Chapter 28
It is growing more difficult to trust that these letters will reach their intended destinations, but I hope this one succeeds.
I have been working tirelessly to get my family to safety in any way that I can while my husband toils with the National Assembly and attempts to maintain some sort of role for him and for our son.
I dare not send us to my homeland, nor any of its affiliated nations, but perhaps Switzerland would be possible.
England would be a trial, even if Charlotte could take us. But we must leave. For all our sakes.
Antoinette
Every one of Antoinette’s nerves was on alert. Every beat of her heart pounded endlessly in her ears. Every eye in existence seemed to be on her, catching her strain and her secrets, yearning to seek them out.
They were leaving the Tuileries tonight. Escaping France at last. Everything was in place. They needed only the security of nightfall, and waiting was the worst form of torture.
The last eighteen months had been one degradation after another for her and Louis.
Forced to accept the Assembly as the official governing body while they were permitted to remain on the throne with minimal rights.
Stripped of everything they had known and required to remain in Paris or nearby at all times.
The palace at the Tuileries might have been majestic once, but it was decayed, ramshackle, and populated with distant royal relations and servants.
It was dark, crumbling, and uncomfortable, but there was nowhere else to go.
Their bodyguards had been replaced with members of the National Guard under Lafayette’s command, which was the only comfort, slight though it was.
The Pope had refused to agree to the National Assembly’s wishes for the clergy to swear an oath of loyalty to the new constitution, forcing Louis to stand alone in conceding.
Without the Pope by their side, France might as well have been in religious exile, and that was a crushing blow.
Her brother Joseph had died, leaving their younger brother Leopold as the new Holy Roman Emperor, and Leopold had told Antoinette not to expect their assistance.
Joseph had wanted her to come to him in Austria, and now Leopold was asking her not to come.
Leopold had promised her full support, but apparently that was only on his terms.
Antoinette had no desire to leave Louis. She had refused all plans proposed for her to do so, and there had been several. Her duty was to die at the feet of the king, and she intended to do that if required.
Rumors about her abounded, as usual, and were getting more creative. She was going to be put to death and Louis would marry his cousin’s daughter. She was going to be seized and shut up in a fortress. Artois was going to claim Lyons and give her sanctuary.
None of them were true, but there was no point in doing anything about them.
Especially not when the family was escaping tonight.
“I think that will be all, Fersen,” Louis said, bringing Antoinette out of her reverie and to the present moment.
The three of them were in a quiet study at the Tuileries, finishing the final arrangements for their departure this evening.
Fersen, a Swedish count, had been a friend of theirs for more than a decade now, fighting in America with the French army and joining their court when the war was over.
He was one of their greatest allies, and, while rumors swirled about his relationship with her, no one could deny that he was a trusted friend and adviser of Louis.
Fersen nodded, his expression tight even as he smiled. “Then I take my leave of you, Your Majesty, and wish you Godspeed.”
“Whatever happens,” Louis replied, “I shall never forget all you are doing for me.”
They shook hands, Louis clasping Fersen’s tightly before releasing him and gesturing toward Antoinette.
Fersen smiled sadly as he came to her, taking her hand and bowing deeply to kiss it. “Godspeed, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Fersen,” she whispered in a choked voice.
His eyes were damp as they met hers, then he nodded and turned away, leaving the room with brisk steps.
She exhaled heavily, knowing there would be more painful farewells before the night was over.
“I hate this,” Louis murmured to the silent room. “But we no longer have a choice.”
Antoinette nodded, swallowing back tears. “Do you still fear being a fugitive king?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “The shame of it will never leave me.”
“Our situation here is frightful in a way those who do not have to endure it cannot hope to understand,” Antoinette insisted. “We have done our best, and now we must think of our lives and our children.”
Louis closed his eyes, his chin dipping in a slow nod. “There is still much to do,” he said eventually. “We should get to it.”
Without another word, he left the room, and Antoinette did the same, going to her apartments to continue her preparations and try to somehow settle her nerves.
She went through the motions of the day as though nothing were taking place.
