11
CHAPTER 28
Sitting through a very formal brunch with the royal brothers joining them was a welcome turn of events. Christophe was even relieved to see not only King Louis alive, but that he was hardly injured in the least. Mother had gone from being devastated about Louis, to frightened of the prospect of Philippe becoming the next king, to the excitement that her son would have been closer in line to the throne of France if Louis had in fact died. Christophe probably would have thought more about such a possibility if he had not been so preoccupied with Elora's mishap with his horse.
After the surprise arrival of the king last night nothing could jar him further. Christophe had already fallen asleep when his manservant woke him to announce the royal carriage was in route to the castle. Indeed he glanced at the clock as he clothed himself in his green robe; it was past two in the morning. He could not imagine why such a carriage would be arriving. If the king were dead there would surely just be a letter sent. If he were being summoned back to court they would not send such a carriage. One of the brothers had to be arriving. If Louis lived it would certainly be he, but if he were now dead perhaps the prince would be coming to take Elora back to Versailles. Everyone knew Prince Philippe was just waiting for Louis' demise before he took everything his brother held dear for himself, not leaving out Louis' dearest love. Whoever it was, he knew it had been the last day he would spend with Elora as an unattached lady.
The gilt carriage arrived, completely dirtied from the muddy roads; so much so that if the royal banner did not fly no one would know it was such a fine carriage. The footman had not a chance to jump off his seat before King Louis pushed open the door himself and disembarked. Immediately following the very alive king was his brother, the prince. The king looked unharmed from such a bloody attack, as Cesaire had made it seem. Christophe would blacken his eye when next they met for weaving such tales.
The king's appearance was healthy, yet worn as if he had not slept in days. Christophe could not finish two words before the king interrupted. Concern for Elora's well being were the first words from his mouth. Philippe's interest was just a keen.
Of course King Louis insisted he be taken to Elora's bedside immediately, without taking time for libation or even removing his travel attire. He knew not what went on once the king entered her room, though his hope had been Elora would quickly expel him; he knew that would not be the case.
Whilst Louis was busy making amends with Elora, Christophe was busy seeing to the needs of the prince and arranging for sleeping quarters to be quickly prepared for the royal brothers.
This morning at brunch, between Elora's smiles and Louis' jovial spirit, Christophe knew what was to follow after the meal. Indeed it went something like, "We have reconciled and the wedding will be on the first of January." Christophe could not say he was disappointed or even surprised. The fortnight they had spent together in his home he would cherish. Once again her place was at Versailles, which was where she would likely be returning to posthaste.
Elora asked if he and Thérèse would have time to speak with her in private sometime this morning. Christophe was interested in what she could have to say to them. He agreed along with his sister and they adjourned to the parlor immediately. She took a long look at Louis before leaving the room, as if she were wishing he were to follow. Yet he seemed to have his own plans in speaking with Mother and Prince Philippe down the hall.
Elora had them sit, whilst she paced the room. "You've seen the weird-looking belongings that came out of my bag. It's time to tell you both the truth; what I should have done long ago."
She stood facing them both, as if she were about to tell them another story from her land. She had let her hair down again today with only a small cap to ornament it. Her cheeks were flushed, matching the color of her pink gown quite well. Her manner was nervous, apparent by her wringing hands. He had been sure Elora would never tell him the truth. He knew what he had seen on her bed, but assumed Elora would just give him another cryptic excuse like she always did when things did not make sense to him.
"I am sorry to burden you with this." Thérèse was about to object to the statement, but Elora would not be interrupted. "For a burden it will surely be. I must tell you, for I cannot leave your imaginations to make sense of it.–I've prayed and conquered my doubts; I'm sure you will believe me."
Christophe thought it sounded like she was trying to convince herself rather than them. She could not have been too certain she could trust them if she were only telling them now because they saw some personal articles that they should not have.
"Elora, nothing you could say would make me turn my back on you," began Thérèse. "I will always be a friend to you."
He wished he could join in Thérèse's comforting words. Instead he said, "Elora, this secret is hurting our friendship, not preserving it. I can no longer live in ignorance; I am ready to hear you. Let the burden come upon us."
"Prepare yourself. You will doubt my words. Everything you know is about to change." Elora shook her head. "Certainty will become uncertainty."
Christophe felt certain what she had to say was just a woman's drama. He could not have been more wrong.
"In April, I did not arrive at Versailles in a carriage or horse or even walk. I was home in America one night and woke the very next morning in King Louis' bed." He was perhaps more confused than his sister at this moment. Thérèse seemed worried, for she put her hand on his arm. "I was born…and raised…in the twenty-first century, more than three hundred years from now. I am from a future time."
Such words sounded like a jest, but were spoken in total earnest. He did not know what to think. Indeed he had never imagined such an account.
"What?" Chris mumbled. Feeling a certain discomfort sitting while she was standing above him, he stood. "I do not understand. What story are you telling now?"
