The Adventurer by Jaclyn Reding Read Free Book Online Page A

silver. It had been woven in such a way that when the candlelight shone just right, the fabric rippled, as if it had been magically crafted of seawater. Isabella could but stare at it in silence. It was the most thoughtful gift she’d ever received.
    “Should you wish to try it on?”
    Isabella spent the next two hours being coiffed and primped and fitted for the impending evening. Minette was indeed a mistress of her craft. In minutes, it seemed, she had taken in the skirt to fit it to Isabella’s narrow waist, setting it off with an ivory lustring robe embroidered with blue and green flowers. The sleeves of the robe fitted tightly to Isabella’s arms, ending at her elbows in a triple row of flounces, each wider than the last, edged with a cascade of lace that fluttered elegantly whenever Isabella moved her arms. She replaced Isabella’s own smaller traveling skirt hoops with the much wider
panier à coudes
worn by the ladies of the court.
    They were so wide, Isabella could quite rest her arms upon them when she walked.
    Minette took the overskirt of the gown’s robe and looped it up in back in a manner that she called
à la polonaise,
setting each gather with a silk rosette. But the finishing touch was the gown’s stomacher. Made of emerald green silk, it was chased and figured in silver and gold threads with sequins and tiny seed pearls in a design similar to that on the skirt. The effect was so stunning Isabella had to stifle a gasp when she turned to look at herself in the pier glass.
    She almost didn’t recognize herself.
    “Oh, Minette. It is lovely. Truly, truly lovely.”
    Like any artisan, the maid smiled proudly. “Now let us see about your coiffure, mademoiselle.”
    At the appointed hour, a palace footman came to knock upon the door, conveying Isabella and Idonia by candlelight through the palace hallways, into the king’s own apartments, and on up a narrow flight of stairs to the private apartments of the Marquise de Pompadour.
    “Mademoiselle Drayton. Madame Fenwycke. So happy you could come.”
    Louis XV’s mistress greeted them both warmly, drawing them into a generous room peopled with what must have been at least a dozen others.
    As soon as they arrived, the conversations that had been buzzing fell silent and every powdered and rouged face turned to look at them.
    The marquise’s apartments were resplendent both in size and decor. Plasterwork ceilings carved in elaborate relief stretched above pristine parquet floors. There was a carved marble fireplace and tall arched windows that looked out onto the gardens and surrounding countryside. Carved fruitwood furnishings and portraits framed in gilt only added to the air of elegance and grace.
    And the players on this grand stage were no less impressive.
    There were powdered coiffures set with feathers and pearls, velvet coats trimmed in gold braiding, and gowns cut provocatively low over creamy bosoms bedecked with glittering jewels. Isabella crossed the room and immediately recognized the king, Louis, sitting in a chair near the fire. He was engaged in conversation with a gentleman whose face she couldn’t quite see. His clothing, however, was very rich, deep-colored velvets and shimmering silks.
    “My ladies, come, allow me to introduce you to the others.”
    The marquise was herself dressed to the height of fashion in a gown of rose-colored satin with a strand of pale pearls the size of Caroline’s play marbles. She ushered Isabella and Idonia about the room, introducing them to each of the other guests, an intriguing mix of personalities, noblemen and women, foreign dignitaries, and artists, including the author Voltaire. Lord Belcourt, her escort for their journey the next day, was also present.
    It took nearly an hour to make the introductions and by the time they had finished, a footman had appeared to announce that it was time to go in to supper.
    At once, the others took to their feet, crowding after their hostess as she led them into