MARTHE

Gérard leads Jacques, one of the most handsome bachelors in all Paris, into the conservatory decorated with tropical plants.

Marthe's mind goes back to last night when Jacques walked into the theatre and two young ladies with corsets tied too tightly swooned clean away.  She smiles at the memory then glances at her maid sitting several feet away, head bowed on embroidery.

Marthe sits with poise by a table with fruit and the finest liquor.  Jacques bows then smiles mischievously in the way that makes her heart race.  Marthe stands up, stretching out her right gloved hand towards him.  She curtsies as he presses a kiss to the back of her gloved hand.

"Jacques it does me good to see you, it's been too long," she whispers coquettishly.

"I got you a drink at the theatre after the ballet performance last night."

Marthe waves a fan to cool the blush rising over her youthful eighteen year old face. "There were many friends at the theatre last night, you can't expect me to remember everyone who paid me a compliment or got me a drink."

"Quite so Marthe," he clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably as silence descends upon them.

"Will you be at the ball this evening?"

"It'll be a pleasure to escort you to the ball and every social engagement after tonight."

"Oh, why is that," she flatters her eyelids.

"We've known each other since we were toddlers playing hide and seek in the forêt de Fontainebleau or swimming in the Seine river. Your father stocks my father's shops with the best silks, spices, decorations, fireworks and other treasures from the far east," he gets down on one knee and presents her with a sizeable clear diamond solitaire in red box. "Our union in marriage is the logical extension of our lifelong friendship."

Stifling laughter Marthe says, "You never liked me when we were younger.  You pulled my ponytails and pushed me in a puddle of mud when I was in the white angel costume Mama made."

"What can I say?  You had my attention even then," he grins, "In my defence, I changed the way I express my affection to the fairer sex.   I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Your father has not been paying suppliers.  You need urgent investment to keep your family out of debtors' jail.   I think, your proposal is more to do with my dowry than any affection you have for me.  What do I get for marrying you," she asks closing the fan she's waving before her face.

"A faithful husband who will devote his life to making you happy."

"You want me to watch you be the centre of attention for the rest of my life?"

"Noblewomen will be envious of your wealth and fiancé.  Soon, you'll be the woman with the husband very woman wants to be with but never can."

"You should have sent word for me to come, see you and the Countess.  Is everything alright?"

"Can't I visit my goddaughter without getting the third degree?"

"Of course you can," she pours out and hands him iced lemon that he is partial to.  "How was your journey to Provence?"

He turns to see Camille, the maid's head bowed concentrating on the bandages Beauty is preparing for her three older brothers at the front.  He lowers his voice. "My trip is the reason I'm here today, on your birthday."

Brow furrowed, Beauty leans in closer.

"You might not remember this Beauty, but you were five years old when you came crying to me about something you overheard your sisters saying about your birth."

Beauty smiles stoically. "It doesn't bother me anymore because I know the truth. Papa was there. It was a difficult birth, Mama and Papa thought I died but the midwife resuscitated me. Death darkened my complexion and hair."

"Do you believe that deep down inside of you?"

"Of course," she nods with certainty. "Papa and Mama, may she rest in peace," she makes the sign of the cross, "wouldn't say something happened if it didn't."

"To tell the story of your birth, we have to start with the family I went to see in Provence." He reaches into his pocket and hands her a painted family portrait.

Stunned Beauty doesn't reply.

"That is the likeness of your biological father, the Count of Provence, your biological mother Countess consort of Provence and Countess of Savoy. Your younger sisters from left to right Eleanor, Sanchia and Beatrice of Provence." The family resemblance is so striking Beauty has no difficulty believing the Count's incredulous account.

"Wait...are you saying my sisters were right when they said I wasn't of the same bloodline?" She looks at the painting in her hand, "I don't have biological brothers?" she blinks through the tears.

"Your younger brother Raymond died young."

"I don't understand. Why did the Count and Countess leave me here? Does my Papa and my late Mama know?"

"You have many questions and I'll do my best to answer them.   A local midwife was paid to switch you with any still born baby and keep your identity secret.  She moved to Provence the next day so there was no way she could be pressured to divulge the family secret.  Antoine doesn't know you were replaced with their still born daughter.  They were relieved to have a healthy new born.  They accepted you as their own, named and raised you with all the love in their hearts."

"Why me? They kept my siblings-"

"You're their first child.  After many royal houses lost their first children in mysterious circumstances, you had to be kept away from Provence to be safe.  Since you were here, you were contracted to marry Louis.  He was three years old, with no prospects of being king. Whatever evil magic has afflicted the royal houses in Europe has struck again which is why I'm here."

"There's more?"

"Yes my dear. The king who has not been heard from in several years will soon be declared dead. The Queen Mother, the Count and Countess naturally release you of any obligation to them and to King Louis IX.   They would like to meet you and ask your forgiveness for the danger that led to your estrangement from them."

"I'm French now, all my familial ties are to this family. I can never be their daughter, it would break Papa's heart."

"The Count and Countess understand that.   You have been in their thoughts and prayers all these sixteen years.  They have observed you from afar but would like to have the chance to meet you, maybe even become friends.  What do you think?

"I'd like that," Beauty dabs her eyes trying to digest the news.

"They will be visiting the royal family in a few days.  I've sought leave for you to stay at palace."

"I wish Papa could come but I never want him to find out I'm not his miracle child...wait a minute, do you really think the King is dead?"

"It's the only explanation for his disappearance these four years.  All messengers to the castle at forêt de Fontainebleau were accompanied by armed guard and every single one disappeared without a trace.   The clearest indication evil magic is at work."

"The Queen Mother has lost too many children. I am sorry."

"Your betrothed, will be declared dead."

"It was never meant to be Count Nevers.  When my fortune was read, I was meant to fall in love with a labourer not the King.  I was raised by a merchant, a life in the Royal Court is far above my station in life.  I'd rather stay with Papa," she blinks rapidly but tears escape her eyelids running down her cheeks.

"There, there," Count of Nevers reaches for the white handkerchief in his jacket to wipe away her tears.  "This is your home Beauty.  You won't be torn away from it and I promise not to tell Antoine."  He clasps her right hand between both of his conveying his affection for the sixteen year old girl, wise beyond her years.

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July, 18, 2016