"This is not a fiction told before a fire at night. This is fact; this is my life. I grew up 329 years from now. This, and you, right now, is history.–It took me a few minutes when I woke to understand where and when I was. The possibility of traveling back in time was never a thought in my head, yet here I am. I would not have believed it if it hadn't have happened to me. I did my best to explain to Louis, as I'm doing with you now. He believed that God sent me here to him for some divine purpose. I wish I actually knew what God's plan is."
"You are saying you traveled through the fabric of time while you slept?" questioned Thérèse, finally getting over the shock and standing. Christophe always looked to his sister in how to appropriately react, but even she looked unhinged at this moment.
"Yes. I slept through the whole thing, whatever it was."
"What is the future like?" Thérèse asked, still awestruck. That was her first question? His sister must have broken with reality as well.
"Well, everything is very advanced; the culture, the society, the style of living, and especially our modern innovations, which is why everything here is so archaic to me. You've seen the stuff that I came here with. Inventions for convenience and discoveries benefiting health flourish in the 21st century. People have stronger immunity to diseases and can live to be a hundred years old. Buildings can be built a hundred stories high. Journey's take hours instead of days because of faster forms of transportation."
"But you are a comtesse from the Americas," insisted Christophe, refusing to listen to such fancies.
"In my country, The United States of America, I had no such title. People aren't defined by the social ranking of nobility or commoner in my country. I've only been a comtesse for about seven months. Louis invented my identity when I came here."
Sweat dripped from his forehead, so he patted his face with a handkerchief. This day was getting worse and worse. "Elora, this is nonsense. Is this the only story you could invent as an excuse for your eccentric behavior? I will not stand here to be insulted with lies."
He tried walking from the room, but Elora begged him to stop, grabbing him by the arm and holding on for dear life. Her acts of desperation had no end. "Please Chris! I wish I could make you understand. You have seen every day how I do not fit into your world. My behavior may be eccentric here, but back home it's perfectly normal. Women have been liberated there. By my generation, I was allowed all the freedoms and opportunities of men. I grew up in a world where women are equal to men in all things. I had independence; I made my own decisions. I attended school since childhood, learning side by side with boys my age. I have been attending college for the past two years, studying to be a physician. The future, my time, is very different from here."
"The future! Hah!" His arms went up in the air. "Blasphemy. Sorcery. This is what you speak of?"
"No. Without God this could not have been possible whether it appears sacrilegious or not. I can see how evilness and witchcraft can be the first explanation to come into your mind, but it's simply not true. I'm not a witch or anything of the sort; I'm just a girl." She shrugged her shoulders, seeming so sincere and innocent.
"A girl from the future," Thérèse added taking her hands. "I was not certain what to say until now, but Elora nothing about you is evil. Do not let Christophe's words hurt you.–Our Almighty Father is full of unforeseen miracles. I am so happy God sent you to us."
Elora released a sigh of relief and tightly embraced Thérèse with her good arm. "Thérèse, you would not believe what torture it has been keeping this from you. Having to choose my words carefully. Never wanting to flatly lie to you. I have been dying to tell you! Oh how good it feels now that there are no secrets between us!"
Elora turned to him now, surely hoping for the same reaction, but such was not within his power. "I need time, Elora. I have seen the proof of your tale, but…I must go." If he remained any longer he would say and perhaps do things no nobleman should.
Christophe rushed from the room, leaving Elora in tears. He made his way outside, so perhaps he could breathe a little better. He had never imagined such words to come from Elora's lips. He was partial to believe her, but everything he knew, every sense of reason in his mind forbade it.
She had told him once that from the truth he would either believe her a liar or insane and it was true. He was not sure which of the two was worse. No other confession could have wounded him more. This secret she had kept from him until now, true or not, made their connection seem a farce from the beginning. Every feeling he had felt for her before today had been betrayed by that secret. He knew what he had seen lying on her bed that day. He was certain those objects were of an occult nature. By her explanation they were just futuristic effects.
From the sound of rustling leaves behind him, Christophe knew someone was approaching. King Louis made way directly to him and it appeared as if he had something on his mind.
"Chartres," the king did not hesitate. He took him by the shoulder and led him to the nearest bench. "Do not be afraid. I know Elora has just enlightened you regarding her past and the thought of it is frightening. I was rather beleaguered myself when I first came to an understanding of it."
"So you legitimately believe the veracity her tale?"
"Yes, but it goes beyond what she tells us. Her character, her very essence proves it to be truth. Elora is from time so much more advanced in everything. She understands and has knowledge of more than we can ever imagine knowing. She has learned from tutors about our ways and the ways of the generations to come, as we once learned about Charlemagne and Saint Louis. Her history is our future. She has lived with creations of such grandeur to make our splendid style of living at court comparable to living out in the forest without provisions.
