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

Silly, gossipy Madame de Chartres filled in the gaps after dinner as we walked arm in arm to the lovely yellow and gold salon, where there was to be a recital by some of the stars of the Paris Opéra.

‘How pretty we look together,’ she said, posing in front of one of the enormous gilt framed mirrors that lined the gallery. ‘It is so nice to have another young person to talk to.’ I looked at our reflections and had to agree that we looked charming together in our frothy pastel dresses, our eyes starry and cheeks delicately flushed thanks to a little too much wine and our powdered and scented hair tumbling in ringlets about our shoulders.

‘Who is Madame du Barry?’ I asked in a whisper, looking around carefully to ensure that the lady was not in earshot. ‘She is very pretty but, I think, not one of us.’

‘Not one of us?’ the Duchesse trilled with laughter. ‘No, no, most assuredly not!’ She leaned closer so that I was overpowered by her heavy violet and rose scent and whispered in my ear. ‘I do not know all the details but what I do know is all perfectly shocking, my dear! Apparently Madame la Comtesse is the illegitimate daughter of a common seamstress and a monk!’ She drew back to observe my reaction and then, clearly satisfied with what she saw, carried on. ‘I have also heard that she plied her trade on the streets before she found a wealthy protector and that she was passed from man to man until she caught His Majesty’s eye and found herself at Versailles.’

I could not hide my shock. In all my pampered, sheltered life no one, not even Amalia who could be counted on to divulge pretty much anything no matter how shocking, had ever spoken to me about such matters and yet here was the pretty Duchesse de Chartres, a girl not much older than myself, talking about it as though it was just a matter of course.

‘Now, now, do not look so scandalized!’ Madame de Chartres said with a giggle. ‘You will have to get used to such things if you are going to live amongst us all at Versailles! The whole palace is a hotbed of gossip and intrigue.’ She gave me a pitying look and I could tell that she found me rather disappointing, all things considered. ‘You aren’t excessively devout are you?’

‘I don’t know. No, I don’t think so.’ I blushed, crossing my fingers behind my back and feeling like I was betraying Mama with every word that dropped from my lips. However, Mama was hundreds of miles away in Vienna and I was here, in Paris and all alone.

The Duchesse gave me a quick shrewd look then shrugged her glittering shoulders and carried on. ‘We were all terribly shocked when we found out that Madame la Comtesse du Barry had been invited to the dinner party tonight. It was supposed to be for family only and she may well be the King’s mistress but that certainly doesn’t make her one of us, does it?’ She pulled an exquisite painted porcelain snuff box from her bosom and flicked it open before offering it to me. ‘Do you?’ She smiled at my disgusted expression. ‘Ah, no, you do not.’ She tapped some out on to her wrist and sniffed deeply. ‘I could not believe my ears when I heard that the King had invited that woman here but what can we do? He is the master here and we have no option but to do as he says or find ourselves shipped off to the provinces, there to kick our poor heels amidst the cows and rustics.’ She shook her pretty feather covered head dolefully . ‘No, no, that would not do at all and so, my dear one, we endure and so must you.’

Oh really?

There was a private dinner party tonight in the beautiful pale green and gold dining room in La Muette. It was for the royal family only and after being met at the door by the King himself who took me gracefully by the hand and led me, blushing and self conscious into the room, I was finally introduced to the Dauphin’s two younger brothers the Comte de Provence, a sly looking fat youth only a few weeks younger than myself with sleepy brown eyes and the youngest of the trio, the Comte d’Artois, who is the best looking of the princes with a distinctly Italianate look about him and full, sensual lips.

The Comte de Provence almost made me laugh behind my fan when he gave me a quick look up and down rather as all the ladies do. ‘I am very pleased to meet you at last,’ he intoned with a heavy courtesy in German. ‘I have been studying your language with my tutor,’ he said when I looked surprised and perhaps I imagined it but did I detect a hint of triumph in the look that he shot towards the Dauphin? ‘I thought it would be nice for someone to greet you in your own tongue.’ No, I didn’t imagine it at all, he was definitely trying to get one over his elder brother.

I turned to the Comte d’Artois, whose dark eyes met mine admiringly. ‘I do hope that when it is time for me to marry they find a princess as pretty as you,’ he said with a charming smile as he raised my hand to his lips with a practised grace. It is hard to believe that he is only twelve years old as he seems far older both in appearance and manners.

With an air of regret the King passed my hand to the Dauphin, who without looking at me stiffly walked to the table, which was lit by dozens of candelabra and covered with luscious blooming pink, peach and yellow Peonies, gleaming silverware, fine crystal glasses and a beautiful Sèvres dinner service.

