Виктория Холт - The Road to Compiegne

He had been told that she was deeply in love with him and that her greatest wish was to have an opportunity of proving to him the depth of her affection.

Louis was bored. He needed a diversion and, since the Comtesse so earnestly desired an interview, he declared it would be churlish to deny it.

The interview was arranged and was very successful. The King found the Comtesse not only charming but a passionate companion. Clearly one such interview could not satisfy him.

The young girls who had been brought to him were amusing for a very short time. For intellectual companionship he relied on the Marquise. He now felt how charming it was to combine lust with Court manners; the Comtesse had come at the right time to supply a needed change.

The news of the King’s latest love affair was not yet spread about the Court. The power of the Marquise was great and it was very necessary that she should remain in ignorance of what was happening until the time when the Comtesse could demand her dismissal.

D’Argenson and his friends chuckled together, dreaming of the day when the Marquise would receive her lettre de cachet .

Quesnay, the doctor who had worked for Madame de Pompadour and had often attended the King, was also a friend of d’Argenson and Madame d’Estrades.

When he heard of the plot to destroy Madame de Pompadour he was deeply distressed.

‘Have no fear,’ d’Argenson told him. ‘It shall make no difference to you. You shall not lose your place.’

The doctor shook his head. ‘I have worked for Madame de Pompadour in her time of prosperity,’ he answered gravely. ‘If she is dismissed from Court I shall go with her that I may work for her in her adversity.’

Such loyalty filled the plotters with dismay.

It was very necessary, they decided, that Madame de Pompadour should be quickly vanquished while the passion of the King for the Comtesse de Choiseul-Beaupré was at its height.

At the same time they bore in mind the need to act with the utmost caution.

Madame de Choiseul-Beaupré herself believed she knew how to bring this about. Her husband’s cousin, the Comte de Stainville, had recently come to Court.

‘He is the cleverest man I know,’ she declared. ‘He hates the Pompadour. He will tell me what I ought to do.’

The Comte de Stainville was a young man with a face somewhat resembling that of a pug-dog; but his appearance was all that was unattractive about him. Brilliant, witty, charming and belonging to one of the noblest families in Lorraine, he seemed made for distinction. He was a patron of the arts, entertained lavishly, gambled excessively – and was, undoubtedly one who was certain to make his way at Court.

When he was very young he had rarely been seen at Versailles. He had belonged to the Army and had had a great love for Paris itself, and thus had not often visited Versailles.

He seemed suddenly to have come to the conclusion that his talents were more suited to a political life than a military one, although at the time of the Peace he had become a Lieutenant-General.

Like many an ambitious man he had cast a wary eye on the Marquise, and he had decided that he could climb to power more easily if she were not continually at the King’s elbow advising him what to do.

He enjoyed writing verses, and what more natural than that these verses should be concerned with Madame de Pompadour.

He was very interested therefore when his cousin’s wife asked if she could see him very privately because she had something of the utmost secrecy and importance to convey to him and was eager for his advice.

He granted her an interview. He thought her physically attractive and mentally repulsive.

‘Well, my child,’ he said, ‘what is this secret matter?’

‘I am loved by the King,’ she said.

He raised his eyebrows and smiled at her cynically.

‘You do not believe me, I see,’ she said. ‘The King tells me he loves me. Madame de Pompadour is going to be dismissed from Court. I shall ask it, and the King has already said that he can deny me nothing.’

He continued to study her in silence, and she stamped her foot impatiently. ‘So you still do not believe me. Look at this. It is a note from the King which le Bel brought me today. Read that and then say whether you believe me.’

The Comte de Stainville took the letter and languidly read it.

The King was certainly enamoured of the woman, to write to her so indiscreetly, and there was no doubt that the letter was from the King. What a situation! Poor Madame de Pompadour, her days were certainly numbered.

So this woman, who had managed to arouse such passion in the King, was going to demand the dismissal of the Marquise as the price of further favours. It had been done before. Madame de Châteauroux had caused good Madame de Mailly to be dismissed.

‘I want you to help me, cousin,’ she was saying. ‘I am going to answer this letter. And I want to make my intentions clear. The Pompadour has become a habit and . . . I dare say one should be careful how one asks a man of habits, like the King, to rid himself of the creature.’

‘One would need to be very careful,’ said the Comte.

‘You are clever with words. You would know how to express what I want to say.’

‘I have an idea,’ said the Comte. ‘Leave this letter with me and I will compose a reply for you. The reply should not be delivered immediately. His Majesty must not think that you are too eager.’

She nodded. ‘And you will do this for me?’

‘Certainly I will, little cousin. You may safely leave this matter in my hands.’

She nodded briskly. She had no doubt that her future would be brilliant, with men such as Monsieur d’Argenson and her kinsman Stainville to guide her. All she had to do was smile and be pleasant, accept homage and jewels, grant favours; and these brilliant men would look after all else.

The Comte de Stainville read and re-read the letter. He was very thoughtful.

His cousin had married an extremely pretty woman but an excessively foolish one.

Poor little Comtesse! She had reached the King’s bed, but how long would she hold her place in it? One week? Give her two. Perhaps, with great good fortune, three.

Could she achieve the dismissal of Madame de Pompadour in such a short time? Perhaps. The King’s passion was intense, even though, Stainville was sure, with such a partner it must be brief.

He would be short-sighted indeed to entangle himself with such a fool as his silly little kinswoman. Alliance with the Marquise would be a very different matter. She might be past her first youth, but she was still a very beautiful woman; as for diplomacy and sound good sense, knowledge of the world, intelligence – the Comtesse was a fool to imagine she could compete in those fields. When he considered the Marquise he wondered whether every woman at Court would not be foolish to compete with her.

She was passing through what could be the most difficult stage of her career. She had become the King’s friend and had abandoned the role of mistress. That was a very bold and dangerous step to have taken – though a necessary one, he could well believe – and a woman would need a great deal of courage to take it.

But added to her other qualities the Marquise was possessed of great courage.

He made up his mind.

He sent a messenger to the apartments of Madame de Pompadour asking if she would see him immediately on a matter of great importance.

Madame de Pompadour coolly surveyed the Comte de Stainville.

She knew that he was the author of damaging verses, and she believed him to be her enemy. She gave no sign of this, but received him with the utmost graciousness. He admired her more than ever and congratulated himself on his astuteness in taking the line he had decided upon.