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

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.

We have just returned from the cathedral, where Mass was celebrated by the Cardinal’s handsome nephew, the Prince Louis de Rohan. Nothing could surpass the magnificence of Strasbourg Cathedral, which towered ominously over us as we walked beneath billowing blue, white and silver canopies from the Palais Rohan across the square to its wonderfully carved and embellished golden sandstone portals.

‘It is said to be the tallest building in all the world,’ Marie-Paule de Chaulnes whispered to me as we paused for a brief moment to stare open mouthed up at the enormous decorated spire. ‘You can see the spire from many leagues away.’

‘How impressive.’ We continued walking. ‘I do not think that I have ever seen anything quite so beautiful although beautiful seems like quite the wrong word somehow doesn’t it?’

‘Superb?’ Marie-Paule offered.  ‘I grew up nearby at Dampierre and used to come to Strasbourg often as a little girl with my parents. I believed that God himself must certainly reside inside the cathedral.’

‘I can totally understand why,’ I said with a smile. I know that the other ladies think that she is rather ridiculous and affected but I feel very sorry for her and think that they are being very harsh. It must be horrid to have a husband who does not like you and I really don’t understand why he isn’t madly in love with her as she resembles the girls in Greuze’s sad paintings and looks like she should be weeping over dead canaries or sobbing elegantly while clutching pink roses to her tastefully exposed breast. That sort of thing.

Madame de Mailly on Madame de Chaulnes: ‘Marie-Paule always looks  miserable because her life really is a trial, poor thing. Well, for a start she is a daughter of the Duc de Luynes (this said with a significant look that I have yet to decipher) and then on top of that her husband is very strange indeed and cares more about his plants and trees than he does about her and as for his mother! Well, the old Duchesse has been a mortification to us all for many years now and is quite possibly the most annoying, ridiculous example of a sadly aging coquette that you could ever hope to meet. Of course she has never quite recovered from the blow of La Pompadour’s little girl dying before she could succeed in marrying her to her awful son. Monsieur le Duc is apparently so in love with his plants that he has refused to be a husband to the poor girl and so she affects to always wear white in order to either advertise her virginity or shame him into taking action, I am not sure which. It is admirable of course but imagine the scandal should she ever step out in anything coloured.’

Madame de Chaulnes on Madame de Mailly: ‘She is the same as all the rest of the Talleyrand-Périgord family: pretending to be utterly insouciant and with a smile for everyone but nonetheless convinced at all times of her own superiority. Be warned.’

After we had left the pavilion, I was led, picking our way carefully around the puddles and soft muddy ground to my splendid berline carriage and we set out on the next stage of our journey. Behind me I heard shouts and consternation as the pavilion roof collapsed beneath the weight of the rainwater and the locals started to tear apart the splendid interior, pillaging the beautiful decorations inside and bearing them away.

I tried to look behind as my carriage rolled over the bridge and onto muddy French soil but could see nothing but the carriages of the French nobility who were to accompany me and a few laughing peasants running away bearing rolls of tapestry and paintings over their heads to protect themselves against the rain. Of my Austrian companions there was nothing more to be seen and I sank back against the soft blue velvet upholstery feeling lonely and quite abandoned.

The rain began to clear and was gradually replaced by brilliant sunshine as we approached the city of Strasbourg and by the time we had driven beneath the first of several flower and ribbon bedecked arches the day had been quite transformed from one of gloom to one of sunshine, joy and promise. As the rain vanished so did my tears and I began to look out of the carriage windows with real interest and pleasure, enjoying the smiles, shouts and cheers of the multitudes that had come out to see me and the flowers that were being thrown so lavishly in my path while the hundreds of handsome young soldiers who lined the route cheered, threw their hats and fired their guns into the air at my approach.

My carriage drove through the teeming streets of the city, rumbling underneath triumphal arches, passing by the beautiful gothic pink sandstone cathedral and stopping every so often as the press of people became too great to let us pass while all the while I could hear the distant and constant ringing of church bells, a joyous sound that made my lonely heart soar.

We were greeted by Cardinal de Rohan in the courtyard of his exquisitely elegant palace on the Place du Château. I took an instant liking to the Cardinal, who had a kindly twinkle in his small blue eyes and took my hand in the most friendly manner before formally welcoming me to the city in German.

