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

It is the last night of the year. How strange this year has been, not just because my dearest and most beloved sister Carolina went away but also because of the changes it has wrought in myself, thanks in part to my dear Abbé Vermond. I started the year 1768 as a little girl but now I feel like I am almost at the very brink of womanhood.

I am going now to the state ball in my brother Joseph’s rooms, where we are all going to dance and make merry and wait together for the palace clocks to strike midnight.

Happy new year, Carolina, wherever you are.

Tonight my family and some favoured courtiers all gathered together in the blue and gold drawing room to light the first candle on the large holly and red ribbon swathed Adventkranz. This year it was my turn to skip forward with a long wax taper and light the candle as everyone applauded and cheered. I looked at Amalia and we smiled at each other, remembering that last year it was Carolina who lit the first candle and the year before that it was Josepha, both of whom are gone from us now.

After this, we all sang carols while Amalia and Marianna took it in turns to play the harpsichord and Elizabeth accompanied them with her harp. Then I played on the harpsichord while Herr Gluck himself turned my sheets of music over for me and Ferdinand and Maximilian sang together. It was all very lovely. I felt shy at first to be playing before everyone but then after a while I was able to look up from the keys and observe my family. Mama was sitting with the French ambassador, Durfort and my dear Abbé on either side of her and was talking to them both with great animation and amusement. Joseph and Amalia stood a small distance away and were whispering together; Joseph looked irritated and Amalia had a sad expression on her face so I guessed that they were talking about Karl, who was standing on the other side of room and pretending to ignore everyone. Elizabeth was wearing a cream lace veil and sat a little apart, feeding her little spaniel chocolates and broken pieces of gingerbread while Marianne stood by a window with one of the ladies in waiting and was happily tapping her feet to the music as they chatted. Christina and her husband were there as well, sitting cosily beside the stove with their fingers interlaced and their heads bent together fondly.

‘You play beautifully,’ Herr Gluck said with a smile when I finally stood up from the harpsichord and curtsied to everyone as they applauded. ‘I am very proud.’

The court musicians entered after this and struck up a merry tune while we all prepared to dance and the footmen carried Mama’s chair next to the stove, so that she could watch us in some comfort. I was partnered by Ferdinand, who is a very fine dancer although he finds it impossible to keep a straight face and likes to make fun of the other dancers. ‘Only look at Amalia and Karl mooning over each other!’ he whispered to me with a grin. ‘How embarrassing.’

I did not reply for my attention had been caught by a conversation that Durfort and Vermond were having behind me. I had my back to them and so could not see their expressions but I immediately recognised Durfort’s aristocratic whine.

‘It is really quite undignified and lacking in any decorum or finesse,’ Durfort was complaining as usual and I could imagine his disdainful expression as his little piggy eyes swept over the dancers. ‘One cannot imagine such a thing happening at Versailles!’

‘No, indeed,’ the Abbé agreed in bland tones.

‘I hope that the Archduchess leaves her Viennese manners behind if she comes to France,’ Durfort continued. ‘I shudder to imagine such indecorous capering in the marble halls of Versailles and frankly, Abbé, the prospect of their revolting knoedels, strudels and bratwurst being served at dinner there makes my stomach recoil. Can you imagine such an outrage? How can you bear it, my dear Abbé?’

I heard the Abbé give a cough. ‘On the contrary, Monsieur, I believe that the Archduchess’ informal manner will provide a breath of fresh air to those hallowed marble halls. Do not you? Versailles is so stuffy, so obsessed with etiquette and precedence that I find myself quite impatient to see what Her Highness makes of it and what changes she will make.’

‘Changes? Perish the thought! I dread the day that that…’ I heard no more, however, for Ferdinand seized my hands and danced me away.

How I dislike Durfort. What a mean, poor spirited little excuse for a man he is. I hope that not all the French are like him.

I have just returned from a very pleasant evening at the opera, where we went to see Gluck’s ‘Alceste’ which I have seen several times now but still absolutely love. I am so proud to be taught by such a talented man and hope that he is pleased with me.

I went with Amalia and Joseph, who were both in very high spirits indeed and spent much of their time waving at members of the audience or blowing kisses to their friends. Joseph very kindly invited Abbé Vermond to accompany us and sit in the royal box, which is a great honour. It is the first time he has been to the opera with me and I was pleased to be able to show him how much I love the music and how intently I listen and pay attention.

