Free The Hidden Diary of Marie Antoinette by Carolly Erickson

visit me this afternoon I saw at once that his lip was bleeding and one eye was swollen and starting to turn blue. He staggered as he lurched into my sitting room and sat down heavily on a brocaded chair. He reeked of drink.
    “It’s Stanny again, isn’t it?” I said, beckoning for Sophie and telling her to bring a cloth and some ointment for Louis’s cuts.
    “He bet me ten silver florins I couldn’t drink an entire bottle of port in five minutes. I almost did too. But then I threw up. I couldn’t help it. Then I hit him.”
    Louis held still obediently while Sophie wiped the blood from his face and applied salve to his lips and swollen eye andI stood by looking down at him, glad that Madame de Noailles was no longer there to insist that I must sit if the dauphin was sitting. How relieved I am to be rid of her!
    “You have to learn to ignore him when he dares you to do things, and when he insults you. You know he only does it to rile you. It amuses him. He’s mean.”
    Louis hung his head. “I know.”
    I murmured to Sophie, “Send for Chambertin.”
    “Do you know what he told me?” Louis whispered, looking up at me with fear in his eyes. “He says his wife is pregnant.”
    “So soon?”
    Louis nodded. “It is to be announced at the next meeting of the royal council.”
    I thought again of Count Mercy’s suggestion, that I take another man into my bed. It would save the succession, and allow Louis some peace. Eric. Eric. Oh, if only!
    Chambertin arrived, gentle and concerned as always, and with an apologetic nod to me, led Louis off to his own apartments. Next to me, I think, Chambertin is the one who cares about poor Louis most. He is valet, equerry, footman all in one. He does whatever needs to be done, and keeps a close and indulgent eye on his master.
    March 28, 1771
    I have seen Eric and talked to him—and he still loves me! I cannot write more now. All I can do is sing, and wrap my arms around myself and twirl, and go out and ride Bravane, the new horse the king has sent me, until I am quite spent.
    I want to shout, Eric loves me! To the world. But all I can do is write it here. Eric loves me. Eric loves me. Eric loves me.
    April 5, 1771
    It has been a week now since my long talk with Eric in the little kiosk among the hornbeams, in the palace gardens.
    It was right after the christening, when I went to the royal chapel to take my place as godmother to Eric and Amélie’s new baby. She was christened Louise-Antoinette-Thérèse, named for Louis and myself and my mother.
    I held her in my arms at the font as the priest poured water over her little head, wetting the lace christening cap I gave Amélie for her, but she didn’t cry. She felt warm and smelled like milk. She is a hefty little girl and kicked her legs and waved her tiny arms with vigor.
    I noticed that Amélie was avoiding Eric throughout the ceremony, never looking at him and keeping her distance. When it was over, and the priest had given baby Louise-Antoinette his final blessing, I handed her back to Amélie who thanked me briefly with a curtsey and then immediately left the chapel with two other women. I think they were her sisters. She did not wait for Eric.
    The chapel emptied quickly. There had been only a few people at the christening and I had brought only two of my ladies with me. Eric was speaking to the priest and handing him a purse of coins. I told my ladies that I wanted a walk in the garden before the midday meal and that I preferred to be alone. They left me.
    Eric caught up with me as I was making my way along a path between banks of rosebushes, just beginning to bud.
    “Your highness, may I walk with you?”
    “Of course Eric. You know how I look forward to your company.” I spoke formally, in case anyone overheard me.
    We made our way up into the part of the garden called the Heights of Satory, a natural woodland where great hornbeamsshaded the paths. Few people came here I knew, and I felt alone with Eric,