Their strolls and explorations took them onto the beautiful Jardin du Luxembourg, located in the shadow of the century-old Palais du Luxembourg. They would sit next to the Fontaine de Médicis, enjoying the mist from its vast sprays and dipping their feet into the surrounding water. They also listened in on the conversations of the passersby, many of whom grumbled and fretted about the anxieties of daily life.
“How will we make it through another winter with so little for our bellies?” they heard.
Other people complained bitterly about the royal family, an enduring practice in monarchist societies. They listened to a man who promenaded regularly through the park selling newspapers. The man had a brother in prison for failing to pay a gambling debt. “The queen convinces fat Louis to give 12,000 francs to debtors in prison, but oh, not to just any debtors,” he groused to no one in particular. “She only wants to save those who failed to pay their wet nurses. Why? Because soon she will be plump with a child herself and she thinks France now forgives her all her own wasteful spending now that she will produce an heir. Mon Dieu, why would any woman need a 400,000-livre diamond bracelet? That could have bought every household in France a loaf of bread.”
The children looked at each other and shrugged. They only remembered the queen as a beautiful girl who gave them sweets by the side of the road. And wasn’t it exciting that she would be giving France its much-needed heir?
But now Claudette had no food at all, much less a luxury like candy.
She wandered about the four city blocks between her and Jean-Philippe’s home, searching for a familiar face that could help her. The streets were mostly deserted, except for a few shop owners who had dared venture back to examine damage to their livelihoods. Approaching a man she knew only as Félix, a baker, she asked, “Pardon, but I am Étienne Laurent’s daughter. Do you know what has happened to the Renaud family?”
“Eh? Who? What do I care about anyone else? Do you see what has happened to my shop? My precious oven! My sacks of grains! I am ruined!” He was clutching the side of his head and grasping handfuls of hair.
“Pardon me, monsieur, my parents were lost in the fire, and I am trying to find my friends who will help me.”
“My father and my father’s father ran this shop. And now it is over. Over!” He had a wild look in his eyes. “And who will help me rebuild? You? Is that what you want? To take over my business? Get away from me, you filthy morue.”
Claudette stood transfixed. Had this man actually just called her that? She was from a respectable family, and certainly no common woman of the streets. She moved on.
She drifted for hours before returning to the park where many of the homeless were encamped. Perhaps someone there would remember seeing Jean-Philippe and his parents. She descended a small set of steps into the park, and was taken aback by how the area had grown in population since she had left it that morning. It was as though all of Paris had moved into a square city block. She asked passersby randomly, “Pardon, do you know the whereabouts of the Renaud family?” No one seemed able, or willing, to help her. Finally, someone directed her to the local commissariat, located three blocks away. She asked a policeman sitting at a desk near the door of the station, “Please, I am trying to find friends. Can you help me?”
The policeman, tall, lanky, and with an air of utter boredom, responded, “Name?”
With relief, Claudette gushed, “Renaud. Charles and Michelle Renaud, and their son, Jean-Philippe.”
“Relation to you?”
Swallowing, Claudette uttered words that she had never voiced before outside of her beloved’s presence. “Jean-Philippe is my betrothed.”
He yawned in indifference to the pleadings of a dirty, bedraggled young girl. He picked up a grimy stack of papers and began casually looking through them. The longer she waited, the more a sense of dread came over her. The silence in the room created a deafening pounding in her ears. He looked up. “Sorry, mademoiselle, we have no listing for such a family. Try the docks. Many families have left Paris that way.” Dismissively he added, “If we see him, we’ll tell him you were here.”
Before giving in to the desire to break down in tears, Claudette turned and marched out of the commissariat. Far from the overnight soaking rain that had finally put out the fire, the day was now unseasonably hot. Pushing a fallen, disheveled lock of golden curl away from her face, she moved on to the docks.
The dock on the River Seine was again teeming with wandering subjects of the realm. How would she ever find Jean-Philippe’s whereabouts here? Approaching a man in a captain’s uniform, she once again inquired as to information regarding the Renaud family. The man’s uniform was ill-fitting on his thin frame, and his brown eyes were large and luminous in his gaunt face.
“No such family passing through here. Are you without family, mademoiselle?” He spoke awkward French; clearly he was English.
Bending her head to hide the lip she was chewing, she whispered, “Yes, monsieur, I am.”
He put a hand under her chin and said, “There, there, I cannot bear to see such a beautiful young lady in distress. My name is Simon Briggs, and I can help you. Do you see that group of young ladies such as yourself over there?” He pointed to a cluster of chattering young women, all seemingly from various stations of life. “They have answered my notice for domestic help over in England. Fancy ladies over there need hardworking girls as governesses, house servants, and so on. Just think, you could be nanny to an important family.”
“But I’m the daughter of a dollmaker. What do I know about such things?”
“You will learn. There’s plenty of training. Once we get to London, that is. Why don’t you join the fortunate ones over there? We’ll be putting up in an hour or so, and then we’ll be having a big meal. You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
She was famished. But to get on a ship headed to such a far-off land just for a meal seemed absurd.
Briggs saw her indecision. He said gently, “Mademoiselle, are you by any chance a victim of yesterday’s fire? Hmm, I thought so. Many of the women boarding today are in your same predicament. Surely you will find a friend here.”
Was this a perfect opportunity for her? Her home and family were gone, and Jean-Philippe was nowhere to be found. Both her stomach and her purse were achingly empty.
Claudette made her choice. She numbly walked toward the other waiting passengers, still stunned that her warm, sheltered life had been so abruptly destroyed.
3
Versailles. The marriage between the fifteen-year-old Dauphin Louis and fourteen-year-old Marie Antoinette was companionable, if not entirely successful. Louis, slow and dim-witted, did not have the apparent courage to pursue an intimate life with his young new wife. The court, initially twittering amusedly about this, became concerned about the lack of an heir when this state of affairs stretched into years. Was there something wrong with the Austrian woman that she could not entice her husband? The people of France soon sniffed the troubles, and expressed their concern in the streets and in newspapers. Letters flew back and forth between Austria’s Empress Maria Theresa and Marie Antoinette, the mother giving explicit, embarrassing direction as to how to lure a husband; the daughter hurriedly replying, shamefaced, assuring her mother that she was doing everything possible.
The Dauphine enjoyed life, even if she could not enjoy the attentions of her husband. She attended suppers and parties, and focused on her instinctive flair for fashion by having dozens of bejeweled gowns made, along with matching hosiery, shoes, fans, and hats. Soon she had rooms full of trunks overflowing with brocades in every shade of blue imaginable, pale gold and crimson silks, Belgian laces, and enough velvet to make gowns for all the women living in the town of Versailles. Decorated and embroidered extravagantly, shoes that would never be seen from underneath the wearer’s skirts lined rows and rows of shelves. The entire court was prone to extravagance, and the Dauphine