At the end of the first act there was the usual mad scramble to leave boxes and meet up with friends for some chat. Joseph and Amalia were immediately besieged by several people who all crowded into the box and laughed and chattered very loudly about all of the latest Viennese gossip while helping themselves to the sweet cakes and champagne that the footmen were serving. I could see Amalia anxiously peering over her shoulder into the pits every so often but there was no sign of Karl.

‘I hope that you are suitably impressed by how long I managed to sit still!’ I remarked to the Abbé with a laugh.

He gave an appreciative grin and waved away a hovering footman who was standing over him with a plate of cakes. ‘I am indeed, Your Highness.’

‘And how did you like the opera?’ I enquired, waving my peach silk and lace fan slowly in front of my face and sipping from a glass of lemonade.

The Abbé considered this question for a moment. ‘I am enjoying it very much,’ he said at last. ‘Unlike Your Highness, I am no great judge of music but I think it very beautiful indeed.’ He smiled. ‘I am pleased to find that Herr Gluck is as good a composer as he is a teacher.’

I allowed myself a grin, delighted with his answer as Herr Gluck is a great favourite of mine. ‘I am very fond of him.’ I leaned out of the box and espied a familiar face in another box in a lower tier. ‘Oh, Monsieur, there is someone here that I would very much like you to meet! Would you care to come with me?’ I impulsively stood up and stretched out a hand to him.

The Abbé smiled and lightly touched my hand. ‘I would be honoured.’

We left the box preceded by a royal footman who shouted and pushed his way ahead of us down the crowded corridors and staircase to the next level. He smartly rapped on the door of the box for us and then pulled the door open for us.

‘Antonia!’ It was my dearest old wet nurse, Frau Weber, looking as magnificently plump and beautiful as ever. She immediately jumped to her feet and ran to embrace me, surrounding me with her familiar scent of roses and lavender. ‘My own dear little foster daughter!’ We both laughed at this and she kissed both of my cheeks. My mother did not nurse me herself and so I was turned over to the care of Frau Constance Weber, the lovely wife  of a Viennese magistrate almost from the very hour of my birth and with her I remained until I was weaned.

‘May I present to you my tutor, Abbé de Vermond?’ I said with a smile, keen for them to like each other. ‘This is his first ever Gluck opera! Fancy that!’ The Abbé smiled and bowed.

‘I think that the Abbé must be new to Vienna then,’ my nurse said with a laugh. ‘I have not seen you since your birthday and you look even prettier than ever!’ She turned and beckoned. ‘And here is Joseph as well! Come now boy and say hello to your foster sister!’ Mama has always encouraged me to show proper gratitude and regard Frau Weber as my foster mother and her numerous children, but especially Joseph, who is only three months older than myself and was therefore raised beside me, as my foster brothers and sisters.

I clapped my hands together in delight. ‘Brother Joseph!’ The awkward, grinning boy came forward and enclosed me is a very welcome and very affectionate hug. ‘Oh, Joseph, how tall you are!’ I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

‘You look very pretty tonight, Antonia,’ he said, exchanging bows with the Abbé. ‘These new French fashions suit you.’

I laughed and twirled for him. ‘Do you really think so, Joseph?’ When we were very little, Joseph and I had vowed to marry when we were all grown up. I wondered if he remembered this now as I danced about in front of him with the King of France’s miniature pinned to my peach silk sleeve. ‘I hope that I have not turned out so badly after all.’

He blushed then and looked thoroughly embarrassed, which made his fond mother tsk and roll her eyes in amusement. ‘No, I think that you have turned out very well.’

I am so exhausted. Last night involved a most sumptuous family dinner (chocolate cake and apfelstrudel!) followed by a merry hour spent playing at cards and a lottery in my brother Ferdinand’s rooms. After this I went to my bedchamber and tapped my fingers impatiently on the top of my lace and ribbon festooned dressing table as my maids laced me into my new yellow taffeta gown, pushed beautiful purple silk shoes on to my feet and fastened Mama’s pearls around my neck and the French King’s miniature to my bosom.

How do I look?’ I twirled before them and patted my hair anxiously in front of the mirror.

‘Beautiful,’ the girls all chorused, grinning at my excitement and delicately shaking out my skirts and putting my curls into place. ‘Happy birthday, Archduchess!’

What a wonderful party we had. I entered on Joseph’s arm and blushed to find myself the cynosure of all eyes. Yes, cynosure. The Abbé teaches me such lovely words doesn’t he? The music stopped and everyone turned and stared as we walked in and then slowly made our way through them all down the great mirrored gallery, which gleamed softly in the candlelight.

