CHAPTER 7
The king walked at a comfortable pace to Elora Roux' bedchamber. Two nights had past since Elora had seen his liaison with the Comtesse de Maine. Each night since Elora had successfully escaped the after-dinner festivities thinking he did not notice, even though he certainly did.
His footman had gone ahead to inform her chambermaid of his impending arrival. Yet the door was not open to him when he reached his destination. In spite of that he could hear every word spoken on the other side of the door.
"Elora! Hurry and wake up! The king comes!" yelled the servant girl as he heard her pull back the bed curtains.
"No Suzanne, you must tell King Louis he has to wait till morning. I'll talk to him then."
"My lady, do not be a ninny. The king is hard upon my heels and only waits to come in until you are decent. It is treason to refuse the king. Get up, so I may get a proper gown on you."
"I refuse put on my dress at this hour only to please the king. Just get me a robe to put over my pajamas, that will be enough."
Elora Roux was quite a handful. He could not help rolling his eyes. He entered the room moments later. He was surprised to find her looking as if she had been asleep. Elora did not appear too happy with him, looking as if she were about to throw something at him. Both of her hands were tightened into fists and her chin tipped downward so her eyes looked up at him through her infuriated brow. He wondered if he had actually woken her. Perhaps deciding to call on her this evening was a bad idea. He stopped at a little more than an arm's length away from her, just in case she was intending to lunge at him. He mumbled something to the effect that he was glad to see her fully awake.
"I was sleeping," Elora said slowly. He could see she was clenching her teeth. "What could you possibly want at this hour? It had better be good!"
"Do not take that tone with me. I am not just some courtier. I am king."
"I am constantly reminded of that Your Majesty, yet you behave like an unmannered barbarian coming in here disrupting my privacy and my sleep." She waived her arms about as she scolded him. "Ha, a king indeed. I have never known such an arrogant snob in all my life. I'm sorry I have to be the one to shatter your fantasy. You are only king due to an accident of birth.–You are not above the law as you think you are. There is no such thing as the Divine Right of Kings.–You are a man, the same as any thief, merchant, or servant that is alive today. You are no better. We are all equal to God. It is man that breeds inequality. You, Louis are only a man. And that is how I see you and treat you, as I would any other."
Of course he was better! No man was equaled in worth to the king. God created him for this purpose, nothing was by chance when it came to God. No Englishman or anyone had ever insulted him so cruelly in his life. She had actually wounded him. These words had actually come from the lips of his guest who was insistent that they be friends. "You presume too much, Elora."
"Do I?" Yet still she continued with the vicious insults to his person. His heart began to pound hard, his mind growing as angry as she. "Deep within your mind you are probably thinking no one ever dared say such things to you. They never dared it because they feared you so, Your Majesty, but that does not mean that they didn't think about it. You are living your life in an illusion that everybody respects and reveres you, the king. I am sure there are more of your subjects that think the contrary of you whom you don't even suspect."
King Louis was tired of being on the wrong side of this argument. He had come in with the intent of chastising her for sneaking out of his presence after dinner without permission. He noticed every night she disgraced him, even though the Comtesse de Maine took up most of his time. He liked keeping an eye on Elora Roux and he feared she had been leaving early with a courtier. He had been relieved when there was no man in the room when he entered, as he suspected there would be. "Why do you tell me these ravings, Elora? You should not risk losing my favor."
"I'm telling you these things because someone needs to and I'm not afraid to do it. Besides I'm never in a good mood when I am woken from a sound sleep. I sometimes say things that I wouldn't dare under different circumstances."
Now she did not bother to use words to insult him; her body language did all the talking. She turned her back to him and let her robe fall to the ground. He could not believe she had just snubbed him! It was as if she did not want to speak to him further. No one had ever treated him thus! What had she done to her nightshift? It had been cut down to knee length. Her legs were very nice to look at and that golden anklet shined in the candlelight. She then made herself comfortable by lying down in bed and pulling the covers up over her.
"So I am the one who has been at fault? Elora, this implication of yours is constant." He walked over to her bedside, looking at her even though she had closed her eyes tightly. "You are the one who is here imposing under my good graces. I have been, as my advisors say, overgenerous in dealing with you. I have given you shelter, wardrobe, food, and entertainment. I bestow privileges unto you that I have never even granted my own loyal men. And I will not fail to mention the job that you begged me for and I so kindly gave you. Now after all my generosity you deeply insult me in every way possible."
