The Consequences of Champagne and Murder

Chapter Three - And Thus, I Scream

There were three things I hated most in the world. The first was trying to get my parents to make an effort for something other than goats and parties and imported carpets. The second was all the snide remarks people made about Étienne when they thought he wasn’t listening. The last was Versailles. 

It was a mess of a place. All pompous men and women strutting around in ridiculous outfits, gambling and gossiping and wasting their lives away. But Renée was right. If we wished to gather information on Étienne’s mystery companion, the best place to do so was at Versailles. So, I allowed the servants to dress me, douse me in perfume, and pomade my hair. But I wasn't happy about it the entire afternoon, and I still wasn't happy about it now as I rode alongside Renée in the carriage.

“Look at this,” I said, flapping my satin sleeve around to watch the plume of cream lace hanging from the cuff. “This is horrendous. What is the point of this?”

Renée swatted my arm away, not bothering to respond. Unlike me, my sister lived for any excuse to show herself in public and had been pleased pink as a peach all day. She sat next to me smelling like someone had broken an entire bottle of rose perfume over her head, wearing a dress so wide, I was forced to sidle up against my side of the carriage like it was a long lost lover.

“You don’t think I look ridiculous?” I asked.

Renée shook her head. “I think it’s a shame.”

“What is?”

“I’m always forced to hear about how girls find you so dashing. But you never leave the house and have absolutely no idea how to talk to women. It’s a shame, is all.”

“I know how to talk to women!”

Renée scoffed, but before I could glare at her, we arrived at the palace stables. And then, an entirely new feeling washed over me as we exited the carriage and made our way to the front gates of Versailles, our heeled shoes clacking out of sync against the uneven cobblestone. Night had fallen on our ride over, and each window of the palace was alight with candle flame, encompassing the entire building in a glow so bright, it blotted out the nearby stars.

“Are you certain you need me here as well?” I frowned and shielded my face with the damned waterfalls of lace hanging from my sleeve. “I could wait in the carriage until you’re finished.”

Renée let out an impatient sigh. “I need you, Olivier. We’ll have the opportunity to ask far more people about last night if there are two of us.” 

“Fine.” I squeezed my eyes shut, willing away the bubble of apprehension building in my chest. It didn’t work, of course. It never did. 

Despite my offhanded attempt, the bubble of apprehension grew as the guards ushered us in. We crossed over the black and white tiled courtyard and entered Versailles through a set of canary yellow doors, finding ourselves in one of the massive hallways leading to the gambling salons.

There weren’t many people milling about this time of night, most courtiers too preoccupied with cards and champagne to be meandering in the corridors. Even so, each face we passed fueled my nerves until they were ready to burst straight through my skin.

My hands itched to reach out and grasp Renée's fingers, much as I used to when I was younger and my heart began its familiar panicked stutter. But I was a grown man of marriageable age, and nothing would draw attention to us quite like me clinging to my twin sister for comfort. I settled for shoving my hands into the pockets of my breeches, gripping my thighs through the powder blue muslin as we entered the salon.

At first, no one paid us any mind. The room was choked with courtiers in various states of drunkenness, all crowded around tables of faro, whist, and roulette, coupes of champagne clutched precariously between fingertips and silk fans waving from jewel-encrusted wrists. Though it was early July, the room was near stifling with a mixture of candles and body heat. Off in the corner, someone's white pug had gotten loose and was pissing against the crimson damask walls.