"When Elora first came here she could not believe how undervalued women were. Females are left undereducated, forced into vain, shallow existence, with no option but to make her life's dream to marry well and bear children. I think she resented me for a long time for believing such was the only path for a woman, rich or poor. Oh the lectures I have received about the capabilities of women in a man's world. She is still determined to become a physician and I cannot bring her to reason."
King Louis proceeded to remove a flat golden case from inside his jacket pocket. "They no longer need to paint portraits in the 21st century. A machine was engineered to create a mirror image of a scene, a two-dimensional duplicate. Elora had this with her in her money pouch and she gave it to me."
The king opened the case. Christophe could hardly believe what he saw. It was an image of Elora standing on the stairs of a dwelling that must have been her home. In her hand she held up a parchment, as if it were an important document she was proud of. The brush strokes were so small he could not see them. Elora's hair was shorter, with a strange broad-rimmed, flat, black cap atop her head. She wore clothes as a man might wear, but still unlike any attire he had seen before. The black robe that she wore unfastened looked too large for her size.
"God almighty!-Such an image was not created by man, but machine, you say?"
"Yes. She tells me civilized people usually have this machine on their person all the time in one form or another. The populous loves taking photos of special moments in day to look back on with fondness."
"What does she hold?" He pointed to the portrait.
"A certificate given when one completes twelve years of education. She had the second highest academic standing of a large group of scholars. She said it was quite an achievement."
Christophe could not take his eyes from the image. Everything was so vivid and real. The shrubs were so green and the flowers were such a brilliant pink. It was truly the most beautiful image he had ever laid eyes on. Finally Louis closed the case and returned it to the security of his pocket.
"Chartres, you see no one could fabricate the things she has told us. I believed her almost immediately and she has kept me in awe every second since. You will notice, now that you know, every fiber of her being personifies a futuristic woman. I have transformed a short haired, trouser-clad, outspoken girl to a well-dressed, polite lady, but the essentials, those attributes that make everyone love her, have remained. Do you understand me, Chartres, everything you have loved about Elora is what you are hating her for at this moment."
Now that Christophe thought on it, this answered nearly all of the questions he had about her. Bad manners; self-assured countenance; no discrimination in whom she befriends; no experience riding a horse; disgust with ladies finery; unique style of dance that no one has yet seen nor heard of; high standards when it came to romance and marriage; so many simple things she did not know, but detailed knowledge of science and medicine. She had always omitted something from her conversations and this was the last piece of the puzzle that was Elora. She was from the future; positively amazing.
"She tried to tell me once, you know. She spoke the future and of her aspirations and I made light of it. I thought she was rambling about nothing. I thought them foolish ideas. If I only would have said, I support you, she would have trusted me." If Christophe only had, she would have definitely been his wife by now. "She speaks openly to you of the future? She answers any questions you have?"
"Yes, always. I'm sure she will be just as candid with you now. She is very good at painting a picture in your head with her descriptions."
"This does not seem real, Your Majesty."
"You will grow used to the idea. Remember, however difficult it is for you, it is a hundred times more difficult for Elora simply being here, no matter rising to nobility and keeping such a secret.–I am glad someone else knows. If anything ever happens to me, can I depend on you to protect her?"
He took a deep breath. That was quite a favor the king was asking. Two hours ago Christophe would not have hesitated. Now knowing such a history, Elora's needs had doubled in his eyes.
"Chartres, I only ask because if my brother were ever to become king he might…I worry for her."
"Your Majesty, cousin, I understand everything you have said. While I live Elora will be kept safe." They shook hands on it.
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Through the window Elora watched Louis talking with Chris. She wished she knew what they were saying. Would she at last be pronounced a witch; she was surprised she got by this long. Yet as the two spoke it seemed as if the conversation was going well.
Philippe knocked at the door and greeted her. She went over to him and hugged him. "I'm so glad you came, Philippe, but you didn't have to. I'm fine."
His concern seemed to grow the longer he looked at her injuries. She had to assure him it all looked worse than it was.
She sat on the bench by the harpsichord with Philippe next to her.
"Elora, I assumed I would be seeing you again when that shot was fired at Versailles, but I must say I did not expect to be the one coming to see you. I suppose with you and Louis both dancing with death, it has been the mutual establishment for your reconciliation."
"That was when I knew for certain in my heart I could never live without him." She tapped at the black keys on the instrument at random, wishing she could merely play, Mary Had a Little Lamb. She had taken violin lessons for one year when she was nine, but she and her parents had learned very quickly she was not very musically inclined. She had told Suzanne once she could play, but thank goodness she never had to prove it or it would have been a very embarrassing situation.
"I commend you, Elora, for being a better person than I could ever be in your shoes."
"What do you mean?" He took hold of her index finger and knowledgeably pressed it from one key to another. Before she knew it she was hearing a familiar tune she had become used to dancing to at Versailles. She smiled thrilled that she was actually playing a tune, though it was really Philippe who was enabling her.
