"There's a carriage!", Rosalie pointed, stepping out of the way. Anastasie stood up, and I helped the girls up so they would not slip on the stairs. "Yes, Louis and Louise are here to celebrate Georges' birthday with us, as well as come with us to the feast and midnight mass", I explained.

"We should go inside; we should not be out here", Paule told Rosalie, and my two youngest sisters both scurried into the house. I smiled at Louise, helping her climb up the steps while Louis carried a small package. "Is that for Georges?", I asked warmly, while my son, bundled up in my arms, eyed the package. "Yes, it is. From both Louise and I." 

"Any presents for me?"

"Anastasie!", I scolded, appalled. 

Louise chuckled, "It's alright, Adrienne." she pulled out a small box. "This is for you, to open up on Christmas morning", she kneeled down, giving Anastasie the small box, perhaps holding jewlery or a small toy inside, or perhaps even candy. Regardless, Anastasie's eyes widened, grateful to receive the gift. "Thank you, Auntie Louise!"

"Still, Anastasie, we must never ask for presents, even if we are expecting them", I told her.

"Sorry, Mama."

"It's alright." I smiled, "Come inside, it is frigid out here." 

--

After Georges opened his gifts, it was time to go to the grand feast, with Anastasie and Georges staying at home with a nanny, considering they are too young, already having supper. "Is everyone ready to go?", Mother asked, eager to get there on time. "Yes, mother", Clotilde smiled warmly, hugging Anastasie goodbye. "We are", I told her, putting my gloves on my hands. 

"Very well", said father, opening the door, where the freezing temperatures awaited us. A line of carriages awaited outside in order to carry our whole family. The driver opened the door for Clotilde and I, with Rosalie and I sitting next to each other, and Paule and Clotilde sitting across from us, and off the carriage went. "Has Gilbert sent you a letter recently?", Clotilde asked, making me snap out from looking outside the window, where it was already twilight. "Yes, a few days ago. God, I hope he is alright."

"Do not kid yourself, Adrienne, he will be fine", Paule tried to console me, however I did not believe so. I remember his letters he would send me a few years ago when he was in Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, how soldiers were freezing, infected with illness, and dying from starvation. Some did not even have shoes, and some ate theirs because they were so famished. I did not want that to happen to my husband. 

Not before long, the carriage came to a complete stop, causing me and Rosalie to hold each other tight. The door opened, and I stepped out, helping Rosalie down the steps. "It's cold", she told me, while the family walked to the palace, where the feast would be. "It indeed is" I wished I could have covered up more, however we would be inside soon.

Inside the castle, unlike outside, it was warm. The dining hall was full of people in the court and the nobility. Antoinette walked up to me, "Adrienne, I am so glad you could make it this year." I smiled warmly, "I am glad I could come, too, I was afraid something would come up and I would not make it."  She smiled at me, "Well, thank heavens you could. I hate being without a close friend at these gatherings." 

"Happy Christmas, Antoinette", I told her.

"Happy Christmas, Adrienne", she replied back. 

The feast started. I was seated in between Louise and The Comte de Provence, Louis XVI's older brother, much to my disapproval. As I continued to cut my meat, he stopped to make conversation with me. "Is your husband still fighting for the American cause, Madame de Lafayette?" I put on a smile, setting my fork down. "Indeed, he is. I suppose he will be home in a year or two." 

"Is he engaging with other women there?" I noticed while Louise was about to take a bite, her fork stopped midair. My face turned red, and I looked down at my forest green skirt. "Not that I am aware of, Monsieur, and I am sure that he would tell me if he was. And even if he didn't, I do not think he has time for such things right now." I tried to be nice about his behavior, although it was difficult. 

"There are women in camp, right? Camp followers? I heard some of them may be prostitutes." While my face grew redder, I excused myself to take a sip of wine before I could come up with an answer. "My husband would never do such a thing, Monsieur", I said through my teeth. "I'll have you know that he treats women with respect, not as something for sale." 

"Adrienne-", my mother, who was sitting across from me, tried to control my anger.

"I cannot believe you would think of my husband that way. He is more of a man than you'll ever be!", I hissed, standing up, and excusing myself to go to the hallway, with tears running down my cheeks. "Are you alright?" I heard a familiar, soft voice, but not as familiar as one of my friends'. I turned around to look, it was Marie Josephine de Savoy, the Comte de Provence's wife.

"Yes, I am. It's just... I cannot believe he would say such a thing..." She gave my a handkerchief, which I wiped my eyes with. "I do apologize for my husband's behavior, Madame de Lafayette. I believe your husband is a brave man, and would not engage in such acts, either."

I smiled at her, "Thank you, I appreciate it." I stopped crying, it was hard to believe a woman who I barely knew was comforting me. I walked back inside, giving the Comte the cold shoulder, proceeding to eat my delicious meal. 

I said goodbye to Marie Antoinette and her daughter, when it was time to leave for midnight mass. While my family exited into the cold, my father pulled me to the side. "I heard from about five court members and nobility how you talked to the Comte de Provence!", he scolded. "What on Earth were you thinking, speaking to someone with such high of a status that way?!"

I sighed calmly, "I couldn't give a shit about his status from the way he spoke about my husband tonight." His eyes widened, surprised that I used such profanity. "And I do not give a fuck about how this might damage your reputation." I released from his arm, walking outside into the cold.

La MarquiseDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora