Chapter 31: Chateau de Versailles

There were two policemen, one male and one female seated in the formal receiving room (sometimes called a parlor in America) when I arrived. Cynthiana had sent word asking me to welcome them as everyone else was busy getting ready.

They stood when I entered but seemed surprised when I shook their hands while introducing myself. They explained that they were with the US Secret Service and they and their team would be checking the house out while we were gone, in preparation for the First Lady’s visit tomorrow...

“Would you care for something to drink? Coffee? Tea?” I asked.

“No, thank you,” said the female agent. “We just wished you to know that we are here and would be around until the First Lady leaves tomorrow.”

When I followed them out, I discovered that there were six more of them. The electronic signals from all their equipment became irritating for a moment until I reminded myself why they were there.

Living out in the country like I had been doing for the last week, I had become used to the relative peacefulness that living here had brought. Not since I was cruising the Caribbean had I felt such serenity. But now, their vast array of electronic equipment had brought me crashing back to reality.

Suddenly, soft fingers covered my eyes from behind. “Devinez qui?” someone breathlessly purred in my ear and then ruined it by giggling.

“Mischa!” I said in delight. “When did you get in?”

“Phillipe and I arrived just after lunch. They said you were making a house-call,” she replied. “I had hoped that we might share a nap, but...”

“When do you return to Cannes?” I asked, hoping she was going to stay a while.

“Tomorrow. I have to return for school. Mother just flew us up for the ball,” she said sadly.

“Then we shall make time later,” I told her and then kissed her forehead. I didn’t want to mess with her makeup.

Four hundred years ago, The Chateau de Versailles (or The Palace of Versailles) was a small hunting lodge constructed by Louis XIII, approximately twelve miles west of Paris. Over the next hundred years it was expanded until it became one of the largest chateau’s in the world, containing over two-thousand-three-hundred (2,300) rooms spread over sixteen acres.

It includes the famous Gardens of Versailles, the recently restored Hall of Mirrors, the Royal Stables, the Palace Chapel, and the Opéra Royal. As well as the restored apartments of Louis XVI and his queen, Marie-Antoinette. It is now the property of the French Republic and is open to tourists throughout the week, during the day.

Tonight, the Palace of Versailles was to play host to an international delegation honoring a new French Treaty and attended by The French President and invited guests from around the world, including the President and First Lady of the United States.

Because of all the high-profile dignitaries, security was tight. Our cars were driven to a side entrance for the quick dash through the reporters into one of the halls. I made up my mind to come back as a tourist in the near future so I could enjoy this magnificent place.

Because it was a ball instead of a diplomatic dinner, we were shown to one of the tables that ringed the room and soon someone came to take our drink orders. Most of the people were milling around the vast hall, talking to others and soon they were stopping by our table. Cynthiana seemed to know just about everyone and made certain to introduce me to all of them.

I noticed that there were a lot of whispered conferences and realized that there was probably more business being discussed than on a golf course on a Sunday morning. Suddenly, I was aware of a presence over my shoulder.

“Excuse me, sir, President Macron asks if you could attend him,” he said formally. I stood and offered my hand to Cynthiana, to the frown of the messenger. We then followed him across the room to a small, raised platform that had only one table. Seated there were the President and First Lady of France. We stood politely until we were acknowledged.

“Welcome to France and The Chateau de Versailles,” said President Macron, shaking my hand firmly. “May I present my wife, Madam Macron. Brigitte, you know Cynthiana, and this is her young protégé, Mr. Masters.”

“Bonjour, welcome!” she said and turned to Cynthiana with a long string of French. I recognized my name once, but that’s it. Then to me, Brigitte said, “My friend, Anita is looking forward to meeting you tomorrow. They felt it better to meet in private instead of in public,” she told us. “This is ... okay?”

“As you wish,” I told her.

She and Cynthiana spoke a little more, and then we were dismissed.

“I guess I can go home now,” I told Cynthiana. Meeting the President of France had seemed a little anticlimactic after the week-long buildup.

“Not without breaking a young girl’s heart,” she reminded me.

The orchestra began playing but not many seemed interested in dancing yet. A few minutes later, Roberto, our dancing coach, came and got me and led me back to a dressing room complete with lighted dressing table and a small, attached bath.

“Strip down to your boxers then put these on.” Roberto said, handing me the costume’s pants.

When I had done as he instructed, he continued.

“Now run through your stretching exercises then we can finish getting you dressed.”