‘How pretty everything looks,’ I remarked to my husband in a pleasant manner.

He gave a tiny shrug. ‘I suppose that it is.’ He stared down miserably at his plate and played nervously with the silver fork that lay beside it.

I watched him for a moment in silence, trying desperately to think of something, anything that I could say that would at least make him look at me or show some enthusiasm. ‘Do you enjoy hunting?’ was all that I could think of and inwardly I kicked myself.

‘Yes, I do.’ The Dauphin still didn’t look at me and there was another long pause as he played with his fork and tried to think of something else to say. ‘Do you hunt?’

I shook my head. ‘No, alas.’ I caught the eye of the Princesse de Lamballe, who was sitting near the end of the table, next to her sister-in-law, the Duchesse de Chartres and we shared a shy smile. It made me feel so much better to have a friend amongst the guests, especially when I allowed my gaze to wander about the table and realized that everyone present was staring at me with the same expressions of mixed curiosity and hostility.

Everyone that is except the extremely pretty blonde with melting blue eyes and a charming smile who sat at the far end of the table and whose long lashed eyes regarded me with a disconcerting degree of frank amusement. She was beautifully dressed in a lace edged gown of shimmering pale gold silk that gleamed in the candlelight and revealed rather more of her opulent bosom than was perhaps strictly necessary and the more I looked at her, the more I began to feel that my own carefully chosen gown of pale pink satin trimmed with pink ribbons, diamonds and exquisite lace was hopelessly and embarrassingly gauche.

I stared back at her in envious resentment then quickly turned away with a blush when she caught my eye, winked and sardonically raised her wine glass to me in a silent toast.

I leaned towards the Dauphin, who was enthusiastically chewing on a chicken leg and not paying the slightest bit of attention to any of the conversations about the table or any of the other guests. ‘Who is that pretty lady at the end of the table?’ I whispered, making sure that I did not allow my eyes to slide again in her direction.

He looked up at me then with a startled expression. ‘What?’ His mouth hung slightly open as he frowned and peered past me, his eyes screwed up as he tried to see past the rich gleam of the candles and silverware. ‘What lady?’ I felt myself go crimson lest she overhear him and began to wish that I had not asked.

His cousin, Madame de Chartres who was sitting on his other side came to my rescue and leaned languidly across him with a smile to whisper: ‘That, my dear one, is Madame la Comtesse du Barry.’

The name was not familiar to me and I did not remember my Abbé ever mentioning anyone of this name to me. ‘Who is she? What is her position at court?’

Madame de Chartres began to laugh while the Dauphin frowned down at his plate, looking as though he wished he could be anywhere else. I had already noticed that his ears went quite pink when he felt embarrassed and now they were glowing scarlet beneath his white, powdered wig.

‘Her position at court?’ The Duchesse hid a smile behind her diamond encrusted fan. ‘Well, let me see, Madame la Comtesse’s position is to… amuse his Majesty.’ She spoke in an exaggerated whisper and I was mortified when a muted ripple of laughter swept down the table.

I did not immediately understand her. Why would I? ‘Then I would like to be her rival,’ I said rather stiffly with an affectionate look at King Louis, who was pretending not to listen to our conversation. ‘I too would like to amuse his Majesty.’  I met his eyes and he smiled and like Madame du Barry raised his glass to me.

The Dauphin looked up then, finally, from his meal and fixed his eyes upon me for a moment as though he had only just realized that I was there and was seeing me for the very first time. He looked as though he would have liked to have said something but after a few seconds he looked away again and the moment had gone.

I glanced down the table at Madame du Barry and saw that she was still staring at me, only this time with a hint of defiance. I do not think that we are going to become friends.

Upon our arrival at La Muette I was immediately taken to my own rooms, which are really quite delightful. ‘It is the custom that all royal brides spend the night before their wedding here,’ Madame de Noailles said as I looked about myself with pleasure, admiring the pale blue and gilt paneling, the pretty pink silk curtains embroidered all over with flowers and peacock feathers and the huge arrangements of flowers that stood upon every surface. Someone had put a lot of thought into making the room as pleasant as possible.

‘It is charming,’ I said to Madame de Noailles with a smile, still hopeful that I could win her over.

She remained impervious and looked coldly and unsmilingly back at me. ‘The King had the room refurbished before your arrival in the hopes that it would be to your taste.’
‘How kind of him,’ I replied, sitting on the bed and bouncing on it a little to see how comfortable it is.

