The Queen's Dollmaker (14 page)

Sapphire was now given his own whispered instruction. This bird lifted its wings gently, majestically, and began making low sweeping arcs right over the crowd’s heads. Marguerite clapped delightedly. While Sapphire made his third circle over the astonished gathering, a loose mongrel sniffing around for meat scraps caught sight of him. Agitated by the unusual bird, the dog ran through the crowd and into the open area where the perches were, barking excitedly. Ruby flapped his wings and screeched in protest in his struggle to remain upright as the dog bumped into his stand. Ruby’s unexpected screech and the dog’s insistent barking startled Sapphire in mid-flight, and in a panic he dove into the assembled crowd.

Claudette, still distracted by the appearance of the keyed-up dog, did not see Sapphire falling toward her. The bird landed hard against her shoulder, knocking her down in a tumble of skirts and plumage. Still frightened, Sapphire began beating his enormous wings against her and nipping at her with his large white beak. She cried out and attempted to push him away while keeping her eyes tightly shut to prevent his pecking or clawing at them, but it only agitated the bird further. The crowd and Sapphire’s owner seemed helpless, and Claudette was suffocating under the bird’s attack.

Suddenly she heard a great “whoosh” and Sapphire was gone in a piercing squawk. She didn’t resist as she felt someone pick her up and sharply order others out of the way.

“Look at me,” a man’s voice said. Claudette opened her eyes. She was staring straight into William Greycliffe’s face. She began struggling out of his grasp, but he held her closer.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he said in a low voice. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Lizbit—” she began.

“We’re here with you, Claudette.” She could hear Lizbit’s voice and footsteps behind them. She closed her eyes again. Presently she heard a door open, and looked to see that she was being placed in a large elegant carriage, different than the one she had previously seen him in with Lenora Radley. William climbed in next to Claudette after Lizbit and Marguerite placed themselves across from her. William gave directions to the driver.

“Are you all right?” William asked her.

Lizbit silently handed her a handkerchief, and pointed to her neck. A swipe of the cloth showed Claudette that she was messy with dirt and blood from the bird’s scratches. He had also nipped her hard in the shoulder, and that was beginning to throb.

“I am well enough.” She crossed her arms in front of her in an attempt to seem aloof, but she knew she must look a fright from the bird’s attack. Marguerite’s big eyes confirmed it.

“Good Lord, Claudette,” exclaimed Lizbit. “This gentleman—and I do not believe we have been properly introduced—just rescued you from a savage wild beast with one thrust of his arm that sent it tumbling back to its owner, and all you say is ‘I am well enough’?”

“You don’t understand,” she mumbled. Forcing herself to look at William, she said, “Mr. Greycliffe, I am grateful for your assistance in my distress.”

“It is my pleasure, Miss Laurent, to be of some service to you.” His eyes were indecipherable, but his voice was light. Drat the man and his sardonic responses.

“So”—Lizbit was brightening considerably—“you know each other. Pray tell how. Claudette has not mentioned you to me. I am Elizabeth Preston, one of her dearest friends.” She held out her gloved hand.

William greeted her politely. “Miss Preston, you have my warmest regards as a friend of Miss Laurent’s. But you say she has not mentioned me before? I am disappointed. I knew that I had made a less than favorable impression upon her, but I had not realized how poorly she considered me, although I hold her in the highest regard.”

Lizbit looked around the carriage, which was fitted with brass trimmings and green velvet seats. “I can see that my friend does not have her own best interests at heart.” Her glance then took in William’s wedding band.

“Ah, there is perhaps one quality you lack.” She said it as a question. William caught the trail of her glance.

“I came to the market with my manservant, Dobry, to purchase a pet finch for my wife. She has a collection of them, but is never pleased with what any of her maids pick out for her. I thought if I came to do it for her she might be satisfied.”

Lizbit cocked her head to one side. “And instead of a finch, you have snared the beautiful swan, haven’t you?”

Claudette flushed, and felt the heat creeping up to her face.

“Alas,” William said. “I never had an opportunity to snare the beautiful swan, and she will always remain out of my reach.”

The carriage pulled up to the shop, and he escorted them to the door. Marguerite burst in and went shouting for her mother to hear of their great adventure. Lizbit followed her in, but William held Claudette back to speak with her outside.

“Miss Laurent, may I send a doctor to attend to you?”

“No, I am perfectly fine.”

“You may have been more badly injured than you imagine. It would set my mind at ease to know that a physician has declared you well.”

Why did it seem as though Mr. Greycliffe always vacillated between sarcasm and kindness? He was really quite awful, but she did now have an aching head, so perhaps a doctor’s visit would be advisable.

