Read The Secret Diary of a Princess a novel of Marie Antoinette Online
Authors: Melanie Clegg
I smiled then. 'I must admit that it would be a lot of fun. I thought the young men at the ball so dreadfully dull.' I shrugged my shoulders and laughed a little. 'I was beginning to wonder what all the fuss is about.'
Amalia gave me a quick hug. 'Well, we can't have that, can we?'
Karl returned shortly afterwards with a very tall and extremely handsome young man with a mop of dark hair and dark blue eyes that twinkled admiringly from behind his silver mask. He led me out to dance and then proceeded to flirt with me in the most agreeable fashion imaginable, which I enjoyed excessively even if it made me blush and left me utterly tongue tied.
After this I danced some more with Karl and some other young men of his acquaintance, who were all far more amusing than the very correct young courtiers that my brother considered to be suitable partners for me. I began to think myself very grown up indeed as I swept around the ballroom, laughing and smiling at these dashing and anonymous gentlemen who were all determined to make themselves as pleasing to me as possible. For the first time I began to comprehend a little of what my own power over men might be, if I was wise enough to use it properly and the knowledge was highly intoxicating.
I could happily have stayed all night long and danced until dawn but it required me to only yawn once for Amalia to immediately turn to Karl and say that perhaps we should all go home. 'Poor Antonia is almost asleep on her feet!'
'I am not!' I protested. 'Oh, please, Amalia, may we not stay for a while longer? The jugglers and fire eaters and stilt walkers have just arrived and I am enjoying myself so much!'
Amalia laughed and shook her lovely head. 'No, I must insist that you come home before you give yourself up entirely to dissipation and become quite depraved, which would
never
do!' She kissed my glowing cheek. 'I am glad, though, that you have enjoyed yourself!'
I threw my arms about her. 'Oh, Amalia, I have enjoyed myself so much! Thank you! Thank you!'
She smiled and kissed my cheek. 'I am so glad,
petite
! It would be dreadful if you were to leave Vienna without having at least once experienced a masked ball here.' It was only then that I realised that this could well be Amalia's last carnival season in Austria for she is due to go to Parma in the Summer and will probably never return again and then after that it will be my turn.
Wednesday, 22
nd
February, late.
I have had another letter from Carolina. She doesn't sound unhappy but is clearly bored and dissatisfied with her life in Naples. Her letter ended with: '
I know that I should not speak to you of this but I have never been so disappointed in all my life as when the Countess' Secrets of the Bouoir were finally revealed to me. I sincerely hope that you will have a happier experience than me
.'
I blushed crimson as I read this, suddenly fearful that my mail had been intercepted and read before it came into my hands and that now everyone knew that I was interested in such things. I read the letter through one more time to commit it to memory and then immediately opened up my stove,
thrust it inside and then watched it curl up in the fire and then disintegrate into powdery ashes.
I wish though that she had written more on the subject. I would like to know just a little bit of what to expect before it happens. I wonder if anyone will ever tell me?
Sunday, 26
th
February, after dinner.
Amalia turned twenty three today. She does not look very happy about this. Her fiancé, the Duke of Parma sent her a beautiful diamond bracelet but she barely looked at it before tossing it aside.
Wednesday, 8
th
March.
Amalia came to my sitting room this afternoon with a small parcel, carefully wrapped in blue silk and tied with a pink velvet ribbon. She waved away my maids and smiled mysteriously as she handed it to me. 'A present,' she said.
'What can it be?' I pulled the silk away to reveal a wooden box with a metal clasp. 'More jewels?'
Amalia laughed and shook her head. 'No. Look inside.'
I opened the box to reveal a small gold medal lying on a bed of pale green velvet. For a moment I was confused as I gazed at it but then I picked up and looked closer and realised that on one side there was a portrait of myself in profile and on the other there was one of a young man that I did not recognise but who the inscription identified as the Dauphin Louis of France.
'Do you see?' Amalia whispered. 'It came from France.'
I looked up at her and nodded, feeling suddenly afraid. 'Yes, I do.'
It is all starting to happen now.
Monday, 20
th
March, evening.
Mama has started descending on my French history lessons with Abbé Vermond. She enters with a great deal of drama and fuss and then ostentatiously seats herself in a corner, telling us both in a whisper not to mind her and to pretend that she isn't there. The Abbé and I always look at each other in amusement, well aware that in only a few moments she will interrupt and then impatiently take over the conversation, steering it irresistibly towards her own thoughts and opinions, which are rarely flattering to the French, who she clearly believes to be both untrustworthy and frivolous and 'not like us'.
Sometimes I think that it would be better if she went to France instead of me. Perhaps King Louis would like to marry her? His own wife died last year so perhaps he is looking for a replacement?
Tuesday, 11
th
April, Schönnbrunn.
An artist called Monsieur Ducreux has arrived from Paris to take my likeness in pastels for the French court. I haven't met him yet but Joseph himself came to my sitting room to inform me of his arrival.
'It is imperative that you are in your best looks and are as charming as possible,' my brother ordered while tugging gently at Mops' silky ears while she, absurd animal, almost swooned with happiness. 'Everything depends upon it.' He scratched under Mops' chin. 'This portrait will be sent to Versailles, where it will be inspected by King Louis himself.'
'I will do my best,' I murmured meekly. After all, how hard can it be?
Friday, 14
th
April, after dinner.
Monsieur Ducreux hates me. I can tell. He seemed so pleased when I first skipped into the small, cold salon where our sittings are to take place and fussed over me politely as I settled myself in my pink upholstered chair and arranged my blue and yellow silk skirts in the most becoming manner.