‘He wanted to make sure that you were shown all proper attention,’ Madame de Noailles replied stiffly. My goodness, I do wish that she would unbend a little. I wonder if she ever smiles at anyone or is it just me that she holds in dislike? Madame de Mailly told me that apparently Madame de Noailles absolutely adored the old Queen and resents the fact that I, a mere girl have taken her place. That is hardly my fault though is it?

It was a delightful day so we went for a walk in the gardens and for the first time since coming to France I felt entirely and wholeheartedly happy and comfortable as I strolled between the Duchesse de Chaulnes and Abbé Vermond, half listening as they talked at length about gardening and invited each other to sniff particularly lovely flowers. I can tell that the Abbé very much admires Madame de Chaulnes’ soulful good looks and she in her turn simpers more than usual when she talks to him, which is a frankly nauseating amount of simpering.

After a while I fell back, hoping that the Dauphin would see me walking alone and come and join me but he remained steadfastly at his grandfather’s side and so after a while I was forced to give up and instead link arms with the Princesse de Lamballe, who is thoroughly delightful, smells like lilacs and roses and had swapped last night’s gown of mauve gauze for an exquisite ensemble in flounced pale blue silk trimmed with blue and white striped ribbons and lace. ‘You seem so much happier today,’ she remarked with a friendly squeeze of my hand. ‘I felt very sorry indeed for you yesterday.’

I looked at her in some surprise. ‘Did you? Why?’ I am so used now to thinking myself the luckiest girl in the world that it was a shock to hear someone say that they pitied me.

The Princesse hesitated. ‘The Bourbons are not an easy family to enter and you looked so very young and lost and exhausted when you walked into the salon at Compiègne.’ She gave me a sidelong smile. ‘I confess that I was longing to run up to you and give you an enormous hug. It must be quite intolerable for you at times.’

I sighed. ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ I thought of Vienna, Joseph and Mama, now all so very far away and then I remembered all the hundreds of miles and the long tedious hours sitting bored out of my mind in a carriage which had brought me here to this moment, to this garden in Paris. ‘I can hardly believe that I am here. I still sometimes feel shocked when I wake up in the morning and realize that I am no longer at home in Vienna.’

She nodded sympathetically. ‘I came from Turin in Italy to marry my husband and found it very hard.’ She gave me a rather embarrassed look and bent over a lovely pink rose in order to hide her blushes. ‘I expect that Madame de Mailly has told you all about my marriage?’

I couldn’t meet her candid gaze and looked away. ‘Um, yes, a little bit.’ Actually, Madame de Mailly told me all about it last night as she helped me prepare for bed and I know all about how Madame de Lamballe’s handsome young husband had been a dissolute wastrel who had abandoned her shortly after their wedding day and then conveniently died of some hideous disease caught in the brothels of Paris a year later leaving her mistress to an enormous fortune.

The Princesse sighed. ‘I was stupidly excited when I first learned that I was to be married to a French prince and indeed I felt very fortunate when I first met my husband and saw that he was both handsome and charming.’ She shrugged and tried to smile. ‘Of course, in his case a handsome face and a charming manner only served to disguise the libertine and horrible aspects of his personality.’

I saw that she was on the brink of tears and took her hand in a comforting clasp. ‘It must have been terrible. I am so sorry.’ I smiled at her, thinking that this poor unhappy princess badly needed someone to pay attention to her and make her feel loved again. I decided that I would be her friend and as I found that the thought of this made my own spirits rise for I too felt abandoned and out of place and in need of a friend in this strange country.

Madame de Lamballe smiled back and snapped a beautiful yellow rose from a nearby bush before handing it to me. ‘No, it is I who should apologise for talking about my own personal misfortune with you,’ she said. ‘Please, forget I said anything.’

I accepted the rose and tucked it behind my ear, which made her laugh. ‘There is no need to apologise, Madame,’ I replied shyly. ‘I am interested in knowing all about you as I want us to be friends.’

She returned my smile. ‘I should like that very much.’

At that moment there was one of those sudden delightful rain showers that are so typical of Spring and our conversation was rudely interrupted as all the ladies ran shrieking and laughing for cover, lifting their pale silk skirts and holding their fans and parasols vainly over their powdered heads as they went.

This morning we left Compiègne and travelled to La Muette, a beautiful little château nestled like a pearl in the verdant Bois de Boulogne on the outskirts of Paris. We stopped en route at the imposing, dark Carmelite convent at Saint Denis so that I could pay my respects to the King’s youngest daughter Louise who came here a few months ago, determined to take the veil and become a nun.

