Ernestine

By Michiel B.L. Korte

"The historical accuracy is incredible. An enormous amount of effort in research has been completed by the author in order to get everything right."

"The maturity and depth, which is evident in this novel make me excited for the publication, as this book gives you major Jane Austen vibes."

Ernestine Lambriquet, born to servants at the palace of Versailles, gets the chance of a lifetime when Marie Antoinette adopts her into the royal family. Ernestine serves as a playmate and an adoptive sister to the King and Queen's daughter, Madame Royale, and lives a life of luxury until the French Revolution threatens everything Ernestine has gained. She joins the royal family in imprisonment. Will she ever gain back the life she had or will she lose her head?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michiel B.L. Korte
• Release date: Feb 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201582654

Michiel B.L. Korte

​Originally from The Hague, Netherlands, Michiel Korte is a student of English Language and Culture at Leiden University. He has a great, deep interest in history and royalty, which has contributed to inspiring him to write the historical aspect of this book. Having been a child actor in the past spiked his interest in storytelling, which came in handy for the fictional part. Michiel hopes that readers worldwide come to know and love Ernestine and her story as much as he does...

Book preview

Chapter One

March 1788

Ever since I was a girl, I’ve despised loud noises and waking up with them. I suppose it is because I grew up in a palace. Everyone always assumes Versailles was a serene, heaven-like place. But when I think of my childhood there, I think of noise.

I grew up in the Grand Commun, a large building filled to the brim with servants and their families. A small, damp room on the third floor was the simple home of me, my parents, and my little brother. It should come as no surprise that I preferred spending my time outside, in the streets of Versailles, or even in the gardens, where it was quiet.

Papa was a valet to Madame Elisabeth, the King’s sister, and maman was a maid for Madame Royale, the King’s daughter, whom I knew nothing of except that she was my age. My parents had taught me one simple rule: don’t get in the way of daily royal life. I tried my best to be invisible. I was never around any of the palace actions. My parents made sure to keep my brother and me far away from it all. Having an attention-seeking child in front of a royal could mean dismissal, which my parents feared above all else.

I was ten years old when I got my first taste of royal life. I was waiting for my parents in our little attic room at the Grand Commun. I was sewing my little brother’s trousers because my mother had no time to. I wasn’t too pleased about it but did as I was told.

My mother entered the room, looking exhausted. She took off her dirty apron with a sigh, then walked over to the chamber pot, grabbed it, and emptied it out of the window. My father entered, looking equally atrocious and aged beyond his years.

Jacques, said my mother. The Queen is going to Trianon tomorrow and wishes to take Madame Royale with her. It’s for several days and I’ll be expected to go.

I know, my father replied. Madame Elisabeth is coming with the Queen; I’ll be expected as well.

What about the children? my mother asked him, blatantly ignoring us.

They could stay with Yvette, my father shrugged, as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Yvette was an older servant who lived next to us with six children.

I don’t want to stay with Yvette, I said. She smells and she’ll make me stay in all day!

Quiet! my mother said. I need to think.

I complied but it had no effect as you could always hear the other servants who lived in the Grand Commun. Again: Versailles was a very noisy place to live.

What if I take her with me? my mother asked my father. She’ll only cause trouble with Yvette, but Auguste can stay with her.

My little brother nodded as he heard his name.

Will the Queen allow it? asked my father with a raised eyebrow.

The Queen pays no attention to the number of servants, my mother said. I can let her stay in the kitchen. She won’t cause any trouble.

She turned to me, Will you?

No, maman, I said.

Alright then. We can sleep.

My parents blew out the last candle, and darkness filled the room. They turned to their sack of hay and woollen blanket, and I turned to the sack my brother and I shared. My parents had no trouble sleeping after a long day of work, and my brother could sleep anywhere. I always envied them for that. I just lay still and listened to the sounds of my neighbours. Some were just coming home, some were eating, some were arguing, and some were making noises of love. At least that’s what my mother called it at the time.

When I finally was able to fall asleep, it felt as though I was instantly woken. My mother told me to get dressed, even though it was still early morning. I got dressed instantly. My father wasn’t yet awake. He needed to serve Madame Elisabeth first thing in the morning. My mother carried my sleeping brother next door, where Yvette (and her smell) took him in. My mother took me by the hand and took me down the stairs of the Grand Commun.

