Finding Emilie Page 4

  I’m being impossible again, Lili thought with a mixture of pride and chagrin. Maybe she’ll give up on me. She held her napkin to her lips so she could smile without being noticed. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

  “WAS YOUR VISIT with the baroness pleasant?” Julie de Bercy asked that afternoon at dinner.

  Delphine snickered.

  “I hate going there,” Lili said with a ferocious shake of her head.

  “Ahhh.” Julie’s ample bosom rose and fell over her loosely laced dress as she sighed. “It’s best to reserve hatred for things that are worse than merely unpleasant. And it does appear you survived.” Her voice was so sweet that the resolve with which Lili was holding in her feelings was broken, and she reached for her napkin to capture a sudden flood of tears.

  “Not your napkin, ma chérie,” Julie said, pulling a lavender-scented lace handkerchief from her bodice and handing it to her. “It would make the baroness truly furious!”

  “The more empty-headed I am, the more she likes me,” Lili said with a loud sniff. “She’s just awful, Maman!”

  “Maybe you need stupid lessons!” Delphine broke in. “Excuse me, Monsieur Book Seller, but do you have anything on how to be completely addle-brained? Mademoiselle needs your help!”

  Julie laughed with them, but her face quickly turned grave. “This kind of talk is fine when it’s just the three of us, but you cannot afford to get out of practice with your manners.”

  “We know, Maman,” Lili said. “It’s just that being home with you is the only time we have any fun.”

  Julie’s face sobered, and she reached over to stroke Lili’s hand. “I know it’s hard at the convent, and you have Baronne Lomont on top of that, but things will get better in time. Someday you’ll be grown women, with husbands who know better than to interfere with what you enjoy most. At least that’s my hope.”

  Julie rarely spoke of her husband, Alphonse de Bercy, an officer in King Louis’s army, who died when typhoid swept through his regiment shortly after Delphine was born, but whenever there was any talk of husbands, the normal cheer of Hôtel Bercy vanished.

  They stared at the crumbs on their plates, not knowing what to say. Delphine broke the silence. “Would you like me to play for you, Maman?”

  Pushing back their chairs, they went into the music room. Delicate green floral wainscoting complimented the shimmering silk upholstery on the chairs; and stucco reliefs of violins on the cheery, lemon-yellow wall panels made the music room everyone’s favorite place in the house. Delphine took her place at a small piano and Maman sat at a small stool in front of a gilded harp.

  Julie’s voice was beautiful, as supple and soft as firelight, and some nights the three of them would sing and play until they were all too tired to go on. Tonight, however, after several songs, Delphine put her fingers heavily on the keys. The harsh dissonance smothered the room. “I’m sad that I don’t have a papa,” Delphine said. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else.”

  A papa, Lili thought. I’m not sure who’s better off—Delphine with a father who’s dead, or I with one who’s never cared enough to visit. “I know,” Julie said. “I could tell.” She looked at Lili. “And I think I know what’s on your mind, too. But I’ve decided what would cheer us all up. How about letting us know what Meadowlark is doing?”

  “Oh, yes!” Delphine’s melancholy evaporated. “I saw you writing pages and pages, and I have to know how Meadowlark escaped from the Spider King!”

  Maman brushed Lili’s hair out of her eyes and kissed her forehead. “Would you, ma chérie?”

  Lili jumped up, glad that some things, like snuggling over Meadowlark with Delphine and Maman, weren’t as difficult as eggs with Baronne Lomont, or as painful as reminders of how little her father cared.

  1761

  THE PLACE ROYALE, home to Hôtel Bercy, was one of the few places in Paris fit for a stroll. Even the gardens of the Tuileries were thick with the stench of garbage, and haunted by beggars and thieves. On dry and pleasant afternoons, those who lived behind the harmonious, arcaded mansions ringing the four sides of the Place Royale could leave behind the sedan chairs they used for calling on their neighbors elsewhere in the city, and cross the quiet garden on foot.