"In forgiving Louis and agreeing to marry him even after his infidelity."
"Well, let's just say I finally listened to his side of it and figured out the truth. I understood that perhaps we were both at fault. It was not much of a compromise agreeing to go on with the wedding. I do love him."
"What if another lady comes by who catches his eye?"
"Then he better prepare himself to lose a very cherished appendage." They laughed. Philippe touched her slung arm.
"Really, Elora, falling from a horse…disgraceful."
"I know," she laughed. "What are you going to do with me?"
"When you are queen you cannot be doing things such as that."
"I know."
"I wish I could prevent you from getting hurt; keep you safe."
He was getting a bit too sentimental, so she stood, distancing herself from him a bit. "Thank you.–Now that's Louis job again, but hopefully I can do the best job at keeping myself out of trouble.–Did anyone ever find out Louis and I had broken up?"
"No, I do not think anyone even suspected. Betrothals to kings are rarely ever extricated."
"Ah, that figures.–So tell me about the shooting. Were you there? Was it bad? What happened to the shooter? Did you find out why he did it?"
"We were having tea in the gardens. No one saw that man until the shot rang out. Louis collapsed. The captain of the guard had been making rounds of the garden at the right time. Nearly as soon as the man got out one shot, Captain d'Artagnan had already killed him."
"He's dead? So I guess we'll never know." She walked back to the window, still wanting to keep an eye on Louis and Chris. Out by the bushes they still stood conversing.
"He was likely a fanatic," added Philippe. "It matters not, he will not bother us again."
"Hmm, unless he had accomplices."
She saw Louis coming back indoors and excused herself from the room. She ran to the doorway to meet him. He did not expect her, so he was a bit startled when she nearly bumped into him.
"So what did Chris say? Is he okay? Is he going to turn me in? What did you have to say?" She had a million questions, but she decided to leave it at that so not to overwhelm him.
Louis smiled and handed her a burnt-orange flower he had picked for her in the gardens. "Elora, all is well. He only needed a bit of reassurance and time to put everything together. He will not do anything to harm you.–Lady Thérèse understood, I am sure."
"Yes. She always does. I think she would have been content to never know. In her at least I will still have a friend."
"Chartres too, I think. It will not be the same, but it may improve in turn."
"I hope you're right.–Now Louis, if you have ten minutes I would love to take a look at that wound on your shoulder."
"Where would you like to examine me?"
"Let's go back to my room. I have all the things I need there all ready."
So they walked together upstairs to her room. All of her supplies were already laid out on the side table. Suzanne had boiled some water earlier, put it in a covered jar, and by now it was cooled and ready to use. Sterile water would have to do, but Elora wished she had some hydrogen peroxide.
Elora instructed him to undress his upper half, which he did faithfully. She huffed, frustrated with the arm sling she wore. Stopping what she was doing she went to find the pain medicine the doctor had given her and took one drop. She knew it was a sort of morphine concoction, made from the famous poppy flower. Then she removed the sling. The arm was sore, but the morphine dulled the ache. She dropped two drops on Louis' tongue as well, explaining to him that what she was about to do would likely hurt.
She had his sit by the window and proceeded to look at his arm. It was dressed with white linen from shoulder to elbow. She was dying to see what the wound looked like underneath. She could not understand why they would bandage such an expansive area for a small gunshot wound.
"You know Louis, don't you think it's an awful coincidence we both sort of got shoulder injuries around the same time. I mean, what are the odds?"
"I had not even thought of it. Our injuries being of such a different nature."
She slowly unwrapped the dressing, with the same excitement as if she was unwrapping a present. She barely touched the area and Louis drew a breath in. Perhaps she should have given him more pain medicine.
The wound from the bullet was actually bigger than she expected. It was the deltoid of the upper arm; a chunk about the size of a deformed strawberry was missing. All around the area was purple bruising from deep-tissue damage. The wound itself was blackened. It could not be gangrene; it would not set in so soon. "Louis, what did the physician's do to this wound? It almost looks…did they cauterize the wound?"
"With a heated iron. Did they do something incorrectly, Dr. Roux?"
"No, but debriding it today would be a good idea. I'm going to scrub clean the area to get all the dead tissue off.–Maybe you should take another drop of–"
"No Elora, I will manage. I still need my wits about me today. Do what you must and I will try my best to remain stationary."
Elora expelled a deep breath, thinking about what next should be done.
She stirred the herbal paste she would be putting on the wound to promote healing. She had gone to town early this morning and spoken with the apothecary about an appropriate treatment to Louis' wound. He had selected several ingredients and even assisted her in the mashing and blending of them. Now the brownish mixture sat in a small wooden bowl.
She instructed Louis to press his arm tight against his chest, securing it with his other arm, just so she would have a steady area to work on. She cleansed the wound with the sterile water and rubbed off the dead flesh with some sterile gauze. Louis let out a moan or two in the process. She wished he would not act like such a tough guy. She would not mind if he yelled out.
