Free Waiting for the Queen by Joanna Higgins

here. Imagine! And one day you may even have the great honor of serving as a lady of honor, as I myself did. Think of it! Marie Antoinette will come, and we must be ready to receive her. La Grande Maison will glow.”
    â€œMaman? What if the Queen scorns the house? It is not so grand, you know. Hardly a Versailles. It is merely . . . a large log maison .”
    Maman draws back her shoulders. She raises her chin. “Au contraire, chérie . For now, it is a symbol and shall stand for the thing itself until we are able to return—together. And until then, we shall have this!”
    Holding a bit of her gown between two fingertips, Maman gracefully begins a minuet. She is so beautiful, she gives light to our petite maison . But then I gaze out our one window and see Kimbrell fils bringing wood to the Aversilles. In better clothing and finely made wig, he might be considered élégant by the most discerning of ladies. Educate him in the art of the bon mot, in dance, boules , cards, and the proper etiquette, of course, and he would fit in well at Versailles. His sanguinecomplexion speaks of good health and vigor. The eyes, of quick wit. But there he is instead, by some act of Providence, delivering firewood to French nobles improbably confined to this wilderness.
    Through discreet inquiry I’ve learned that his Christian name is John. There was, I believe, an English king by that name.
    â€œWhat are you looking at, Eugenie?”
    â€œNothing, Maman. The day.”
    â€œCome here, then. I must dress your hair. The Du Valliers visit this evening. I hardly know what to serve them. We must get another servant! And how shall we all fit in this room? Mon Dieu!”
    â€œMaman? Why is rank necessary?”
    â€œRank? Our Lord Himself bestows power upon our kings and queens, and they upon us. It has always been thus.”
    â€œOur Lord . . . in his human form . . . He was a common man, was he not? His disciples, fishermen?”
    â€œYou have been talking with Americans!”
    â€œ Non , Maman. Just . . . thinking.”
    â€œThen you must stop. We have not come through all we have to simply throw away our titles now. Our very identities. We are who we are and must be, Eugenie. It is ordained. Surely you understand that.”
    â€œI . . . do, Maman.”
    â€œ Bon . Now. What shall you wear this evening, for the Du Valliers?”
    â€œAnything you wish.”
    â€œEugenie! Show some enthusiasm, please.”
    â€œMaman? I miss my Henriette. Do you think she is . . . still alive?”
    â€œShe is still alive, Eugenie. Bernard is caring for her.”
    â€œDo you think so? Really think so?”
    Maman sighs. “You must wear your yellow gown tonight. It is festive. Hopeful.”
    â€œHenriette looked so sad, Maman, when I ran to the stable for the last time.”
    â€œAnd endangered all of us. You will wear your necklace tonight, Eugenie. Grand-mere’s diamonds may divert attention from the cuisine.”
    â€œI wish . . .”
    â€œWhat do you wish, ma chérie? ”
    â€œThat I might ride one of those horses. Out there.”
    Maman looks through the window. “They are but work horses.”
    â€œ Oui , yet beautiful.”
    â€œYou are becoming as troublesome as your father. We must take care or the Du Valliers may think better of an alliance with our family. Florentine saw you with a servant and a slave today. I pray he will not relay this to his parents, but no doubt he will.”
    â€œNo doubt.”
    These words of Maman’s give me an idea.
    I look out the window yet again. Kimbrell fils is nearly finished unloading the wagon. Do I imagine that he glances this way from time to time?
    â€œEugenie. Come! Your hair!”
    â€œ Oui , Maman. Oui .”

Hannah
    Snow blurs the mountain across the river. It rushes down in fat bundles of flakes. Yesterday was a clear cold, with morning frost thick as snow, and today true snow, with wind