  One bright winter day, Lili laced her arm through Maman’s elbow as they walked back from the home of one of Julie’s friends. Delphine had woken up that morning with a sore throat, and she was spending the day in bed, with Tintin for company. Neither Lili nor Maman felt any urge to hurry back indoors, so they made every pretext to stop—to find the whereabouts of a bird chirping from a hidden perch in a chestnut tree, and to inquire about the health of a passerby’s ailing mother.

  “Watch yourself, you swine!” The voice carried from the street to where Lili and Julie were standing near the statue of Louis XIV at the center of the square. Julie clamped Lili’s arm against her side to keep her close, as they turned in the direction of the angry shouts. Beyond the trees Lili could see a man in the simple coat and hat of a merchant, who was struggling to stay on his feet while two others in aristocratic dress pounded him on his shoulders and back with their walking sticks.

  “How dare you bother Madame de Martigny?” one asked, landing a blow that knocked the man to his knees.

  “I only came to collect a debt,” the man cried out. “My family is starving, and she owes me more than three hundred louis for the dresses I’ve made her!”

  One of them grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to a stand. “You should be glad we don’t have you thrown in the Bastille! Get out of here, and don’t come back!” Then he gave the tailor a shove so forceful it knocked him to his hands and knees, but the tailor managed to stumble down the street to one of the alleys between the mansions and was soon gone from view.

  Lili’s eyes followed the two men as they continued to amble down Rue de l’Écharpe out of the Place Royale, as if such a beating was all in the course of an afternoon. “Maman, what was that about?”

  Julie turned away from the scene and began walking toward Hôtel Bercy, still gripping Lili’s elbow in her own. “It’s terrible, really,” Julie said. “People run up huge bills at the shops of people like that man, not caring if they pay them what they owe.” She sniffed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Madame de Martigny is back in his shop next week expecting him to take a new order from her.”

  “Why would he do that.?”

  “He may think keeping her as a client improves his chances of getting paid in the end,” Julie said. “Madame de Martigny may be short of funds just now—perhaps gambling debts, perhaps a loan to someone who hasn’t paid her back, perhaps the loss of some other income—it could be any number of things. And she probably plans to make good on her debt, although many women I know would be quite tempted to order new dresses from someone else rather than pay what they owe for ones they’ve already worn.”

  The subject caused Julie to pick up the pace, and they were soon at the far end of the square from where the altercation had occurred. “People of noble rank usually behave honorably among ourselves when it comes to debts,” she said, turning to walk along the arcaded street toward home. “But those who do the actual work in our lives …” She nodded with her chin toward the corner where the beating had taken place. “You saw for yourself what some people think of them.”

  “That’s not right.” Lili envisioned the tattered storefronts and dark alleyways she passed on the way to the abbey. Perhaps that man lived in one of them. Perhaps his children were ragged and thin, as they all seemed to be in the most frightening parts of Paris. “He said his children were starving.” Her voice trembled. “He’s going home with nothing to feed them.”

  “It could be worse,” Julie said, pausing in front of Hôtel Bercy. “They could have insisted on throwing him in prison for his affront to French nobility. His family would truly suffer then.” She gestured toward the door. “These are hard truths,” she said, “and they’re best discussed inside.”

  O
NCE IN THE parlor after checking on Delphine, Maman sent for tea and a few bites of cake to cheer Lili up, but Lili sat stonefaced, eating nothing. “At the convent they tell us that works of Christian virtue spring from love and have no other objective than to arrive at love,” she said. “Were those men Christians, Maman?”

  Maybe they’re Musulmans, or Jews. Though Lili had never laid eyes on either, as far as she knew, she had heard from the nuns about their devious ways and their vile intentions toward any good Christian woman they encountered.

  “Of course they’re Christians. At least if by that you mean that they go to mass often enough not to risk the disapproval of their wives, and go to confession whenever something they’ve done is about to become unpleasant.”

  “But don’t they know that Christians are supposed to love their neighbors?”

  “I’m afraid some people’s neighborhoods are very small.”