She then applied a thin layer of paste before rewrapping the arm. "Well Louis, if we do this every day for a few days, it should promote healing. Then after that you can leave the area open to air to dry out.–How soon before we can go back to Versailles?"
"As soon as you feel you are ready. Philippe and I will be making a detour to Paris before returning to Versailles."
"So I will be coming with you!"
"Well, no. We are meeting with some diplomats and will likely be busy with them the entire day.–I thought you would prefer a coach back to Versailles directly, for the sake of your health."
She did not was to start a fight with Louis, but she was a little peeved he made a decision like that without even asking her. "Louis, when I'm queen will I be with you when you meet those diplomats for such meetings?"
"It depends, not necessarily."
She could not say she was not disappointed with his answer, but she did not want to cross any boundaries and start trouble within the governing powers. Changes took time and she hoped someday she and Louis could work side by side all the time.
It was probably the best way to go, even though she was a bit disappointed not only to be parted from Louis so soon, but to miss out on seeing Paris too.
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Whilst Christophe could simply run off when he could not cope with overwhelming circumstances, Thérèse was not allotted such liberties. Finally hearing truthful words from Elora had not quite been the relief either she or Christophe had hoped for. She had known for some time Elora was not born into nobility, but her best guess had been she was a physician's daughter. Elora coming here from a future time had been an unfathomable idea. Yet the unbelievable became what was now a certainty, not even Christophe could deny such a truth with Elora standing before them. She was living proof.
Thérèse had been too afraid to tell Christophe, but when Elora was thrown from the horse she had moved Elora's belongings in her chamber from the bed back into the trunk, something strange had happened. She had not even tried to explain to herself what the odd items were as she packed them away. As she took hold of one small, thin box it began to glow a bluish sort of color. She dropped it to the floor and screeched. It was blue like the depth of a hot flame yet it had not burned her. She quickly picked it back up with the skirt of her dress and put it in the trunk with the rest. Now she could speak with Elora of it and get a straightforward answer.
Mother had taken her away from Elora, not moments after Christophe had run from the room in denial. That had been perhaps the first time when her frustrations from her mother's interfering had nearly gotten the better of her. She sincerely did not want to leave the room at that time, but obediently followed her mother out. Thérèse had always been a discreet sort of girl, but she had never purposely deceived her mother. Elora had been correct, keeping this secret was already a burden and it had only been a few minutes. Mother pressed her with all sorts of questions, but she held true.
As soon as she could get away from Mother she went in search of Elora. She found her in her bedchamber assisting her maidservant in tidying up.
"Ah! Thérèse, I just finished cleaning Louis' wound. He's gone to join the other boys in a ride on horseback, hence why I didn't join them." She wiggled her left arm about in the sling. "It's nice to see you. I've been wanting to chat with you alone." The servant left moments later with the waste.
"Elora, we now have so much more to discuss with one another. I always thought you shied away from telling me things from your past because they were too painful, but now I understand why."
"I always thought that somehow you knew because you were so forgiving of all my inadequacies and blunders."
"It is amusing you say that. The day you saved the life of the Duc de Nevers, I remember wondering how you came by such an advanced practice. I do not know a physician alive who could perform such a duty. I think I thought of a future time that day and you were part of that thought."
"Thérèse, will anyone be needing you these next few hours? I mean would you want to spend your time in here with me? I have an fun idea."
"I am able to stay. What is going through your mind?"
"I want to see what you look like as a woman I would know where I come from. Let's have a dress-up and makeover party!"
"Change our appearance to look the fashion of the future?"
"Yes." Elora nodded her head vigorously.
"I have wondered, but would it be decent?"
"Of course. It's not like we're going to parade around town in such fashions."
Elora was certain to lock the bedroom door, before getting everything out. Elora explained what certain things were that she separated out on the bed. Most things needed to be triggered by a button or switch to become active, such as the small metal cylinder that produced light. Elora called it a flashlight, but it did not flash, the light was amazingly steady and of the purest white, not like a flame at all.
Something jingled as it fell to the floor off the bed. Thérèse hurried to retrieve it, fearful it might be broken. It was a ring of several keys, but very different looking keys then she was accustomed to.
Elora sighed when she took it from her. "Louis often asks what I miss most from my time. Every day that one thing seems to change. Other than indoor plumbing, I'd have to say the thing I miss most is my car."
"One of these keys secures it?"
"Yes and gives it power. A car is like a carriage that has no need of horses to move about. It is a machine, with workings like a clock, and is powered with a sort of oil. A person sits in it and uses a wheel, like the helm on a ship, to steer the car where she wants to go. The car can go really fast. In a trip that would take a horse all day would take only a couple of hours with a car. I could have used it the day I found out Louis had been shot."
