The Queen's Dollmaker Read Online Free PDF

companionable, if not entirely successful. Louis, slow and dim-witted, did not have the apparent courage to pursue an intimate life with his young new wife. The court, initially twittering amusedly about this, became concerned about the lack of an heir when this state of affairs stretched into years. Was there something wrong with the Austrian woman that she could not entice her husband? The people of France soon sniffed the troubles, and expressed their concern in the streets and in newspapers. Letters flew back and forth between Austria’s Empress Maria Theresa and Marie Antoinette, the mother giving explicit, embarrassing direction as to how to lure a husband; the daughter hurriedly replying, shamefaced, assuring her mother that she was doing everything possible.
    The Dauphine enjoyed life, even if she could not enjoy the attentions of her husband. She attended suppers and parties, and focused on her instinctive flair for fashion by having dozens of bejeweled gowns made, along with matching hosiery, shoes, fans, and hats. Soon she had rooms full of trunks overflowing with brocades in every shade of blue imaginable, pale gold and crimson silks, Belgian laces, and enough velvet to make gowns for all the women living in the town of Versailles. Decorated and embroidered extravagantly, shoes that would never be seen from underneath the wearer’s skirts lined rows and rows of shelves. The entire court was prone to extravagance, and the Dauphine made the most of it, to cover her personal unhappiness.
    On an icy January night, Marie Antoinette attended an opera ball at which Louis was not present, he always preferring to stay behind to work on his locks and mechanical devices rather than suffer through social intercourse. The champagne flowed freely, and the fresh young princesse laughed delightedly at her own exuberance and those of her court attendants, while forgetting about the cold weather and the frigid state of her marriage. The wide panniers of her gown bounced happily as she twirled around the dance floor with one partner, then the next, in one of the Viennese dances she had made popular. The musicians all wore powdered wigs and matching costumes in the Dauphine’s favorite shade of pale blue, which most courtiers were also now adopting in their own dress. She was pleased to see how the reflection of hundreds of candles resting in crystal chandeliers made the diamonds in her hair sparkle and reflect brilliantly against mirrors that she whirled past in time with the melody. Attendants at the ball who were not actually dancing themselves stood to the side, clapping and cheering as she rotated past them.
    It was so lovely to be loved by others, even if perhaps your husband was less than amorous.
    During a break in the music, she cooled herself with a pearl-encrusted fan while she sipped champagne proffered by an aloof waiter, wrinkling her nose at the stars dancing up her nose. From the corner of one eye, she saw a gentleman leaning against one of the ballroom’s many support columns, staring at her intently. She winked playfully yet innocently, as she did at all court admirers. The man walked nearer.
    Up close, she could see that he was strikingly handsome, with huge, dark, almond-shaped eyes beneath thick dark brows, and hair fashionably pulled back in a queue, but left unpowdered. His clothing was impeccable and he carried himself like the hero of one of the new romantic novels that had become vastly popular. His gaze upon her was intense, and left her slightly breathless.
    “I am your devoted servant,” he said, giving an elegant courtly bow and snapping his heels together.
    She put the fan up before her, partially hiding her face. “Why, monsieur, how forward of you. I do not know who you are. You have me at a disadvantage.”
    “Permit me to introduce myself. I am Count Axel Fersen of Sweden.” He dipped his head again in a slight bow.
    Marie Antoinette handed the glass to another bored waiter standing