Born into the lap of luxury and a time of turmoil, Duchesse Eleonore Vigneron experiences her coming of age in the Court of Louis XVI . Embroiled in the chaos that surrounds Versailles, Eleni uses her unique blend of wit, charm, and beauty to ensure...
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"If a woman had no existence save in the fiction written by men, one would imagine her a person of the utmost importance; very various; heroic and mean; splendid and sordid; infinitely beautiful and hideous in the extreme; as great as a man, some think even better."---Virginia Woolf
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20 janvier 1795 Firenze, Italie
Dearest Journal-Friend,
The thing they promised me has come to pass, and now I am in a place that is one of safety. Things are quiet and dull here, although I had spent so much of the past year in seclusion that I do not remember when things were quiet.
I was sent to the countryside of my most beautiful Versailles, cared for by a seamstress and her husband, a talented cook who managed to create the illusion of things being normal in a time when resources are few. While I awaited the time of the birth of Arnauld and Marguerite, they were kind to me. The woman, Madame Pauline, she dressed me in the simple frocks of the working class and hid my hair beneath a white cap so I should not have the trouble of tending to it on my own quite so frequently. It is shocking to know most people do not bathe nor dress their hair more than once a week. It is freeing to not have to go through such elaborate rituals each day, only then to help other women with their own. The greatest freedom is not needing to worry about looking beautiful for merely finding a husband.
I know I do not look beautiful, not now, and I have not for such time. During my confinement, I saw few besides Pauline and her daughters. She taught me a bit about sewing and embroidery, and I suppose I had reasonably decent talent in these things. If it is needed, I can pass myself off as a seamstress or governess and demonstrate some skill, so it is believable. A few times, my heart stopped at the sounds of the wagon and the men searching through the countryside for "traitors to the cause of Liberty". I heard the same cries I listened to the night my parents were taken, the motto of the Revolution. It made me wish to weep, though I did not. Madame Pauline looked at me often as if she pitied me, and I hoped she did not. It is natural, of course, when a woman finds herself in a pitiable state.
I was always careful to keep my eyes down. If I did that, they barely took notice of me, and the visits soon became fewer and fewer. There are rumours that the time of terror and fear is coming to an end, but it cannot arrive soon enough
