This week, we're pleased to welcome author and Unusual Historicals' contributor Ginger Myrick with her latest novel, Insatiable: A Macabre History of France ~ L’Amour: Marie Antoinette. The novel is available NOW. Join us again on Sunday for an author interview, with more details about the story behind the story. The author will offer a free copy of Insatiable to a lucky blog visitor. Be sure to leave your email address in the comments of today's post or Sunday's author interview for a chance to win. Winner(s) are contacted privately by email. Here's the blurb.
In 1770, fourteen-year-old Austrian archduchess, Maria Antonia,
left her homeland to marry the most sought after prince in Europe. Upon
stepping into France she became Dauphine Marie Antoinette and assumed a
fairytale life would follow.
In 1770, fourteen-year-old Austrian archduchess, Maria Antonia,
left her homeland to marry the most sought after prince in Europe. Upon
stepping into France she became Dauphine Marie Antoinette and assumed a
fairytale life would follow.
But being the Queen of France is not all masked balls, beautiful
dresses, and extravagant living. There are horrifying and unnatural forces at
work behind the scenes, a mysterious plague causing a sinister transformation
in the residents of Paris. When Marie Antoinette learns the details, she is
stunned to find out that France has kept the secret for over two hundred years,
and now she will be burdened with one of her own.
Determined to be the obedient daughter of the iron-willed Holy
Roman Empress, she agrees to fulfill her commitment to the French Crown,
until she unexpectedly falls for the handsome Swedish count, Axel von Fersen.
Torn between her husband and her true love, her duty and her desire, Marie
Antoinette longs for the day when she can be free to choose her path and follow
her heart.
**An Excerpt from Insatiable: A Macabre History of France
~ L’Amour: Marie Antoinette**
~ L’Amour: Marie Antoinette**
Prologue
November 1755
Vienna, Austria
The cries of a newborn rang through the wide marbled halls of the Hofburg Palace. It was the second day of November, the somber commemoration of Feast of All Souls—the Catholic Day of the Dead—an inauspicious time for the birth of a royal personage.
Francis
Stephen stood gazing adoringly at the mother of his children and the beautiful
little archduchess she had just produced. Although he bore the title of Holy
Roman Emperor, and this was his fifteenth venture into the realm of fatherhood,
he could not have been prouder had he been a simple farmer beholding his first
child.
“She is
small but lovely and utterly charming,” he smiled down at the baby.
“And
destined for greatness,” the child’s mother agreed.
“But not
yet. She is only just come into the world with seven other sisters ahead of
her. For now, at least, can she not be allowed to be a simple little girl?”
Though
she had just been through the ordeal of childbirth, Maria Theresa still managed
to muster a look of hauteur. “A daughter of mine should never be allowed to
forget her place.”
“It was
worth a try,” Francis sighed then went on in a more serious tone. “But there is
something I do not like about this day for her birth. It is too somber, too
ominous for such a bright and dainty girl. I wish you had waited another few
hours and produced her on the third instead.”
“And I
would have preferred you to carry her then produce her at your own discretion,
but alas, such things are beyond our control.”
“Touché,
Madame,” he conceded. “Regardless, we should do what we can to give her a happy
childhood. I feel the mark of destiny upon her and it weighs heavily, a dark
looming presence that will taint any happiness she might hope to achieve.”
“Come,
Dearest,” said the new mother. “I am the one who has just given birth, yet it
is you who are experiencing the grim fantasies of postpartum. You are being far
too sentimental. What is a daughter for if not to cement political alliances?
Besides, it is my duty to do what best suits the Austrian people.”
Six months later, the validity of Maria Theresa’s statement was confirmed when the opportunity arose to ally Austria with its longtime adversary, France, the land of her husband’s birth. It was an unprecedented occasion and should have been cause for celebration, but Francis was not as delighted as his wife had anticipated. In fact, he looked quite distraught, so much so that she saw fit to comment.
“I would
have thought you’d be pleased by this alliance,” she prodded carefully, “yet
you look as if I’ve signed an order for the execution of your favorite hunter.”
When he still had not responded, she reached out and placed her plump white
hand gently on his sleeve. “What is it, my love? What has you so upset?”
Staring
straight ahead without sparing his wife a glance, Francis answered in a
strangely detached and oddly prophetic voice. “Since her birth, I have felt the
shadow of death stalking my dear sweet Antoine. This alliance with France just
feels like another step toward fulfilling her dark destiny.”
It was so
haplessly stated that Maria Theresa did not even think to refute it. Instead,
she tried to reason with him.
“You are
overreacting, Francis. Nothing of the sort has occurred. This treaty is a
simple agreement between nations against a common enemy. Besides, should France
one day wish to solidify the union with a marriage, it would not happen for
many, many years, and who is to say
that it will fall to Antoine? Certainly France cannot be so very bad. After
all, it produced you,” she added with an amused grunt filled with affection.
But
Francis would not be cheered. “If you love me,” he began, knowing full well
that she treasured him above anything in the world, “you will promise never to
send her there. There are strange and macabre goings-on in France that should
be kept from the eyes of the outside world, never to be exposed to the light of
day. Promise me that she will not go.”
“I will
do what I can,” she offered, mostly to pacify him and get him out of this
morose train of thought, which was so unlike him.
She tried
to put the incident aside and move the conversation to a different subject, but
it had so unsettled her husband that the creeping sensation came over her that
there must be some basis for his assertion. A cold finger of trepidation
tiptoed down her spine, her scalp prickled, and the flesh on the nape of her
neck crinkled into goose pimples. There arose within her the gnawing compulsion
to learn the source of his disquiet, although an inner counsel screamed out for
her to let it die.
Against
her better judgement, in a voice barely above a whisper, she asked, “Francis,
what are these things of which you speak? Why have you not mentioned them
before?”
He turned
to face her, and Maria Theresa was surprised to see the sheen of tears in his
bright blue eyes. They typically held a contented expression with a touch of
whimsy but were now utterly serious with no trace of their usual gaiety.
“Many
years ago in my youth, I was sworn to silence as were the rest of my kin. But
even if I were to betray my oath, the truth is so unthinkable that you would
not believe me.” He turned his gaze from her, his tears brimming his eyes and
streaming silently down his cheeks. He made no move to wipe them away, only
prayed, “Perhaps she will be safe at Versailles.”
Ginger Myrick was born and raised in Southern California. She is a self-described wife, mother, animal lover, and avid reader. Along with the promotion for BUT FOR THE GRACE OF GOD, WORK OF ART, THE WELSH HEALER, and EL REY, she is currently putting the finishing touches on novel #5. She is a Christian who writes meticulously researched historical fiction with a ‘clean’ love story at the core. She hopes to persevere and show the reading community that a romance need not include graphic details to convey deep love and passion. Look for Insatiable: AMacabre History of France ~ L’Amour: Marie Antoinette live now at Amazon!
