Vonda McIntyre - The Moon and the Sun

“Mama, you’re exaggerating as usual,” Lotte said. “Why, we’re rich, since dear Grande Mademoiselle died.”

“ ‘Dear’ Grande Mademoiselle—Never mind, I mustn’t speak ill of the dead. La Grande Mademoiselle left your brother rich. Monsieur is rich. But I have hardly enough to keep my household, and I can hardly maintain Monsieur’s position with one new dress every other season.”

“Mama, you have a brand new grand habit! We must hurry, why haven’t your ladies got you dressed?”

“They fussed so, I sent them away and wrote my letters until you should come.”

Lotte took charge, sending Odelette to fetch Madame’s stays and stockings, putting Marie-Josèphe in charge of Madame’s petticoat. Together they dressed the Princess Palatine. Their conversation turned to the sea monsters.

“I wrote to the Raugrafin Sophie,” Madame said. “I told her of your brother’s triumph, Mlle de la Croix, and of watching him butcher the monster fish.”

“The creatures aren’t really fish, Madame. They’re like whales, or sea-cows. He’s dissecting it—to look inside, to reveal the wonder of how its body works—”

“Dissection, butchery.” Madame shrugged.

“Chartres has all the family talent for alchemy.” Lotte shuddered theatrically. “I couldn’t understand it—if I did I’m sure I’d never again eat or drink or breathe.”

“You’d have no more choice in it,” Madame said, “than you have in emptying your bowels or breaking wind.”

“Mama!” Lotte laughed, her beautiful laugh like spun silver. “Now you stop breathing for a moment, so we may lace your stays.”

Elderflower, in his wandering, bumped into Madame’s feet and plopped down. Marie-Josèphe and Odelette helped Madame into her petticoat. Its edge fell over Elderflower, concealing him. Youngerflower, losing sight of the older dog, ran around the room yapping in a panic.

Ignoring Youngerflower, Madame bent down and pushed aside lace and ruffles to pat Elderflower’s long soft ears.

“He’s getting feeble. I’ll be so sad when he dies—and what will Youngerflower do when he’s gone?”

“Mama, don’t be silly, Elderflower’s no more feeble than you are!”

“We should both retire to a convent, where we’d be in no one’s way, and no one would have to think of us. A convent would accept a little dog, don’t you think? They wouldn’t deprive me of my few pleasures.”

They would deprive you of everything they could, dear Madame, Marie-Josèphe thought, but she could not say such an irreverent thing out loud.

“Madame, I think you would not enjoy a convent.” She and Odelette lifted the great construction of Madame’s court dress and settled it upon her.

“Mama, they wouldn’t let you hunt, if you retired to a convent. They might not let you write your letters. What would Raugrafin Sophie do without them?”

“I’d have nothing to write about, from the convent. I’d have to take the veil, and a vow of silence.”

“You’d never see the King—”

“I see him—” Madame’s voice caught. “I see him seldom enough anyway.”

“And besides, you must find me a prince, you promised!”

Lotte’s enthusiasm brought a smile, tinged only a little with sadness, to Madame’s lips. She held out her arms; she and Lotte embraced again.

“I must, it is true,” Madame said. “For I failed your brother in the matter of his marriage—his father failed him, his uncle the King failed him, and our family is full of mouse droppings!” Madame sighed deeply. “If Chartres had fewer foolish notions, fewer dangerous occupations—”

“Mama, you forget—”

“That Father de la Croix has the same sort of notions? I forget nothing, Liselotte. He can afford his new-fangled ideas.”

Madame sat down. Elderflower clawed his way into her lap; snuffling and sputtering, the evil pug sat its bottom on her velvet skirt and pawed the gauze covering her bosom. Madame petted the creature fondly.

“Everything’s different for a Grandson of France. What His Majesty approves in a Jesuit, he cannot approve for his nephew.”

“Madame, your son loves science,” Marie-Josèphe said. “Forbidding him his studies would cause him infinite distress.”

“And allowing him to continue might cost him his life. The suspicions could drag your brother down as well. And you, you must take care.”

“Suspicions!” Marie-Josèphe shook her head in confusion. “Who could suspect Yves of any base act? Who could suspect Chartres? Madame, he is sweet and good and intelligent—”

“My husband is sweet and good and intelligent as well,” Madame said. “For all his faults, and even for his sins. That kept no one from gossiping that he poisoned Henriette d’Angleterre—or that he should be burned.”

“Nonsense, mama. Everyone who knew the first Madame says she died because she never ate anything. She pined away for love of—”

“Hush, you know nothing of her, you were no more than a glimmer of duty in your father’s eye.”

“And you were still in the Palatinate with Aunt Sophie!”

Madame bent to lean her forehead against Elderflower’s soft golden fur. Youngerflower snuffled around her feet, his nose to the floor, seeking his elder companion without success.

Madame sighed. “And how I wish I had stayed there!”

She gazed at Lotte for a long minute. Her rough breath slowed and deepened and she did not cry. Marie-Josèphe’s heart broke for Madame, so far from home.

“I will find you a prince, Liselotte,” Madame said. “My duty is to find him, and your duty will be to marry him. I hope you will not hate me on that day… I hope you will be happier than I.”

“Mama, never worry about my wedding day. You’ll be proud of me, I promise. Oh, what shall we do about your hair?”

“Give me a ribbon to tie it with,” Madame said, glancing critically at Lotte’s headdress. “You have plenty to spare. No one will notice me.”

“Marie-Josèphe, mama needs your help.”

“I can only defer to Odelette, Mademoiselle.”

She drew Odelette forward and held the pins and ribbons while she worked. Lotte joined her, playing the part of hairdresser’s assistant with enthusiasm.

“Mama, please smile,” Lotte said. “You look magnificent. Will you send for some chocolate and cakes to sustain us for the afternoon?”

“I should not smile because my teeth are too ugly and I should not have cakes because I am too fat,” Madame said. “But I will do both, my dear, to please you.”

As Odelette finished dressing Madame’s hair, Monsieur and Chartres and Lorraine arrived, trooping into Madame’s private chamber like a trio of jeweled and bewigged peacocks. As if from nowhere, servants appeared with more pastries, with plates of fruit, with wine.

Moving with her usual stolid energy, Madame rose from her chair to curtsy to her husband. Monsieur formally returned her salute.

“I’ve brought my hairdresser for you, Madame.” Monsieur stroked a curl of his massive black wig and sipped wine from a silver goblet. “ Do let him—”

“I’ve been fussed over quite enough.” Madame waved Monsieur’s hairdresser away.

Lorraine and Chartres looked on, drinking wine, critical and amused. Bowing, disappointed, the hairdresser withdrew.

“Have you a new hairdresser?” Monsieur asked. “The arrangement is adequate—more than adequate. With the addition of a ruffle or two—”

“I am far too old for a fontanges. No, thank you, Monsieur. I prefer my hair plain—and so does your brother the King.”

Monsieur and Lorraine exchanged a glance; even Marie-Josèphe knew that the King, in his wilder youth, paid his serious attentions to beauties.