January 6th, 1784

We have only just returned from the wedding of Adrienne's daughter, Emiline, which I must say was very lovely. The young couple seemed genuinely fond of one another, which is a pleasant start to any marriage, though it is no guarantee of happiness later in life. We arrived home to news from Thierry's family in Riom that his elderly grandmother, his father's mother, is gravely ill. The family suggests, in their often rather odd way, that he need not trouble himself to travel to Riom to see her, and in the next sentence hint that she may not last much longer. Naturally he is in a state of bewilderment over how to proceed.

Maman writes as well that my step-father has suffered a fall and severely injured his head to the extant that he has not spoken since, although it has been several days. She says that he appears confused, and that the doctor is waiting for what he thinks is brain swelling to abate before trying any further action.

To complete our rather dismal beginning to the year, Thierry confessed to me on the journey home from Briancon that we have been living slightly above our means, and that without his income from the Ferme being replaced by the end of February, we will need to make some adjustments. It seems that good fortune never can last. I am, this time, determined to remain cheerful, and more to the point I shall endeavor to be resourceful. If we stay in Saint-Saturnin there will be no need to spend as lavishly as we would were we in Paris or at Versailles. We shall entertain seldom, travel very little, and put off those renovations which we had discussed. Thierry reminds me, though I had not needed to be told, that children are an expense themselves, and it is good that we have none at present. I do believe that the money for them could be found if needed, but of course there is little need for concern in that regard at the moment. 

Olympe

January 2nd, 1784

Faced with indecision at the beginning of last month, I chose to travel part of the way to Paris with my dear husband, and to remain in Riom at Portaberaud near to my mother and half-brothers. Thierry meanwhile wended his way north to meet with Msr. Poisson; but, alas, when he reached Paris the charge had already been given to another. He then found his way back to Riom, where we chose to spend a rather quiet Christmas with my family. My step-father was in a wretched temper, as he so often is, and we were all too glad to return to Saint-Saturnin.

A new year begins, and we can look back on the old with some satisfaction, even though some troubling news came at the end of the old. There is a peasant saying about a death and a birth in the turning of the year, and while I give no credence to such things we did experience both in some measure. The child of my maid Pauline, the one we called Little Hercule, was suddenly seized by a fever while I was in Riom and died a few days later. I have done what I can to express my sympathies and to cheer Pauline, but her grief is considerable and it is hardest of all when a child is taken. I was reminded strongly of my feelings following the death of the Comte de Rodez, my dear friend, and have resolved all the more to find out the truth.

As to the birth, it is yet to come, but as I have feared since her marriage, Clementine, now the Marquise de Menars, is expecting her first child. This will only show more starkly against my own barren state as I grow older still. My birthday passed in a mood of some somberness as I had just received word of Hercule's death, which affected me more than I could anticipate. The Marquis, having no great connection to our servants as of yet, was not himself shaken, but did his best to cheer me though I cannot say that he succeeded.

It seems that great events will happen in threes, and we travel tomorrow to Briancon to the home of my friend Adrienne whose eldest daughter, Emiline, is to be married on January 4th. I know almost nothing about the man she is marrying, who is of an old family, though not ennobled and has some business in lace and wine, but that is all that I can really say. No doubt seeing the child of a friend married, though the friend be somewhat older than I, will cause me to fall into a disagreeable temper. I do so dislike the winter.

Olympe

December 2nd, 1783

No sooner do I express in writing my hopes for my dear husband, than they are answered. The Marquis has been called away to Paris by Msr. Poisson with news of a charge, and so he is busy packing the necessary items for the journey north. At this time of year it will take him at least four or five days, I should think, and if his business is not soon concluded then we may not be together for Christmas; all of which inclines me to wonder if I should not travel with him and visit our friends in Paris and at Versailles.

He leaves within the hour and so I must make a decision quickly; to remain or to leave Saint-Saturnin once again?

Olympe, Marquise et Comtesse

November 30th, 1783

Such happiness has been ours these last few months that we can scarce believe our good fortune and look for dire news that never comes. Our guests at Saint-Saturnin have been many; with the Marquis' family arriving one after another for several weeks. His parents still have not visited us as of yet, but promise to in the spring. I should have thought them eager to see how well their second son has succeeded, especially as the eldest toils fruitlessly in the army, but evidently that is to be postponed.

