‘You are growing old, you know, brother. You should show more seriousness.’

‘Ha! Look who commands me.’

‘And you a father!’

‘Fathers must have their fun, ’Toinette.’

‘You have not forgotten, I trust, that it will soon be your eldest son’s birthday. That reminds me – I have such a charming gift for him. I hope it will please young Monsieur le Duc d’Angoulême.’

‘If you chose the gift, it surely will,’ said Artois. He went on: ‘Vaudreuil would wish for a part, I am sure.’

She was determined to tease him, although she was interested in the Beaumarchais play.

‘I have some diamond epaulets and buckles for your son,’ she said. ‘They are certainly charming. I wonder if they are here. I will show them to you.’

‘Let us settle this matter of the play first.’

‘There is time for that.’ She called to one of her women. ‘Henriette, has Boehmer brought the diamonds for the Little Duke?’

‘Yes, Madame. I have them here. The jeweller left a letter for you with them. He was somewhat agitated. He was so anxious that you should have the letter.’

‘Bring them to me. I wish to show the ornaments to the Comte.’

Henriette de Campan brought the jewels and the letter. Antoinette showed the trinkets to Artois and, while he was examining them, she opened the letter from the jeweller.

She read it and frowned.

‘This surprises me,’ she said.

Artois came and looked over her shoulder, and they read the letter together.

‘Why so?’ asked the Comte.

‘Because I have no notion what the man is talking about. Henriette,’ she called.

Madame de Campan came hurrying to her side.

‘How was Boehmer when he left the letter?’

‘Strange, Madame. Agitated.’

‘Do you think he is … sane?’

‘Sane, Madame? How so?’

‘He writes such a strange letter. I have no notion what he means. He says he is very satisfied by the arrangements and that it is a great pleasure to him that the most magnificent diamonds in the world are now in the possession of the most beautiful of Queens.’

‘He’s hoping for business,’ said Artois.

‘A strange letter to write. What does he want to sell me now? Thank heaven it is not that necklace of his!’

‘The famous necklace,’ mused Artois.

‘You’ve heard of it?’

‘Who has not heard of it? Didn’t the man roam the world trying to sell it?’

‘Yes. He declared that if he did not succeed he would be ruined. He came to me one day and implored me to have it. He made quite a scene before Charlotte. I told him to break up the stones and sell them separately. It was a foolish idea to make the necklace in the first place. I was delighted when he sold it. Who was it bought it, Henriette?’

‘The Sultan of Constantinople bought it for his favourite wife, Madame,’ said Madame de Campan.

‘I was quite relieved when I heard it,’ said Antoinette. She looked at the letter again, laughed and held it up to the flame of the candle. Then she threw it from her into the fireplace. Dismissing the matter, she called to Madame de Campan to put the little Duke’s present away and gave herself up to the pleasure of discussing the proposed performance of Le Barbier de Seville.


* * *

The Queen was rehearsing her lines. There was no doubt about it; Beaumarchais had surpassed himself with the Barber. She really believed with Artois that it was a better play than Le Mariage de Figaro.

Her role was – apart from that of the barber – the most important, and she was eager to acquit herself with honours. It should be one of those occasions such as she loved. The King and all the most noble people at Court should be in the audience. Meanwhile rehearsal followed rehearsal.

She found it a little difficult to concentrate on rehearsals, for on the previous day the jeweller Boehmer had presented himself at Trianon and begged an audience. She had refused this. She sent her woman to say that she was in no need of new jewels and, if at any time she decided she needed more, she would send for him.

The woman had reported that the man had been very disconsolate and had told her that Madame de Campan had suggested he see the Queen as soon as possible.

‘Madame de Campan!’ Antoinette had cried. ‘Where is Henriette? Is she not visiting her father-in-law?’

‘It is so, Madame,’ Antoinette was told.

‘Then the man is clearly not telling the truth. It is some plot of his to obtain an audience and then show me some magnificent pair of earrings which he has made especially for me. It will be like the affair of the necklace all over again.’

Nevertheless the matter worried her. Could it really be that the man was going out of his mind? That letter he had written about the satisfactory arrangements – what could it mean? It really seemed as though he were, to put it kindly, a little unbalanced.

