Free Becoming Marie Antoinette by Juliet Grey

and I had been raised to present a pretty picture at all times, and never to be messy or untidy (a precept I still seemed incapable of upholding). Appearing in her Presence Chamber where she received visitors, or at meals, properly washed and scrubbed, with our hair combed off our faces, was more important than learning the names of the towns located along the empire’s frontier.
    Our governesses had been instructed to instill us with courage, self-confidence, piety, and good eating habits. We weretaught to be respectful to everyone, including servants, and never to seem haughty or overly familiar—conduct unbecoming an archduchess of Austria. The fortunate Hapsburg daughters would impress people not with our ability to solve mathematical equations or recite the details of some half-forgotten battle, but with our musical talents, our needlework, and our strong devotion to morality.
    Such a system was all very well and good, agreed the duc amiably, as Mama refilled his brandy glass with a generous hand. “And no one save yourself wishes to see the archduchess Antonia wed the dauphin more than I do.”
    A dreadful silence heralded the duc’s contemplation of the best way to address the situation. “Your Imperial Majesty, I have hazarded my entire diplomatic career on this union. But Louis is a man of unpredictable temperament and is often led astray by the influences of others. Until His Majesty makes a formal written request for your daughter’s hand on behalf of his grandson, the agreement reached between our countries two years ago is too easily broken. Nothing must be done—or not done—that will jeopardize the marriage.”
    I glanced at Maman, aware that months earlier, she had voiced identical fears.
Why must it be me?
I wondered.
When I am so clearly inadequate to my destiny?
And yet, precisely because it
was
my destiny, I also knew that it was my responsibility to rise to the occasion and embrace it. I had not emerged from Maman’s belly to while away my entire life in Vienna, doing good works, dabbling with watercolors, and caressing lapdogs.
    The duc smiled at me. “Are you willing, Madame Antonia, to do all that is necessary to prepare you for your future station?”
    “Monsieur le duc, what a silly question,” I heard myself say. Of course I was willing. Let them change my hair, straighten my teeth, stuff my head with geography and the names of Frenchqueens. The future of Austria was in my small, pale hands. I would not fail my family again.
    Maman raised an eyebrow and glanced at the duc. “You see? I expected nothing less.”
    And so, within the month a veritable army of experts began arriving at the Hofburg, prepared to transform me into the dauphine of France.

FIVE
Another Sacrificial Lamb
    Pierre Laveran had the largest hands I had ever seen. Even worse, his knuckles sprouted tufts of dark hair. But Maman, who did not have to submit to his sausage-sized fingers probing the recesses of her mouth, was prodigiously impressed by his credentials. After all, Monsieur Laveran had been a pupil of Pierre Fauchard, the most celebrated dentist in France.
    On his arrival at the Hofburg one frosty morning in mid-February, Monsieur Laveran was immediately escorted to the breakfast room, where the sunlight was always strong. As usual, the tall windows were open, despite the nip in the air. Maman preferred to keep the rooms cold, insisting that the low temperature prevented her from becoming lethargic; and she could ill afford to fall asleep while there was always so much to accomplish. My brother Joseph would work alongside her, swathed in a fur-lined cloak, while she perused and signed state documents in her morning
négligée
, impervious to the chill.
    Monsieur Laveran was inept at concealing his surprise at theroom’s lack of warmth. No doubt he assumed, as anyone would, that the empress of Austria could afford enough firewood to stoke the elaborate ceramic stove. Little did the dentist know of Maman’s