'It is always a pleasure to have such a delightful subject,' he remarked with a smile as he tilted my head to one side, just so and then placed one of my hands beneath my chin. 'You will win all hearts in France, Your Highness.'
His pleasure in me did not last for long and after only a short time it was becoming clear that he was not finding me at all delightful to work with as he kept jumping up and repositioning first my hands then my head, then my hands again, then telling me to hide them altogether, then asking me to smile more, then less and so on. It was dreadful watching him become increasingly irate and when I started to get a cramp in my arm, I was too scared to tell him in case he lost his temper completely and threw his pastels at my head or something.
When the hour was over and I thankfully rose to leave, he crumpled the paper in his hand and hurled it on to the floor. 'Tomorrow we will try again!' he announced with a deep sigh.
Thursday, 4
th
May, early.
The portrait is finished and is surprisingly pleasing, considering how much trouble it cost us. I look very young and very pretty and gaze out directly at the viewer with wide, innocent blue eyes. The entire family gathered in Mama's freezing cold, sandalwood scented sitting room to inspect it before it was wrapped in silks, sealed into a wooden box and then sent on its way to Versailles.
'King Louis will be extremely impressed,' Elizabeth said to Christina with a giggle and a significant look from beneath her thinly plucked eyebrows. 'I hear that he is partial to pretty little blondes.'
I do not know why they both started laughing so nastily; surely it is a good thing if the King of France admires my looks and thinks me pretty enough to marry his grandson? I only wish that I had been allowed to smile with my mouth open so that he could see how wonderfully straight my teeth are now, considering all the effort that went into making them so.
Wednesday, 17
th
May, late. I should be in bed.
We had a delightful family concert tonight and I played the harp in front of everyone. Even Monsieur le Marquis de Durfort came up to me afterwards and complimented me on the grace and skill of my playing.
'I do believe that he is softening towards you, my dear one!' Amalia whispered to me with an arch look behind her painted fan. 'I heard him remark to your Abbé that he thought it impossible to imagine anything prettier and more charming than your expression while playing the harp.'
I blushed. 'This is praise indeed,' I murmured, not knowing what else to say. 'I was starting to think that perhaps Monsieur de Durfort was against my marriage.'
'It would appear that he has changed his mind.' Amalia laughed and passed on to talk to Marianne.
Thursday, 25
th
May, early morning.
I am lying in bed, waiting for my maids to silently tiptoe in to open the heavy pink damask curtains and light the little white stove in the corner of my room before bringing me my breakfast in bed. I do not know why I woke up so early but it is pleasant to lie here snugly and listen to the sounds of the palace as it wakes up from its slumber and prepares for the day ahead.
My brothers are already up and I can hear them outside, hallooing noisily to each other and whistling for their dogs as they set off on their customary early morning walk in the park. I can close my eyes and imagine them as they must look: Joseph, tall and handsome with a stern look in his bright blue eyes; Ferdinand, sulkily kicking the turf and squinting up at the sun that is just beginning to peep over the trees and Max, with his untidy fair hair escaping from its ponytail, eating the sugared pastries that he carries in his pockets and carelessly flicking the clamouring, hungry dogs away.
Elsewhere in the palace, Mama will have been up since dawn and will already be dressed in her customary black, with a plain linen cap pulled down over her powdered hair and black net mittens on her beautiful white hands. She will have had an early morning meeting with several yawning, weary advisors and will now be sitting at her black lacquer desk, signing official papers heavy with red wax seals, writing letters that will travel all over the globe and occasionally pausing to either pat one of her dogs, sip some water or gaze out through the open window at the park beyond.
I can't imagine what it will be like to live so far away from everything that I have ever known. To wake up anywhere else but here, safe in the heart of my own family.
Tuesday, 6
th
June.
It has finally happened.
I was walking in the garden with the Princesses Friederike and Charlotte when one of my mother's liveried footmen appeared on the path ahead of us, flushed and out of breath as he had obviously been rushing around in search of me. I suddenly felt very faint and breathless as I stood in the middle of the gravel path and waited for him to reach us. I reached back blindly to take hold of Charlotte's hand and her warm fingers twisted reassuringly around mine.
'This is it,' I whispered, shivering despite the fact that it was a clement day with barely a breeze in the sky. I could hear the birds singing in the trees overhead and for a brief moment everything seemed to have a shimmering clarity and stillness. 'This is finally it.' I will always remember where I was standing and how I felt when the footman came to tell me that my mother had sent me for me.
'Your Highness,' the boy bowed low and then straightened up, his cheeks red and pimpled beneath his slightly askew white perriwig. 'I have been ordered to take you immediately to the Empress.'
'Of course.' I looked back fearfully at my friends and they both stepped forward with reassuring smiles and began to straighten my floral printed white silk dress and the pink cashmere shawl that I had arranged about my elbows. 'Do I look pretty?' I asked anxiously, aware that this was an important moment.
'You look charming,' Friederike said with a wistful smile as she gave my silk skirts one last tweak. 'Your mother, the Empress will be very pleased.'
I leaned forward, took both of her hands and kissed her cheeks, then turned to follow the footman down the paths, along the parterre and back to the palace. We passed several tight little groups of courtiers, who looked at me curiously as they curtsied, their bright silk skirts looking like petals against the foliage of the gardens. I heard their whispers behind my back: 'The French have asked for her. King Louis was immediately smitten with her portrait. The princess will be Dauphine within the year.' News travels fast in Vienna. We have no secrets here.