  Lili thought for a moment. “Baronne Lomont tells me that everything the church teaches comes directly from God,” she went on, “and that I must accept his will if I’m to be a good wife and mother some day.”

  “I’m sure she did. And what do you think?”

  Lili scowled. “The baroness told me I should think less. Or argue less at least, and keep my thoughts to myself. She said no one will want to marry me if I demand attention for my ideas all the time.”

  Julie’s cheeks flushed. “Well,” she said, “I wouldn’t suggest saying this to Baronne Lomont, but I find your ideas, and Delphine’s, the most beautiful things about you. And if you ever decide not to have any more thoughts, I think you might as well go live with the baroness. I’m sure it would be pleasant having her full approval.” She smiled at Lili’s consternation. “I was trying to be funny,” she said. “Of course, you’re staying right here, thoughts and all.”

  Julie stood up. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t you come down this evening to my salon? Delphine can come too if she’s feeling well enough. I think you may understand things a little better if you have a chance to discuss them with my guests. There’s one in particular I’d like you to meet before he leaves Paris.”

  One of the kitchen servants had appeared in the door and stood waiting for Julie’s attention. “I have to see about supper now,” Maman said, “and you need to put on a pretty dress and have Corinne arrange your hair.” As Julie walked toward the servant, she glanced back over her shoulder at Lili. “And don’t forget to bring your mind.”

  SHE DID what?” Gabrielle-Anne Breteuil whirled around to face her husband.

  “Emilie spent half what she won playing trictrac on books,” Louis-Nicholas repeated. “But at least they were reputable—science and math mostly.”

  “I don’t care how reputable they were. Surely you don’t think the host will be amused that she can’t play next time because she has no money left to wager.”

  “I think fifteen-year-old girls are likely to be forgiven most anything,” Louis-Nicholas said.

  His wife scowled. “But her parents are not. We’re being ridiculed even as we speak! We don’t provide our daughter with sufficient money and she must gamble to have the funds for what she wishes? We have a disobedient child who does what she pleases whenever we’re not watching? How can you bear to think people are saying those things?”

  Gabrielle-Anne sat at the dressing table in her bedchamber, the easiest way to turn her back on her husband, and began running a brush through her hair so violently its silver frame banged against her scalp. “Wagers are to avoid being bored to death by the game, not because one cares about the money. How could our daughter not know that?”

  Louis-Nicholas sighed in defeat. “I’ll replace what she spent, and I’ll go with her next time to make sure she loses all of it.” He thought for a moment. “She told me she wasn’t trying to be greedy, but that she couldn’t manage to lose. She said she understood it was unseemly to appear excited about money.”

  “I’m not sure Emilie understands anything of importance at all, since you’ve filled her head with such nonsense.”

  Such criticism had been hurled at Louis-Nicholas so often that he accepted it without comment. “I’ve tried to explain to her that her intelligence was charming in a girl, but not in a young lady. I’ve told her more than once that no man of quality will choose to marry someone whose head is buried in a book all day. Every time, she insists she’d rather have the book than the man.” He thought for a moment. “I was wrong to indulge her. I admit it. And I have come to agree with you that we should send her to be presented at court, and have her remain long enough at Versailles to improve her manners.”

  Finally hearing something that pleased her, Gabrielle-Anne turned toward her husband. “And we must make it clear that while she is there, she must attract at least one suitable offer of marriage.” She sniffed. “Books, indeed!”

  1761

  “YOU WANT to know how to arrive at love? Real love? Not just self-serving charity or cheap sentiment?” Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s face flushed a deep red and tiny flecks of spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke with Lili in a quiet corner at the salon. “A divine light is inside everyone, and only those who don’t give in to pretention and falsity can experience the love at the heart of God’s creation.”

  Though she had just turned twelve, and his intensity would have frightened people much older, Lili leaned in closer to meet his gaze. “But how can I not give in to falsity if I don’t know what’s true?”