“I suppose it would not hurt to see a doctor,” she agreed.

“Splendid. I will ask our family physician, Dr. Crowley, to come round. I will check in on you myself in a fortnight.”

“No! I mean, that will not be necessary. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Mr. Greycliffe. I must go now, and I am certain your wife wonders why you have not yet returned with her new finch.” She offered him her hand, which he pressed between both of his own, as though trying to prevent her from leaving.

“Miss Laurent, I never had an opportunity to tell you how beautiful the doll was that you created for my mother. She talked of nothing else for weeks after her birthday.”

“We take all of our commissions very seriously, Mr. Greycliffe. I gave it the same attention that I do all of our custom work.”

“Well, yes, I expect that is true. Nevertheless, the quality of the work spoke greatly about the craftswoman behind it. I was particularly impressed with the doll’s blue eyes, so sharp in color that they reminded me of, of—”

He pulled her closer, so that the fabric of their clothing nearly touched. He brought her hand up and kissed the top of it, then turned her palm over to place a feathery kiss on her wrist.

No, Claudette, no,
she thought.
He is a married gentleman, he does not love you. He deceives you! But his lips make me tremble and I cannot help being drawn to him no matter how dreadful he is. Someone please help me.

When William received no resistance, he bent down and kissed her scratched and bruised forehead twice, once over each eye.

“They reminded me of you, Miss Laurent, and your infernal sass. Why I am in lo—Why I continue to help you I cannot understand.”

He reluctantly dropped her hand. “Until we meet again.” He stepped back into his carriage and rapped on the ceiling for the driver to move on, offering her a nod as he rode past.

Claudette waited until she recaptured her senses before entering the shop to find both of her friends waiting to pepper her with questions.

“Why didn’t you tell me of this Mr. Greycliffe when we talked yesterday?”

“Did you really get attacked by a bird?” Béatrice was a bit glassy-eyed, but looked much better than she had that morning.

“How did you let such a fine gentleman slip through your fingers?”

Claudette threw up both hands. “I will not discuss the faultless Mr. Greycliffe, and the condition of my face should indicate that I did indeed have a tussle with a wild creature that apparently got the better of me.” She moved past them to the bedroom. “If someone were to bring me a cup of tea, I would be most grateful, but I warn you that I will not discuss anything.”

She left them to gossip together, with Béatrice telling Lizbit all she knew about Mr. Greycliffe.

Dr. Crowley pronounced Claudette healthy, despite some lingering bumps and scratch marks. He brought with him a note from Mr. Greycliffe, which instead of immediately burning she put away in a drawer to read once she could be alone.

After supper, Claudette retreated to the bedroom with the letter while Béatrice sat Marguerite at a table next to the fireplace to teach her how to thread a needle.

She turned the envelope over and pried apart the red wax seal.

Claudette folded the letter again, and this time decided to place it in her supply box, instead of consigning it to the fire. What circumstances were these? Was the mighty Mr. Greycliffe implying a genuine interest in her?

Paris, 1785.
This year would prove to be the one that sealed Marie Antoinette’s reputation with the people forever, and all because of a glittering diamond necklace.

Jeanne de Saint-Rémy was born in 1756, the daughter of an impoverished aristocrat who could claim illegitimate descent from Henri II, the last Valois king of France. The Baron de Saint-Rémy taught his children to beg in the streets, saying, “Take pity on a little child who descends from one of our country’s greatest kings.” Jeanne later developed talents as an actress in amateur theatricals, and through them she met an army officer, Nicholas de la Motte.

The couple married quickly, Monsieur de la Motte resigned his commission, and the two began signing themselves as the Comte and Comtesse de la Motte; or, when they wanted extended credit, de la Motte-Valois.

Jeanne became acquainted with Cardinal de Rohan, a good-looking, conceited social climber, who was also a prince. His one desire was to follow in the footsteps of Cardinals Richelieu and Mazarin. Such a position would enable him to direct the very destiny of France. Unfortunately for the cardinal, the queen detested him for a very unwise letter he had written to Louis XV’s mistress, Madame du Barry, in which he made fun of Marie Antoinette’s mother. Madame du Barry read the letter aloud at a dinner party, and news of it traveled quickly to the queen’s ears. With a stroke of his own pen, he had erased any possibility of advancement.

Jeanne was well aware of this situation as she developed her relationship with the cardinal. First, she enlisted de Rohan to secure a position for her husband at Versailles, intimating that with her husband gone, she and de Rohan could become lovers. Instead, she joined her husband at Versailles in an effort to put herself in the queen’s path. When the queen refused, or perhaps just failed, to recognize or receive Jeanne, the ambitious young woman invented other means of achieving her aims, the primary one to have her royal ancestry recognized, which might then lead to a pension.