‘Please, Monsieur, do not address me in German,’ I said with a gentle smile, cutting his effusions short. ‘From this moment on, I understand only French.’ I hoped that Madame de Noailles heard and approved but really who cares as everyone who heard me began to applaud then passed my words from the courtyard to the big square beyond until finally everyone was cheering and shouting my name over and over again.

After this a large group of beautiful shepherds and shepherdesses appeared before us in lovely colourful local costumes and bearing rush baskets filled to the brim with sweetly scented red and pink rose petals which they proceeded to scatter before me as they danced. Next up were twenty four noble maidens from the best families in the area who danced before me in beautiful white silk dresses and flung yet more rose petals in the air until the ground was covered in a blanket of pink, white and red and the air was heady and sweet with the luscious scent of roses as we crushed them underfoot. When they had stopped and were standing, panting slightly, in a row before me I walked amongst them, asking each her name and presenting them with a posy of roses as a keepsake. One of them reminded me of my sister Carolina, with the same wide blue eyes, high forehead and crimson pouting lips and to her I bestowed the beautiful painted fan that I had been carrying since I got changed at the pavilion.

Everywhere I looked, I saw happy smiling faces and youth and beauty in abundance and I could not help looking about myself in pleasure. The Cardinal smiled benevolently as he led me into the palace and then took me through several light filled, beautifully appointed reception chambers to the splendid rooms that had been prepared for me and which overlooked the river. ‘You are come amongst us like Spring itself,’ he said, kissing my hand. ‘I do believe that the city of Strasbourg has given you its heart.’

‘And in return you have mine,’ I assured him as Madame de Chaulnes flung open my tall bedchamber windows so that we could hear the cheers and acclaim outside. ‘I do not think that I could ever have expected such a wondrous welcome.’ I looked about myself with real pleasure as I went from room to room, especially appreciating the enormous bedchamber with its white and gilt paneled walls, crimson brocade hung four poster bed and stately gold balustrade that separated the bed from the rest of the room.

‘This is the chambre du roi,’ the Cardinal explained with a smile, noticing my look of delight. ‘I hope that you will make yourself comfortable here.’

Later, after a banquet that I was too tired to fully appreciate we all went to the Salon d’Assemblée and stood at the windows that overlooked the square, which was illuminated with hundreds of red, yellow and orange lanterns with even the beautiful cathedral opposite lit up from the tip of its spire to the ground so that it shimmered like a candle flame in the darkness. The people of the city swarmed below, shouting and singing as they freely drank the wine that flowed like water from the fountains and ate meat from the oxen that were roasting on enormous spits on the street corners. There had already been an enormous firework display that had filled the ink black night sky with light, colour and the heavy scent of gunpowder.

‘I have never seen anything so wonderful,’ I whispered to Madame de Mailly, hugging my velvet cloak close as we stared down into the square. ‘How happy they all look.’

The Comtesse smiled kindly. ‘That is because we are all just so thrilled to have you here.’ She hesitated for a moment and frowned as if unsure about what to say next before continuing: ‘After Madame la Marquise de Pompadour died the court became impossibly dreary and then even more so after the poor, dear Queen passed away also and I am afraid that we have all been stagnating somewhat, waiting for something or someone to come along to shake us all up again.’ Again that careful pause. ‘I fear that things will not be as you expected.’

Before I could ask her what she meant by this rather cryptic utterance, the Comtesse de Chaulx-Tavannes advanced upon us and gave Madame de Mailly’s arm a sharp rap with her ivory handled fan. ‘Shush now,’ she hissed with a glittering and eminently false smile, ‘let’s not frighten the little bride shall we?’ And with that she remained steadfastly at our side until it was time for me to withdraw to my bedchamber.

It was not pleasant to be prepared for bed by almost total strangers but I think I endured it quite well and did nothing that could give rise to offense or, worse, malicious comment. I find that the ladies here are very quick to be offended, apt to perceive a slight where there is none and very jealous of their rights so that it is too easy to say or do entirely the wrong thing.  They are also extremely eager to gain precedence over each other, which I find amusing although this will probably soon get tiresome.

