Atonement

Chapter 1

Chateau de Versailles, France

1670

From now on, I own you.

Those words, uttered by Fabien Marchal, the head of the king's personal guard, reverberated through Sophie de Clermont's mind as she navigated her way through the underbelly of Versailles. She'd never been in this part of the palace before, had not even known it existed before now. There were no halls of glass here, no sumptuous tapestries and wallpaper, none of the golden splendour she was so accustomed to seeing throughout the rest of the king's residence. In contrast, the series of tunnels that ran beneath the royal chateau were dark and damp, the bare stone fortifications free of any decoration save the occasional patch of moss. Along the upper slopes of the walls were flame torches at irregular intervals illuminating the passageway ahead, but even the soft glow cast by the lamplight could not mask the cold gloom surrounding her. She was certain there were traces of vermin underfoot, and God knew not what else, so as a precaution against soiling the hem of her gown, she lifted it a few inches off the ground before continuing down the narrow corridor.

The hour was late and while there was still an abundance of entertainment for the nobles at court to enjoy into the early hours of the morning, Sophie was not in the mood to gossip or play cards. Not when her world was slowly crumbling around her. Her mother was gone, but to where she did not know. Apart from being fraud, Beatrice de Clermont had also been a Huguenot spy who'd conspired against the king. The news had come as a heavy blow to Sophie, particularly after so recently discovering that she was not of noble birth as she'd been lead to believe, but rather the daughter of two protestant nobodies. She had always known her mother was shrewd and ambitious, but she had not for a moment thought her a traitor. Was she presently locked up in a dungeon somewhere being tortured? Or had she been banished to some dismal part of the country where no one would ever find her? Neither scenario was particularly comforting.

And now, after so recently being taken into the royal household as a companion to Princess Henriette, Sophie's position hung in the balance. The princess had taken ill after collapsing at the masked ball held in her honour the previous evening, and if rumours were to be believed, her life was in danger. Guilt washed over Sophie as she listened to her heels echoing off the stone walls. Though nothing had been confirmed, she knew Her Royal Highness was thought to have been poisoned and the meal in question was one Sophie had prepared. She knew she'd done nothing wrong, but that did not make her feel any less responsible. She liked the princess and would not wish to see her come to any harm.

Though, this was not the first time her position at court had come under threat. When Monsieur Marchal had visited her apartment, ordering her to leave Versailles after her mother's deception had come to light, she'd panicked. She had nowhere to go, no one to call on for assistance and no means of supporting herself save one - Benoit.

She'd been flattered by the attention of the handsome builder even though her mother had disapproved. Their budding romance had been sweet, their embraces tender and chaste. When Sophie had realised that she'd been kicked out of court, she'd gone to him for help, explaining everything. She would happily have married him, but he would not take her. Benoit had been furious, calling her a liar and a cheat and Sophie could not blame him. While she had not understood or condoned her mother's deceit, she'd done nothing to put stop to it either. She'd been too afraid of the consequences.

Madame de Clermont's ambition for her daughter had always been clear: Sophie was to catch the king's eye and thereby secure their futures. This had never been Sophie's desire, for while she thought the king a handsome man, she did not love him. Nor did she relish the idea of being his possession for only as long as he deemed her worthy; her heart would not survive such callous treatment. But since she'd loved her mother and tried to be obedient, she had done as she was told. She'd worn the expensive gowns she was certain they did not have the coin to pay for and uttered barely a word of protest when her corset was tightened to such a painful degree that it hurt to breathe. You must suffer for beauty, my dearest. The sentiment had been repeated ad nauseum as numerous maids spent hours curling her hair into the latest, elaborate styles and various creams and potions were applied to her skin to keep her complexion fair and free of imperfections.