The revenge I wished for was not so sweet. Others’ lust for power waylaid its charm.
And so I lay down that burden, that sense that some price must be exacted for all my loss. Let others pick up and carry on with the cause. It has lost its appeal for me. Maman and Papa and Jacques have been gone for two years now. I can do no more for them by staying in a country so divided.
Perhaps France will stabilize and rise again as a great nation. Perhaps it will continue on its bloody path and destroy any hope for redemption. I wish with all my heart to see peace in my country, but others will decide that fate—not me, not Algernon.
As for my partner in crime ….
I feel a hand upon my arm and turn to look up into the eyes that once rescued me from death. He is pale, but he will live.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” I reprimand him. “You could fall and rip open your stitches.”
He rolls his eyes. “Since when have I avoided danger, Celie?”
He turns me back around and wraps his arms about my waist. He rests his chin upon my shoulder, and together we gaze across the churning water, our future uncertain.
There is a crack of thunder behind us. A wave spills across the bow of the boat.
“We may drown,” I say to him.
He laughs softly. “Or we may live. One never knows.”
“Where is Jean-Louis?” I ask.
“Below,” he says. “I think he is feeling a bit seasick already.”
“And Manon?” I ask.
“Watching him carefully. And drawing up plans for a tour around England, promising to build a museum in the city of London that will be grander than the one in the Boulevard du Temple.”
I think of our work, safely stowed before our escape to the boat that has smuggled us from France’s shores. Surely, the English are no different from the French in that they will be eager to see the wax heads of the late and newly executed king and queen of France. So perhaps, in some small measure, I have had my revenge. The wealthy dead will pay my living now. And I am alive, as is Algernon.
I turn back toward him, my boy rascal, and tilt my head up to his.
He bends his head toward mine and kisses me soundly as the rain begins, one hand firmly on my waist, the fingers of his other hand trailing along my spine in a light pitter-patter that makes my heart thump out a tune of pleasure.
The boat lurches hard to one side. A chill runs up my spine as the wind makes the boards creak, and the sailors shout to one another in panic.
“I have heard a rumor,” Algernon whispers in my ear, his voice low and husky from pain and lack of sleep. “They say there is a man coming to England very soon, a man of great wealth.”
He pauses. “French wealth.”
I realize what he is saying and pull away from him, just as lightening streaks the sky. I am no longer even aware of the rain falling down on us.
I know I am meant to forget. I know I am meant to move on. But if it is truly him, if we live through this storm and land safely in England, how can I ignore the information Algernon has just given me?
I had heard stories, but with everything that has happened, I had all but forgotten them. I try to recall what I had heard: that he had escaped his would-be captors through his brother’s insistence that he flee, that he had stolen away to Austria and taken with him thousands of gold coins of the realm, that he was safe and unharmed and living the high life.
Algernon grins wickedly at the flush he must see coming to my cheeks. “Ah, as I suspected. We are not finished with our fun just yet, Celie, are we?”
Rain is coming down hard now. The boat rises up and falls into deeper and deeper troughs. We should be going down below, but neither of us moves.
“I’m done with revenge and revolution, Algernon,” I say to him.
“As am I,” Algernon says, his voice no longer light but taut with resolve. “Still, it would be a shame to let an opportunity such as this slide by. For I have heard this man is to be staying at a certain house in London. I have made inquiries, and have a friend there who would not be unhappy to have a new maid on his staff, a maid with access to the room of the great and noble—”
“Comte d’Artois,” I finish for him. I laugh loudly as flashes of lightening strike the sea with deafening noise.
Algernon’s eyes dance with merriment. Rain soaks his hair and runs down his face. “We have not become so incredibly dull that we are giving up on a little fun at the great Comte’s expense, have we?”
The storm roars above us. The sailors call for us to go below, to stay safe.
My boy knows me well. Danger has always been what we crave.
Excitement is setting me on fire. I can feel it deep in my gut, can see it in his lips, which twitch with mirth. He pulls me roughly to him, and I go willingly. He buries his fingers in my hair, and brushes his lips upon my neck.
Rain pours down by the bucketful, soaking us, daring us. And I am dizzy with him and the danger of the storm, and with the thrill of perhaps again matching wits with the Comte d’Artois.
And so it seems, as I give in to Algernon’s touch and the possibility that this storm may pull us down to watery graves, that if we live, we will plot yet again. For though the revolutionary boy and the girl seeking revenge have died, there is still a bit of the rebel and the thief left in us both.
Author’s Note
Marie (Manon) Grosholtz Tussaud led a fascinating life. Her father died before Manon was born in Switzerland in 1761, and her mother went to work as a housekeeper for Dr. Philippe Curtius.
Dr. Curtius was known for his waxmaking skills, often sculpting anatomical parts so that young medical apprentices could practice surgical procedures. (Operating on cadavers was illegal at that time.) In 1763, a French count saw Dr. Curtius’s work and commissioned him to come to Paris. Four years later, Dr. Curtius sent for Manon and her mother. Manon was six years old.
On arriving in France, Dr. Curtius’s wax figures caught the attention of the king, and commissions for wax likenesses began pouring in. To fill the high demand for his work, Dr. Curtius began teaching Manon the art of waxmaking, eventually letting her mold a likeness of the great writer, Voltaire.