Madame de Mailly told me all about it during the bumpy carriage ride there. ‘It caused the most terrific scandal,’ she whispered with relish. ‘Madame Louise had been saying for a long time that she wanted to leave the court and devote her life to God but of course no one believed her and in fact we all thought that she was being rather melodramatic and attention seeking about the whole thing. However it turned out to be true!’

‘What happened?’ I couldn’t imagine how anyone could possibly prefer the austere life of the cloister to the excitement of court. ‘Did the King know?’

‘Oh, well he apparently knew all about it and had refused his consent for many years until finally one day he decided that enough was enough and gave his permission. She left early the next morning and went straight to the convent where it is said that she spends her days praying for her father’s soul.’

I laughed. ‘How very noble of her! I do hope that he is grateful for her concern!’

Madame de Mailly joined in my laughter but then shook her head and tried to look severe. ‘Oh no, we must not mock! You do not yet know how superstitious the poor King is about such things!’ She smiled. ‘I wish that you could have seen how furious Madame Adélaïde was when she found out. I could hear her screams of chagrin from several rooms away.’

‘Did Madame Louise not wish to marry?’ I asked, still curious about this princess who had abandoned her life to take the veil.

The Comtesse sighed. ‘The King likes to keep his daughters close and only one, Madame Infante was ever sent away to be married.’ She lowered her voice then, which I had come to realize was a sign that she was about to impart some particularly juicy morsel of information. ‘I have heard that he had plans to marry Louise to Charles Edward Stuart, the pretender to the English throne but it didn’t happen after all.’

I was rather disappointed to find that Madame Louise was not the gentle, beautiful heroine that I had imagined her to be but instead a rather dumpy woman with a loud voice, strident manner and the thick black eyebrows that afflicted her nephew, the Dauphin. She looked me swiftly up and down in the brisk way that all Frenchwomen do then gave an approving nod before talking at length about how terrible the dinners in the convent are. I am starting to realize that the Bourbons only really become truly animated when they are on the subject of food.

After I had bowed my head to receive her blessing we all left and drove on to La Muette, entirely bypassing the centre of Paris so that I caught only the merest glimpse from my window despite straining back to see as much as I could of the French capital.

‘I had thought that we would see more,’ I remarked in some annoyance to Madame de Chaulnes.

She gave a small shrug. ‘The King does not like to go there.’

I immediately looked to the Comtesse de Mailly for an explanation but she just pursed her lips and shook her pretty head.

And what of my new husband? What of him? He did not look at me once that evening in Compiègne and made his excuses and left as soon as he could. I do not understand it at all. Everyone else here seems to think that I am pretty so why doesn’t he? I really want to talk to him but don’t know how.

Madame de Mailly was very kind when she prepared me for bed last night and whispered that the King admires me very much and she heard him say several times how pleased he is with both my looks and my behaviour.

‘Tell me about him,’ I said, with a nervous look at Madame de Noailles, who was thankfully not close enough to hear our conversation. ‘I find him somewhat perplexing and not at all how I imagined he would be.’

The pretty Comtesse rolled her dark eyes and laughed. ‘Oh, I know what you mean. The King is a very complicated man and I believe that Madame de Pompadour is the only person to have ever truly understood him.’ She lowered her voice as she said the name of the now deceased favourite as of course it is considered the height of bad manners to mention the dead at court.

‘What was she like?’ I recollected the lovely presents that she had sent to Carolina and remembered also that along with Choiseul she had been instrumental in arranging my marriage. ‘Did the King love her? Does he miss her now?’

Madame de Mailly cast a cautious look at the Comtesse de Noailles who was busy reprimanding the maids at the other side of the room. ‘She was very pretty, really quite charming and extremely witty.’ She sighed. ‘She really loved that man.’

I felt suddenly breathless, imagining some sort of mystery. ‘What happened to her?’

As usual the truth turned out to be utterly commonplace, even banal. ‘Oh nothing! She had been ill for a long time and then one day she went to bed and didn’t get up again. The King was inconsolable when she died.’

‘He always looks so sad,’ I said now remembering the way that he had looked at the Dauphin and I in the carriage earlier. ‘Sad and disappointed.’

Madame la Comtesse shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘He has had much in his life to make him sorrowful,’ she said. ‘He once told me that he believed himself born to be unhappy as his grandmother was the daughter of the English Princesse Henriette and that like all Stuarts he has a melancholy, even morbid turn of mind.’ She laughed. ‘They also have a tendency to lose their heads.’

After a brief turn about the clearing, the King escorted me to his own magnificent carriage and handed me up inside by himself,  giving my hand one last graceful kiss as I settled myself inside beside the Dauphin, who did not look at me at all but instead preferred to stare out of the window at the trees.

‘I am missing some excellent hunting today,’ he remarked after a moment, still without looking at me.

‘Oh.’ I did not know what to say to this. ‘I am very sorry.’

Any further conversation was halted by the arrival of the King, who briskly climbed into the carriage and sat opposite us, smiling benevolently upon myself and then, rather less so, upon his grandson. ‘Louis!’ he said sharply as the carriage moved off. ‘Are you not pleased to have such a delightful bride?’

The Dauphin slowly removed his gaze from the trees and rather sleepily looked across at his grandfather. ‘Of course, grandpère.’ He looked out of the window again and seemed to move just a little bit further away from me as though even my voluminous yellow silk skirts could contaminate him in some frightful way.

A look of chagrin crossed the King’s handsome face but was so swiftly suppressed so that I could not be quite sure that I had even noticed anything amiss. It seemed to me that the King had long been accustomed to quickly hiding his inner most thoughts and feelings from his companions and felt suddenly rather sorry for him. The Abbé had told me that an already orphaned King Louis had succeeded to the throne of France at the age of five and looking across at him now I thought how awful it must have been for him to have his childhood curtailed so prematurely.

‘We will rest at Compiègne tonight as I wish you to meet more of our family and then tomorrow we will travel on to my château of La Muette. I am very fond of it and hope that you will be comfortable there. It is the tradition that all French royal brides spend the night before their wedding day at La Muette.’ When he smiled at me I forgot all about the sulking, silent boy at my side and instead gave myself up to basking in the King’s evident approval.

It was not long before we came out of the trees and arrived at Compiègne, a beautiful château in the classical style that reminded me a little of my beloved Schönbrunn. ‘Oh, how lovely!’ I exclaimed as we drove up to the gates, remembering just in time that King Louis himself had remodeled this château and was extremely proud of it.

He grinned then and pulled down the window, the better to appreciate the splendid view, my first of the palaces that I would now inhabit as a member of the French royal family. ‘I like to think of this as my monument to posterity.’

‘Then they will surely remember you as the creator of something of great beauty,’ I immediately replied, earning myself another smile while beside me the Dauphin shifted uneasily and I thought, rather disapprovingly.

We came to a halt in the courtyard and immediately two liveried footmen ran forward to let down the steps and pull open the door. The King stepped down first and held out his hand to assist me, which I gratefully took, pausing for a second on the top step to look around and appreciate my beautiful surroundings, the rows of tall windows and elegant columned portico.

‘Welcome to Compiègne,’ King Louis said with a proud flourish, tucking my hand under his arm and leading me into the château, leaving the Dauphin trailing miserably behind us. I looked over my shoulder at him once but then quickly turned my eyes elsewhere when for a brief instant he looked up and met my gaze, his blue eyes curiously apathetic.

I was led up a wonderful staircase lined with courtiers who looked at me curiously as they bowed their heads in reverence and then through a series of beautiful light filled rooms to a large blue and gold salon which was filled with splendidly dressed people, all of whom abruptly cut short their conversations and stared at us as we were announced then walked into the room.

‘May I present my new daughter, Madame la Dauphine,’ the King said with an almost fatherly touch of pride in his voice.

I smiled and curtsied, shyly looking around the gorgeous candlelit room at their faces, some were smiling and friendly but most were rather stern. ‘I am very pleased to meet you all.’ The King led me between them, personally introducing me to each and every member of my new family. Thanks to Abbé Vermond I already knew the names of most of the people present but there was a vast difference between my lessons in Vienna and actually standing in front of them all, struggling to link names to faces as Condés and Contis passed before my dazzled eyes, all splendidly dressed and reeking of musk and jasmine with haughty Bourbon faces and highly polished manners.

Standing a little apart was the Duc de Chartres, a handsome energetic young man in his early twenties who was heir to the powerful Duc d’Orléans. I had been told all about him by my Abbé and knew that he was highly intelligent, capricious, cultured, bad tempered, vengeful and utterly untrustworthy. I determined to charm him but could tell by the rather disdainful curl of his lip as he regarded me that it would be a struggle to convince him that I was anything other than a foolish ingénue. At his side stood his pretty little wife of one year, her wide grey eyes gazing adoringly up into his face and both tiny hands clasped possessively around his blue silk arm. Exquisite, glittering, rose scented Madame de Chartres was the daughter of one of Louis XIV’s bastards by Athénaïs de Montespan and was said to be the wealthiest heiress in all France with a dowry of six million livres, a frankly incredible sum of money. She didn’t have much to say for herself beyond tittering at all of her husband’s jokes and agreeing enthusiastically with every single word that he uttered.

