a contract of marriage uniting two great and ancient families, both er—distinguished for their services to the Crown. We refer, of course, to the forthcoming nuptials of Mademoiselle de Rochambeau. It will be our Royal pleasure to sign
as witness to the marriage contract on a suitable date at—er—our palace of Versailles. In wishing happiness to this couple it gives us special pleasure to know that M. le Marquis has selected for his son-in-law another great landowner in our Province of Brittany.’

For Athénaïs’s sake Roger’s heart leapt for joy. The King’s last words could only mean that the Marquis had decided to give her to M. de la Tour d’Auvergne.

After a little pause the King coughed, and went on:

‘Mademoiselle de Rochambeau is indeed fortunate, as her husband-to-be is one of the richest men in our realm. But M. le Comte de Caylus is also to be congratulated.…’

Aghast, choking with shock and indignation, Roger took in the terrible sentence that had been passed on Athénaïs. As though in a nightmare he heard the heavy-faced, lugubrious King drone on, proposing the health and happiness of M. de Caylus and his future Countess; and saw the burly, sallow-complexioned quadroon step forward from a group of gentlemen on the far side of the thrones.