I am delighted to be bringing you an excerpt from this gorgeous looking book. Courting the Sun by Peggy Joque Williams is a novel of Versailles and takes the reader to 17th century France.
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The Blurb
France, 1670. On her sixteenth birthday, Sylvienne d’Aubert thinks her dream has come true. She holds in her hands an invitation from King Louis XIV to attend his royal court. However, her mother harbors a longtime secret she's kept from both her daughter and the monarch, a secret that could upend Sylvienne’s life.
In Paris, Sylvienne is quickly swept up in the romance, opulence, and excitement of royal life. Assigned to serve King Louis's favorite mistress, she is absorbed into the monarch's most intimate circle. But the naïve country girl soon finds herself ill-prepared for the world of intrigue, illicit affairs, and power-mongering that takes place behind the shiny façade of Versailles.
This debut historical novel from Peggy Joque Williams captures the vibrancy and quandaries of 17th century life for a village girl seeking love and excitement during the dangerous reign of the Sun King.
The Excerpt
Athénaïs’s languid voice called, “Sylvienne…”
I hurried to her room. “Oh! Pardonnez-moi, Athénaïs.”
She lay across a swath of pillows, seeming indifferent to my startled expression. “Call my serving girl to fill the tub. Let us soak awhile in rose water.”
“Us?”
“You do bathe? Or is the practice looked down upon in the provinces?”
“I…I love bathing.”
She rose from the bed and sat at her toilette table. Picking up a brush, she ran it through her blond tresses. A large oval mirror with a gilded frame reflected her image. Apparently, it also caught my reflection. “Close your mouth, ma chère. It is unbecoming.”
I brought my hand to my lips to stop the giggles that threatened to erupt. “The serving girl…I’ll fetch her.” I hurried from the room.
My skin tingled as I stepped into the marble bathtub. Fragrant oils, rose and lavender, made the water feel slippery and sensuous. Athénaïs, already seated, swished her hands back and forth causing little ripples to wash toward me as I sank into the water. Lisette had pinned my hair up to keep it from getting wet, and now I turned my head to hide my embarrassment at having my naked body so exposed to the Marquise’s frank scrutiny. A gaggle of serving women bustled around us, apparently seeing nothing unusual about two women bathing for the sheer pleasure of it. I sank further until the warm water covered my breasts.
“Louis dislikes bathing.” Athénaïs lolled with her head against a small silk pillow, her breasts fully exposed. “I dislike bathing alone.”
I hadn’t realized until I saw her climb into the tub that I was taller than she—the distinctive gowns she wore and the poise and confidence with which she commanded a room served to magnify her person. Whereas I was thin, my legs too long, and my breasts small round buds, her body was curvaceous, perfectly proportioned, her breasts large and full.
My embarrassment quickly dissipated as I reveled in the decadence of the bath water, subtle fragrances rising from the bath oils. Only now did I take in the opulence of Athénaïs’s salle de bain, dominated by the basin in which we soaked. Gold pipes carried the water from…I didn’t know where. Spigots, also of gold and fashioned as swans from whose mouths the water flowed—one for hot, one for cold—operated upon the twist of a lever. The walls surrounding us were covered in a lavender fabric edged with gold braiding. A fire crackled in the fireplace against one wall.
A maid brought a dome-covered silver platter and placed it on a lacquered table next to the tub. She lifted the cover to reveal sliced cheeses and grapes. A second maid offered flutes of a translucent amber liquid. Bubbles rose from the bottom of the tall, thin glasses.
Athénaïs held her glass aloft. “A ta santé.”
“A la vôtre.” Feeling brave, I took a sip. The bubbles tickled my nose and throat. I hiccupped, making me giggle. I sipped some more.
Athénaïs offered a languid smile. “Mon petit chou likes champagne?”
“Mm…tasty.” I hiccupped again.
Athénaïs drank from her own flute before saying. “I don’t suppose you can read?”
“Oh, but I love to read!” I hiccupped again.
She regarded me with skepticism. “What sorts of things do you read?”
“The classics primarily.” I eyed the cheese platter. “They were required at the convent school.” Of course, I couldn’t eat before my hostess did. “I have a small collection of novels I trade with my friend Marie-Catherine.” My stomach rumbled. “And the gazettes! I love reading the gazettes. When I can sneak them past Maman.” Politeness be deviled, I popped a bite-size square of cheese into my mouth with a wet hand.
“Your mother disapproves of court gossip?”
“Very much so.” I reached toward the cheese platter again.
The corners of Athénaïs’s lips curved upward. “I wonder what she will read about you?”
My hand stopped in mid-air. I jerked it back. A maid took our empty champagne glasses. Another held out a tray with an envelope on it.
Athénaïs held up her hands for another maid to dry with a cloth before taking the missive and opening it. “Mademoiselle de Scudéry is inviting us to a salon in her home.”
A salon! A gathering of the most intellectual of Parisians. I had read about such soirées in the gazettes. “Us? I am included in the invitation?”
“It would seem the noblesse are curious about our petit chou.” She held the letter aloft. “I suppose you will have to wear one of your country frocks. It will take a week before we can have a proper gown ready for you.” A maid returned with the tray to retrieve the letter. “You can wear something from my wardrobe. I have dozens of dresses I’ll never wear again. With a ribbon here, some lace there, no one will know they were mine. Well, of course, it will take a bit more than that—my dresses are singularly unique—but we can make it work …” She prattled on.
I nodded pleasantly, my eyelids drowsy, my head heavy. I sank lower into the warm water, a tickle against my chin, when—
A scream ripped the air!
I sat bolt upright, alarmed.
“Get it out of here!” Athénaïs shrieked.
Three serving girls ran in with towels and batted at something dodging back and forth across the tiled floor. A mouse. It dashed around the side of the tub and up a leg of the table that held the cheese tray. Athénaïs shrieked again and scrambled out of the tub, splashing water everywhere. Maids rushed to wrap towels around her.
The mouse had discovered the delectable treats. I could not help but laugh at its good fortune—and mine. I grabbed the domed cover from the woman holding it and slammed it down over the tiny creature. “Got you!”
Lifting the covered tray, I handed it to the wide-eyed maid. “It’s just a mouse. It won’t hurt you.”
Clasping the lid tightly, the woman scooted out with the tray and the mouse.
Athénaïs recovered her composure. “How fortunate we are today. Our country mouse saved us from the palace mouse.” She unfurled her towel and thrust it at the nearest maid. “Bathe as long as you like,” she said to me. “I’m going to nap.” She strode out, her attendants close on her heels.
I stared after her a moment before sliding back into the water. Breathing in the scent of the bath oils, I was too restless now to enjoy it. I stood up. Lisette appeared with a towel to help me out.
“Do you wish to nap as well?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “Help me get dressed. I wish to walk.”
Book Details
ISBN: 978 1685134129
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Formats: e-book, audio and paperback (currently available on Kindle Unlimited)
No. of Pages: 389 (paperback)
About the Author:
Peggy Joque Williams is the author of Courting the Sun: A Novel of Versailles and co-author of two mystery novels, On the Road to Death’s Door and On the Road to Where the Bells Toll, written under the penname M. J. Williams. She is an alumnus of Michigan State University and the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
A retired elementary school teacher and avid researcher, Peggy's fascination with genealogy and her French-Canadian, European, and Native American ancestry inspires her historical fiction. She lives in Madison, Wisconsin.
(excerpt and media courtesy of The Coffee Pot Book Shop)
(all opinions are my own)
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