The doctor arrived and was astonished to be greeted by the Marquise. ‘Madame,’ he stammered, ‘what is this illness of yours?’
‘Hush, I pray you. It is His Majesty.’
Quesnay went to the bed and examined the King. He gave Louis a pill and asked for cold water with which to bathe his face.
The Marquise stood trembling by the bed.
‘Monsieur,’ she cried, ‘I pray you tell me . . . how bad is he?’
The doctor looked grim. ‘Too much indulgence must be paid for. The King takes too much pleasure.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘He is still a young man, and that is fortunate. If he were sixty you would have had a dead man in your bed this night, Madame.’
Louis called to the doctor. ‘Help me to rise,’ he said. ‘I must go back to my own bedchamber. If I am going to be ill it must not be here.’
When he had drunk several cups of tea which the Marquise’s woman had prepared on the doctor’s orders, Louis was taken back to his bedchamber by Quesnay. The Marquise, anxious as she was about the King’s health, could not help shuddering to contemplate the awful calamity which the scandal of the King’s dying in his mistress’s bed would have caused, for Etiquette would be outraged if any king of France died elsewhere than in the state bed. All that night Quesnay was with the King, and in the morning the Marquise received a tender note from her lover.
‘My dearest,’ wrote Louis, ‘what a fright we both had! But I send this note to you by the doctor so that he may assure you that all is well . . .’
It seemed strange that Etiquette could have seemed so important to them both at such a time; yet such was its hold over the Court that it could dominate all occasions.
It was no small part of the life at Versailles. None would have been surprised to hear that the King and the Marquise had spent the night together; indeed had they not done so the Court would have been buzzing with the news. Yet one of the greatest scandals possible would have been for the King to die in his mistress’s bed.
Remove such unreasonable conventions? As easy to take away the foundations of the magnificent honey-coloured château itself.
Chapter XI
PRINCE CHARLES EDWARD STUART
I here was news at last of the Chevalier de St Georges.
He had arrived on French soil, and the Court prepared itself to receive him. Because Britain was an enemy of France at this time a brilliant reception should be given to the young man whom the Hanoverian King in London feared more than any other.
Anne-Henriette’s feelings were a mixture of joy and apprehension. It was so long since she had seen him, and she had imagined his return would be so different from this. She had dreamed of his coming to France as the heir to the throne of Britain to ask the French King for the hand of his daughter.
This was quite another matter and she was unsure of her father’s real feelings towards the young Prince. This welcome was extended, it was true, but was it because he was fond of Charles Edward, or as a snub to his enemy across the water?
Politically it was an advantage to shelter one who laid claim to an enemy’s crown. Was that why her father had ordered that a grand welcome should be given the young man?
She had not dared speak to her father of possible marriage. He did not like to think of the marriage of his daughters. If the subject were raised he would frown and say: ‘They are young yet.’ He often talked of Louise-Elisabeth in Spain. ‘What good has that marriage brought her?’ he demanded. ‘We might have kept her at home with us. I like to have my daughters around me.’
Adelaide came to her sister. She wanted to talk secrets, so in her imperious way she ordered the attendants out of the room.
Adelaide was very pretty. People were right when they said she was the prettiest of the Princesses. But sometimes there was a wildness in her expression which seemed a little alarming to gentle Anne-Henriette.
She retained much of the waywardness of her early childhood when, after she had been allowed to stay at Versailles while her younger sisters had been sent to Fontevrault, she had been rather spoiled by her father and the rest of the Court who thought they could seek Louis’ favours through his favourite daughter.
Anne-Henriette had seen Adelaide lie on the floor and kick when she could not get her own way, which was very distressing to the servants, who were afraid of offending her. When Anne-Henriette had pointed this out to her, Adelaide had looked astonished. ‘How else should I get what I wanted?’ she demanded.
One could never be quite sure what Adelaide would do next. She had the maddest ideas and never paused to consider them very seriously before trying to put them into action.
Anne-Henriette, contemplating that occasion a few years ago when her young sister had really intended to run away from Versailles and join the army, trembled for her future. Only Adelaide could be so brave and so innocent, so wildly imaginative and so utterly ignorant.
Adelaide had heard much talk of the English who, although the Austrians were the most detested of France’s enemies, were the most feared.
‘I hate the English,’ she declared to her gouvernante. ‘I hate them more than anyone in the world, because they make my Papa anxious.’
She had sat intent while with her gouvernante she read the story of Judith, the beautiful daughter of Merari who, fascinating Holofernes, lured him to her bed and when he slept killed him.
After reading that she went about for some days, obviously brooding, so that everyone asked: ‘What is wrong with Madame Adelaide?’
But she told no one what was going on in her turbulent brain, and a few days later Adelaide was missing.
There had been great consternation at Court. All sorts of theories had been brought forward. One was that Adelaide had been kidnapped. The King’s daughter, stolen from Versailles under the very eyes of the Court!
All Paris was angry. This child, this beautiful Princess, to be lured from her home. For what purpose? It was said that she had been stolen by France’s enemies, that she would be held for a ransom. The distracted King sent out search parties and himself joined in the search.
And then . . . Adelaide was discovered on the road not far from Versailles itself.
She was brought back, to the joy of the family and France, but much to her disgust.
She had tried to elude her captors, commanding them to leave her, declaring that she had work to do and ordering them to stand aside.
But on such an occasion even the imperious Adelaide could not have her way, and she was taken back to the Palace.
The King embraced her; she clung to him because he was the one person whom she could not resist. In her eyes he was perfect, and she made no secret of her love for him.
‘But why did you cause us this anxiety?’ asked Louis. ‘How could you? My child, did you not consider how anxious we were?’
‘It was to be a secret until it was done,’ she told him. ‘I was going to bring the King of England to you . . . in chains, Papa.’
Her eyes flashed, and it did occur to those watching that perhaps Madame Adelaide was a little unbalanced.
‘But, my dear, how could you, a little girl, do that?’
‘I was going to be like Judith. She did it. Why should not I? She did it with Holofernes, but I would have done it with all the English lords except the King, for then he would have been alone without anyone to help him, so I should have had him put in chains and brought to Your Majesty. You would not have been annoyed with me then, Papa, would you?’ she turned to scowl at those who had brought her to the King. ‘But these people brought me back. They should be put into dungeons, Papa, because it is due to them that the English are not beaten.’