‘How pretty she is!’ I heard someone exclaim. ‘Like an angel.’

I smiled graciously in the direction of the compliment, then looked up at my handsome brother who returned my look fondly and gently patted my hand which was resting on his purple velvet arm. ‘I think that you are set to become all the rage in Vienna,’ he murmured.  ‘Does that please you, little Antonia?’

We reached the scarlet carpeted dais at the end of the hall and Joseph helped me into a blue and gold upholstered seat of honour, in between himself and Mama, who smiled at me graciously and kissed my rosily blushing cheeks as she raised me from my curtsey. ‘I am extremely proud,’ she said before beckoning my Abbé forward with a crook of her little finger. ‘Monsieur Abbé, I must compliment you on your pupil.’ Mama’s tone was gently teasing and Vermond smiled and flushed a little with pleasure.

‘All compliments are due to Her Highness herself,’ he said tactfully with a limpid smile in my direction. ‘You have raised a most delightful daughter, Your Majesty.’

I could see that his answer pleased Mama very much and she kept him beside her for a long time while I went off to dance first with Joseph and then with Ferdinand and then Max, followed by other carefully selected young gentlemen of the court who were chosen for their excellent manners, impeccable lineage and well bred good looks.  I covertly watched the Abbé from beneath my lashes as Joseph spun me through the intricate steps of a cotillion and laughed inwardly at his politely bored expression as he leaned over Mama and listened to her hold forth. He looked up once and met my eye and we exchanged a smile of understanding that was quickly concealed.

I had hoped for some flirtation but the young court gentlemen were rather too well chosen and instead would only speak to me about art, the weather and music, mainly Gluck but there was also talk of poor Wolferl Mozart. It was all very proper and very dull and I longed for the sort of exciting chatter that Amalia seemed to be enjoying with her partners. I kept seeing her twirling past with her head thrown back in laughter and her blue eyes bright with glee, while her little feet in their diamond studded shoes pirouetted busily beneath her spangled pink silk skirts.

‘Your sister is always having such a lot of fun,’ one of my partners remarked, rather wistfully.

I glanced up at him quickly,  ready to be offended but then deciding to be amused as he was really quite handsome if a bit too blond and blue eyed for my as yet unexplored tastes. ‘Yes, she is. I envy her very much.’

‘Do you?’ The young man, although he was more of a boy really, looked down his aristocratic aquiline nose at me in some surprise.

I shrugged my violet scented shoulders in what I hoped was a coquettish manner before lowering my voice to a confidential whisper. ‘It is not always fun to be a princess, you know.’

He laughed then. ‘But you are not just any princess,’ my partner said with aplomb and a gratifyingly admiring spark in his blue eyes, ‘you are the princess.’

What do you think of that?

I am thirteen today. So old.

The day started with breakfast with Mama in her private breakfast parlour, which is very cosy and has walls lined with pastel portraits of my sisters and brothers. I am there too, looking cheeky and slightly mutinous in a beautiful pink taffeta gown and somewhat improbably holding a tatting shuttle in my hand. I look at this during my breakfast of pastries and hot chocolate and avoid glancing at the companion picture of Carolina, in which she holds a rose to her flat bosom and gazes into the distance with a look of amusement on her pretty face.

‘Thirteen years old,’ Mama says with a reminiscent smile as she helped me to another pastry and then poured herself some more hot chocolate. ‘And how does it feel, Antonia?’

I smiled. ‘It does not feel any different yet, Mama.’ I bit into the pastry and savoured the warm sweetness. ‘I do not feel very old at all.’ I was enjoying our private breakfast together which was a special treat just for my birthday. We spend so little time alone and there is always a crowd of family and courtiers around us, jostling for favours and attention so this was truly a special time.

‘Enjoy it while it lasts,’ Mama said, stirring some sugar into her hot chocolate and then lifting the delicate porcelain cup to her lips. ‘Youth is so fleeting.’ She heaved a heavy sigh and I knew that she was thinking about poor, dear Papa.

After breakfast we went to Mama’s blue and gold paneled sitting room, where the windows were wide open as always and everyone shivered and rubbed their hands together as I opened my presents. I tried to do so as quickly as I could as it was so cold in the room and I could see that Elizabeth and Amalia were starting to go quite pale even though they had swathed themselves in thick white furs for the occasion.

