The Sisters of Versailles Read Online Free

sometimes drive over for the day, to visit and supervise my housekeeping skills. I could not say I disliked Anne-Marie-Françoise, for that would be disloyal to my husband and to my father; to my whole family in fact (for as well as my mother-in-law, she is also my great-aunt), but I found her visits tedious and irritating. If the candles were too low in their sconces or the soup served bland and cold, she was sure to let me know. Anne-Marie-Françoise was a relation of the last king’s wife, Madame de Maintenon, but only a poor one. When her criticisms were especially harsh I would think: You are the daughter of a country squire, a nobody! But then if she was just a country squire’s daughter, what did that make me, married as I was to her son?
    One fine spring day she arrived without sending a note; her face was grimmer than usual. “Are you ill?” I cried, then caught myself, for my voice held more hope than concern.
    “No, silly child, I am not ill. I am very rarely ill, praise be to God. Never a sick day in my life. I shall talk without waste. Do you know what today is?”
    “Thursday,” I said, then instantly I was unsure. My mother-in-law always made me nervous. Perhaps it was Friday? No, I was sure it was Thursday and not Friday; we had dined on rabbit. I then realized it was my wedding anniversary.
    “It is my wedding anniversary,” I said in surprise. “Two years exactly.”
    I was confused, for surely a husband should visit his wife on their anniversary. Why had my mother-in-law come?
    “Louise-Julie. You have not even suffered a miscarriage, if I am correct?”
    In one miserable instant I saw the reason for her visit.
    “You should be ashamed of yourself. Louis-Alex assures me he has done his duty by you, yet still, nothing.”
    “But Louis-Alexandre is rarely here,” I said in a small voice. I knew how one becomes pregnant, and surely if he wanted a child Louis-Alexandre should visit more?
    “That is a lie!” cried my mother-in-law. “Louis-Alex said you would try to blame him. He comes as often as he is able, what with his duties with his regiment, and at great personal expense to himself. The ride is a long one, but he knows his duty. He comes here at least twice a month. You must not lie about your husband.”
    I protested the injustice of what she was saying. “He visits perhaps once or twice a season , and only for the hunt. And when he is here he does not . . . I do not always see him in my bed.”
    “Are you calling your husband, my son, a liar?”
    Suddenly I hated her rather viciously. Zélie, our wise governess, always told us that we must never say we hate someone. Hate is a very strong word, Zélie warned us; the most we were permitted was to dislike . But suddenly I did not dislike my mother-in-law; I hated her. “He is a liar,” I said, more forcefully than I intended, perhaps more forcefully than I had ever said anything in my life. “He never comes here! I am all alone here in this horrible house, and how may I be blessed if my husband is never here?”
    Anne-Marie-Françoise regarded me with disdain. “I knew this would be a waste of time. You call my son a liar and insult this house.” She rose stiffly. “You must watch yourself, madame,” she hissed as she turned to leave. “I should tell you the story of my great-aunt de Villette. After too many barren years her husband had had enough and he put her in a convent. My sister at Poissy would be more than happy to welcome you, if married life does not suit. Convents are not only for nuns and pockmarked girls, you know.”
    I sat in horror after she left. I was sorry to disappoint Zélie, but I realized I truly hated my mother-in-law. I hate her. I said the words out loud to the walls and the fire screen and the candlesticks andthe two stuffed chairs: I hate her. I hate her and I wish she would die. And then I could leave this place and finally start living.
    The next day I didn’t even do penance in the chapel.
    It