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Authors: Brian Moore
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intently. ‘This was your evening,’ he said. ‘Not mine.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t you know? The Emperor has an eye for you. And Deniau took you off this afternoon to Pierrefonds. Picnic à deux . Should I be jealous?’
She smiled and shook her head.
Chapter 4
‘Madame? Madame Lambert?’
Emmeline, walking in winter sunlight among banks of fuchsia in the château’s formal gardens, saw the old lady’s maid hurrying up the path.
‘What is it, Françoise?’
The old woman, out of breath, stammered, ‘Madame, the Marquis de Caux has sent word that you are to sit beside His Majesty at déjeuner . You must be ready at the doors of the grande salle as soon as Their Majesties enter the dining room. I think you should dress now, Madame.’
‘And my husband?’
‘The invitation is for you alone.’
At five minutes to eleven, Emmeline, waiting with the other guests outside the grande salle , saw the doors open to allow the imperial couple to enter the dining room. At that moment a gentleman who introduced himself as the Marquis de Caux came up to her, gave her his arm and led her down the long room to that part of the dining table where the Emperor and his party had just taken their seats. On His Majesty’s right was an empty chair. The Emperor did not rise, but smiled at her as she slipped into her place. Across the table the Empress nodded to Emmeline in a queenly manner. The Emperor then gestured to the maître d’hôtel and at once the first dishes were brought into the dining room. Behind the Emperor’s chair his personal chasseur took the dish from the hands of the maître d’hôtel and presented it to His Majesty who then helped himself, whereupon the chasseur handed the dish back to the maître d’hôtel as a signal that guests could now be served.
‘Do you know the game of croquet, my dear?’ the Emperor said, turning to Emmeline.
‘No, Your Majesty.’
‘I’m told it’s now the rage in London and I want to know what the fuss is about. As a matter of fact I’ve ordered a set from Paris. If they arrive before we leave Compiègne, you and I must learn this game together. Would that amuse you, my dear?’
‘Is it a card game, Your Majesty? I’m afraid I’m very stupid at cards.’
The Emperor laughed. ‘No, it’s an outdoor game. Hitting a ball with a mallet. Anyway, we’ll see. Tell me. Will you go to Africa with your husband? That is, if I can persuade him to help us. I want you on my side this afternoon. On my side and by my side.’
He smiled and put his hand on her arm. She felt herself flush as she looked at the Emperor’s hand, hairy, its long buffed fingernails gently tickling her bare flesh. This man, the son of Hortense de Beauharnais, the nephew of Bonaparte, his lecher’s eyes appraising her, his covetous, faintly mocking smile. And Africa? What was this about Africa?
‘And let us not forget the chasse à courre .’ His fingers tightened on her forearm. He leaned forward, his long waxed moustaches only inches from her face. ‘You will be my guest at the curée on Sunday evening.’
Curée ? She smiled at him vaguely. ‘What is that, Your Majesty?’
‘The finale of the stag hunt. Did you not know about it? Well, why should you? You are so young. How pretty you are. Indeed you are. So pretty.’
Having said this he pushed aside his plate which was promptly removed by his chasseur . A second dish was served at once and as the Emperor sampled it and turned to the lady on his left, an old gentleman on Emmeline’s right began to talk to her about a dance called the lancers. ‘I dread it,’ he said. ‘I am too old for it, but it is mandatory that if one is asked to take part one cannot refuse. Do you enjoy it, Madame? I may tell you that the Emperor is very fond of the lancers.’
It was at this point that Emmeline sensed the rule of conversation in high society. She did not have to understand what was being said to her, she had only to answer with
‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t you know? The Emperor has an eye for you. And Deniau took you off this afternoon to Pierrefonds. Picnic à deux . Should I be jealous?’
She smiled and shook her head.
Chapter 4
‘Madame? Madame Lambert?’
Emmeline, walking in winter sunlight among banks of fuchsia in the château’s formal gardens, saw the old lady’s maid hurrying up the path.
‘What is it, Françoise?’
The old woman, out of breath, stammered, ‘Madame, the Marquis de Caux has sent word that you are to sit beside His Majesty at déjeuner . You must be ready at the doors of the grande salle as soon as Their Majesties enter the dining room. I think you should dress now, Madame.’
‘And my husband?’
‘The invitation is for you alone.’
At five minutes to eleven, Emmeline, waiting with the other guests outside the grande salle , saw the doors open to allow the imperial couple to enter the dining room. At that moment a gentleman who introduced himself as the Marquis de Caux came up to her, gave her his arm and led her down the long room to that part of the dining table where the Emperor and his party had just taken their seats. On His Majesty’s right was an empty chair. The Emperor did not rise, but smiled at her as she slipped into her place. Across the table the Empress nodded to Emmeline in a queenly manner. The Emperor then gestured to the maître d’hôtel and at once the first dishes were brought into the dining room. Behind the Emperor’s chair his personal chasseur took the dish from the hands of the maître d’hôtel and presented it to His Majesty who then helped himself, whereupon the chasseur handed the dish back to the maître d’hôtel as a signal that guests could now be served.
‘Do you know the game of croquet, my dear?’ the Emperor said, turning to Emmeline.
‘No, Your Majesty.’
‘I’m told it’s now the rage in London and I want to know what the fuss is about. As a matter of fact I’ve ordered a set from Paris. If they arrive before we leave Compiègne, you and I must learn this game together. Would that amuse you, my dear?’
‘Is it a card game, Your Majesty? I’m afraid I’m very stupid at cards.’
The Emperor laughed. ‘No, it’s an outdoor game. Hitting a ball with a mallet. Anyway, we’ll see. Tell me. Will you go to Africa with your husband? That is, if I can persuade him to help us. I want you on my side this afternoon. On my side and by my side.’
He smiled and put his hand on her arm. She felt herself flush as she looked at the Emperor’s hand, hairy, its long buffed fingernails gently tickling her bare flesh. This man, the son of Hortense de Beauharnais, the nephew of Bonaparte, his lecher’s eyes appraising her, his covetous, faintly mocking smile. And Africa? What was this about Africa?
‘And let us not forget the chasse à courre .’ His fingers tightened on her forearm. He leaned forward, his long waxed moustaches only inches from her face. ‘You will be my guest at the curée on Sunday evening.’
Curée ? She smiled at him vaguely. ‘What is that, Your Majesty?’
‘The finale of the stag hunt. Did you not know about it? Well, why should you? You are so young. How pretty you are. Indeed you are. So pretty.’
Having said this he pushed aside his plate which was promptly removed by his chasseur . A second dish was served at once and as the Emperor sampled it and turned to the lady on his left, an old gentleman on Emmeline’s right began to talk to her about a dance called the lancers. ‘I dread it,’ he said. ‘I am too old for it, but it is mandatory that if one is asked to take part one cannot refuse. Do you enjoy it, Madame? I may tell you that the Emperor is very fond of the lancers.’
It was at this point that Emmeline sensed the rule of conversation in high society. She did not have to understand what was being said to her, she had only to answer with
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