My presents this year included a pearl choker and matching bracelets from Mama and Joseph, a watercolour of Mama from Christina which I think she must have painted herself and the usual books and games from my brothers and sisters. Amalia gave me a new dress of pale yellow ruffled taffeta and Carolina sent a lovely sapphire brooch and a long letter which I am saving until later.

Monsieur de Durfort was shown into the room and brought me a huge basket of fruit from his master, the King of France and also a gold and porcelain box, which contained a miniature of the King himself, surrounded with diamonds. I blushed and immediately pinned the miniature to my dress, where it remains still. He is very handsome, even if he must be extremely old now.

‘I am very honoured,’ I murmured, thinking that it was very odd that the King had sent his own portrait and not that of his grandson, my prospective groom. I could see that Amalia was thinking the same thing as she bit her rosy lip a little as she looked at it and looked as though she was about to burst out laughing.

There was a knock on the door and then a grinning footman entered holding a small basket, which seemed to shake and wobble as he carried it. ‘Your final present,’ Joseph said with a smile and a flourish as the footman placed the basket on to my knees. ‘I hope that you will like it.’

I looked up at him with wide, excited eyes. ‘What could it be?’ The basket gave a snuffle and wobbled on my lap.

‘Why don’t you open it and find out?’ Joseph urged, laughing.

I pulled apart the broad silver ribbon which held the basket closed and immediately the top fell open to reveal the most adorable little Pug dog that I have ever beheld. ‘Oooooh!’ I snatched him out of the basket and held him close to my face, loving the smell of his milky puppy breath. ‘Oh, thank you! Thank you!’ I had never had my own dog before and had always been so envious of my elder sisters’ pets which they always carried about with them.

‘How adorable,’ Amalia touched the little dog’s soft nose with her finger. ‘What will you call him, Antonia?’

I thought for a moment and looked at the little dog for a moment. ‘Mops,’ I said at last. ‘I think that it suits him, do not you?’

Amalia laughed. ‘It is certainly unique.’

I have started to attend Mama’s weekly card parties in her rooms at the palace. I was always considered too young before for such activities but last week Amalia and Joseph came together to my sitting room to tell me that in future I will be involved as much as possible in the life of the court.

‘The intention is to prepare you for your life in France and get you used to appearing in public and mingling with the court,’ Joseph said with a grin as he carelessly pinched my cheek. ‘Amalia will accompany you for the first time and advise you on what to wear and how to behave. Follow her lead and we shall not be disappointed.’

Amalia smiled at me. ‘The first thing we need to do is teach you how to play cards, otherwise you will be like a lamb to the slaughter.’ She produced a well thumbed pack of cards from her green silk reticule and fanned them out on the table beside her. ‘Care to join us, Joseph?’

The card party was fun, I suppose although I am not very good at playing and much prefered to walk about the room with one of my sisters or my friends, the princesses of Hesse-Darmstadt and make conversation with the courtiers, who stared at me curiously as they bowed and then addressed me politely in French. I caught many admiring looks as well and thought them well deserved as I did look very well that evening and was wearing a dress of pink taffeta, embroidered all over with gold and with rich lace at the hem and sleeves.

‘I do not think that they like me very much,’ I whispered to Amalia as we walked slowly around the card tables. A multitude of candles had been lit in the green and gold reception room and the soft, light flickered across the card players as they played. The air was filled with the sound of muted laughter, the roll of the dice and the chink of coins.

Amalia looked at me in some surprise. ‘Now, why do you think that?’ she asked, tapping me on the sleeve with her gold embroidered fan. She looked wonderful that evening in a gown of rich green and gold silk with diamonds hanging from her ears and a long string of pearls wound several times around her white throat.

I shrugged. ‘They stare at me so,’ I replied, not a little petulantly. ‘They never really talk to me.’ I could see the Abbé walking about with a friend at the other side of the room and for a brief instant he met my eyes and smiled. Mama treated the Abbé like a favoured guest rather than a tutor and he was included in all court occasions, which I could tell pleased him very much.

Amalia laughed. ‘They stare because they do not know you and because everyone knows that you will soon be going to France.’ She smiled. ‘They will never get to know you as well as they know myself or Elizabeth or Christina and so lazily they, do not take the trouble to even try.’

I gasped. ‘I had not thought of that like that,’ I said, rather shocked. ‘So they do not really consider me to be one of them?’ I looked around at the courtiers, most of whom were intently staring down at their cards, throwing dice down upon the table or helping themselves to wine from one of the several footmen circling about the room.

