“Odelette is entirely responsible,” Marie-Josèphe said.
Odelette curtsied shyly. Monsieur felt around in his pockets, came up with nothing but crumbs, unpinned a diamond from his waistcoat, and gave it to Odelette.
“Where is Father de la Croix?” Madame asked. “He promised us a few moments —a story or two of his voyage.”
“He will be here soon, Madame.”
“If he’s late, Mlle de la Croix,” Chartres said, “I’ll be pleased to escort you.”
“You’ll escort your sister,” Madame said severely. “As your wife doesn’t see fit to grace my rooms.”
“Why, Madame,” Lorraine said, “Mlle de Blois fears she’ll be swept up — with the other mouse droppings.”
“Madame Lucifer has better things to do than spend her time with me,” Chartres said. “To my everlasting gratitude.”
“I so want to hear your brother’s adventures,” Madame said. “If I miss them, I’ll wait another decade for any excitement.”
“If you miss a single story, Madame,” Marie-Josèphe said, “he’ll tell them all over again for you. I promise.”
“You are a good child.”
“Mlle de la Croix, I have a present for you.” Chartres limped toward her, his blind eye wandering. Marie-Josèphe always feared he would fall at her feet.
He pulled the stopper from a beautiful little silver bottle and thrust it at her.
“What is it, sir?”
“Perfume — of my own making.” He dropped to one knee before her. Embarrassed, Marie-Josèphe stepped back.
“Do get up, sir, please.”
He grasped her hand, to dab perfume on her wrist, but Lotte stopped him.
“Let her smell it first, Philippe,” she said. “It might not suit her.”
“How could it not?” Chartres said.
Marie-Josèphe wondered if it was quite proper for a married man to give a gift of perfume to his sister’s lady-in-waiting. For her to criticize his manners would be even more improper. She wondered why his wife avoided him, for despite his strange blind eye he was handsome, and he always had something new and interesting to talk about.
“Pure essence of flowers.” Chartres waved the stopper beneath her nose, releasing a delicate tendril of scent.
“Roses! Sir, it’s lovely.”
Chartres splashed the perfume on Marie-Josèphe’s wrist. As he reached for her bosom, Madame snatched the bottle. Chartres pouted.
“A prince should not do a maid’s job.” Madame gave the flask to Marie-Josèphe.
“Let your girl scent you up, Mlle de la Croix, if you wish.”
“I only want to show Mlle de la Croix I’m a chemist,” Chartres said. “I could help her brother. I could study with him.”
Odelette dabbed essence of roses behind Marie-Josèphe’s ears and on her throat and between her breasts. The tincture evaporated, chilling her skin, enveloping her in fragrance.
“You may think yourself a chemist, Philippe,” Monsieur said. “But you’re only a novice perfume maker.”
Chartres’ uneven gaze followed Odelette’s hands. Lorraine smiled at Marie-Josèphe, mocking and sympathetic. The skin around his eyes crinkled with the most attractive laugh-lines.
“Sometime you must try one of my perfumes,” Monsieur said. He waved his lace handkerchief before her face. A pungent and musky odor obliterated the fragrance of roses. “Now, who is superior, father or son?”
“I beg your pardon, Monsieur — but my nose is filled with the scent of roses, and I cannot compare another fragrance.” She dared not tell Monsieur his favorite perfume overwhelmed her and made her think of Lorraine.
“You look far too plain for the importance of the day.” Monsieur peered into a mirror, plucked off one of his own beauty patches, and pressed it just above the corner of Marie-Josèphe’s mouth.
“Thank you, Monsieur.” She curtsied, hardly knowing what else to do.
“Now that I’ve proven myself a chemist,” Chartres said, “will you recommend me as your brother’s assistant?”
“She will not, sir,” Monsieur said.
“You come to supper smelling of sulfur,” Madame said. “Now you propose to add fish guts? It isn’t proper for you to dirty your hands.”
“Or his reputation,” Lorraine said, a dark hint of warning in his voice.
“Be quiet, my dear.” Monsieur spoke with worried intensity and returned his attention to his son. “Dabbling in alchemy is beneath you.”
“Yes, it is, sir!” Chartres exclaimed. “What I study is chemistry. It’s important work.
We may discover how the world functions —”
“And what use is that, sir?” his father asked. “Will it advance the fortunes of our family?”
“I married Madame Lucifer to advance the fortunes of our family,” Chartres said.
“For all the good that did us,” Madame said.
His complexion dangerously choleric, Monsieur raised his voice. “You have duties enough already.”
“And what are those, sir?” Though Chartres’ voice held only innocence, his blind eye wandered wildly.
“To please the King,” Monsieur said.
oOo