“There are still moments when I think it is only a dream, but this dream goes on and I think I need no longer doubt….”
Had I ever been so happy? I did not think so. A child . all of my own!
I was a little absent-minded when Armand came to sit on my bed. I did not see him. I saw another child. My own . my baby Dauphin.
I was writing to my mother frequently of all my hopes, how I was going to care for my Dauphin, what I was preparing for him. I was taking care of myself. I took quiet walks in the gardens of Versailles and Trianon; I liked to sit and talk in the petits appartements, listening to gentle music and doing a little needlework. I was planning my baby’s clothes. I wanted to do so much for him myself. I could not wait for him to be born. I wrote to my mother:
“The manner in which they are brought up now is much less constricting. Babies should not be swaddled. They should be in a light cradle or carried in one’s arms. I learn that they should be out of doors as soon as possible so that they can grow accustomed to fresh air by degrees, and they end by being in it almost the whole of the day. I believe it to be good and healthy for them. I have arranged for my baby to be lodged downstairs, and there shall be a little railing separating him from the rest of the terrace. This will teach him to walk early How I longed to have him with me. I was impatient of the waiting.
The discomforts of pregnancy did not worry me in the least. I welcomed them. I was never tired of talking of babies and I gathered about me those people who had had them so that they could talk of their experiences.
But how long the waiting seemed I I began to grow so weary of it; sometimes I was almost sick with longing for my child.
My baby was due in December and the summer seemed endless; and then a strange event occurred which for a short while made me less aware even of my coming baby.
It was August and I was in the crowded salon with my husband and brothers-and sisters-in-law, and I was beginning to feel a little tired. I knew I only had to catch Louis’s eye and he would dismiss the assembly. He was always so ] solicitous of my health and terrified, as
I was, that the baby . might be jeopardised. Then it happened. He was some little distance from us and neither my husband nor his brothers knew him. But I did. I took one look at that unusual and most handsome face, at the contrast of fair hair and dark eyes, and I was trans ported back to an Opera ball at which as Dauphine I had danced disguised . until I had revealed myself.
“Ah,” I cried, impulsively.
“Here is an old acquaintance ” Madame. ” He was standing before me, bowing low over my hand. I felt his lips against my fingers and I was happy.
“Comte de Fersen,” I said thoughtlessly.
He was delighted that I should remember him. Others watching me were they not always watching me? were surprised and naturally would not let the matter pass.
He had changed a little since we had last met; but then so had I. We had both become more mature. I asked him to tell me what had happened to him after the Opera ball.
He had been to England, he said, and after that to Northern France and Holland, before returning to the Chateau of Lofstad, which was his home in Sweden.
“And you were happy to be home.”
He smiled; he had the most charming smile I had ever seen.
“The Court of Sweden seemed a little dull after that of France.”
I was pleased, loving compliments.
“But it is your home,” I reminded him.
“I had been so long away … Brussels … Berlin, Rome, London, Paris in particular Paris.”
“I am pleased that our capital pleased you He looked steadily at me and said: ” There is something here that . enchants me. “
I was excited. I knew what he meant.
“You have a family, though … a large family?”
“A younger brother and three sisters, but they were always away from home. They all held posts at Court.”
“Naturally. But I know what it means to live in a large family and leave it….”
I dared not talk to him much longer for we were being noticed. He was courtier enough to realise this.
I said conspiratorially: “We will talk together again.” Being thus dismissed he bowed and I turned to my sister-in-law who was standing beside me. Marie Josephe would be beside me at such a time. I was sure she had listened to every word.
What strange days they were. I don’t think I had ever been so happy in the whole of my life. I would wake in the night and put my hands on my body to feel the child; and I would picture my little boy lying in my arms or I would be teaching him to walk and say “Maman.”
Then I would think of Comte Axel de Fersen, with his strangely beautiful face and his ardent eyes. Of course I was happy. I had never carried a child before; I had never before known a man with whom I felt so completely at peace. I had strange thoughts—perhaps women do during pregnancy. I wished that I lived in a little house with a husband like Axel de Fersen and babies . lots of them. I believed that if I could do that, I should ask for nothing else. What were gambling, dancing, practical jokes, glorious silks and brocades, fantastic head-dresses, diamonds . a crown . what would all these things amount to when compared with that simple life of complete contentment?
I can be honest with myself now and say that if I could have had that I should have been happy. I see myself now as an ordinary. woman, not clever, unsubtle, sentimental, a woman who was meant most of all to be a mother.
But I had been miscast in the role of Queen.
It was a pleasure to discover more and more of Axel de Fersen. His love of music delighted me. I sent him invitations to concerts; sometimes I would invite him with a few intimate friends. I would play the harpsichord to them and sometimes sing. I had not a very good voice but it was pleasant enough, and everyone applauded me naturally whenever I sang. But the singing was for him, though we could never be alone together since we were watched at every turn. I remember my brother Joseph’s warning about my sister-in-law Marie Josephe. She was not a Piedmontese for nothing, he had said; and she was certainly constantly setting people to spy on me. She was a jealous woman. Provence could not get children; and his one hope and hers had been that I should die childless and leave the way to the throne clear for them. Now I was with child; there might be many more children once we had proved we could have them. And they were naturally disconsolate.
But although Axel and I were not alone together we did enjoy many conversations. He made me see his affectionate mother; his father, for whom he had a deep respect and who, he admitted, was a little parsimonious and wondered when his son was going to give up wandering about Europe and settle down to a career. He even told me of Mademoiselle Leyel, a Swedish girl who lived in London and to whom he had been sent to pay court.
“Her vast fortune greatly appealed to my family,” he said gravely.
“And to you?” I asked.
“She is reckoned so.”
“I am interested in your adventure in London. Tell me more.”
“I was a guest in her parents’ luxurious mansion.”
“That must have been most pleasant.”
No,” he said.
“No. ” But why not? “
“Because I was an unenthusiastic wooer.”
“You surprise me.”
“Surely not. I was pursued by a dream. Something happened to me once years before … in Paris. In the Opera House there.”
I was afraid to speak to him for I was very much aware of my two sisters-in-law silently watching.
“Ah I And did you not ask for her hand?”
“I asked her. It was my father’s wish, and mine to please him.”