My sister linked her arm in mine. ‘Never fear, Antonia, once you are Queen of France, they will all be tumbling over themselves in their haste to claim you as one of their own.’

Monsieur l’Abbé takes his duties very seriously indeed. This afternoon he took Friederike,  Charlotte and I for a long walk around the gardens here at Laxenburg and talked to us about Versailles and how the entire court there is passionate about gardening.

‘I love flowers,’ I confided, as I gently touched the delicate pink petals of a full blown rose. ‘I like to have fresh vases of flowers in my rooms all the time.’

‘There are flowers everywhere in Versailles,’ the Abbé replied with a reminiscent smile. ‘The gardens are enormous and filled with every sort of tree, flower and plant imaginable including rare specimens sent from overseas. Inside the palace there are hundreds of orange trees in silver pots and beautiful vases full of colourful, fragrant flowers on every possible surface and even standing on the floor. The King is passionate about flowers and loves to have them around him.’ He gave me a quick look. ‘He himself is very knowledgeable about the different species and likes to talk of them with his intimates. He has even created a wonderful botanic garden at Versailles, which has enormous greenhouses filled with several thousand species of plants.’

I nodded, understanding perfectly. ‘My knowledge is not great but I am keen to learn more.’

The Abbé smiled and picked a splendid yellow rose, which he presented to me with a courtly bow while Friederike and Charlotte giggled behind us. ‘I shall make a Frenchwoman of you yet,’ he said.

Vermond has been here for a week now and already I feel like I know so much more. I think that he is pleased with my progress as well, although he has not said so and I do not know what he says to Mama about me. She does not seem displeased though.

It feels like I spend less time at my lessons now but really we spend hours just talking together about France and its people, the court at Versailles and also French art, literature and history. He makes it possible for me to remember facts without even realising that I am in fact learning something.

I am ashamed of how ignorant I was before he came to me. I dreamt of going to France and being their Queen one day, but I had no idea what that meant. I still don’t really know but I am getting an idea and I find myself becoming fascinated by this far away land that will one day, hopefully, be my own.

Vermond also teaches me French, which is more formally done although he believes that conversation is the key to my learning it properly and so I do my exercises in my books and then we sit and chat together, with me trying out my new vocabulary and the Abbé gently correcting my mistakes.

‘It would really be better if Your Highness were to only ever hear French spoken,’ he mused this afternoon as we sat together in the schoolroom. ‘I shall speak to your mother about it.’

I stared at him, aghast. ‘You mean that everyone should speak French to me and nothing else?’ The windows were open as it was a bright, sunny day and I could hear my brothers Ferdinand and Max playing a noisy game outside on the lawns. I longed to be running around with them.

‘Yes, that is precisely what I mean,’ he said with a smile. ‘It will be hard at first but I am confident that in only a very little time, Your Highness will be conversing in French as confidently as any native born speaker.’

I felt like crying. ‘Oh, it is too hard! I thought I was doing well at our lessons? I am definitely getting better!’ I jumped up and closed the windows, slamming them shut so that I couldn’t hear my brothers any more. ‘Please, Monsieur.’

Vermond sighed. ‘No, no, it will not be so bad as all that, my child,’ he murmured gently. ‘Your French is improving all the time but it would be infinitely better if we could only make this small extra effort.’

I stamped my foot. ‘You call it a small effort but it is a huge one for me!’

‘As you wish,’ he replied mildly before turning away and picking up a book. An awkward silence fell between us and I began to feel a little ashamed of my outburst. I had vowed to impress him with my elegant behaviour and here I was, stamping my feet like a servant girl. ‘Shall we read together, Your Highness?’ He turned back to me and smiled as though nothing had just happened, which made me feel even more guilty.

I took a deep breath. ‘You are right, Monsieur,’ I said penitently. ‘My French is indeed far from perfect and this would indeed help me to improve it.’

The Abbé raised an eyebrow. ‘So I should speak to your mother?’ he asked. ‘I should not like to act without Your Highness’ permission.’

I nodded, blinking back tears. ‘Yes, you should ask her and tell her that it is my particular wish that I should only hear French spoken in my presence from now on.’

If he felt any triumph, he was clever enough to hide it as he bowed over my outstretched hand. ‘I will do as you wish.’

No more brace! It has gone forever and instead I have perfectly straight, white teeth. I can’t stop smiling at myself in mirrors, the Abbé and any passersby who make the mistake of meeting my eyes.

