Before Versailles (76 page)

A
FTER MIDNIGHT, ANGER
having made an ache in the center of his forehead, Louis excused himself and went to the bedchamber that was his. He motioned for his gentlemen to stay where they were, walked into the bedchamber, and stopped at the sight of two of his mother’s ladies sitting in chairs.

“The queen mother,” said one, as they rose quickly to curtsy. “She wanted to rest and felt she couldn’t climb the stairs to the viscountess’s chamber, sire.”

“Leave us, please.” Louis opened the gate of the
ruelle
, walked to the bed, and looked down.

Anne opened her eyes. “I’m very tired,” she said.

“I’m going to arrest him tonight.”

She struggled to sit up. “No!”

“Yes, right this moment. I’m going to call for D’Artagnan and arrest him for crimes against the kingdom. Gold plates! Silver cups! Two hundred fountains! A hundred orange trees in silver tubs! A thousand servants! A château my workers have built! Not to mention massing men and arms without my knowledge and commandeering admirals of my fleet!”

“You cannot arrest him at his own party! It isn’t worthy of you. Let him have his moment in the sun.”

“Whose side will you take if there is war?”

“You hurt me. Yours, darling, always yours. I have a pain, right here.” And she put her hand atop a breast. “It won’t stop. It’s the boy. He’s inside me, calling, the way he sometimes did in life.”

Louis sat down on the bed, took her hand.

She leaned against his shoulder. “Will you have my carriage fetched? I think I must leave this party. Promise me you won’t arrest him tonight. I couldn’t bear it, not tonight. People will say you did it out of jealousy. It will look petty. Those were the only gestures your father was capable of making, petty ones. Be a grander king than your father was. The viscount is at the crest of his power. Let it settle. Let everyone assume you cannot do without him, the kingdom can’t, this night having proved it. And then, when you do arrest him, it will be all the more terrifying.”

“Are you always so eloquent?”

She didn’t answer. He stayed with her until she was in her carriage, her ladies with her, some of them almost in tears at having to leave. Nicolas at his side, Louis watched the carriage roll through the iron gates.

“I would have given her my bedchamber,” Nicolas said. He and Louis stood in the torchlight of the porch. “One hears Madame de Motteville has been injured.”

“Yes,” said Louis. “It was shocking. It would spoil your fête to speak of it. I’ll tell you of it tomorrow.”

“Will you do me the honor of following me, sire? I have a small token of regard to give you.”

They went into a chamber on the other end of the salon. Nicolas walked to a cupboard, took a key from a pocket, unlocked a door, found what he was looking for, held it out to Louis. “For you, your majesty, with my kindest and most humble and most loyal regard. I am your servant in all things.”

Nicolas’s name was written on the outside of a note. Louis turned the paper over and over, not wanting to read it in front of the viscount. “Thank you, viscount. Your kindness, like your hospitality, overwhelms. Please, return to your many guests.”

Nicolas bowed.

Louis walked to a branch of candles and opened the note.

I’m being held captive by order of the king. I beg your aid and tell you I have in my hands a secret which their majesties will do all in their power to hide. There is another child, another prince. I beg you, for the sake of this royal prince, come to our aid. I write this from Monaco and am your most humble servant. Cinq Mars, captain in the cardinal’s musketeers
.

Louis crumbled the note. Nicolas handed this over as if it were little or nothing. Had he no idea of what he gave back? Or did he toy with Louis, the way a cat did a mouse? Louis held the note to a candle and watched it take fire. Inside him was a fire, white-hot and unspoken. He didn’t move until bits of ash fell onto the viscount’s polished floor, some of the ash wafting out the window into the lanterned night.

A
CLOCK HAD
tolled three of the morning. Louise and Choisy walked toward the hill that held the great statue of Hercules. The farther they were from the house the more magical the night. Soon, the music playing in the salon was as faint as an echo, and there was only the sound of water from the fountains, the sound of their shoes on the gravel. Most of the guests were near the house, seated at one of the many tables set in the gardens, or ranged upon the terraces, or inside dancing. It was even quieter once they reached the mound that held the Hercules.

“Who is that following us?” asked Choisy.

“My musketeer.”

They sat down against the enormous base of the statue.

“I hear there are to be fireworks. We’ll watch them from here,” Choisy said.

“I can’t. I have to be where his majesty can see me.”

Choisy took her hand, kissed it twice before settling it in his own. “I am leaving court for a time. I’m not certain how long I’ll be gone. I behaved badly the last time we were together, and I didn’t want that to be your last memory of me. You have been a dear friend, and I love you. That statement requires no answer. Your welfare will be foremost in my prayers. If ever you need me, you are to send for me. My mother will know where I am.”