Madame de Mailly is the kindest of them all and also the most useful when it comes to imparting information to a novice like myself as she is very friendly and also seems to absolutely understand how lost I feel at the moment. I think that perhaps we might become friends.

Now, where was I? Ah yes. A sudden chill wind whipped up my pink brocade skirts and frothy layers of fine linen and silk petticoats as we entered the pretty but flimsy pavilion and the wooden door slammed shut behind us. I was led to a small blue painted dressing room with paintings of flowers on the walls, where a large gilt and green silk covered screen stood in front of a magnificent full length mirror.

‘If your Highness would be so kind as to change her clothes?’ The Prince bowed and my trio of ladies stepped forward ready to remove my beautiful Austrian dress (which had been made for me in Paris along with all the rest of my enormous trousseau) that I had worn for such a short time and replace it with a new ensemble in the French style. Every single item about my person was to be removed and replaced in an act that symbolised my domestic transformation from Austrian Archduchess to French Dauphine.

My ladies in waiting pulled the pretty shoes from my feet, unrolled the silk stockings, removed my jewels and the pearl pins in my hair and then unlaced my dress and pulled the fine lawn chemise over my head so that for a second I stood shivering and naked before them. ‘Oh do hurry up!’ I implored with a laugh. ‘It is so cold in here!’

Anna winked at me. ‘We are working as fast as we can!’ She pretended not to notice when I unpinned the little diamond and enamel watch that Mama had given me from my bosom and hid it in my fist, determined to have something of home about my person as I entered my new country.

I watched in the mirror as they applied more violet scented powder to my hair then powdered my face and applied two heavy circles of rouge to my already rosily blushing cheeks. ‘This is how it is done at Versailles,’ Clementina whispered in my ear. ‘We have been instructed to make you look exactly as like a Dauphine.’ She dabbed some heavy jasmine scent at the base of my throat and on my wrists. ‘You must even smell like a Dauphine,’ she said with a smile.

I touched my rouged cheeks and stared at myself in shock, thinking how alien and odd I looked and how unnecessary such false colours are when my own complexion is so fresh and clear. When I get to Versailles there will be no more rouge. The smell of jasmine made my head hurt and swim and I longed for my usual fresh lilies, roses and violets: the scents of my girlhood.

My ladies, to their credit, were very conscious of how cold I must be in such a draughty, damp room and worked quickly to dress me again in layers of fresh silk petticoats, a lace edged chemise, gold embroidered stockings and then a heavy silk corset and the wide wooden panniers that would support my heavy cloth of gold gown with its complicated layers of lace and gold spangled gauze ruffles and tiny gold ribbon bows. I gazed at myself in the mirror as Clementina slipped my new gold and diamond shoes on to my stockinged feet, impressed and terrified by my much altered appearance. I no longer looked like the Archduchess Antonia that had romped so playfully at Schönbrunn and the gardens of Laxenburg with my fair hair bobbing about my shoulders and my blue cotton skirts stained by grass, mud and dirty paws.  ‘I look like a princess,’ I murmured.

‘Then our work here is done,’ Clara said with a proud smile.

There was time for a last secret hug before I lifted up Mops and we went into the adjoining ante room, where we were to officially say our farewells. I kissed and hugged each of them close, making no effort to check the tears that welled up in my eyes and ran down my red cheeks as we said our last sad goodbye. My ladies had been with me for a long time and I knew that I would miss them terribly in the times to come.

‘I will never forget you,’ I whispered as we all sobbed together. ‘I owe so much to all of you.’ I had given them my parting presents the night before – each one was given a diamond surrounded miniature of myself and also one of my own rings that I had pulled from my fingers to give to them.

Prince Starhemberg gave an impatient cough as I moved from person to person, saying goodbye and hugging each and everyone as the tears continued to spill down my cheeks, blurring the hated rouge. ‘Your Highness, France awaits us,’ he said.

I nodded and after one last kiss, one last hug I took my place in front of the door and prepared myself for what lay beyond. Only a few seconds more and everything would change.