When the king’s sister, Élisabeth, expressed interest in learning the process, it was Manon, at the age of twenty, who was sent to be her tutor. (Dr. Curtius was busy creating and opening his new museum, La Caverne des Grands Voleurs.) Manon worked for Madame Élisabeth for ten years, living at Versailles for long periods of time. The king was indeed a master locksmith, a passion of his that he spent many hours perfecting.
Life continued in this vein right up until the Revolution, which brought great change to everyone’s life.
It is true that Manon was forced by the National Assembly to make wax models from the executed heads of the royal family. After years of working in the palace, and in particular with Madame Élisabeth, one can only imagine her horror at having to do this. When Madame Élisabeth was beheaded, Manon refused to mold her friend.
Manon was arrested as a Royalist and spent several weeks in jail. In the book, I had Celie arrange her release, although in truth it was Dr. Curtius who was able to obtain her freedom. While in prison, Manon met a woman named Joséphine de Beauharnais, who later became the wife of Napoleon. In time, Manon would mold him as well.
France was in constant turmoil during and following the Revolution. Because of the length of time over which many of the events took place, I have compressed the timeline of the Revolution to make for easier reading.
As entertainment dollars began to dry up, Manon decided to sail to England and take her wax replicas on tour, which she did for many years. On one tour to Ireland, Manon’s ship sank, but she managed to make it to shore, even though she lost most of her wax figures and many of the passengers drowned. Eventually Manon settled in London, opening a permanent museum that today has branches all over the world. By then she had married a man named François Tussaud, and taken on the now famous name of Madame Tussaud.
(I had her named Tussaud from the beginning in order for readers, familiar with her museums, to recognize who she was). She and François had two sons.
As Celie discovered, revolution is not an easy path. Although Madame Élisabeth was indeed the last royal beheaded, the young prince and heir to the throne died in prison, and the young princess was eventually released and exiled to Austria. It was years before France knew peace again.
Should you have the chance to visit London in the future, be sure to stop by Madame Tussaud’s wax museum. The figures of the late king and queen of France are on display even today, their faces molded from their severed heads and then recreated in wax—just for your viewing pleasure!
Further Reading and Resources Used
Berridge, Kate. Madame Tussaud: A Life in Wax. New York: William Morrow, 2006.
Ransom, Teresa. Madame Tussaud: A Life and a Time. Gloucestershire: Sutton Publishing, 2003.
Thorne, Tony. Who Was … Madame Tussaud: Waxwork Queen of the French Revolution. London: Short Books, 2003.
Acknowledgments
As a young girl, I was fascinated with two people: Scarlett O’Hara and Marie Antoinette. I haven’t yet figured out how to spend a year with Scarlett, but this book was my attempt to live for a while in the shadows of Marie Antoinette.
The idea of using an apprentice to Madame Tussaud as a vehicle to showcase the French Revolution first took shape on a trip I made with my family to London. On visiting Madame Tussaud’s famous wax museum and hearing about her extraordinary life, slowly the story began to take hold.
As with any stories that eventually become books, the process is never a solo one. I want to thank my agent, Bill Contardi, for his perseverance in seeing Celie’s story triumph and make the printed page.
For Marcia Strykowski and Anne Broyles, a debt of gratitude for your sharpened pens and eagle eyes that helped revolutionize my many drafts.
To Jackie Mitchard and Meredith O’Hayre—thank you for your guidance and guillotine-like cutting, shaping, and chopping. Your input strengthened Celie and Algernon and their quest for equality.
And finally, to my own little family: Tobey, Chris, and Liza, whose love lifts me up every day, who give me strength when I think I have nothing left to give, and who make me grateful each and every hour that they were put on this earth for me to love.
Copyright © 2014 by Kathleen Benner Duble.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.
Published by
Merit Press
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.
www.meritpressbooks.com
ISBN 10: 1-4405-8116-9
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8116-8
eISBN 10: 1-4405-8117-7
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8117-5
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Duble, Kathleen Benner.
Madame Tussaud’s apprentice / Kathleen Benner Duble.
pages cm
Summary: In 1789 Paris, Celie Rousseau lives on the streets stealing to survive, but when she is arrested she is given the remarkable opportunity to become an apprentice to Madame Tussaud. As the Revolution begins, she must choose between her royal patrons and Algernon, the freedom fighter she loves.
ISBN 978-1-4405-8116-8 (hc) -- ISBN 1-4405-8116-9 (hc) -- ISBN 978-1-4405-8117-5 (ebook) -- ISBN 1-4405-8117-7 (ebook)
[1. Apprentices--Fiction. 2. Wax modeling--Fiction. 3. Tussaud, Marie, 1761–1850--Fiction. 4. Love--Fiction. 5. Orphans--Fiction. 6. Paris (France)--History--1789–1799--Fiction. 7. France--History--Revolution, 1789–1799--Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.D84955Mad 2014
[Fic]--dc23
2014013250
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Many of the designations used by manufacturers and sellers to distinguish their product are claimed as trademarks. Where those designations appear in this book and F+W Media, Inc. was aware of a trademark claim, the designations have been printed with initial capital letters.
Cover design by Erin Dawson.
Cover images © 123RF/Nadiya Struk, feverpitched, Krzysztof Grzymajło, andreykuzmin, 0mela, Milan Trajkovic, Apichart Surachartmathin, setory.
Kathleen Benner Duble, Madame Tussaud's Apprentice
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends