Jean Genie
Copyright© 2026 by Rachael Jane
Chapter 69: The Fall of the Court
Paris, October 1789
Nicole wakes to the sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor ... servants whispering, doors opening and closing, Louise’s voice sharp and commanding. Nicole sits upright in bed, heart pounding, unsure whether she is dreaming.
“Aunt Louise?” she calls softly.
No answer.
She rises, wraps a shawl around her shoulders, and steps into the hallway. The house feels different ... tight, tense, as though the walls themselves are listening. She follows the voices to Louise’s study.
Louise stands at her desk, reading a letter with trembling hands. Her face is pale, her posture rigid. A servant hovers nearby, uncertain whether to stay or withdraw.
Nicole hesitates at the door. “Aunt Louise ... what’s happened?”
Louise looks up. Her voice is steady, but her eyes are not.
“Versailles has fallen.”
Nicole’s breath catches. “Fallen?”
Louise nods once. “The people marched. Thousands of them. Women, mostly. They stormed the palace. The queen barely escaped.”
Nicole’s knees weaken. She grips the door frame. “Is she safe?”
“For now.”
Nicole steps forward. “And the king?”
Louise exhales. “The king and queen are being brought to Paris under guard.”
Nicole stares at her. “Brought to the city? Why?”
Louise’s voice tightens. “Because the people demand it. They want the monarchy under their watch.”
Nicole’s stomach twists. “But ... the court...”
“There is no court,” Louise says. “Not any more.”
Nicole’s breath trembles. “My presentation...”
Louise closes her eyes briefly. “There will be no presentation ... at least for the foreseeable future.”
Nicole feels the words like a blow. Her dreams ... her training, her curtsies, her hopes of serving the queen ... collapse in an instant. She sinks into a chair, numb.
I whisper from the bracelet. ‘Breathe.’
She inhales shakily.
Louise dismisses the servant with a gesture. When the door closes, she sits opposite Nicole, her expression softening.
“My dear,” she says quietly, “I know how much this meant to you.”
Nicole’s voice breaks. “I wanted to belong. It’s why mama and papa sent me here. It’s why you’ve devoted so much of your time to train me.”
Louise reaches for her hand. “You do belong. But the world has changed. Versailles is no longer a place of beauty. It is a battlefield.”
Nicole wipes her eyes. “What will happen now?”
Louise hesitates. “We must be cautious. The queen’s household is dissolving. Many nobles are fleeing Paris.”
Nicole’s breath catches. “Should we flee?”
Louise’s jaw tightens. “No. We remain dignified. We remain calm. We remain here.”
Nicole nods, though fear coils in her chest.
I whisper. ‘She is proud. But pride can be dangerous.’
Nicole presses her lips together. She’s afraid, but she feels obliged to follow her aunt’s example.
The next days are chaos.
Crowds flood the streets, shouting slogans Nicole doesn’t understand. Soldiers march past the house. Pamphlets appear on every corner ... angry, vicious, accusing the queen of crimes Nicole cannot imagine.
Louise’s salon empties. Her soirées all but cease. A few hardy souls still attend, but the danger increases daily. Before long, guests stop coming. Letters go unanswered. The harpsichord gathers dust.
Nicole practices her curtsy out of habit, but each time she lowers herself, she feels foolish. The queen is no longer at Versailles. The palace is abandoned. The court is scattered. Her dreamed of future dissolves like smoke.
One evening she sits alone in the salon, staring at the extinguished candles. Louise enters quietly, her expression weary.
“Nicole,” she says, “come sit with me.”
Nicole rises and joins her on the settee.
Louise studies her niece’s face. “You have been quiet.”
Nicole nods. “I don’t know what to do.”
Louise sighs. “None of us do.”
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