Dinner with Louis and his sister. Bidding the children good night and sending them to bed.
Supper with Provence, his wife, and Louis, keeping up delighted appearances, though they, too, would be leaving Paris this evening by a separate plan.
Finally, it was time for them all to retire for the evening.
Louis kissed her cheek in his usual farewell, his smile slight and fond, but Antoinette found a sign of comfort and encouragement there as well.
Accompanied by the usual high dignitaries, and Commander Lafayette himself, Louis departed for his apartments.
With Lafayette in the palace, and staying so close to Louis, their task would be even more difficult.
Lafayette was determined to maintain safety and security, and keep the guise of being their trusted friend, but neither Louis nor Antoinette would forget that he was pledged to the Assembly by way of the National Guard.
If anyone would disrupt their escape, it would be him.
Anxiety lit every fiber of Antoinette’s being as she made her way toward her apartments. The prospect of escape had always been an unnerving one, but now that it was here, it would be a miracle if she managed not to burst into tears from the panic filling her.
Once she was undressed, she dismissed her ladies and made to get into bed. But no sooner had the door closed than she was up once more and moving to the nursery.
Thérèse and Louis-Charles had been asleep for some time, but Pauline had been quietly gathering everything necessary for their escape. And now, seeing Antoinette, Pauline moved to the bed of the sleeping boy.
Antoinette went to the bedside of Thérèse. “Wake up, my darling,” she urged, shaking her arm gently but firmly to rouse her.
Her daughter’s eyes scrunched up, then opened blearily. “Mama?”
“Shh.” Antoinette put a finger to her lips. “We are leaving. Come, put on your disguise.” She helped her out of bed and into a simple dark dress and suitable boots.
“I don’t want to be dressed as a girl!” Louis-Charles protested from across the room.
Pauline shushed him. “Only for a little while, my prince.”
“I think you make a very pretty girl,” Thérèse told him in a loud whisper.
That earned her a dark scowl, but Antoinette could agree with her. Louis-Charles was blessed with long, fair hair, and would likely be the best disguised of any of them.
Once the children were dressed, she and Pauline led them down a passage and downstairs, turning into the apartments that opened into the main courtyard. As the apartments were presently unoccupied, they were left unguarded.
A dark figure dressed as a cabbie leaned against the wall nearby and glanced over at the opened door.
Antoinette met his eyes, the only recognizable feature of their friend Fersen, and nodded, pushing Pauline and the children toward him. He nodded in return and ushered the trio into the parked carriage, urging Louis-Charles to hide under the skirts of the governess.
The plan was for Fersen to drive about with them in the coach as though he were some hired coachman, and then return to fetch Louis and Antoinette when it was time.
If nothing else, at least the children would be able to escape.
She retraced her steps to the nursery and back to her own rooms, beginning the process of changing into her own disguise.
Brown dress, black cloak, and a black hat with a veil, suitable for her persona of a governess or waiting woman; there was nothing of a queen about her appearance now.
Then, silently, she laid out the traveling clothes they had prepared for Louis, knowing his escape from his apartments would be the most difficult.
Once all was set, she sat upon her bed and mentally ran through the details of their story, only using the assumed names and not the actual ones.
She could not risk a slip of the tongue that would expose them all.
The door to the secret stairs opened, startling her as Louis entered in his nightclothes.
“They are away?” he whispered, moving to the bed and kissing her brow quickly.
“Yes.” She watched as he changed into the brown suit, then helped him fix the gray wig into place.
Louis slipped into the green overcoat and adjusted the lapels, his thick brows furrowing. “I go by the main stairs,” he reminded her. “They should think I am Chevalier de Coigny, since this is what he has departed in every evening for a fortnight.”
She had forgotten that detail, so the relief she felt from hearing that was swift and sharp.
She handed him the round hat and cane, her throat so tight with emotion she thought she might choke with it. “Be safe,” she whimpered.
His eyes met hers and he closed the distance between them, taking her face in his hands. “I will be getting into a coach along with every other dignitary in the palace tonight,” he reminded her. “No one will suspect a thing.”