Outside, the sky was still dark, and Versailles was quieter than usual, because of the hour. It’s an exceptional feeling for a child to be up at odd hours, and my heart was racing with excitement. My mother took me through the street, and we faced the palace, shining in all its glory. The many windows seemed to stare at me through their closed latches. I followed my mother and shivered, as the air was very cold, and we had no proper cloak. Through a small gate, we entered the gardens. I couldn’t quite see it that time, as it was still dark, but I fondly remember the endless paths and the beautiful fountains. My mother took me to the Pyramid fountain where a large party of servants were gathered already, with some torches to light the way. I recognised some of the servants as my neighbours, but some I didn’t recognise, and their flame-lit faces scared me.

I hid behind my mother’s skirt as one asked, Why are you so late?

I needed to care for my son, my mother said. Can we leave? Who are we waiting for?

As it turned out, more mothers had had troubles because a few more women came running, some of them carrying a child or two. The party then left. The men with the torches upfront, followed by the forty or so people behind them carrying chests, tables, ropes and baskets of fruit. I was given a little basket of apples as if to show that I wasn’t a completely useless asset.

We quickly headed for a straight lane that went on for miles and was surrounded by symmetrical trees, blocking any view. The walk was quite boring, as I had nothing to look at and my mother was not in the mood for conversation.

The other children were whining about the journey until one of the mothers hit her son and warned him never to whine again. I needed no such reinforcement. I never whined. I could be grumpy, my parents told me, but I never complained. Even though the journey went on for fifty minutes and my tired little feet had difficulty keeping up with the rest of the group. At one point, one of the men yelled, Sun is dawning. We need to hurry! and he looked at me as if I was personally responsible for the group’s delay.

Eventually, we turned to the right, walked down another straight and symmetrical road, and there it was: le Trianon, the Queen’s holiday home. A large, square building with large windows and columns. I was used to enormous buildings, so it surprised me to see a royal house so relatively small. I quietly thanked God for letting me see Trianon for once, and I pitied my brother who was still stuck with smelly Yvette in the Grand Commun.

My mistake was thinking that the hard part was over now that we had reached Trianon.

What are you doing? my mother asked, seeing me sit down in the grass. We need to prepare the house for when the Queen comes with her friends.

I reluctantly stood up. The house was opened, and we entered. The servants spread: the cooks were preparing the kitchen for lunch; some maids were cleaning the principal rooms while others went upstairs to the bedrooms to prepare them. My mother took me to the top floor of the building. To a small room with a tiny pink bed and stained-glass windows. I looked out the windows and gasped at the sight of the surrounding grounds: beautiful hills and forests, little houses and romantic temples. My mother didn’t share my amazement.

Stop that gazing, she said. Help me with the bed.

We put some fresh sheets on the bed, perfumed to smell like flowers. My mother pulled some candelabra from a chest and filled it with candles.

Whose room is this? I asked my mother after a few minutes.

Madame Royale, of course, my mother said. I am her maid, remember?

I never wondered what it was like to be royalty, until that realisation. This girl my mother worked for, a girl my age, lived in this room in a palace that was a paradise, while I shared a dark attic room with my parents and brothers. I wondered what it was like to be her.

After an hour of preparing and cleaning the house, we could see multiple carriages nearing the house from the road.

I need to wait for them outside, my mother said. You stay in the kitchen.

I stayed in the kitchen, with the other children. I was eager to see the Queen and her friends, but I knew that if I were to startle them, I’d be sent back to the palace, and that meant some days alone with Yvette and my brother.

I had been sitting in the kitchen, quietly daydreaming for a while when the servants came running back in.

Lunch is starting! they cried. Lunch is starting!

As the footmen started taking food upstairs, I walked up to one of the chefs.

Excuse me, I said. What are we to do during lunch? I pointed to myself and the other children.

Leave! the sweating chef said. Leave my kitchen and go outside to play. Don’t let anyone see you!

We hurried off through the doors and off into the gardens. I quickly found a field of grass out of sight and sat down to pick some daisies. I enjoyed the silence of Trianon and thanked God again for granting me this day. I realised my father must have arrived with the royals and he hadn’t even seen me or my mother.

We’ll probably meet again tonight, I thought.

I dozed off. I couldn’t help it. The walk there had exhausted me, and the sun was shining enticingly bright, making the grass warm and soft to lie down on. I listened to the wind swaying the bushes and slowly fell asleep.

