Despite the descriptions and the paintings that had made their way to England, nothing had prepared Annette for her first glimpse of Versailles. Fountains played in the ornamental gardens while ladies with large fans sat on fine stone benches taking the air. The scent of the numerous rose bushes tantalized her nostrils with its perfume and the beautifully shaped bushes had not a leaf out of place.
The gardens were something to behold, however Annette was not there to gaze upon topiary. Versailles was the home of the King of France and his court and Annette eagerly looked forward to being presented, maybe even to find a husband.
Annette allowed her eyes to cast about her once more – there were a few sets of shapely breeches strolling around the gardens – she allowed her gaze to rest upon a particularly pleasing pair for a moment. She glanced upwards to catch a glimpse of his face. He was attractive, in a traditional type of way, certainly one to seek an official introduction to. Or maybe unofficial, Annette didn't necessarily play by the rules and this was one of the reasons she found herself in France in the first place.
Lady Annette was 19 years of age and had been sent to France by her father. Two young men had decided that they were both worthy of her hand and had taken matters into their own hands. After a botched duel, where both ended up injured, her father, Sir Roger, decided that the best thing to do was to get her out of the way and Annette had begged for France, claiming it would improve her prospects.
'Father couldn't know about the rumours', mused Annette to herself, 'otherwise he would never have sent me'. In London, the word was the French court was scandalous, talk of dangerous liaisons in dark corners and decadence beyond avarice. Fortunately for Annette, Sir Roger rarely frequented court and relied on his representative and informant, Annette's older brother, James. Not wanting to be removed from court himself, James only fed his father the more savoury tidbits of information. Annette had begged James not to tell their father about the court of France and asked him only to point out the potential marriage prospects.
And so, here she was. Stepping into the cool stone room from the heat of outside, she was for a moment disorientated and nearly swooned. Her arm was caught by an attractive young man – the same young man who had been the source of her gaze earlier.
"Je m'excuse, Mademoiselle," a soft, yet strong voice reached her ears.
Seeing she didn't immediately understand, he spoke in broken English, 'You were about to fall, I hope I didn't offend you by touching you thus? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Gabriel Du Pique'
"No," stammered Annette, 'Merci beaucoup." He bowed to her and left.
Over the next few weeks, Annette made many friends and broke a few hearts as the custom required. But she wanted more than boring small talk behind her fan in the company of her chaperone. Two young men in particular had caught her eye – Gabriel Du Pique and his friend Benoit Chattelour. But who to choose?
Gabriel had the typical dark hair and dark eyes of the continental male and had what one would describe as 'rugged good looks'. Benoit on the other hand, was sandy haired with an angelic face which radiated innocence. Jeanne had warned her that Gabriel had a reputation for breaking young ladies hearts claiming none of them good enough for him – Annette viewed this as her own personal challenge, yet Benoit's innocence offered a challenge of a different kind. Both, in her eyes, were worth pursuing but even she knew that she would have to choose. The key was to keep them separate and both liaisons going until she had decided which.
Pleased with this solution to her thorny issue, Annette prepared for the evening with care. She had sent a letter to Benoit, suggesting that she would need to take some air during that evening and he was to offer to escort her. The letter more than implied that he would be in receipt of more than just her gratitude.