The brace itself has been consigned to the stove in my bedroom. Hideous thing!

Today I met my new tutor and it was not nearly so bad as I had feared. Mama herself brought him to the schoolroom and I looked up from my German exercise to see a small, neatly dressed little priest standing before me, smiling rather awkwardly as Mama prodded him forward and said her piece.

‘Child, this is the Abbé Vermond, who has been sent from Versailles in order to overlook your education.’ Mama could hardly conceal the note of intense satisfaction in her voice. ‘Be sure to pay attention to him at all times.’

‘Your Highness.’ The little man gave an elegant bow. These French! Even their priests are perfect courtiers. Not that our priests here in Vienna are peasants, but not one has half the elegance of little Abbé Vermond with his flashing dark eyes, his faint tang of Lavender water and his habit of clicking his polished heels together whenever he bows.

Mama and the Countess left us alone together and for a moment we looked warily at each other before the Abbé gave a sigh, cracked his knuckles in a businesslike manner and then pulled forward one of the chairs that stood against the wall. I had watched the knuckle cracking with some misgiving but was thrown by the chair.

‘Do you not wish to sit behind the desk, Monsieur?’ I asked in French. ‘That is where Madame la Comtesse likes to sit.’

The Abbé smiled and shook his head. ‘No, no, Your Highness, I will be quite comfortable here, I thank you.’ He placed the chair on the other side of my desk and settled himself in it. ‘I find desks so very off putting, don’t you?’

‘Yes, but you are here to be my teacher,’ I pointed out, rather primly. ‘And teachers sit behind desks.’

‘Not always.’ The Abbé looked at me for a moment, with his head to one side and then picked up my shamefully blotched piece of work as I instinctively stiffened, waiting for the inevitable criticisms. ‘You are not fond of writing at length, I see,’ was all that he had to say however.

I shook my head and brought out my ink stained hands for his inspection, as I had previously been doing my best to hide them under the desk. ‘I start off well but then my arm begins to ache and then I get so very bored.’

‘You prefer to talk then?’ he enquired, after a solemn inspection of my poor stained fingers.

I nodded. ‘Oh yes, infinitely.’ I lowered my voice, well aware that some of the maids like to listen through keyholes. ‘The Countess does not like to talk to me and I find it very dull to always be reading and copying things out. I do not feel like I ever actually learn anything.’

‘But of course,’ said the Abbé, while nodding as though he really understood.

‘And then of course I feel so stupid,’ I rushed on, instinctively knowing that I should and could trust this man. ‘The Countess is so very strict and Mama expects excellence at all times and I am afraid that I am a disappointment to her.’

He smiled. ‘I doubt that very much, Your Highness. I would even go so far as to say that I believe your Mama is as proud and doting as any Mother could be.’ He stood up then and took a wander about the room, picking up books and looking out of windows. ‘May I be frank with you, Your Highness?’

I smiled and nodded, pleased that someone was contemplating being honest with me for once. ‘But, of course, Monsieur.’

‘Thank you.’ He sat down again and pressed his finger tips together. ‘It is my belief that you are not at all stupid, Your Highness. In fact, it is my belief that you are actually a very intelligent girl with a quickness and understand that does you credit.’

I blushed. No one had ever called me intelligent before. Is that very sad? ‘I… I thank you.’

The Abbé smiled and inclined his head. ‘However, I do not think that you are at all academic and there is no point in us pretending otherwise.’

‘No indeed!’ I laughed then, pleased to have it finally in words and delighted that finally someone had understood me. ‘I do like to know things, you know, but I am just not very good at learning. It makes my head hurt and is always so tiresome and there are always a dozen things that I would much rather be doing.’

‘Then we must find a way to make it easier for you,’ he replied with another smile and at that moment I decided that we were friends indeed.

We spent the rest of the afternoon talking together about Versailles and the great families who live there. Choiseul, Noailles, Stainville, Grimaldi, Rochefoucauld, Montmorency. Their names are elegant and intricate and weighty with history and tradition. The Abbé told me about each one and after a while they ceased to be mere names but instead began to be actual people that I will one day meet and live beside. To outsiders our conversation would have sounded like mere gossip but I know that it was all valuable information, if I am to live with these people and safely navigate their feuds and ambitions.

‘Tomorrow we shall start to learn about the French kings!’ the Abbé said as I prepared to leave him at the end of the day. I paused and pouted at him. ‘Now, do not look so downcast. I promise that it will not be very dreadful.’

I think that I like him.