She opened her eyes and the anger faded from her face. He saw sadness cloud over her eyes and he began to feel guilty; something a king should never feel, yet he still pressed the matter. She had to understand her place. "I never would have reproached you on all of this if you had not provoked me so and made me seem the villain. Your lack of manner and respect exasperates me.–Why so quiet all of a sudden. You have never felt it necessary to play shy before."
"You're right."
He could not believe she had conceded so easily. Perhaps he had gone too far, for now her eyes began to look watery.
"You know," she spoke softly as she sat up. "It is not like I came here on purpose to ruin your perfect world. It's not like I had any choice. I cannot change who I am just to satisfy your opinion of me. I like myself and my opinions and my mannerisms. I want to work to pay off my debts, for you or for anyone who will take me. I do not need to be a comtesse. I could be just as happy here being a maid or something. I am not afraid of work and I do not expect you or anybody give me anything for free." She rubbed her face. "I'm sorry I irritate you so much. I'm sorry I am not as grateful a courtier as you want me to be. I'm sorry I cannot have a conversation with you without starting an argument. I'm sorry I've hurt your feelings. It's not easy for me here. No matter how much you make me over, I still will not fit in. I do try, but it is so very hard. I am a fish out of water here. I am so alone."
He shook his head in disagreement. "Elora, I am here."
"No, no not really. You may be the only one to know the truth about me, but you still do not understand me. No one here does, but it is not your fault." A single tear ran down her face, dripping off her chin and onto the blanket.
King Louis felt a small, but definite pull at his heart. Why did he care so much? She was just another woman. He suffered from an innate instinct to comfort her. Everything she said always penetrated him. When she spoke it was with such heart-felt honesty, good or bad. Louis realized he was becoming quite fond of that honesty.
"Come." He gestured for her to come into his open arms. Surprisingly she came to him.
"Louis, I…" Elora mumbled.
"Shhh," he soothed. Her hair fell in his face and he could smell the soft gardenia oil she must have used in her hair. He remembered the last lady he knew that wore that scent, his young cousin, Catherine. She lived with him in the years of his youth at the Palais du Louvre. She chose that scent herself when she was three. She had been the sweetest, most well-behaved child he had seen, but of course she was born a princess, and raised likewise. The nurses bathed her in that scent forever on. In the palace nursery he enjoyed her company ever so much more than Philippe's. Even as Catherine lied on her deathbed at six years old, her frail little body still smelled of gardenia. He found it curious that both women he cared so much for had chosen that particular scent.
It was then he noticed the excellent pose they were in. He loved embracing her. No one ever embraced him and squeezed with the sort of devotion the way Elora did. How he wanted to push her onto the bed and make love to her at that very moment, but something restrained him.
She backed out of his embrace. "Your Majesty, what exactly did you want with me at this hour?"
"I am going to teach you to dance myself, this very night." In a heartbeat, King Louis held out his hand for hers.
Elora agreed, with a slight bob of the head. She took a gown from her wardrobe and changed into it behind the floor screen, while he waited. When she finished dressing she went right over to him, turned her back to him, and wordlessly had him lace up her gown. The surprises never ended with this woman, he thought, as he laced and tied her gown.
Louis led her into one the ballrooms and summoned the royal band to play for them privately. He taught her a number of the customary dances. Elora learned them rather quickly and she even commented about how most of them were fairly simple. She told him she started dancing when she was four years old. That was about the age he began as well.
She insisted he wait in the ballroom while she ran back to her chamber and got her ballet shoes and MP3, whatever those were. She returned shortly after she left, he thought she must have run all the way there and back. If that was the case he hoped no one saw her running. She asked him to dismiss the band so they could be alone. She found an instrument that she could use as a megaphone to enhance the sound of her music from her MP3 machine. Elora danced an elaborate ballet number to The Nutcracker Suite, which she said had won her troupe the New England Dance Competition a few years back.
He complemented her talent, but was actually more interested in her music box. He did not understand how an entire orchestra could fit inside that small box.
It was three in the morning when Louis bid her goodnight at her bedroom door.
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The following morning, feet sore from hours of dancing, Elora sat down by the window with Suzanne. She was surprised Suzanne had not figured out the truth by now. After all, she was the person she was most herself around. Elora was sure she must have noticed there was something strange about her. She was the one who took care of her when she first came to Versailles and every day since. All this time she had never questioned her.