The rehearsal went on, and afterwards everyone declared that Antoinette would make a charming Rosine – a perfect foil to Artois’ barber. Oh, yes, this was certainly going to be the finest production ever seen at the Trianon Theatre.

When her women were helping to dress her after the rehearsal, one of them mentioned that Henriette de Campan had returned from her visit to her father-in-law, and that she was anxious to speak to the Queen privately as soon as Antoinette would receive her.

‘Leave me now,’ said Antoinette, ‘and tell her to come to me at once.’

When Henriette came, Antoinette immediately saw that something had happened to cause her grave anxiety.

‘Henriette,’ cried the Queen, ‘what is wrong, and why did you send that absurd man Boehmer to Trianon?’

‘It is about the necklace. The diamond necklace.’

‘That trinket … the one which was sold to the Sultan of Constantinople?’

Henriette was looking at her mistress with bewildered eyes. ‘Boehmer says, Madame, that it was not sold to the Sultan, but that it was sold to you.’

‘Then he is mad. I feared it. So that is what he wished to see me about. Speak up, Henriette. What are you thinking? What has he told you? It is a lie if he says I bought the necklace. You know very well that he sold it to the Sultan.’

‘Madame, I must tell you what has happened. He was at my father-in-law’s house. He said he must talk to me about this matter, for he found it difficult to get an audience with Your Majesty. He said he was surprised that I did not know you had bought the necklace. He felt sure that I must have seen you wear it on some occasion.’

‘But he himself said it was sold to the Sultan.’

‘I told him this, Madame. He said that he had had instructions, which came indirectly from you, to say that the Sultan had bought it. I did not believe this, for I remembered you had referred to the matter quite recently – when you had Boehmer’s letters. I asked him when you had told him that you would buy the necklace. He answered that he had not had dealings with you personally about the matter.’

‘Ah!’ cried Antoinette. ‘Indeed he has not. So he spoke the truth there.’

‘He declared that the transaction was made through the Cardinal de Rohan.’

‘The Cardinal de Rohan! That man! I loathe him. Does Boehmer think that I would allow him to transact any business for me?’

‘Your Majesty, he has documents. He says your orders were passed to him by the Cardinal. These orders were signed by you, and he has shown them to various people in order to obtain the credit he needed. He says that you have received the necklace through the Cardinal, and that it is to be paid for in four instalments at four-monthly intervals.’

‘This is preposterous!’ cried the Queen. ‘I have never had the necklace. I have had no dealings with the Cardinal de Rohan. The man must be mad. Send at once for Boehmer.’


* * *

Boehmer came to the Queen. He was apprehensive.

‘What is this ridiculous story you have to tell?’ demanded the Queen.

‘Madame,’ said Boehmer. ‘The diamond necklace was handed to the Cardinal de Rohan who was able to show me the order which was signed by Your Majesty.’

‘Where is this order?’

‘I have it here.’

The Queen seized it. It was written in a poor imitation of her handwriting, and it was signed ‘Marie Antoinette de France’.

‘That is not my writing,’ said the Queen. ‘And you know, do you not, that Queens never sign their names in that way. I always sign simply “Marie Antoinette”, never “of France”. Surely that should have shown you that this is a preposterous forgery.’

‘Madame, the Cardinal assured me that his orders came from you. I am distracted. The first payment was due on the 1st August. I cannot ask my creditors to wait any longer.’

‘It’s a lie. You know that you sold the necklace to the Sultan of Constantinople.’

‘That was the story which Your Majesty wished to be put about, because this transaction was to be so secret.’

‘I never heard such a ridiculous story.’

‘Madame, I swear I handed the necklace to the Cardinal, and that he assured me that it was at your command.’

‘I do not see the Cardinal. I will not see the Cardinal. I have not seen him since the baptism of the Duc de Normandie, and then I did not speak to him.’

‘Madame, he assured me that the go-between was a lady – a very dear friend of yours.’

‘What lady?’

‘The Comtesse de Lamotte-Valois.’

‘I have never heard of the woman. The whole thing is a plot by the Cardinal. Pray go now, Monsieur Boehmer. I promise you this matter shall have my immediate attention – and that of His Majesty.’