Court Painter

| 10

As evening approaches, Arden is whisked to her chamber to be dressed for her appearance before the King and his children. Her presentation at Court is to be, as Queen Elza referred to it a debut of a blossoming socialite. The words intimidate Arden and she wonders at the Queen taking such a fancy to her social status but as Elisabeth explains the Queen's mindset, Arden begins to understand.

"Any females brought to court are accessories of the Queen. Her dressmaker was the Queen's first scandal. Previous monarchs never chose their own dressmaker, but when she brought in Diana Florentine, it was instantly made known that the Queen would surround herself with women who suited her own fashionable and social agenda. WOmen who seemed to refuse to conform. Her Ladies in waiting reflect that as well."

"And the women who was not introduced?" Arden asks.

Elisabeth smiles briefly before answering. "His Majesty's Mistress."

Arden glances up at Elisabeth in surprise. "But the Queen seems so happy..."

Elisabeth nods. "She is. She has produced and heir. She has done her duty. Now she is free to exist as she pleases."

"As she pleases?"

"She enjoys contributing to social matters, appearing at public events and..."

"And what?" Arden inquires, watching her own reflection in the mirror before her.

"I best not say," Elisabeth says. "I am sure Her Majesty will include you in any knowledge she feels you are entitled to."

"And how do you know her secrets?" Arden inquires.

"I only know because I am acquainted well with her chambermaid."

Arden is dressed in a deep blue gown embellished in gold lace. The finest dress she had ever worn and yet she feels so out of place. Elisabeth leaves her, promising to send for her when she is to make her appearance. The solitude is precious as the day has passed quickly, filled with new faces and many questions. The faint sound of horses outside indicate new arrivals. Torches light the way for approaching carriages and somewhere within the palace, a piano forte rings delicate music throughout.

Mistresses and unknown scandals. What debauchery will I be exposed to? Arden wonders, suddenly all too aware of her own naivety. Her reflection itself seems to scream with a lack of self-confidence. Cotton dresses concealing her skin is all she has ever known and now she wears silk and lace, delicate like the fabrics her father used to paint of his patrons. Her skin looks porcelain against the fine materials and her body seems exploited and yet far more beautiful and elegant and desireable than ever before. Her blonde hair is gathered in curls, exposing her neck and collarbone, all discrepancies her mother would be ashamed of. 

The silence is interrupted and Arden must instantly evolve into Madame Vegee, a woman of confidence and charm and qualities to be desired. 

A man in fine clothing introduces her to the court, a moment that can only be described as transformative. 

The world stills around her as her mind devours every detail. Every smell. The tapestries hang from high walls, telling stories of Aeros and Venus. Chandeliers glisten specks of light into the eyes of every individual who turns their attention to her. The throne furthest from her, elevating a handsome man high above everyone else while to this left sits his Queen and to his right, the Mistress. 

"Madame Vegee." The introduction is brief but the attention on herself seems to last an eternity. Queen Elza's ladies in waiting converse throughout the room, effortlessly vying information and social gossip from whomever they encounter. Handsome gentleman who are presumably there as decorations and entertainment, likely because of their own social status. 

As Arden descends a short flight of stairs into the heart of the gathering, the gaze of the Queen calls to her, wordlessly instructing her to come closer. At the base of the thrones, Arden kneels, lowering her eyes until a firm voice instructs her.

"Madame Arden de Vegee," The King speaks and gestures with the flick of his wrist for her to stand. "I see my Queen has adopted a new pet."

Unsure of what to say, Arden responds simply. "I am ever so privileged to be welcomed here by Her Majesty."

"Hardly," King Viscer answers. "Queen Elza is fond of ladies that provide her entertainment and it seems your talent will do just that."

It is clear the King is finished and thus Queen Elza speaks. "Might I introduce my son, Dauphin Theuderic." He's slender, tall, and hardly anyone to look at. Arden, although not one to take note of appearance in a negative way, can't help but wonder where the homely nature of his looks came from as his mother and father are both so beautiful. Nevertheless, Arden curtsies and effortlessly acts charmed by the presence of the Prince. "Your majesty." Three other children, all daughters are introduced before the King seems to perk up. As the four children move away from the thrones and disintegrate, finding their chosen partners for the night, King Viscer reaches for the hand of his mistress who raises a hand to seemingly get another's attention.

He wears a black tunic embroidered with black silk thread across the chest. A slightly disgruntled white collar peeks out from beneath the high neck of the tunic. Arden notices first the way he walks in a sort of confidence that the King's children lacked. 

"Mother," He takes the offered hand of the King's mistress and kisses it. King Viscer smiles broadly. 

"My son. I trust your outting was fruitful?"

"Ever so, father."

Arden struggles to conceal the surprise on her face as she watches the fond exchange in contrast to the way the King seemed disinterested in His children with the Queen. Queen Elza has turned her attention away from the bastard, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

"Madame," The Mistress speaks, again her voice oozing in what Arden would describe as a lustful tone. "My son, Mayven de Moret." 

His eyes, a sharp and depthless blue met Arden's with the same confidence displayed in his walk. "Madame de Vegee," He reaches for her hand, bold and disconcerned with watchful eyes. "A pleasure." There is no element of haughty intentions. On the contrary, his respect for Arden is apparent. 

"A pleasure," Arden repeats, curtsying as he releases her hand. A sensation, foriegn and frightening overwhelms her. Her fingertips feel colder than usual as his warm hand sepparates from her's. A heat forms in her cheeks and instantly, her eyes lower to the ground.