Such a creation was difficult to imagine until Elora pressed a button on her communicating box, which she called a phone. It began glowing. Elora continued to press at the buttons. Finally into Thérèse's sight was shown a small image of what Elora was speaking of. She could even see Elora's figure from inside the car machine in the image. Thérèse could not help a gasp from escaping her lips.
The machine looked inconvenient for travel because of its odd shape. The exterior was painted a red color. It was quite ugly, but if it could do all Elora said it could who could care if it was not pretty like a carriage. Thérèse could not understand how the image, which could fit in the palm of her hand, had gotten into the communicating box. Could Elora somehow open the box and place the images inside to be lit up and visible to the eye? She could not speak as quickly as the questions came to mind, for there were just so many questions. Elora continued to press buttons and show her different images of her family. Though Elora's parents, brothers and grandmother did not yet exist their images were still captured in the box for her to see.
"Elora, I fear I am becoming greatly overwhelmed with these small inventions."
"Probably just about as overwhelmed I was when I found out I had no access to any these things here. It was like going to Pennsylvania to join the Amish. I can't recharge anything. I'm running out of toothpaste and deodorant. Sometimes when I first walk into a dark room I still touch the wall looking for a switch to turn on the lights. Everything is written in French, which I struggle to read and don't even dare to write. I cannot even continue my education because I'm a woman. Every Sunday when I attend mass I comprehend nothing until the priest says his homily in French because I never learned Latin."
"I can't imagine how much you have suffered, having to change your lifestyle to fit into our simple lives. I will say this Elora, since I know how keen you are to learn new things, I think you should ask the king to engage a tutor. You could surely learn Latin, at least enough to get through church service. And he could certainly help you improve your reading and writing skills."
"That's not a bad idea, Thérèse. I think I will talk to Louis about it. Thanks."
They undressed down to their barest of undergarments. She had always been quite sure she was a smaller size than Elora, but seeing her now she realized how much weight Elora must have lost these past couple of months. They were practically the same size, except in height; Elora was a bit taller.
The bra that Thérèse attached was a bit too big for her breasts, but Elora gave her some handkerchiefs to stuff in. She then put on the smallest purple under-drawers she had ever seen, it covered the minimum it could below the waist. She asked Elora why her under-things were so colorful, but Elora could not answer without blushing, so never actually gave her an answer. The stocking were made of thick cotton, not silk and only covered up to the ankle. Thérèse questioned the length and Elora stated it was correct.
Elora gave her a pair of gray pants as she put on the rough blue looking ones. Thérèse followed Elora's process closely so she would do nothing incorrect.
"So Thérèse, how do pants feel? Liberating, right? You can do so much more in pants than is possible in five layers of skirts."
"A bit binding, I've never felt so aware of the space between my legs. It feels like perhaps a chastity belt would."
"Well that can't be too comfortable. Once you're in them for a little while you will not notice as much."
Then Thérèse asked about the odd cut at the hips. She was not certain if it was the fashion or the clothing was torn. Elora encouraged her to stick her hands in the cut areas. So she did and it was all fabric inside. Elora called it a pocket. It was like a purse sewn in to the clothing. Quite ingenious.
Elora let Thérèse choose which top piece she wanted, the blue or pink. Thérèse chose blue, for it was a soft blue that reminded her of the Blessed Mother.
"Okay, now I can start on your hair."
"Should we not finish dressing first?" Thérèse asked.
"This is it. I'd give you a sweater, but I don't have one with me."
"Nothing else? I feel so naked."
"Thérèse, trust me you look lovely."
Elora sat her in front of a mirror and began unpinning her hair until it was all loose down her back. She was going to use a hot iron to give her some loose curls, but was satisfied with the tussled look she currently presented.
Applying the cosmetics was terrifying. Elora kept coming at her eyes as she outlined her eyes a dark brown and colored her eyelids two blended shades of gray. Elora even insisted she paint her eyelashes a darker color and curled them with a device that looked as if it were a torture device meant to extract her eyeball from her head. Her cheeks were brushed with a pink powder and lips rubbed with an even pinker ointment. Elora did the same for herself, but went more quickly and seemed to care less about precision.
Elora pushed her before the tall mirror so she might see and what a change she saw in herself. She could hardly believe that was she in the reflection. Her appearance was so altered by the masculine, yet alluring attire she wore. The way Elora had painted her face Thérèse was certain she had never before realized how beautiful her own features were. The way the blush brought out her cheekbones and how her eyes stood out to perfection with such outlining and coloring.
Though Elora was made up in a similar fashion, she somehow looked the same to her. Thérèse could not explain it, but it seemed as if such a look was familiar on Elora.
Through all of the primping Elora went on and on talking of the future. Inventions and social changes were only the beginning of what she learned of what was to come in the next 350 years. The strange things she had seen from Elora belongings were now not so strange.
There came a knock at the door. She could not help but scream a little, "Oh dear Elora, what shall we do?"
"Shhh, it's okay. Let's see who it is before we panic." Elora went to the door, but did not unlock it. "Yes, who's there?"
"Elora," came Christophe's voice. "I have come to fetch both you and my sister for dinner."
Both of them turned their heads toward the mantle clock, was it so late? Yes it was. She hoped Elora would just send him away, with the promise of joining all in just a few minutes, but no, Elora smiled at her with a wink and unlocked the door.
In dread, Thérèse hurried behind the floor screen and quickly put on Elora's robe that was hanging on the other side.
"Thérèse stepped out," Elora stated as Christophe thumped in the room.
A startled cough interrupted Christophe's greeting midsentence. He must have taken his first look at Elora's appearance. "What?" puffed Christophe.
"What can I say to explain myself, except I was feeling in the mood to wear something familiar. Isn't it nice I don't have to hide this side of me from you now."
Thérèse peeked through the cracks in the floor screen toward Christophe, expecting a disapproving look, but he was smiling. "Now tell me if I am incorrect, Elora; the reason you wear such form-fitting, skirt-less attire is so you will be respected and taken seriously as a man is."
"At the beginning, I suppose that was the idea, but since I was born it is just a regular fashion; as regular as wearing a gown is here."
"I am certain you will not mind me saying that you are well suited for the attire. I can actually see you as a physician wearing such."
"Oh, no. Physicians wear white coats and anything but jeans for pants."
"Well, just don't spread such fashion ideas around. We would not want all the women in France tossing their gowns into the fire, trading them in for a pair of trousers. Then where would the men be if the women took over the same duties?"
Christophe had meant to be funny, but neither she nor Elora were amused.
"Chris," Elora exhaled loudly. "I know what men do, but I have to say the pants are not what's important. A person's sex should have no bearing on the accumulation of their worth or potential."
"I am just grateful Thérèse is not here," he said as he looked about the room. "She should not see you like this."
Elora's eyebrows flew up, as she crossed her arms. "Why, because it might put ideas of self-worth into her head?"
Thérèse was fond of how Elora always spoke her thoughts and articulated them so well. She was correct in her words. Though Thérèse never thought about or desired any other future then the one she was about to have with Cesaire, she now wondered perhaps she could do more with her time. If the women from three hundred years from now could do it, she certainly could.
"Elora, not all women have your strength."
What a thing to say, belittling women-kind! Thérèse was outraged.
"Maybe," began Elora, "they do not have such strength because they receive no encouragement and are pressured into submission."
Christophe was not quick to reply to such a statement. Had Elora made her point or was he thinking of a way to contradict her? "That is absurd. Thérèse was always encouraged and has never been denied anything."
"Defending women's civil rights seems to be my platform in 17th century France. Tell me then, why did your education continue until you were seventeen, but Thérèse has not seen a tutor since she was twelve? Should she not have received the same education in matter and length as you?"
"And what would she do with it? Would she, a descendant of the royal line, choose a profession to play at all her life? Not even I have a profession."
"Probably not, but she would still have that option. She would surely know English now, among other things, if she had not been denied your superior education. Perhaps she would be able to manage her own funds, investing in what she sees fit. She could have double the wealth she already has. The higher the education the more it serves toward self-reliance."
"Elora," Christophe shook his head, but she would not let him speak just yet.
"These aren't ravings or merely my opinions. It is a fact; women have the same capabilities as men. I know; I've lived it. So I know if Thérèse or any other woman here wanted to, she could. You should not have such little faith in women's abilities; they may surprise you."
"Brother," began Thérèse, suddenly having no fear. She came from behind the screen. "You really should have an open mind to such possibilities."
Still beside Elora, Christophe drew back. "Thérèse, how–"
"Elora, do not be too upset with my brother. Even I have such doubts because I have lived the whole of my life knowing only one truth, but now know there is so much more. God will convert mankind's hearts to such possibilities when He see's fit. I am content with the life chosen for me."
Elora nodded. "Chris, just look at your sister. Doesn't she look beautiful!" Elora pinched him in the arm. "Doesn't she?"
"Yes, I never would have known you. Seeing you both dressed so makes me feel silly arguing such things with you when I know you are correct."
They kicked him out of the room moments later and hurried to redress themselves for dinner. Elora so quickly turned their futuristic hair styles into simple braids embellished with feathered caps. As Elora was about to wipe off her eye make-up with a dampened handkerchief, Thérèse stopped her.
"Must we, it looks so nice and I have never felt quite so beautiful."
"Thérèse," Elora took her hand. "This must be kept a secret. Your mother will be shocked with your appearance and how could we explain it to her? Maybe another night, at court. There will be no daylight and such make-up will not look so obvious."
She agreed and they both washed their faces until they looked as God had created them. Thérèse was so pleased she had spent this time with Elora. Now everything was as it should be. Nothing could break the bond of friendship they shared with one another.