"You must know there is something that I have been hiding from you."
Suzanne merely nodded, still not prompted to ask her.
Elora explained that she was not really nobility and certainly did not know how to act noble. Living here she was beginning to feel inadequate. She was self conscious around others and even ashamed she did not have such elegant manners as they. "People have been noticing. You see I am from a country very far away, where society is completely different; more advanced in technology, but backwards in etiquette and morality. Suzanne, you can help me smooth out my rough edges. You understand this little world of Versailles. Will you help me?"
"Not a comtesse? But the king said you are."
"Only to protect me, so I can stay here without censure. Now I need to play the part."
"And I can certainly help you, Elora. I have lived at court for many years."
Suzanne listed off many instructions of do's and do not's. Elora did her best to remember each one, listening very carefully. Ladies should be charming, decorative, meek, and easy to manage. Whenever you advance to someone or someone advances to you, you are to give a proper curtsy. Take a gentleman's hand only when he offers it. Do not talk in the king's presence unless he speaks to you, and all gentlemen for that instance. Keep conversation to a minimum and keep it formal, do not run away with your feelings when you speak. Eyes should be intent with the ground. Have your voice always at a subdued tone. Walk; never run. Laugh when a gentleman laughs. The king must always see you cheerful and smiling; no man likes a woman with a grimace.
"You must sing, play an instrument, or paint. A lady of good breeding does all of these. Do you engage yourself in any of these pastimes?"
"Yes, I play the violin a little" A very little; maybe enough notes to play Mary Had a Little Lamb. Lord help her if anyone ever asked her to play. "I can carry a tune if I have to. I am a great dancer."
"That is a corner we can pass. We must also work in detail on table manners, how to eat, to sit, walk, talk, and stand. This will take more than a day, you can't possibly learn everything all at once."
Beginning to feel overwhelmed, she partially regretted asking so much of Suzanne. Even though she knew all of what she said was important for her to know.
Elora needed a little break between lessons with Suzanne, so she ventured down the halls of Versailles with no specific agenda, just hoping to clear her head. What would she be doing today if she were back home? She likely would have picked up a 9-3 shift at the family practitioners' office. She worked as a medical assistant there; usually doing the menial tasks, like vital signs and giving shots, but she still loved it. The practice had several doctors in it and one of them was her mother's friend.
Doctor Kathy Webster went to high school with her mom and they had been friends ever since. Four years ago at their annual Fourth of July cookout she had mentioned that she wanted to go to college for pre-med. Kathy offered her a job at her practice right there on the spot. She had never been so excited. So she took night classes for six weeks that summer and was working at the office before her junior year started. Kathy had been her mentor for all these years. She wished she were only a phone call away to give her advice with her career here and now.
Now that aspiration was over. There was no way she could be a doctor in this place. The only job she could have here was a silly one Louis had only made-up in order to make her stop nagging him. The idea of her working was considered so terrible that she could not even tell anyone. Was it a secret that she should be ashamed of? She hated that. She could not understand why it took so many thousands of years for women to gain the rights of equality. Could it not have happened a few hundred of years earlier? Then she would not be so alone in her opinions here. No one understood.
She stood looking through one of the open windows in the Hall of Mirrors at the horizon past the gates of the chateau, watching the carriages come and go. The prince had left for Italy soon after daybreak that very morning. Suzanne had told her practically the entire court saw him off. Of course Elora was not one of them. She had been busy jogging through the King's Garden around that time. The people of the seventeenth century, she thought, were such kiss-ass fools. They would do anything to gain royal favor. They sacrificed their time to please the royal brothers, who would likely never give them the time of day.
It was not that she did not like the prince, but she could not lower herself like that in order to gain superficial attention. It was not as if she was one of his actual subjects. He had been really sweet giving her his rosary. She liked how people here were so altruistic and giving. She never saw things like that in the twenty-first century. She hoped he would return soon. He would be a nice friend to have, especially if the king tried to get fresh again.
A man calling her name from behind stirred her from her daydream. She turned back and saw a young man approaching her. His matching light brown hair and large puppy-eyes gave him a sexy look. His handsome appearance was impressive, though he must have been in thirty years old. He greeted her in such a manner like he was her friend. She courteously replied with a curtsy, even though she did not recognize him.
