The empress of ice cream

Carlo

Of all extravagant ices, the £ielcito luminoso^ an ice surrounding a fountain of fireworks, is one of the most spectacular.

The Book of Ices

I had seen her weary before, but in all her time in England I had never before seen her downcast. There was a kind of sadness about her now, a calm resignation - not because she was beaten; far from it; but perhaps because she had reahsed that this would be her lot: a lifetime of fighting off prettier, or younger, or more exotic rivals.

Tt is certain now,’ she said to me one day in early May. ‘Mazarin and he are lovers. Lady Anne has been sent off to the country, but Charles spends almost as much time in her apartments as he did before.’

‘Here, I have made you a cordial,’ I said, handing it to her. ‘It

is what the apothecaries call sambooch - distilled elderberries. It

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is said to be reviving.’ •

‘Thank you.’ She drank a little, but I could tell she had barely tasted it.

‘Do you think he will come back to you.>’

She shrugged. ‘I have come to suspect that I am only a kind of symbol to him now. He does not actually want me; he simply wants everyone to think that he does. I am the French mistress, as necessary to him as a French tailor or a French chef, no more.’ ‘Then he is a fool,’ I said.

‘Oh, he will not be faithful to Mazarin either. He is no more capable of standing by a woman than he is of standing by a treaty.’

‘Then he is a double fool.’

‘I should not mind, really, should I? I have influence now without the need to lie in his bed for it. There was a time when that was all I wanted. Besides, it means,’ she hesitated. ‘It means that I am free in other ways, too.’

‘What do you mean?’

She did not answer me directly, but went to the window, looking down at the park. ‘Do you remember what I said, that time at Versailles when I told you I couldn’t marry you, and you asked why we couldn’t love each other even so?’

‘Of course. You said that you were not like my friend Olympe.’

‘Yes.’ She spoke calmly enough, but her remarks were still addressed to the window. ‘I was so proud in those days . . . But I am like Olympe, now, aren’t I? I am exactly like her. A cast-off lover of the king.’

I stared at her. ‘Are you saying—’

‘Now that I have no honour to protect, and no one to be faithful to, I can take a lover for myself. If I want to.’

‘And do you want to?’ I said quietly.

She had coloured a little. ‘I thought I might as well see what all the fiiss is about.’

‘Do you have anyone in particular in mind?’

‘I thought I might place an advertisement in the London Re^fister. ‘Whore of Babylon - most hated woman in the country - seeks lover. Must be able to make ice creams.’

‘There is only one person in this country who can do that.’

‘Then I will have to hope that it is him who responds to my advertisement.’

I said nothing, my heart suddenly too full.

‘If you still want me, that is,’ she added. ‘Everybody else seems to have decided that I am not worth the bother. I will quite understand if you have too.’

‘Oh, Louise,’ I said. ‘Louise . . .’ And then I had stepped towards her, and pulled her into my arms. ‘Are you sure?’

She was nodding and gasping and laughing all at once, but she had not forgotten the need for caution. ‘Wait,’ she protested. ‘Not here, someone will see us. But yes. I’m sure. I have never been surer of anything. We will have to be discreet—’

‘Of course. I would not risk your reputation.’

‘I have no reputation, you ninny. I would simply like to avoid being gossiped about yet again.’

‘When shall I come to you?’

‘Tonight. No one will be watching then.’

‘I’ll come,’ I promised. ‘But - why now? What changed your mind?’

She shrugged, and would not say, but I pressed her, and eventually she told me.

‘My parents are in England.’

‘Your parents! Where?’

‘They are staying with Sir Richard Browne, in Hampshire. An old friend of my father’s. They fought together against the Spanish.’

‘When do they come to court?’

‘They don’t.’

‘Why not?’ I said, puzzled.

‘They don’t answer my letters. But I have been told that they intend never to speak to me again.’

‘What! How dare they—’ •

‘No, it is all right. I understand: they think I have disgraced them. They have a rather old-fashioned view of what is honourable, you see. And they will never see that it was partly their own fault. They thought that dukes and lords should be queuing up to marry me because I bore their name. They couldn’t understand that without money, their precious name was worth nothing.’ She was crying: it made me realise that I had not seen her cry for many months. ‘Well, I am free of them now,’ she said angrily. ‘I did my duty, and look where it got mq. From now on I shall look out for myself’