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The day they set off to leave, both the royal carriage and the Chartres' best carriage were fetched. Louis insisted she take his carriage for it afforded the best comforts. At breakfast Philippe seemed a bit miffed to find out he would be stuck riding in the lesser of the two carriages, but Louis had the final say. Philippe was determined to argue the fact, Elora agreed with his saying she could take the lesser carriage, but Louis insisted Philippe not act so spoiled. The future queen, who was injured, should take precedence.
It was going to be a long day, so she drank some chamomile tea and carried peppermint leaves to sniff if she got nauseous. She loved traveling, but dreaded 17th modes of transportation.
Elora had wanted Suzanne to ride with her, so she could have a companion for the journey, but Louis would have none of that. He said it was only right for her maidservant to travel ahead so she might have everything prepared for her when she arrived later. So Suzanne left perhaps an hour before she in an open cart with all the luggage. Elora thought it was so demeaning, but Suzanne did not have a problem with it and Louis insisted that was the way it should be.
She first made her goodbyes to Louis and Philippe who were set to leave before her. Louis showered her with words of love and kisses. She hugged him tight and made him promise to be back at Versailles tomorrow. The next time he journeyed to Paris she would hear no excuse, she would go along whether she would be sitting in on the meetings or not.
Philippe bided his time before bowing and kissing her hand. "The journey may not be long, Elora, but your full strength has not yet returned. You take care of yourself. If you do not feel well enough to continue simply tell the driver to stop in the next village."
She thanked him. She was surprised with his consideration. Louis had not even said that much.
"Oh Elora, I nearly forgot," added Philippe as they all walked outside together. "I brought a few things with me that I did not need after all. I meant to give it to your girl to take with her back to Versailles, but–"
"No problem, Philippe. I'll take it." A manservant took from his carriage a leather shoulder bag and went to place it in her carriage. Elora interceded and took the bag from him. "Wow, that's heavy. What's in there, a rock collection?"
"No," he laughed. "A few books and a pistol that I had hoped to used for shooting some game here in Chartres, but found there was no time for such pursuits."
"Well I will deliver them to your chambers once I get back to Versailles."
Louis could only shake his head at his brother's audacity as they got into the carriage. Elora smiled and wished them well off.
Leaving Thérèse and Chris was not as easy as she thought it would be. She would be seeing Louis again in a day or so, but she would not be seeing the Morlaix's for at least another month. After revealing so much to them and feeling more at liberty to talk to them about anything without fear, now she was to be parted from them.
The tears were brief, but sincere at their parting. Again, promises of secrecy were exchanged. Elora could not have been more pleased that they knew the truth. She had such a good time with them on this visit. As she got into the carriage she felt a moment of sadness that she was leaving, but not a second later remembered Louis was hers forever and she felt better.
The journey began. Louis had assigned two of his guards to travel with her and she was pleased with that. One of the guards traveled in front with the driver and the other traveled by horse behind them, so she was still quite alone inside the carriage.
They were about two hours into the journey, Elora had fallen asleep, all curled up on the seat. The carriage jostled, hitting quite a large sink in the road and woke her. The carriage stopped; they must have gotten stuck. She was about to open the door to see what was going on and perhaps lend a hand. Then gunshots rang out! It was not in the distance either; it was so loud it must have been nearby. She believed it was consecutively three shots she heard.
She went into Philippe's bag and reached for his pistol. She did not know if it was loaded, but she would do her best to use it if necessary. She pushed open the door to see what was happening, but as she was pushing the door, it was pulled open with such a force she nearly fell out. Two men with dirty faces and worn clothes were there. One was holding a gun, pointed straight at her!
If she screamed she did not know. She was sure at that moment she was going to die. She thought not of memories, as many say they do with near-death experiences, but thought of all the things she would never get a chance to do if she died today.
The men seemed startled to see her and to confirm her suspicion one of them said, "It's a woman. They pulled a switch on us."
The man lowered his gun a bit when he looked away toward the other man. They obviously had not seen the pistol she held behind her back. She raised the gun, pointing it toward the man closer to her and squeezed the trigger. She flew the floor of the carriage from the kickback of the pistol. Her target had been so close, but as she shot the pistol it flied up towards the sky, which is exactly the direction it fired in.
"Don't just stand there," shouted the other man. "Grab hold of her."
So he did, pulling at her injured arm. She screamed and dropped the pistol. She proceeded to use her good arm to punch him in the head. As soon as her feet hit the ground the man holding the gun swung the handle of the gun into her head. Her sight went from being near blinded by the bright sun to complete darkness.
Dear Readers,
I hope you enjoyed this chapter of The Celestial City. I especially loved it! Sorry it always takes me so long to post a new chapter. It's just that I am meticulous with my editing/revising process and just was everything to be perfect for you.
I really appreciate feedback so please review and let me know what you think!
L.B. Tempia