He continued on, speaking about how they never got a chance to formally meet each other the previous evening. She had quite surprised everyone when she sat herself at the table. He told her when she spoke to the king in English at dinner he had been a little worried she spoke no French. Now she recognized him! He was one of the guy's who was trying to push in her chair.
He commented on her odd sounding, French accent. His powers of observation were extraordinary! She told him it was too obvious to hide. She hoped that after time the accent would fade and she would not stand out so much. She wanted more than anything to blend in with the other courtiers.
She wondered why this guy was so interested in speaking to her. She hoped he did not have a crush on her. That could be wrong on so many levels. What if one of these guys here was her great-great grandfather's great-great grandfather?
He made a point to say his friend's sister had been aching to meet her. After all of this conversing, the guy still had not told her his name, so she asked him bluntly, but still with a courteous ring.
He excused himself with a great to-do and replied that he expected she would have found out about him by now. Her jaw dropped slightly at that moment. Was this guy for real? Like he was just such a hot guy she could not contain her passions and had to find out his name immediately; yeah right! She kept these feelings concealed and explained she had only been living at Versailles for several days and was acquainted with few.
She went on to say she barely recognized him from the other night. Her mind was focused on many other things that evening. He nodded his head, she believed he was now understanding she was no simpering coquette like the rest who would make love to him with words whether she liked him or not. He finally introduced himself as Cesaire Lichault, the Marquis de Sévigné.
There came a girl's voice speaking to Cesaire, saying they had been looking for him. The young girl who approached them was on the arm of a young man.
Cesaire eloquently introduced the gentleman as Christophe Morlaix, Duc de Chartres and the girl as Lady Thérèse Morlaix, his sister. The ladies curtsied and the duc bowed as they were introduced.
Christophe Morlaix seemed only a few years older than she. His curly hair was dark brown and his eyes were lime green. He was extremely muscular and a little taller than the king, who was at least six feet. Before coming to this time she had thought all French men were short, like Napoleon. She was glad to be mistaken.
Thérèse was petite and a few inches shorter than she. Elora soon found out that she was only fifteen years old. She had beautiful banana-curled, brown tresses and the same striking green eyes as her brother. Her deep dimples made her even more becoming. There was an air about her that was so warm and kind.
Elora inquired if Christophe was part of the royal family because as far as she knew only royalty had that title. He clarified that his grandfather was brother to King Henri. So the Morlaix siblings were King Louis' cousins, a few times removed.
Thérèse was very friendly with her from the start. They had all been aching to become acquainted with her. She explained that she knew Elora was new to His Majesty's court and it must all be terrifying. At least that is how she felt when she first came to Versailles eight months ago. Luckily she had her dear brother and all of his friends here to help her adjust to court life and feel welcome. Elora had come here to live and was all alone, which is why they all wanted to make it a point to befriend her.
She asked them to call her Elora. She then remembered this was not her time and this might not be appropriate request, so she finished with saying only if they were comfortable with it.
Christophe insisted to her it was not a problem. "How could we say no to a beautiful friend with such a beautiful name?"
Elora wondered what he meant by that comment. Was he flirting with her too? If so, guys here moved fast.
The group of them took a long walk in the garden talking and getting to know each other. Elora decided all three of her new friends were cool and were going to be fun to have around. Lady Thérèse reminded her of Anne, with her sweet voice and friendly nature. She was so glad there was someone in the chateau who wanted to befriend her. For the first time she was actually getting the feeling she was welcome in this place and even in this time.
That evening after dinner she danced as much as she would have if she went clubbing in Boston, though the dancing was not as hip. King Louis honored her with the first dance and Lady Thérèse seemed more excited than she. She remembered it was supposedly a great honor to dance with the king. Honor was very important to these people. To her Louis was just another guy in the room with a big, curly wig and a lace collar asking her to dance. When she was not dancing with the king she was either dancing with one of the boys or gabbing with Thérèse.
The king mentioned his surprise that she danced with the skill of many years practice. She admitted it was not just the lesson with him. She had a good eye for the choreography of dance. She knew at least ten of the popular dances and the ones she did not know she casually sat out for, taking either refreshment or sitting to rest her feet. She knew she would soon be needing another lesson or two with Louis to learn the rest of the dances.