Of more interest was her beautiful blonde widowed sister-in-law, the Princesse de Lamballe, an ethereal vision in frothy mauve gauze and diamonds who twisted her ivory painted fan nervously between her long white fingers as we were introduced and bestowed upon me the only genuine smile that I was to see all that long evening.

I circled the splendid mirrored room and made sure to exchange a few words with everyone present, keen to make a good impression and hoping that everyone would go away raving about how lovely and kind I was. While deep in conversation with Madame de Lamballe I became oddly aware that I was being closely watched and glanced up to see that the King himself was gazing at me with an approving smile. He did not seem at all abashed when our eyes met and instead raised his glass of champagne to me in a silent toast.

I felt utterly panic stricken as the carriage rolled through the forest although a small detached part of my mind was still able to notice and admire the way that the sunlight filtered softly through the green boughs overhead and dappled on to the trunks of the trees that surrounded us. It was truly a beautiful day, the perfect day in fact upon which to meet your one true love.

I pulled down the window and deeply breathed in the fresh, sweetly scented air, trying my best to calm my fearful nerves and regain my composure. ‘It is rather chilly,’ Madame de Noailles observed pointedly but I ignored her, enjoying the soft breeze upon my hot cheeks, the soft whisper of the trees, the luminous light.

It did not take long for the carriage to arrive at the clearing where the royal party awaited us and I cannot describe the emotions that I felt as we slowed down and then came to a halt amidst the peals of a triumphant fanfare. My door was pulled open and I had mere seconds left to anxiously pat my hair and waft my painted fan in front of my hot cheeks before the Duc de Choiseul appeared again, offering me his hand with a kindly smile. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘It is time.’

I gave him my hand and stepped gracefully from the carriage, my eyes first shyly fixed to the ground then raised irresistibly to the two male figures, one tall and gleaming with diamonds and the other smaller and more awkwardly postured who stood a small distance away in front of a splendid red and gold carriage. I turned and looked enquiringly at the Duc and he gave a small nod. ‘His Majesty,’ he murmured.

I could wait no longer and so raised my skirts above my ankles so that the ruffled silk petticoats rustled prettily and ran towards them before sinking to my knees before the taller of the two men. ‘Your Majesty,’ I said, slightly breathless after my exertions as it is no mean feat to run in whalebone corsetry. ‘Sire.’ I looked up into his face, taking in the amused dark eyes that he had doubtless inherited from his spitfire Italian mother, his decisive chin and sensual mouth, which now smiled down upon me. ‘Grandpapa.’

The charming, rather sad smile wavered a little but remained intact. ‘My dear child,’ he murmured raising me up then with soft hands that smelled sweetly of jasmine and lavender. ‘I am so pleased that you are here with us at last.’ He looked me up and down and then, clearly liking what he saw, leaned forward and kissed me soundly upon each cheek. ‘Your youth and beauty will bring the Spring to our court,’ he said, his words echoing those of Cardinal Rohan.

He stepped aside then and with a faint look of irritation beckoned forward the second figure who had retreated behind him. ‘May I have the honour of presenting my grandson, Monsieur le Dauphin?’

This then was my husband. I blushed and took a deep breath before raising my eyes and looking directly at the boy that I had been daydreaming about virtually every day since I first learned that I was to be his wife. What I beheld was a tall, rather overweight, blue eyed youth with a blank air and eyebrows so thick that they met over his rather big nose. My first thought was ‘Oh, he doesn’t look at all like his portraits’ followed swiftly by ‘He isn’t at all handsome’ with ‘Oh well, he could be a lot worse and at least he looks kind’ swift on its heels.

I hid my disappointment well and smiled at him kindly as he stepped reluctantly forward and pecked the air beside my cheek as quickly as he could while all the witnesses laughed and applauded. He mumbled something that I could not quite make out but which I assumed was some rehearsed speech about how pleased he was to meet me finally and then retreated back into his grandfather’s shadow again. He looked desperately unhappy and as I looked at him I felt my heart sink into my pretty shoes for he was clearly just as disappointed as I was. Only, how could this be when everyone else thought that I was so pretty and dainty?

‘My dear granddaughter.’ I turned thankfully to King Louis, flushing a little with embarrassment as I met his eyes, which looked at me with such kindness and understanding. Of course he could not apologise to me for his grandson’s peculiar behaviour but he could, and did, do his best to mitigate it by putting my hand on his crimson velvet arm, patting it gently and then leading me away, all the while showering me with the most ridiculous compliments and calling me his ‘very own beloved daughter’ which made me feel quite giddy.