He moved closer, pulling her against his side. “Take Julie for your servant once she’s old enough. You’ll have such need of loyal servants.” There was so much more he wanted to say, various warnings and advice, but he knew she wouldn’t listen. If she was still in power when he returned, he’d become her counselor. She was going to need one. She was about to become a real player in the treacherous shoals of court. Would she stay upright? Could she? Well, at least he wouldn’t be here to witness either her joy or her sorrow.

“Write me,” he said, “care of my mother. Write me and tell me how you are. His majesty needn’t know.”

“There are no secrets between us.”

Love and pride were in her voice. No secrets, thought Choisy. Was she such a fool?

“We must go back.”

He didn’t argue. “There’s your musketeer. Wave to show him you haven’t been ravished.” And when she stood up, he said, “Look at the château from here. Is this not the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen in your life?”

Everywhere lanterns outlined beauty, the straightness of the paths, the many fountains, the château itself rising up into night. “The viscount is indeed an impressive man,” said Choisy.

They walked hand in hand for a time, until they were close to the house, then Choisy bowed to her and left. She walked toward Madame, the others with her. People were pouring out of the house, into the gardens. There was a collective gasp from those around her as rockets shot up into the air.

“Oh, look!” cried Henriette.

The rockets’ flames made
fleurs-de-lis
. On the grand canal, a whale of fire appeared. Now from behind every statue in the garden, a rocket was released. It was as if they were standing in a fantastic day made by the light of the rockets, their patterns, L’s for Louis, M’s for the queen, lighting this world of the viscount. Everyone stood still, not wanting to move. Maria Teresa, seated in a chair with wheels, clapped her hands.

“I’m so glad I stayed awake for this,” she said to Louis.

When the last light died in the sky, there was a collective sigh.

“How beautiful,” said Henriette.

But now, from the cupola that crowned the viscount’s wondrous salon dome, more fireworks were set off. They sailed into the sky, dropping at the far end of the garden, making an arch of jeweled light falling to the ground in a shower of splendid sparks, showing off his house and gardens for one last time. On and on they went, and when the last one faded to nothing, people blinked, not wanting to speak.

Louise shivered. Sometime during the magical display, Louis had come to stand behind her, kissed the back of her neck, just under where her hair was swept up in its fashionable bun, a quick kiss, like the touch of moth’s wings. Whore, said Guy. Others would say it, too, but not to her face. She’d have to learn to pretend they weren’t thinking it. She put her hand to the place he’d kissed. How odd that she didn’t feel like a whore at all. Guy’s words scalded. She could feel something in her moving a little into shadow. It was something carefree and innocent.

I
T WAS OVER
. Other courtiers would stay until dawn, when the viscount would feed them a breakfast, but Louis was escorting his sleeping queen home. She was even now in a special bed they’d created in her carriage. He walked up the broad stairs of the terrace that faced the gardens. Nicolas stood in the central doorway of his grand salon rotunda. “Thank you for such exquisite splendor, viscount.”

“All inspired by you. The honor of your regard outshines everything.”

“And thank you for your gift.”

Their eyes met and held until Nicolas said, “You have my every loyalty.”

“That gladdens me. I’m told Le Nôtre designed your gardens.”

“Yes. He’s somewhere about working with a fountain that hasn’t spewed to his satisfaction.”

“Give him my compliments, and my compliments to you. The house is magnificent, the fête was even more so.” He stepped up onto his saddle. He’d ride back, let the late-night dark receive his thoughts, and there were many of them. Henriette and Philippe were staying, so he could not say good-bye to Louise or hold her a final time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fanny flit by, and then someone was at his boot. He looked down. A groom held up a note. From Louise, thought Louis joyfully, and he spurred his horse toward a burning torch and opened it.

It was a Mazarinade. Words spewed at him.

The Cardinal is at a loss about

How he should f--- the Queen

Never having f----- any c---

He crumpled the paper without finishing it and stood in his stirrups and held the crushed note to the torch and let the fire devour it. The second betrayal burned to ash this night, and now he knew who sent the Mazarinades. How simple it was. How much less frightening than he had imagined. The next time he came to this chateau it would be to choose what would be his.

“T
HERE
,” N
ICOLAS SAID
to his wife, as they watched the king’s entourage weave its way though their gates, “he enjoyed himself.”

“Really?” she replied. She had a clear-headed sense that Nicolas respected. “And I’ve had two different people tell me tonight that there’s talk that you’re going to be arrested.”

Later, he asked Catherine.

“Impossible!” she exclaimed. She rubbed against him like a cat. “You’ve just summoned all France to eat from your dish. He wouldn’t dare.”

September 1661 …