After I stretched, Roberto returned and gave me the rest of my costume which was basically a tuxedo shirt and a short-waisted tailcoat with tails that came to mid-thigh. And my dancing shoes, of course.

“It’s time!” Roberto finally said as he led me down the hall, stopping at the next dressing room, where he knocked on the door.

“We’re coming,” Giselle called. Soon the door opened and I let out a wolf-whistle. Jeanne looked fantastic in her gown. They led us down several corridors, finally stopping outside a pair of large, ornate doors. I looked at Jeanne and could see the worry on her face.

“Two minutes,” a girl with a radio and a clipboard said as she rushed by.

“Jeanne? You said you wanted to talk. Is now a good time?” I asked.

She stared at me for a second and then grinned as she swatted my arm. I knew then that she would be okay.

“I’m going to give you talk!” she said with a smile. Then the doors opened and Jeanne placed her hand lightly on my forearm and we glided to the center of the great hall.

“Madames et Monsieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen, The Rappeneau Foundation is pleased to present a young couple who will be competing in the upcoming Maison Ruinart Trophy French Senior Open Ballroom Championship, Mademoiselle Jeanne Mauresmo et Monsieur Alexander Masters!”

“Let’s show these people what Senior Open Champions look like!” she said as we struck our opening pose.

It was over in less than seven minutes, but what a seven minutes it was! Jeanne had somehow found a higher gear and just dragged me along. I really had to work to keep up with her as we used most of the large dance floor. As the first number came to an end, we struck a waltz pose and she finally looked around at all the people applauding.

“Wow!” I whispered excitedly in her ear.

“Ready?” she asked as we shifted stances for the Quick-Step. Again, we danced like there was no tomorrow. This time, the applause was even greater as I led her to the center of the floor and presented her for her bow. Then I bowed and we walked slowly to the table of our family and friends.

“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it,” Mischa said.

“Weren’t they great?” Sofía added.

People we didn’t know, especially the women, kept coming by our table to greet us and tell us how much they loved our performance. They oo’ed and ah’ed over Jeanne’s spectacular gown, all the while telling me that they wished their husbands would dance like me.

After downing a bottled water and talking a little longer with our family and friends, Jeanne and I excused ourselves to go change out of our dance outfits. After we were changed, we carried our stuff out to the car and just decided to wait there for the others.

As the limousine door closed, Jeanne turned and hugged me.

“Thank you,” she said. “Last week, I was afraid I would never find another partner or ever get to dance again. Then you came into my life and in less than a week we were dancing before all those important people at a real ball!”

“Jeanne, you looked beautiful and danced divinely tonight. I’m going to have to practice hard to keep up with you,” I told her.

She was quiet for several moments, lost in her thoughts.

“Jeanne? Did you still want to talk? Now’s probably a good time. No telling what it will be like when we get back to the house.”

“About last night ... I realize that I’m not very ... er, experienced, but it was so good! Will it always be like that?”

“Jeanne, it will always be good if you’re with someone you love,” I told her.

Jeanne sat and thought about that for a few moments, then smiled. “Did you mean it when you said you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t ask for?”

“You know that I don’t lie, Jeanne.”

“Alex, will you kiss me? Now?”

I took her in my arms and gave her what she wanted. A few minutes later, someone banged on the roof of the limo before opening the door.

“Cut that out! You’re drawing a crowd!” Isabella said as everyone began climbing in. “You’re going to have to do something about that bright light thing.”

We just sat there holding hands all the way home. Thank goodness Jeanne couldn’t see the tears in my eyes in the darkness of the limo.

Much later that night, I was lying in bed, trying to read and unwind from the evening’s events when there was a soft knock on my door. I knew that Jeanne had gone home with her father, so I wondered who it could be.

“It’s open,” I said aloud.

“Alex? Are you asleep yet?” Mischa asked. Then crossing to my bed, she slipped under the covers. “I’ve missed you!”

Normally, Sunday mornings were a time to relax and enjoy a leisurely breakfast. But not this Sunday. Not one, but two First Ladies were scheduled to arrive by ten o’clock and Cynthiana had a big brunch planned. The American Secret Service along with the Groupe de Sécurité de la Présidence de la République, (Security Group for the Presidency of the Republic) were moving throughout the home and the estate making sure all was secure. This was in addition to the American Secret Service who had arrived yesterday.

Carina knocked on my door at 8:00am and immediately sent Mischa to her room to get ready. Then she made me get in the shower while she selected my clothes for the event.