He led me to a trio of over dressed older ladies who stood beside an ornate blue and gold carriage. I had barely noticed them at first but now they were practically hopping up and down, demanding attention. ‘May I present my daughters?’ the King said, again with that air of melancholy irritation.

I exchanged curtsies with the princesses and remembered Wolferl Mozart’s condemnation of the French princesses as being much less pretty than those of Austria. He was right. Madame Adélaïde, the eldest was tall, sallow skinned, rather grubby and dressed in a magnificent gown of diamond spangled raspberry pink silk that would have looked wonderful on a girl of my age but seemed faintly ridiculous on a woman of almost forty. Madame Victoire, the next in age, was extremely fat with thick black eyebrows like her nephew and a rather stupid expression on what might once have been a pretty face while Madame Sophie, the youngest, was as thin as Victoire was portly and tried her best to hide her plainness beneath thick layers of powder and rouge.

‘You are very welcome,’ Adélaïde said with a bold look that swept from my head to my toes and then back again. ‘How pretty you are.’ She sounded surprised. Perhaps they expected my portraits to lie as much as those of the Dauphin?

It is done. I am here. I do not know what to think or what to say.

The morning seems so long ago now. I will always remember that I was shaking with fear as my ladies in waiting dressed me for my first meeting with the Dauphin and his grandfather, the King at Compiègne. Madame de Noailles was very quick to make it plain that the meeting with the King was the most important thing but we all know that it is his grandson’s approval and love that I must win.

‘Will they like me? What will they think of me?’ I kept asking as Mesdames de Chaulnes and Mailly turned me this way and that, pulling out my yellow silk skirts, patting my powdered hair into place, spraying me with violet scent and fastening my diamond studded lace choker around my throat. ‘Will he like me?’ I held out my arms so that they could clasp diamond and pearl bracelets around my slim wrists. ‘Will he think that I am pretty?’ I ignored Madame de Noailles exasperated ‘chut’.

Madame de Mailly smiled kindly and patted my hand. ‘You are worrying far too much. He will think that you are delightful.’

‘And the King?’ I held on to Madame de Chaulnes’ shoulder as I slipped my feet into a pair of pale pink silk shoes with beautiful sapphire buckles. ‘What will he think? Will I please him?’ I turned this way and that in front of the mirror, still not quite used to the sight of myself in the thick red rouge that was applied to my cheeks every morning. I have pleaded with them not to have it but it is ‘expected of me’ according to Madame de Noailles and so, unwillingly, I submit.

They all exchanged a look, one that I was not able to decipher. ‘Oh, he will be extremely pleased,’ Madame de Saulx-Tavannes said with a laugh that was not entirely genuine. ‘I would not trouble your lovely head about that!’

The minutes dragged terribly after this as first we were entertained by some notables of the city and then we all had lunch, which I could only pick at before we went to sit together in the pretty pale blue and gold sitting room next to my bedroom and waited to be called downstairs to the carriages. Madame de Mailly tried her best to distract me with a game of cards but my mind was very definitely elsewhere and the Dauphin was all that I could think or talk about until I am sure they could all have quite cheerfully slapped me.

Finally, the summons came and we made our way swiftly down the marble staircase to the waiting carriages. Mesdames de Noailles and Villars sat opposite me and as usual were keen to find fault with everything so that I left Soissons to a chorus of complaints and criticisms. Like Monsieur de Durfort, they think that Versailles is superior to everything. They really are such foolish creatures.

Our carriage took a road that ran alongside the Aisne river and I gazed out across the water, trying my best to still the wild, almost dizzying thump of my heart within my breast. In my lap I held a beautiful illustrated map that had been the gift of the Cardinal Rohan when we left Strasbourg. It detailed the route that I must take to get to Versailles and included tiny pictures of the places of interest that I might expect to see along the way although I think that I have probably missed most of them either because I was asleep or because I was talking to Madame de Mailly, who is so amusing and interesting. You would not believe the things that she has told me about the court at Versailles. I do not think that I will ever be able to look the people involved in the face!

Finally there was a shout ahead and my carriage came to a juddering halt in a small clearing just inside the forest that surrounds the château. I looked in terror at Madame de Noailles as she pulled down the window and leaned out to see what was happening. ‘Is it him?’ I asked rather stupidly, placing my gloved hand against my fluttering heart. ‘Is it really him?’ I could hear the sound of shouts and good humoured laughter nearby as she conversed in rapid French with someone just out of sight.

