The Comte St. Germain was fortunately not invited for this evening. We dined simply en famille, so that Jared could rehearse Jamie in the few details left to be arranged before his departure. Of these, the most important was the King’s lever at Versailles.
Being invited to attend the King’s lever was a considerable mark of favor, Jared explained over dinner.
“Not to you, lad,” he said kindly, waving a fork at Jamie. “To me. The King wants to make sure I’m coming back from Germany—or Duverney, the Minister of Finance, does, at least. The latest wave of taxes hit the merchants hard, and a good many of the foreigners left—with the ill effects on the Royal Treasury you can imagine.” He grimaced at the thought of taxes, scowling at the baby eel on his fork.
“I mean to be gone by Monday-week. I’m waiting only for word that the Wilhelmina’s come in safe to Calais; then I’m off.” Jared took another bite of eel and nodded at Jamie, talking around the mouthful of food. “I’m leaving the business in good hands, lad; I’ve no worry on that score. We might talk a bit before I go about other matters, though. I’ve arranged with the Earl Marischal that we’ll go with him to Montmartre two days hence, for you to pay your respects to His Highness, Prince Charles Edward.”
I felt a sudden thump of excitement in the pit of my stomach, and exchanged a quick glance with Jamie. He nodded at Jared, as though this were nothing startling, but his eyes sparkled with anticipation as he looked at me. So this was the start of it.
“His Highness lives a very retired life in Paris,” Jared was saying as he chased the last eels, slick with butter, around the edge of the plate. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for him to appear in society, until and unless the King receives him officially. So His Highness seldom leaves his house, and sees few people, save those supporters of his father who come to pay their respects.”
“That isn’t what I’ve heard,” I interjected.
“What?” Two pairs of startled eyes turned in my direction, and Jared laid down his fork, abandoning the final eel to its fate.
Jamie arched an eyebrow at me. “What have ye heard, Sassenach, and from whom?”
“From the servants,” I said, concentrating on my own eels. Seeing Jared’s frown, it occurred to me for the first time that it might not be considered quite the thing for the lady of the house to be gossiping with parlormaids. Well, the hell with it, I thought rebelliously. There wasn’t much else for me to do.
“The parlormaid says that His Highness Prince Charles has been paying calls on the Princesse Louise de La Tour de Rohan,” I said, plucking a single eel off the fork and chewing slowly. They were delicious, but felt rather disconcerting if swallowed whole, as though the creature were still alive. I swallowed carefully. So far, so good.
“In the absence of the lady’s husband,” I added delicately.
Jamie looked amused, Jared horrified.
“The Princesse de Rohan?” Jared said. “Marie-Louise-Henriette-Jeanne de La Tour d’Auvergne? Her husband’s family are very close to the King.” He rubbed his fingers across his lips, leaving a buttery shine around his mouth. “That could be very dangerous,” he muttered, as though to himself. “I wonder if the wee fool…but no. Surely he’s more sense than that. It must be only inexperience; he’s not been so much in society, and things are different in Rome. Still…” He left off muttering and turned to Jamie with decision.
“That will be your first task, lad, in the service of His Majesty. You’re much of an age with His Highness, but you have the experience and the judgment of your time in Paris—and my training, I flatter myself.” He smiled briefly at Jamie. “You can befriend his Highness; smooth his path as much as may be with those men that will be of use to him; you’ve met most of them by now. And explain to His Highness—as tactfully as ye can—that gallantry in the wrong direction may do considerable damage to the aims of his father.”
Jamie nodded absently, plainly thinking of something else.
“How does our parlormaid come to know about His Highness’s vists, Sassenach?” he asked. “She doesna leave the house more than once a week, to go to Mass, does she?”
I shook my head, and swallowed the next mouthful in order to reply.
“So far as I’ve worked it out, our kitchenmaid heard it from the knife-boy, who heard it from the stable-lad, who got it from the groom next door. I don’t know how many people there are in between, but the Rohan house is three doors down the street. I’d imagine the Princesse knows all about us, too,” I added cheerfully. “At least she does, if she talks to her kitchenmaid.”