My peaceful slumber was suddenly disturbed by a soft voice. Pardon me, little girl, are you sleeping?

I opened my eyes and felt instantly insulted. The person who had called me little girl appeared to be my age. And judging by her simple white dress, she was also a servant’s child and of equal rank.

I was sleeping, I said. And now you’ve disturbed me! I was enjoying the silence.

The girl blushed, I am sorry, but I thought you might have fainted.

I took a closer look. The girl had rosy cheeks, small, somewhat pouty lips, clear blue eyes and blonde hair. She looked at me with curiosity.

What is it? I asked her.

Forgive me, the girl said. But we look incredibly alike.

I was startled, both by her notion and her politeness.

Do we?

I barely knew what I looked like at the time. As a little girl, I had no mirror for myself and could only judge by quick glances in water and windows.

We do, she said, smiling.

No, we don’t, I said. You smile too much.

You could too, she said.

Maman says I shouldn’t, I said.

The girl stared at me impatiently. Unsure of what she wanted, I eventually forced a smile. She applauded in excitement.

See? Your smile is just like mine! she said.

She noticed the crown of daisies I had put in my hair and stared in amazement. Can you show me how to make one of those?

Sure, I said, eager to finally show someone. I sat down with the girl and threw her some daisies to work with. What is your name, little girl?

She smiled. Apparently, my insult hadn’t worked. She somehow seemed puzzled by my simple request.

What should I call you? I said.

Charlotte, she smiled. People I like call me Charlotte.

I rolled my eyes. I know an awful lot of Charlottes in Versailles. Can’t I call you anything simpler?

She shook her head. No. I was named after my dearest aunt, and I want to be called Charlotte.

We sat in silence and fiddled around with the daisies. Charlotte had managed to make a small bracelet out of hers.

What is your name? she asked me.

Marie-Philippine, I said.

She sighed dramatically, That’s too long! Are you fond of that name?

It’s my mother’s, I said. So, no.

Then let me call you something else! she said, biting her lip with excitement. I know, how about Ernestine!?

Ernestine? I asked.

It’s the name of my favourite book character! she squealed in excitement. Maman reads it to me: it’s about a German girl named Ernestine who has a lovely smile, like you.

The comment surprised me.

Wait, I said. Your mother can read? What kind of servant is she?

She is no servant! she said. My maman is the Queen of France.

And all of a sudden, I knew why I hadn’t recognised the girl before. For the past hour, I had been making floral jewels with Madame Royale. I instantly bowed and said, Your Royal Highness! I’m so sorry. I was supposed to stay out of your way!

Why? she said. We were having fun.

My politeness made room for my annoyance with the girl. Why didn’t you tell me? You... you said your name was Charlotte!

Yes, she said. Princess Marie Thérèse Charlotte of France. My family calls me Charlotte.

I sat down again in disbelief. But you are not supposed to talk to me, are you?

No, Charlotte said. But I want to. And maman shan’t be mad at me.

But at me, I said. I must go.

Charlotte took hold of my leg, saying, Please don’t go! I have no sisters and nobody to talk to! Please stay!

I looked at the sun and realised more time had gone by than I had realised. I imagined my mother’s face if she found out I had been distracting her employer.

I must go, I said. My parents will be missing me. And so will yours! You’re Madame Royale!

But meet me tomorrow! she asked. Promised?

Promised, I assured her, and ran off.

Chapter Two

My story could have ended there. I could have been just another nameless servant who had once had a lovely afternoon with Madame Royale, whose life then returned to ordinary. I realised as I reached the servant’s quarters that afternoon, that my life had already become more interesting than any of my peers by that simple afternoon.

We servants were housed in a small building next to the Trianon. I shared a bed with my parents but couldn’t sleep that night. I hadn’t told my mother about my adventure with the princess. I somehow knew, young as I was, that the experience had been very special and needed to be protected.

We ate a simple breakfast with the other servants the next day, at dawn, of course.

They’re going to the Hameau today, my father said. They’ll probably stay there for a couple of hours but return tonight.

It was the first time I’d heard of ‘Hameau’, and I wondered what it was.

Will you go with Madame Elisabeth? maman asked him.

No, he said. I’ll clean the rooms. But you’ll have to prepare the picnic before they come at eleven.