She pulled her head back in again with a look of ill concealed annoyance. ‘No, it is Monsieur le Duc de Choiseul,’ she said with a  haughty sniff. ‘He has ridden ahead to greet you.’ The carriage door was pulled open and I was helped down, my feet in their delicate pink shoes squishing slightly into the mulch that covered the forest floor.

‘Madame la Dauphine.’ A tall man with a round, very pock marked face stepped forward and knelt with much solemnity at my feet, seeming not to care about the well being of the splendid blue velvet suit that he wore with a careless grace. ‘I selfishly craved the honour of being first to welcome you,’ he said with a charming smile that made his battered face almost handsome again.

I remembered all that I had been told by Mama and my Abbé about Choiseul and how he had worked hard to secure the marriage between the Dauphin and I. I also recalled all the small kindnesses like the hairdresser that he had sent to Vienna. Here at last was someone that I could trust and who, it seemed, had only my best interests at heart. ‘Monsieur, I shall never forget that you are responsible for my happiness,’ I said, keen to reward him for his efforts.

The Duc grinned up at me like a fellow conspirator before adding with all the smoothness of a polished courtier: ‘And that of France, Madame.’ He offered me his arm and walked me back to my carriage, patting my hand in the most avuncular manner. ‘I am so pleased to see you here at last,’ he said with a smile. ‘You are every bit as charming as I expected. More so in fact. I hear that you conquered the hearts of all who saw you.’

I blushed and smiled up at Choiseul from beneath my lashes. ‘I am glad that the people are pleased by me. It was a long journey, Monsieur, but I got here in the end.’

Again we exchanged that smile and he bent to kiss my hand. ‘And that is all that matters, Your Highness.’ He pulled open the door to my carriage and handed me up inside himself, shaking his head and smiling at the footman who stepped forward to offer his services. ‘The royal family are waiting in a clearing nearby.’ He gave me a quizzical look. ‘Are you ready?’

I took a deep breath and smiled my most dazzling smile. ‘Yes.’ I settled back against the luxurious seat and nodded to him as the coach pulled away. This was it. This was the moment.

I can’t believe that almost a week has passed since I last wrote in my journal. I had thought you lost forever but it turned out that you were hidden at the bottom of a box, which was a massive relief as imagine the terrible scandal should anyone discover you! Imagine the horror should they then broadcast my most secret thoughts to the rest of the world!

Anyway, this has been a week of much travelling and celebration. Whatever fears I may have had about the French people’s reaction to my marriage were entirely dissipated by the mass rejoicing and joy that greeted my progress across their country, resting at Nancy, Chalons, Rheims and now Soissons. Never before have I felt so loved, never before have I experienced such approval. I hope that it always stays this way. When I lie down to sleep at night my ears are ringing with the echo of cheers and the sound of fireworks exploding into the night sky.

In return I respond as eagerly as I can to their overtures. I return their smiles, gather their bouquets to my heart and listen attentively when they speak. When children come forward to present me with flowers, I kneel down at their level and look them in the face before embracing them. I can’t help it. My heart is overflowing with love for all people and for the French in particular. I have gone from being the very least of Mama’s daughters to the most important and I feel like a princess in a fairy tale.

Last night in Soissons there was a huge banquet followed by some oratory by students at the local college before we went to the opera. They spoke to me in Latin, which I smiled and nodded along with as though I understood every single word before, carefully primed by my Abbé, I replied with a few sentences in the same language. They had the grace to hide their expressions of surprise beneath wild applause. I may not be very clever but I always know what will most please people and that, I think, is far more important.

However, my journey is almost at an end as tomorrow we drive to Compiègne, where I will meet my husband and his family for the first time. I feel myself tremble with fear and excitement every time I think of it. It seems like such a long time ago now that I first heard talk of my betrothal to the Dauphin and now here I am in France and tomorrow we will finally stand face to face. It has taken me twenty seven days, almost a month to get here and now Vienna feels so very far away.

I wonder if he is thinking of me too? I am so impatient to meet him. I have his miniature lying on the desk beside me and I often pause to look at it and trace his painted face with my finger, imagining what he is like and hoping that he will like me.

I am so ready to fall in love with him.

Prince Louis de Rohan is so handsome. I think it must be very distracting for the ladies of Strasbourg whenever he celebrates Mass as he does so in such a theatrical manner and with much dramatic rolling of his blue eyes and tender smiles upon the congregation. It was very chilly inside the cathedral this morning and yet I saw plenty of ladies, of varying ages, fanning themselves as though quite overcome.

He seemed to reserve his most winsome smiles for my direction but I pretended not to notice.