  “The mind is easily deceived,” he said, tapping the side of his head with one finger. “Start by suspecting anything your heart doesn’t want to believe. And if you are seeking truth, you will find it in the natural order of things, not in your catechism.”

  How can he say something so dangerous? And interesting. “Yes, that may be,” Lili said, looking down for a moment to think before turning her solemn brown eyes back toward him. “But I don’t really know for myself if what Newton says about gravitation is true, any more than I know for myself if God rested on the seventh day. We can be wrong about the natural order of things, too, can’t we?”

  Rousseau smiled as he tucked his loose gray hair behind his ears. “You are young my dear. Children recognize truth and they will follow it naturally, even if they don’t fully understand. Frightening and bullying are necessary only to force false ideas onto them.”

  The loose end of an upholstery nail stabbed one of her fingers, and only then did Lili realize she had been gripping the frame of the chair. She let go and clasped her hands together in her lap. “Many of the things they teach at the convent don’t make sense to me, but they say people who don’t believe them are damned. Aren’t you afraid of that?”

  Rousseau shook his head. “Truth dictates that there can be no inconsistency between natural law and religion. If they clash, it’s because one of them is wrong.”

  “But the church says it is the one true faith, and straying from its teachings imperils one’s soul.” A golden door slamming shut at the entrance to heaven, Lili thought. Tumbling into the flames of hell, with wild-eyed demons clutching at his legs. Doesn’t he care about such things?

  “The one true faith!” Rousseau hissed with scorn. “Any religion is as good as another as long as it honors God as the creator. That it must do, because anything else denies the great truth at the core of everything, and nothing but falsehood can come from that. One faith is as good as another if it calls ‘moral’ what accords with natural law, and respects the dignity and freedom of everyone.”

  He chopped the air with his hand to emphasize his point. “None of this false piety and priggishness and none of this ‘Thank you, Lord, for making me better than other people.’ That is the biggest waste of your spirit I can imagine.”

  “So Musulmans and Jews aren’t despised by God?”

  “What do you think?” Rousseau leaned toward her and his voice calmed almost to a whisper.

  “I don’t know any,” Lili said.

  “But if you did?”

  �
�I think I would try to see them as people first.” An image of the man being abused by the two noblemen in the square came into her mind, but before Rousseau could answer, Julie came up beside them and he got up from his chair to acknowledge her.

  “Monsieur Rousseau,” Julie said in a voice that was at once firm and teasing. “I am certain you have been telling Lili wonderful things about listening to her own heart, and I wanted her to hear you say them. But I hope you are also reminding her of the power others have over young lives, and that you are cautioning that whenever she listens to her own heart, she should think twice before speaking her mind, since most people are more receptive to something other than the natural and unencumbered truth.” She looked at the gray-haired man. “Am I not correct?”

  “Sadly so,” he said, nodding to Lili with a sly smile. “And you are now duly cautioned.” He took in a quick breath. “I almost forgot that I brought madame a gift.” He went off for a moment and returned with a book that he handed to Julie. “It’s just been published.”

  “Émile,” Julie said, tracing the embossed letters on the leather cover.

  “It’s about the proper way to raise children.” He nodded in Lili’s direction. “I think you will find in it much of what I have said to mademoiselle this evening.”

  “I am truly touched,” Julie said, letting out a breath that emphasized the softness of not just her bosom, but the heart underneath. “Not many people are honored to receive a new work straight from the hand of one of France’s great men of letters.”

  She hooked her arm around Lili’s elbow. “But now I really must get Lili off to bed. Despite your fears that such education is ruinous”—she gave him a teasing smile—“she is returning to the Abbaye de Panthémont tomorrow.”

  Lili made a sour face at the mention of the convent. “I thought for a moment we had reasoned the abbey out of existence,” she said, “but I’ll try to think about what you’ve told me while I’m there.” She gave Rousseau a small, quick curtsey, and after wishing him a pleasant evening and giving Maman a kiss on the cheek, she bolted up the stairs to see if Delphine was still awake.