Next, the astute young woman proceeded to ingratiate herself with the Regent, Cardinal Dubois, and other members of the Government.
By Philippe d’Orléans she was, as we have seen, already very favourably regarded, and very soon she was admitted to the circle of his intimate friends.
Profiting by the knowledge that Dubois, although he had little liking for Monsieur le Duc, cared still less for the adversaries of the Condés, she sought eagerly for opportunities of rendering herself useful to him, and succeeded so well that before long she was able to reckon with confidence upon the support of his Eminence, who was becoming more powerful every day.
Nor did she neglect persons who, although they did not occupy any important ministerial office, were, nevertheless, possessed of influence. Thus, she succeeded in detaching, temporarily at least, the Cardinal de Rohan from the opposing faction—a distinct triumph, since the cardinal was generally believed to have been one of the lovers of Madame de Pléneuf—and in deciding the Maréchal de Villars, d’Alincourt, Livry, first maître d’hôtel to the King, her uncle by marriage the Maréchal de Matignon, the Duc de Richelieu, of gallant memory, for whom, when Monsieur le Duc became Prime Minister, she obtained the Embassy of Vienna, and several other nobles who had been hesitating between the two parties, to throw in their lot with the Condés.
She supported Law, too; and that adventurous financier was not ungrateful, and repaid her protection by filling her purse so full that she became quite independent of her lover’s bounty and was able to maintain a whole company of spies, who brought her early information of the movements of the enemy.
And so, shrewd, vigilant, resolute, and courageous, she pursued the path she had marked out for herself, to all appearance satisfied to remain on the defensive, but, in reality, carefully noting the weak points in her adversaries’ position, and watching for the occasion to deliver a crushing blow. Nor was the occasion long in presenting itself.
On 25 March, 1722, Sandrier de Mitry, receiver-general of the finances of French Flanders, and secretary and principal cashier to La Jonchère,[260] treasurer of the Emergency War Fund,[261] disappeared from his home, and nothing more was heard of him until the 18th of the following month, when his body, partially clothed and pierced by two wounds, was discovered in the Seine, near Marly.
This mysterious crime created an immense sensation in Paris, and a strong suspicion prevailed that La Jonchère, who did not bear too high a character,[262] had been plundering the State; that the unfortunate Sandrier had detected the defalcations, and that the treasurer had caused him to be made away with in order to close the matter.
But rumour, in certain quarters, went further than this, and accused the War Minister, Le Blanc, of being a party to the crime, or, at any rate, to what was believed to be the cause of it. For Le Blanc was not only La Jonchère’s official chief, but his patron and friend, and it would have been almost impossible for the treasurer to have falsified his accounts without the Minister being aware of it.