Should be fine, my mother said. She turned to me, You’ll stay here.

No! I said. Let me come with you!

She pulled me closer: Lower your voice. You’ll stay here. The Hameau is even smaller than Trianon, and we don’t need any children there.

But somebody is expecting me! I blurted out.

My mother raised an eyebrow, Who could be expecting you?

I started to think: what could I do then? Should I tell my mother? I decided to dodge the question.

Please, maman! I begged. I won’t be in your way. I won’t speak to anyone! Please!

My father interceded, Philippine, you don’t want her running around the Trianon while we’re gone, do you? Best keep an eye on her.

Alright, my mother said. You need to be very quiet and stay out of the way.

I will! I promised.

My parents left the servants’ building to start their day. I waited for ten minutes and then went after them. Sneaking in through the silverware room, I discovered there was nobody there, though I could hear servants preparing breakfast in the kitchen nearby. I lifted my skirts and ran to a door, through the corridor, and to a spiral staircase. The servant staircase, I guessed, as it was very badly lit. I carefully climbed the slippery steps, reached the top floor and slowly moved forward. One door stood ajar and let in a small beam of light in the corridor. As quiet as I had ever been, I leaned in and looked into the crack and the room.

I realised as I saw the curtains on a window that I had been in this room before. It was Charlotte’s, Madame Royale. The bedroom I had been to with my mother. Which meant...

I’ve emptied your chamber pot, Madame Royale. It’s time to get up.

It was my mother’s voice. The first time I heard her speak to her mistress.

I don’t want to, I heard Charlotte say, yawning.

I saw my mother by the window, holding dress pieces.

Please, madame, she said.

Charlotte stepped out of bed, and my mother helped to put on her dress. Even though I saw very little, I noticed how patient and calm my mother was with Charlotte. How serene and helpful she was. Then again, I suppose she was Charlotte’s servant and not her mother.

Breakfast is starting, Madame, I heard my mother say. You better make haste.

I realised that was a sign for me to leave as well. I hurried back to the servant’s stairs and hid behind a column. The doors opened and there was Charlotte, as fresh and cheerful as ever. She wore a simple, cotton dress like the day before, and happily hurried down the hallway. I was relieved and walked down the servant’s stairs before my mother would find me spying in the main building.

Later, it was time for the servants to go to Hameau, whatever it was. We gathered in front of the north side of Trianon, just as we had gathered in front of the pyramid fountain the day before. We left with fewer people, carrying baskets and pulling carts full of picnic supplies. I held my mother’s hand tightly.

We took a small and winding path through the forests, and I instantly knew why most servants had stayed behind. The path was so twisty and narrow that our small group could barely manage to walk it. Whatever the Hameau is, I thought, it’s unreachable.

The walk turned out to be short, and the sights were beautiful. We passed a pond and I noticed pretty swans swimming around. This place was one with nature. The only sound we heard, besides the gravel underneath our feet, was the twittering of birds high up in the trees. I wished I could wake up with that sound every morning.

Maman, I asked. What is the Hameau where we’re going?

She smiled, a rare occurrence, and said, You’ll see it in a moment.

And so, I waited patiently. Fortunately, the walk was a short one and after mere minutes, I gasped at the sight of the Hameau. It was an entire village, hidden in the woods of Versailles. Around a magnificent lake, there were many sandstone cottages with straw roofing and little windows. Each one was just a bit different and surrounded by vegetable gardens. At the opposite side of the lake, there was an impressive tower, overlooking the entire village.

This, my mother said, is the Hameau.

It’s beautiful! I exclaimed.

I was spellbound and utterly enchanted. My father had often told me tales of the small village ìn Alquines where he had grown up. In my mind, I had envisioned it as a fairytale and yet, even in my wildest imagination, it couldn’t have been more beautiful than the Hameau.

My mother was pleased to see me so excited and sent me off to see the animals. I never cared for animals, so I explored the Hameau instead. The cottages were like little farms, with lush gardens filled to the brim with vegetables and fruits. There were also sheep and goats bleating at me, but I ignored them.

I looked through the windows of each cottage and quickly noticed that the rooms were not like the insides of peasant homes at all. They resembled the luxurious chambers at the palace, with wood panelling and fancy, bright furniture.

I was spying through one of those windows when a voice called out behind me:

Hello!

I quickly turned around, afraid someone had caught me peeking. I was relieved to