The “comtesse” employed such antics as fainting in the hallways of Versailles as Marie Antoinette approached. The queen merely stepped around her, fully recognizing a ploy when she saw one. Jeanne would also tell her friends about conversations, all imaginary, that she was having with the queen. Soon she developed a reputation as someone in Marie Antoinette’s inner circle. Meanwhile, the queen did not even know her name.

This was all irrelevant to Jeanne, as she and de la Motte had now devised a perfect plan for securing the currency they needed to establish themselves back into aristocracy. They needed the help of Cardinal de Rohan, who, aware of Jeanne’s “position” with the queen, was willing to help in order to forge his own relationship with Marie Antoinette.

Jeanne had discovered that the crown jewelers, Boehmer and Bassenge, had spent several years creating for Louis XV’s mistress, Madame du Barry, the most magnificent necklace ever seen in Europe, a brilliantly shining array of 647 perfect diamonds. In the purchase of these gems, the jewelers had expended far more than their own fortunes, and the king died before the transaction could be completed, leaving the jewelers in financial straits. They had earlier made lesser masterpieces for Marie Antoinette, and now assumed that she would be enthralled with a piece that could only be described as spectacular. Unfortunately, they did not know that she had lost her fondness for such costly treasures, and was now contenting herself in the novelty of wearing the utmost simplicity in attire and spending time in the pastoral setting of her seemingly simple—but extravagantly expensive—Hameau on the grounds of Versailles.

Boehmer and Bassenge had presented the necklace to Marie Antoinette, but she refused it, considering it too garish for her new lifestyle and also realizing that such a purchase would make her even more unpopular in the country. Desperate to recover their investment, the jewelers were now shopping the necklace with many of the Continent’s wealthiest women.

Using several accomplices, Jeanne approached Boehmer and told him the queen was reconsidering the necklace, but needed to make the purchase a secret, due to her unpopularity with the people. A price of one million six hundred thousand francs was negotiated, a sum lower than the cost of the stones. In his haste to sell the necklace, the jeweler did not question who Jeanne was.

Jeanne then approached de Rohan, telling him that the queen very much desired to purchase this necklace for herself, and would be willing to bring the cardinal back into her inner circle if he would advance the money for the necklace and allow her to pay him back in installments. Anxious to get back into the queen’s good graces, he did not question the plan.

Jeanne and her husband took de Rohan’s money, took the necklace from Boehmer (leaving him a promissory note supposedly in the queen’s own writing), then immediately broke up the exquisite piece of art and sold off individual diamonds.

Soon, though, both the jeweler and the cardinal were asking for their money. In particular, de Rohan was confused because the queen’s attitude toward him did not seem to change after his very generous gesture toward her, and she never wore the necklace in public. When Jeanne was unable to come up with more excuses for the jewelers and de Rohan regarding the payment delay, the duplicity became obvious to both parties. A scandal ensued, and all parties were arrested and tried, with the exception of Nicholas de la Motte, who fled the country at the first sign of trouble. All of the conspirators except Jeanne were released with little or no punishment. The Comtesse de la Motte was sentenced to be publicly flogged, branded above her left breast, and imprisoned.

None of this episode was of Marie Antoinette’s device or desire, but the press and the public laid it squarely at her door. Her already tarnished reputation as a frivolous spendthrift was blackened further, and the French people hated her even more. Her delivery of the royal heir was forgotten in the flood of public ill will.

“Why?” she cried to Axel late at night. “Why do the subjects I love despise me so much?”

He had no answer.

London, October 1785
. Jack was in the shop to pick up an order of dolls for a newly opened millinery shop.

“Did you hear the latest gossip about the Greycliffes?”

Claudette stiffened. “No, why should I hear anything about them?” She busied herself with an eye that had fallen out of a doll’s eye socket for the third time.

He tilted his head quizzically at her. “Aren’t you friendly with Mr. Greycliffe? Didn’t he save you from the market birds?”

Claudette did not reply, and continued fiddling with the uncooperative doll’s head.

Jack shook his head. “The poor man, to have such a slut for a wife. She left him in the middle of the night, with his own servant, no less. A footman. She’s pregnant now, going to have the servant’s baby. They’re living with his family, who are none too happy about it. Mr. Greycliffe hired their boy and had been a good employer. Funny enough, they say Mr. Greycliffe doesn’t seem to mind that his wife left. I suppose even a lowly cur like me could one day hope to marry up, if Mrs. Greycliffe is any indication.”

The glass eye fell to the floor again, and this time she did not bother to pick it up. She held the doll tightly so that Jack would not see her trembling.