The celibacy of a man such as Louis could not be of long duration. Louis did not know himself if he imagined it could be. But Louis, in many ways, was taking a long time to grow up. His natural innocence was so deep-rooted that only a long life of depravity could destroy it.
Louis had a fondness for the Nesle girls. The Marquis de Nesle had had five daughters; the family was of the old nobility and, like so many in that category, had outlived its wealth. It seemed strange that these women should appeal in a sensual way to the King. Neither Madame de Mailly nor Madame de Vintimille had been beauties; yet for years the former had remained the King’s only mistress, only to be displaced by her ugly sister.
There is some quality in these Nesle girls which only Louis has discovered, thought Richelieu; and he considered the rest of the family. Of the three remaining sisters one was ugly, even more so than Madame de Vintimille had been, for she lacked her extraordinary vitality. She was Diane-Adelaide, the youngest of the family. Then there was Madame de Flavacourt who had some beauty and a great deal of charm. But the one on whom the attention of the Duc de Richelieu became fixed was the widowed Madame de la Tournelle, for she was a beauty – the only beauty among the Nesle girls. Her complexion was dazzlingly clear, her wide eyes deep blue in colour, her face perfect in its contours; and above all she had a grace and elegance which were outstanding even at Court.
Richelieu considered her. She was his cousin and he knew her to be the mistress of his nephew, the Duc d’Aiguillon, and that the two of them were passionately in love with each other; so enamoured was the Duc that he was contemplating marriage.
Marie-Anne de la Tournelle could be, thought Richelieu, an ambitious woman; she was also a clever one. At the moment her love for the weak but handsome Duc d’Aiguillon obscured her judgement, but Richelieu believed that if she made herself agreeable to the King he would be ready to desert his life of piety, and the Court would grow lively again.
Why should he not be interested in the young widow? She was beautiful and she had the mysterious quality of being a Nesle.
Walking with the King at Saint-Léger he talked of her.
‘My nephew gives me some concern, Sire,’ he said. ‘He hopes to marry Madame de la Tournelle.’
‘You do not approve of the match?’ asked Louis.
Richelieu was momentarily thoughtful. ‘It is good enough.’
The King’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Is she not the sister of . . . of . . . ?’
‘Of our dear Madame de Vintimille, yes. I wonder she did not bring the young woman to your notice. But perhaps she wisely did not. Madame de Vintimille was noted for her wisdom.’
‘Why was she wise not to do so?’
‘Ah, Sire, one glance at this fair creature would suffice to tell you that. She is the most beautiful woman we have seen at Court for a long time.’
‘Madame de Vintimille was wise enough to know there was no such reason why she should not introduce her sister,’ said the King coldly.
‘No, Sire – indeed no. But those who love can be jealous, even when it is ridiculous to be so. Do you not agree? And Madame de la Tournelle is . . . quite enchanting.’
‘Why are you set against the match with d’Aiguillon?’
‘The boy is my nephew and, rake as I am, I would prefer not to be tempted to seduce his wife!’
‘I am surprised,’ said the King, ‘that you should consider such obstacles.’
‘One likes to set oneself a standard, Sire. But the lady . . . oh, she is enchanting.’
Louis was thoughtful. It was long that he had lived in celibacy; and he had begun to imagine a woman who might compensate him for his loss: she would show the devotion of Madame de Mailly, the vitality of Madame de Vintimille – and if she were beautiful in addition, how fortunate he would be. But where find such a paragon? Perhaps in the Nesle family which had given him so much?
Richelieu called on Madame de la Tournelle. She was inclined to be suspicious, believing he was eager to foil her romance with his nephew.
‘Salutations to the most beautiful lady at Court,’ said Richelieu.
Marie-Anne de la Tournelle inclined her head in acknowledgement of the compliment.
‘And my nephew is the luckiest man in France. I understand his devotion, but frankly, Madame, if you will forgive the impertinence, your choice is a little surprising.’
‘I find it difficult to forgive your impertinence,’ she said icily.
‘Nevertheless you will. Aiguillon – he is a good fellow, a simple fellow at heart . . . but one would have thought that a lady of such grace and beauty would have looked beyond him.’
She was alert. She had seen her sisters installed at Versailles as King’s mistresses; she had thought Louise-Julie a fool, but she had admired Pauline-Félicité. If she were ever in a similar position she would imitate the latter rather than the former.
Being ambitious, having an imagination, it was impossible not to have imagined herself in the same position as her sisters. Was Richelieu suggesting that, if she made a bid to step into her sisters’ shoes, she would have his help?
‘My sisters looked high,’ she said; ‘and what did they gain? I am not the only one who is sorry for Madame de Mailly; and Madame de Vintimille is beyond pity and envy.’
‘Madame de Vintimille was unlucky. Madame de Mailly foolish. If you should find yourself in a similar position, you need be neither unlucky nor foolish.’
‘Good day to you,’ she said. ‘I see you have determined to separate me from the Duc d’Aiguillon. That, Monsieur, you shall not do.’
Richelieu’s words had impressed Louis. He could not live the life of a monk for ever. His thoughts dwelt continually on Madame de la Tournelle. Surely if anyone could make him forget his sorrow it would be the sister of his dead mistress.
He returned to Versailles and, when he saw her, he, who had abstained from feminine company so long, became obsessed by one idea: to make Madame de la Tournelle his mistress.
Marie-Anne found herself in a difficult position. She was ambitious; she saw no end to the honours which would come her way if she became the King’s mistress. On the other hand she had the humiliating example of her eldest sister before her and, oddly enough, she was still deeply enamoured of the Duc d’Aiguillon.
Louis sought her company on all possible occasions. He began by talking of his devotion to Madame de Vintimille. To this she listened gravely but refused to acknowledge that he was making advances to her. She wept over her sister’s death and told him how deeply she regretted it, making it quite clear to Louis that she had no wish to take that sister’s place.
Louis was nonplussed. Most of the women of the Court had quite clearly shown their eagerness to comfort him.
Strangely enough she appeared to be endeavouring to ingratiate herself with the Queen, conducting herself with the utmost decorum and eagerly seeking opportunities of being in attendance on Marie. On the other hand when invitations to join supper parties in petits appartements came her way she found excuses to avoid doing so.
The more she appeared to elude him, the greater did Louis’ passion grow.
‘I fear,’ he told Richelieu, ‘that Madame de la Tournelle is determined to remain faithful to the Duc d’Aiguillon.’
‘Does it not show, Sire, what a disinterested person she is – to choose my poor nephew when she might be the friend of Your Majesty? Such affection as she gives would be well worth winning.’
‘She reminds me of Madame de Vintimille,’ mused Louis.