Free Waters of Versailles by Kelly Robson Page A

“I have not thought to ask before now, but how is the monkey? Happier, I hope, than that cat?”
    â€œVery well and happy indeed. My maid Marie coddles her like a new mother. They are madonna and child, the two of them a world unto themselves.” She glanced up at him, a wicked slant to her gaze, daring him to laugh. He grinned.
    â€œAnd what name did Madame give the creature?”
    The color drained from her cheeks. “Is that the viceroy of Parma? I would not have thought to see him here.”
    â€œI couldn’t say. He looks like every other man in a wig and silk. Are you avoiding my question?”
    â€œShow me your fountain. I haven’t had the chance to admire it up close.”
    The crowd parted to reveal three young men in peacock silks filling their cups at the fountain. One still kept his long baby curls, probably in deference to a sentimental mother.
    â€œThere!” Annette said. “Not quite as delicate a tableau as the girl in yellow, but I think I like it better. You must make allowances for differences in taste, and I have always preferred male beauty.”
    â€œI am sure you do. What did Madame name the monkey, Annette?”
    â€œShe is called Jesusa. It is a terrible sacrilege and my accent makes it bad Spanish too, but what can I do when I am presented with madonna and child morning, noon, and night? God will forgive me.”
    â€œMadame didn’t name the monkey Jesusa.”
    â€œDon’t be so sure. Madame is even worse a Christian than I am.”
    â€œVery well. I’ll ask her myself.”
    Sylvain strode toward the Salon of War. The crowd was thick. The king was with Madame now. The tall feathers of the royal hat bobbed over the heads of the guests.
    Annette pulled his arm. “Stop. Not in front of the king. Don’t be stubborn.”
    He turned on her. “Answer my question.”
    The jostling crowd pressed them together. She gripped his arms, breath shallow.
    â€œPromise you won’t take offence.”
    â€œJust answer the question, Annette.”
    She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. “She named the monkey Sylvain.”
    He wrenched himself out of her grip and lurched back, nearly bowling over an elderly guest.
    â€œIt is a joke,” said Annette, pursuing him.
    â€œDoes it seem funny to you?”
    â€œTake it in the spirit it was intended, just a silly attempt at fun. It isn’t meant as an attack on your pride.”
    â€œMadame thinks I am a prize target. Did you laugh, Annette?” His voice rose. Heads turned. Guests jostled their neighbors, alerting them to the scene. “Who else would like to take a shot at me?”
    â€œSylvain, no, please.” Annette spoke softly and reached out to him. He stepped aside.
    Sylvain paced in a circle, glaring at the guests, daring each one of them to make a remark.
    â€œI have done more than any other man to make a place for myself at court. I’ve attended levees, and flattered, and fucked. But worse—I’ve worked hard. As hard as I can. You find that disgusting, don’t you?”
    â€œNo. I don’t.” She watched him pace.
    â€œI’ve worked miracles. Everyone says so. The magician of the fountains, the man who puts thrones throughout the palace. Everyone wants one. Or so it seems, until everyone has one. Then it’s nothing special. Not good enough anymore. Take it away. Come up with something else while we insult you behind your back.”
    â€œMadame is difficult to please.” Annette’s voice was soft and sad.
    â€œNothing I do will ever be good enough, will it? Even for you, Annette. You tell me I try too hard, I’m a striver, and I’m not true to my nature.” He spread his arms wide. “Well, this is my nature. How do you like me now?”
    She opened her mouth and then closed it without speaking. He stepped close and spoke in her ear.
    â€œNot well, I think,” he said, and