Until We Meet Again | Marie-Claire & Annette
@mcvalois
This was not the proper way to send off a former queen. Absent were the brass trumpets and eager crowds to stand by and admire what should have been a grand exit. The sky in its state of overcast hovered above them and threatened to rain down on the dark scene. It was almost as if sweet Paris was on the verge of weeping for the departure of the Queen Mother. It would be here that one of France’s most influential women would make her exit, and at her son’s command no less. Formidable and careful, it seemed completely unnatural for triumph to slip through Marie-Claire’s fingers so easily without another hand underneath to catch it. For the first time in all of her years in France, Annette watched her mother-in-law fall harshly from grace.
Annette did her best to stand by Alexandre in all things and preferred for the two of them to speak in one solid voice whenever possible, however, his decision to remove his mother from court left a sour taste in her mouth. While it was true that Annette wished for Alexandre to take charge like a king was meant to, there were far more important matters to take focus on besides the removal of his mother from court. How could he not predict the many consequences that could swallow them whole by making such a permanent decision? What could he possibly gain by dismissing his strongest ally? In the end, her husband’s reasoning was lost on her and yet she was still expected to stand with him in his final decision.
The thin fabric of Annette’s white shawl slipped down her exposed arms as she and all of her attentive ladies in waiting walked in a pyramid formation towards the outer area of the gilded Tuileries palace. Waiting ahead for them was a handful of noble men and women who both bowed and addressed her as she gracefully passed by. Even though the pomp and circumstance befitting a former queen were totally absent, Annette would at least offer Marie-Claire her farewell in person. Alexandre’s mother secured and perfected the very throne that he sat upon, and because of that, she deserved more than an impersonal letter written in by the hand of Annette’s secretary.
The closer she came to a figure ahead of her, she recognized it to be her mother-in-law. Her signature honey blonde hair and proud demeanor easily set the Queen Mother apart from the other nobles in the courtyard. A simple fling of Annette’s wrist sent her small party of attendants walking off to the side so that she could approach and speak with Marie-Claire without an audience. Almost immediately upon meeting her, Annette reached forward to take Marie-Claire’s hands into her own and rubbed her thumbs over the back of the woman’s hands. It was an especially warm gesture that Annette hoped would temporarily combat the frigid nature of the Queen Mother’s situation. “Madame, I am quite happy to have the opportunity to see you before you embark on your journey to Lorraine.”