My own mother, step-father, and half-brothers have visited as well, only a few weeks ago, which coincided beautifully with the ball that we had promised to host for the surrounding countryside. It was a brilliant success, and cost me many hours of preparation (and not a little sleep), but was so well-received and subsequently talked of that I think we shall soon be pressed to host another.

Christine has settled fretfully into her married life in Sweden, and begs for a visit from me, which I may do if circumstances favor in the new year. I wait with some trepidation for the announcement of the Marquise de Menars' hopes for a child, thinking that young Clementine cannot be too long without one, but at the moment none is expected. Nor, indeed, are our hopes to be fulfilled this year. Thierry, knowing that at my age bearing a child is fraught with dangers, declares that he would rather we remain childless than risk my life; but I cannot help but wish that our good fortune might extend a little longer. He is, alas, not even fond of his own nephews and nieces, and so there is little urgency to the matter for him.

Madame Elizabeth very kindly continues to write to me, and urges my return to Versailles, but at present we are so content that I think only a royal command would compel me to leave Auvergne. Of course, there is word that Thierry may soon be issued a charge, but what that will entail is entirely a mystery to me. A diplomatic posting, perhaps? His travels and use in the last war were enough to earn him a title, it is impossible to say to what other purposes he may soon be put. I selfishly wish that it will not require that we be parted again.

Olympe, Marquise de Mercoeur

et Comtesse d'Auvergne

Favorite

Seriously, who doesn't love the charming motifs paired with the simple silhouette of this gown?

August 1st, 1783

We are now safely ensconced at Saint-Saturnin, and the entire neighborhood is clamoring for an invitation to meet my new husband. Many of the servants, of course, recognize him from times past, but are treating him with no less respect despite his recent elevation; of which I am glad. I suppose we shall have to hold a ball sometime soon. In addition to the Marquis and Marquise de Menars visit, we are also shortly to enjoy one from one of my husband's windowed sisters and her two children. We have extended an invitation to his parents, but he thinks it unlikely that they will come.

I have already received a letter from Christine, though she is still traveling north. Her cold now gone, I fear she has less and less to distract her from the approaching realization of her engagement. I am sorry for my friend, that she is not to enjoy the happiness which I now do; but who is to say that it will not turn out for the best. It is so much easier to think hopeful thoughts when one is happy, I notice.

Though it rained this morning the weather has turned fine, and I may go out riding later. The Marquis has appropriated a room for his own study, and I believe sets his hand to writing various acquaintances about the possibility of those charges he might receive. My own income remains mine, as agreed upon in the marriage contract, and has been more than sufficient since the sale and lease of those properties for which I had no use. I myself made changes to the renovation plans and will now read for a while. Reinette rests at my feet, her tail thumping in her sleep, and all is contentment. Long may it last.

Olympe

July 26th, 1783

Happily the wedding day has come and gone, and today the last of the wedding guests has departed. The music, the laughter, the happiness were all, indeed, complete, and even the sour disposition of Maman's husband could not spoil it utterly.

I am saddened at Christine's journey north to her own impending nuptials in Sweden, as we cannot know when we shall see each other again; but we will not be bereft of company for long as the Marquis de Menars and his new wife, dear Clementine, will be joining us at Saint-Saturnin in a few weeks.

We ourselves travel south to that happy place in two days where I shall have to ask after little Hercule, the son of my former maid, Pauline. I cannot imagine how he has grown. Perhaps soon I may hope to have a son of my own. For now I fill my time with preparations for travel, the paying of my remaining debts in Paris, and plans for either renovating Portaberaud or building a new home for my dear Mercoeur. We have not settled on a name for this dream chateau, but then it is not certain of what Thierry's income will consist, for he cannot go back to the Ferme now that he is enobled; and yet the title does not carry with it a benefice. Perhaps our friend, Msr. Poisson, can be of some assistance here. We have invited him to visit us as well, but it is unlikely that he will accept the invitation as he rarely leaves Paris.

I must cease daydreaming and attend to the demands of the day. There is much for which I am grateful, and much to which we may look forward.

Olympe, Marquise de Mercoeur et Comtesse d'Auvergne