‘Wait!’ The Prince pursed his lips then summarily pulled my little Mops from my arms and handed him to Clara. ‘There must be nothing Austrian about your Highness’ person,’ he reminded me with an awful look. ‘Is there anything else that you have neglected to remove?’

I thought of Mama’s watch and shook my head firmly, while gazing at poor Mops, who whined and struggled, not understanding why he had been taken away from me. ‘Please can I take him with me?’ It seemed terribly cruel that even my dog would have to remain behind. ‘The French surely won’t object to just one little dog?’

‘I am sorry but my instructions were very clear,’ the Prince said in as unapologetic a tone as I have ever heard. ‘Perhaps you will be able to request his return once you are ensconced at Versailles.’

‘Then I will have to submit won’t I?’ I said with an attempt at cheerfulness that belied the misery that I felt and the tears that continued to stream from my eyes. I reached out to give Mops’ soft nose one last pat then forced myself to turn away, silently vowing that I would force them to return him to me at whatever cost.

‘Good luck,’ Clementina whispered as a footman opened the door and I stepped clumsily and blinded by tears into the large tapestry hung salon that stood in the very centre of the pavilion. I turned to take one last look at my friends but it was too late and the door had already swung shut behind me, hiding them from my view forever.

‘Madame la Dauphine.’ I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand as the Prince bowed to the trio of French notables who cautiously watched us from the other side of the red velvet covered table that ran down the centre of the room, presumably symbolising the boundary between our two nations. I looked at them from beneath my lowered lashes, noting their disdainful expressions and rude stares as the Prince handed me up on to a dais at the far end of the room and the three French noblemen stepped up also.

‘May I present Monsieur le Comte de Noailles, who has been charged with the great privilege and honour of escorting you into France.’ He pronounced it rather self consciously as ‘No Ay’ and I hid my smile behind my fan as a tall rather stupid looking man bowed low before me.

I was then led to an ornate, purple velvet upholstered chair that stood at the very top of the table, upon which a pile of state papers had been arranged. I made myself comfortable and looked around the room, taking in the sumptuous tapestries depicting the marriage of Jason and Medea that hung on every wall and, less splendidly, the rain that was beginning to trickle down through the makeshift ceiling making large puddles of water on the wooden floor.

There followed a lengthy series of speeches from both sides, complimenting myself, the Dauphin Louis and our respective families and also professing all manner of perpetual affections and amities between us all. I made every attempt to look alert and interested, knowing that all eyes were upon me but in my mind I was drifting far far away and straining to hear my dear friends and poor Mops through the door that separated us, unwilling to believe that they had already begun their long journey home. A loud crack of thunder nearby made us all jump as I was handed a pen and, frowning a little with concentration, leaned forward to apply my new name ‘Marie Antoinette Josephe Jeanne’ to the papers in front of me, not really knowing what I was signing and caring even less.

The Comte de Noailles then very gravely led me around the puddles to the other side of the table and a door on the other side of the splendid salon opened and a crowd of splendidly dressed ladies entered the room with a haughty, tight lipped grande dame at their head, stumbling a little as she came and after them there came several dozen splendidly dressed nobles, both male and female who ogled me in the most unabashed manner and giggled slyly behind their fans. ‘May I present my wife, Madame la Comtesse de Noailles, who has the honour to be your dame d’honneur. ‘ She made a low curtsey, her blue silk skirts billowing around her and instinctively I moved quickly forward and embraced her, just as I would have done with one of my own ladies in waiting.

‘Madame la Dauphine forgets herself,’ she muttered, firmly removing herself and stepping away, shivering all the while in obvious distaste while I stared after her in confusion. Was not an embrace from me an honour? Did she not want to be my friend? I quickly realised that I had committed a faux pas but could not bring myself to feel sorry for it. If they did not like my manners then that was their stuck up French problem, not mine.

I took a deep breath. ‘Forgive me, Madame, the tears that I have just shed for my family and for my homeland. From this day forward, I shall never again forget that I am a Frenchwoman.’

Madame la Comtesse then introduced me to the other ladies that had entered in her wake, all of whom were older than me and had, as Monsieur de Comte de Noailles whispered to me, making me shudder with his mephitic breath, formerly acted as ladies in waiting to the now dead Queen Marie and had been waiting for two years for a new mistress.

First there was the Duchesse de Villars, a tall, boldly rouged redhead with a disdainful expression and arrogant mien. Then there was the icily beautiful Marquise de Duras who was dressed to kill in shimmering green satin, black lace and diamonds. They both flicked their eyes over me in a contemptuous manner, giving me a quick up-and-down once over that was most disconcerting and made me crimson beneath my rouge and powder.

I turned quickly and with much thankfulness to the three younger ladies in the party: the Duchesse de Chaulnes, a soulful blonde with a faintly melancholy air that was emphasized by her exquisite gauze and lace white dress, soft voice and manner of earnestly wringing her tiny hands whenever she spoke and the Comtesse de Mailly, who was slightly less pretty but infinitely more lively with sparkling dark eyes, a ready smile and sincere manner. Last of all was the Comtesse de Saulx-Tavannes, a tiny, petulant, elegant brunette with a mutinous air about her.

It must all seem very strange,’ Madame de Mailly whispered to me as we exchanged curtseys, ‘but you really have nothing to be afraid of. Madame de Noailles is a stickler for etiquette but harmless beyond that and I am sure you will soon learn to ignore Madame de Duras’ ridiculously egotistical barbs.’ She gave my arm a friendly pinch. ‘They are simply eaten up with jealousy, you see. Since the Queen died, everyone has desperately wanted to be the Grande Dame of Versailles and now, here you are and to add insult to injury, looking so fresh and pretty and young too.’ She gave me a saucy wink. ‘Well, can you blame them for wanting to hate you?’

I nodded but felt quite bewildered by their stares, the way that they all pressed close to me and above all the rapid way that they spoke French. It was quite different from the sedate lessons with my Abbé and Mama and I had to really concentrate in order to keep up, which gave mesdames de Noailles and Villars yet more excuses to roll their eyes at my stupidity.

Finally, I was led out through the antechambers on the French side of the pavilion and the Comte flung open the doors with a grand gesture, ignoring the darkly ominous sky above and the heavy rainfall as he grandly and proudly announced: ‘Bienvenue à France!’

Welcome to France. I am here! I can hardly believe it. More later as I am being called away.

I am here. It is done. I am in FRANCE.

I managed to get only a few hours sleep after last night’s adventure before my ladies came into my room, pulled my curtains open and wafted  a reviving, delicious smelling cup of hot chocolate beneath my nose. They had all dressed in their finest gowns in honour of this day and looked as fresh as roses in vibrant pink, green and yellow silks.

‘I wish that I could say that it is a beautiful day,’ Clara announced with a laugh as she peered out of the tall window dubiously, ‘but alas it is pouring down with rain.’ She gave a shrug. ‘How typical, your Highness, that we should be blessed with sunshine and clement breezes all the way here but on the day itself there should be rain and I do believe the promise of a splendid storm later on.’

I struggled to sit up in the bed as Clementina rushed forward to plump my pillows and pull them up behind me. ‘They won’t cancel the handing over ceremony will they?’ I asked in some anxiety. It would be simply too awful to come all the way here, get worked up in expectation and then have the ‘remise’ ceremony postponed just because of the stupid weather.

Clementina laughed and handed me my hot chocolate  and some hot buttered rolls on a silver tray. ‘Of course they won’t postpone the remise, your Highness!’

Clara brought over a vase full of softly blooming pink and yellow roses, which she placed on the table next to my bed so that I could breathe in their sweet scent as I breakfasted. ‘We are traveling to a very strict timetable and just one day’s delay would overset everything,’ she said with a smile.

There were many tears, both happy and sad, as my ladies dressed me for the very last time in my finery then accompanied me downstairs to where my carriage was waiting. My mother had instructed that I should be dressed that day in a formal panniered gown of beautiful pink brocade trimmed with exquisite French lace and pearls. I touched the fine fabric tenderly as I sat before the dressing table and watched my handsome Viennese hairdresser pin up my long hair, coat it with pomade and powder then fasten flowers and pearl pins amongst the curls. It would be the last time that he would do my hair as he was returning to Vienna that afternoon as well, his job complete. We exchanged a sad farewell in front of the mirror and he cried, clutching his silver backed brush to his chest as I handed him a purple velvet bag filled with gold coins in thanks for his services.

Clara fastened a heavy string of pearls around my neck and slipped a beautiful painted fan into my hand while Clementina knelt before me and pulled a pair of fine white silk stockings up my legs before sliding my feet into soft yellow leather shoes with dear little pink silk pompoms on their fronts. Anna then sprayed me with a lily and violet scent and dabbed more behind my ears, from which pearl earrings swung low, almost to my collarbones and with that I was ready although hardly prepared.

Anton ran ahead of us with Mops in his arms as we were helped into the waiting carriage and then sat looking sadly at each other as it pulled away. ‘I can’t believe that this is our last journey together,’ I said, struggling not to cry.

It did not take us long to reach the Île des Épis, a small island situated in the middle of the Rhine almost directly in between the Hapsburg city of Kehl and Strasbourg in France. The carriage clattered across the narrow little bridge and pulled up beside the river and we sat for a moment in stunned and terrified silence before all at once the door was flung open and a group of liveried trumpeters lifted their instruments to their lips and loudly proclaimed my arrival.

‘Mein Gott, mein Gott,’ I whispered, reverting to our own language as I clasped Clara and Clementina’s hands and prepared myself to jump down from the vehicle. ‘I don’t think that I can do this.’

Clementina kissed my hand. ‘Of course you can, Antonia!’ she said, all formality forgotten as she responded as one girl to another. ‘We have come so far and you have done so well. This will soon pass and then before you know it you will be in Versailles and safe in your new life with nothing more to trouble you.’ She tenderly stroked my face as the footman holding the door open coughed and discreetly turned his eyes elsewhere while beyond him I could see our Austrian company standing about looking awkward and clearly wondering what was happening in the carriage. ‘There is just this one hurdle to overcome before your life can begin.’

I stared at her. ‘I am afraid, so afraid,’ I whispered. ‘What if they all hate me? What if it all goes wrong?’

Clementina smiled then and gave my hand one last kiss. ‘They won’t hate you and it will all be marvellous.’ She patted away my tears with her own yellow silk handkerchief. ‘Just wait and see.’

My Abbé appeared at the carriage door, his dark eyes filled with concern as he took in the scene before him. ‘Your Highness? Is something the matter?’ I could see officious Prince von Starhemberg, who had accompanied me all the way from Vienna, striding forward, shaking his long head from side to side at the irregularity of it all. I knew that he had been sending detailed reports of my behaviour back to Mama in Vienna and so forced a smile on to my face, determined that there should not be anything out of the ordinary for him to observe here.

‘Is there a problem?’ He asked now, his eyes gleaming at the prospect of some juicy morsel of gossip. ‘Her Highness is now a few minutes late.’

I smiled and shrugged. ‘No problem at all! My shoe was merely caught in my skirt.’ I faked a merry laugh. ‘I am ready now.’ I caught my Abbé’s eye and gave a more genuine smile. ‘I am sorry if I caused anyone any concern.’

I jumped down from the carriage and took a deep breath as I placed my hand on the Prince’s blue watered silk arm and allowed him to lead me to the small wooden pavilion that had been erected especially for today’s ceremony. ‘It was at this exact spot that his Highness the Dauphin’s mother, the Princess Maria Josepha of Saxony was handed over before the occasion of her marriage,’ he said in a lecturing tone. ‘Unfortunately the wooden pavilion built for that happy occasion had long since fallen into a state of disrepair and so we were forced to build a new one. It was essential then as now that no offense be caused to either royal house and so hand over was designed to take place exactly between the two. When his Majesty, the King of France’s mother, the Princess Marie Adélaïde went to France from her native Savoy, she was handed over on a bridge with the back wheels of her carriage resting in the land of her birth and the front in France so that she stepped out directly in between the two.’ He gave a stiff bow. ‘It is of the utmost importance that not the slightest offense is offered to either party.’

I nodded politely. ‘How interesting.’ I smiled at the large gathering of local dignitaries and faithful Viennese courtiers who waited for me beside the entrance to the pavilion. Only my ladies and the most important would be following me inside and so this would be the last time that I would ever see most of them.