The Journal of Marie-Antoinette The secret thoughts, hopes and dreams of a princess.

At the stroke of one exactly, all of the pretty ormolu, porcelain and gold clocks in my rooms chimed in unison and the footmen opened the bedroom doors with a great deal of bowing, clicking of heels and flourishing.

‘It is time,’ Madame de Noailles intoned with a solemn look. ‘The King awaits us.’

I hastily stood up, whereupon all of the maids knelt around my feet and teased out the heavy folds of my wide, panniered skirts so that they would appear to best advantage. As soon as I was deemed absolutely presentable, my ladies in waiting arranged themselves behind me and we slowly retraced our steps through the apartment until we came back to the glass and marble vestibule and the beautiful maroon and green marble staircase that lay beyond it.

‘This is the Queen’s staircase,’ Madame de Noailles whispered, unable as ever to resist the urge to lecture me. ‘It leads to what will be your own rooms in the palace.’

I ignored her as I was too busy trying to remember where we were going and at the same time walk up the staircase with the correct amount of mingled gravitas and grace as my head turned this way and that, admiring the beautiful trompe l’oeil architectural vistas on the walls and the exquisite gilt and marble decorations.

At the top of the stairs, a pair of guards swung open a door and I walked through two empty white wainscotted rooms which overlooked the main marble courtyard of the château. ‘This is the room of the King’s guard,’ I could hear Madame de Noailles murmuring behind me, ‘and this is his state dining room where his Majesty eats his meals in public.’

I smiled and nodded, while all the while I was listening to every sound and breathing in the very essence of my new home. As I walked through the hyacinth, rose and beeswax scented white and gold rooms, which were more magnificent than beautiful, I listened to the delicate tinkling of the chandeliers overhead, the sound of a harpsichord being jauntily played in the distance, the whispers of my ladies behind me, the gentle squeak of the aged parquet beneath my cloth of silver high heeled shoes and the excited yapping of the dozens of dogs that scampered freely through the state rooms, their sharp nails skittering across polished floors.

We came to a richly decorated room with mirrors set into the walls and a beautiful cornice decorated with a gilt trellis and golden cherubs playing with garlands of flowers. I looked with interest at a huge painting which hung between the tall windows and depicted a young Louis XIV surrounded by his family. I recognized my great grandfather, Philippe d’Orléans sitting in between his pretty English wife, Henriette Anne and her mother, Queen Henrietta Maria and I imagined to myself that he was looking down upon me with approval in his dark eyes.

The doors swung open and I was admitted into a sumptuously decorated gilt encrusted
bedchamber, dominated by an enormous crimson and gold brocade hung four poster bed with huge white ostrich plumes at each corner. ‘This is the King’s own bedchamber,’ Madame de Noailles hissed as I looked about myself with interest. A huge white cat was curled up, fast asleep on a giant blue and silver cushion in front of the fireplace.

‘His Majesty awaits you in his council chamber,’ she continued as we came to another closed door, which a waiting footman sprang to open.

I took a deep breath and stepped into a large room with beautiful gilt decorations on the white panelled walls, tall mirrored doors and heavy sky blue and gold curtains, which were pulled open so that beams of sunlight spilled across the floor. The King and his family had arranged themselves in front of the fireplace to greet me and I smiled at each in turn, desperately keen to make a good impression.

‘Welcome to Versailles,’ King Louis said with a gentle smile. ‘You are most welcome.’ He brought forward two little girls, both of whom seemed to be no more than ten years old. ‘May I present my granddaughters, Madame Clothilde and Madame Élisabeth?’

I smiled down at the little girls as they curtsied stiffly before me. ‘I hope that I will be like a sister to you,’ I said, taking their hands in mine and kissing them. ‘How pretty you both look.’ Both girls were dressed in matching gowns of pale primrose yellow satin with their hair powdered and dressed in the same formal style as all of the adults. The eldest of the two, Princesse Clothilde was quite fat with merry brown eyes while the younger, Princesse Élisabeth was pale with blue eyes and a distinctly mutinous air.

‘I like your dress,’ she said now with a smile before retreating behind her grandfather’s back and sticking her tongue out at me.

‘You must forgive her,’ the King said with a fond look at the little girl as I tried not to laugh. ‘She was little more than a baby when she lost her mother and has been much indulged ever since.’