Becoming Josephine: A Novel Page 8

  I released a breath I did not know I was holding. Relief washed through me. I smiled, thankful for the judge’s faith in my honesty.

  “Insupportable!” Alexandre cried in indignation. “I won’t pay her a single sou.” He jumped from his chair and stormed across the room.

  My mouth fell open as he slammed the door behind him.

  En Avant

  Fontainebleau, 1785–1788

  The judge stood in outrage. “What in God’s name is the meaning of this? No man leaves my court without being dismissed!” A pair of guards rushed to the judge’s aid. “Stop that man in the officer’s uniform!”

  Moments later, the guards thrust Alexandre back into the room and barred the door.

  “You are not dismissed!” The judge glared. “I will fine you if you attempt that ridiculous display again. Is that clear?”

  “Oui, monsieur.” Alexandre bowed his head, suddenly meek.

  “Sit down.”

  Alexandre sat soundlessly.

  “You have no evidence against your wife; therefore her name is clear,” the provost said. “You will give her the monthly sum owed to her.”

  Alexandre ducked his head. “Of course. I apologize. I was taken by such surprise. I—”

  The judge raised his hand. “Enough.”

  I covered my mouth to hide my smile. Alexandre had a flair for the theatrical, but it did not serve him well in the judge’s office.

  “May I see the testimonials from Désirée and my father?” he asked. The provost handed him the papers.

  We sat in uncomfortable silence while Alexandre read.

  I longed to discuss Eugène. I tapped my foot and gazed at a painting of a nobleman on the far wall. His crooked nose and steely eyes sent a shiver up my spine. A hideous painting, to be sure.

  Alexandre shuffled the stack of letters into a pile. “It appears I am mistaken.” He turned to me. “Rose, I owe you my most ardent apology.” He was using his slick bedroom tone.

  I smothered a laugh. No one knew his false, obsequious nature better than I.

  He sensed my reticence and knelt by my chair. “My accusations were wretched and undeserved. I’m chagrined at my own behavior.” The man with whom I had fallen in love had resurfaced, if only for an instant. “Please say you’ll forgive me.”

  A vision of Eugène’s face made me stiffen with anger. “I can forgive your slander, dear husband, when you return my son.”

  “I took him for his own good. I—”

  “That is our next topic of discussion,” the provost interrupted. “You have violated the law in this regard. Your son is to remain in his mother’s custody until he is five years old, as is customary. At five, he will be sent to school under your care. Summers will be spent with his mother. You will return the child to her immediately. If you attempt to abduct him again, you will be arrested.”

  “I understand.”

  My heart soared. Thank God! My darling boy would come home.

  The provost gave Alexandre a hard look. “You are to restore financial support to assist Madame de Beauharnais with her expenses, including monies for your son’s servants and education. Your wife will also receive her dowry from her family—it is not to pay for your needs. Is that clear?”

  The judge turned to me. “Madame, have you anything further to discuss?”

  “No, monsieur.”

  The provost nodded his dismissal and I followed Alexandre to the door. I had won—a legal separation, monthly stipends, and my son! I could not marry again, but I could move on, and even take a lover if I chose. I nearly skipped from the building. With Alexandre’s support, I could afford my own apartment. Good-bye convent. Adieu, Alexandre.

  Alexandre stopped me as we exited the building. “I hope we can be amicable for our children. Our dissidence has divided my family.”

  “Your behavior divided your family,” I snapped. “If you’d been the father and husband you promised, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  His ears reddened. “Had you been a desirable wife, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

  I took a deep breath. He wouldn’t belittle me again. “You wouldn’t know a good thing if it struck you in the face. You care only for yourself.”

  He ignored my insult. “I’ve been a good father to Eugène. He may not wish to rejoin you.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that! Bring him home tonight.”

  “Only if I may meet my daughter as well.”

  I stared at him, speechless.

  “Don’t look so shocked. I love my children. Both of them.”

  “I recall you denouncing Hortense as a bastard.”

  He bowed his head. “Something I truly regret.” Sincerity rang in his words.

  “I would like for her to know her papa,” I said, eyeing him with suspicion. “If you can be civil to me and not steal her away.”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “That may be difficult. To be civil to you, that is.”

  I clenched my fists in outrage and stormed toward a fiacre.

  Alexandre arrived at the convent later that evening, just as I had begun to worry he wouldn’t deliver Eugène.

  “Bonsoir,” he said curtly, letting go of Eugène’s hand.

  “Maman!” Eugène raced across the salon. He wrapped his little arms around my neck and relished my assault of kisses.

  “Oh, my darling! I missed you so much.” I squeezed him to my chest and stroked his hair. I peered over his head at Alexandre, who remained in the doorway, his expression sheepish. He seemed to regret having acted a fool. “What did you do with your papa, cheri?”

  “We rode horsies and threw bread at the birds, and Papa read me stories. I ate lots of jam!” he added with glee.

  “I’m so glad you enjoyed your vacation.” I gave Alexandre a steely look.

  “Did you expect I would mistreat my son? Give your papa a kiss.” Eugène wiggled from my grasp and sprang into his father’s arms.

  Alexandre had treated him well. It was clear he loved his son. He detested only me.

  “Hortense is asleep. We can set another time for you to meet her.”

  “I shall come in two days, at midday.” He put Eugène on his feet. “Does that suit you?”

  “No, it does not. I have an engagement. You may come Thursday at two.”

  I would never be rid of him, but his visits would be on my terms.

  Alexandre visited regularly and lavished affection on our children. They adored his visits. I began to forgive his kidnapping Eugène.

  I made haste to begin my new life and called upon friends to help me find an apartment in Paris. After viewing a dozen dilapidated buildings, I realized I could not afford a place in the city. My income from Alexandre was smaller than I had realized. We would have to relocate elsewhere.

  One summer morning, I loaded the children into our hired coach.

  “Where are we going, Maman?” Eugène asked as we pulled away from Penthémont.

  “Our new home in Fontainebleau. Where Aunt Fanny and Désirée live.” Financial hardship had forced them to move months earlier. I touched the tip of my son’s round nose. “And don’t worry. We’ll still see your papa. We won’t be far from Paris.”

  When we pulled into the drive of our new home, I admired the modest vegetable garden and flower boxes stuffed with petunias.

  Eugène leapt from his seat. “Can I play?”

  “Let’s!”

  Our new apartment lacked elaborate furnishings, but we awoke to the warble of birds and cheeping tree frogs. Yet despite the lovely wood, invigorating air, and the calm of Fontainebleau, I grew bored. How many promenades could I take through the meadow? I missed the bustle of the city.

  One afternoon, I retied Hortense’s ribbons after playtime in the yard.

  “Your romping has mussed your hair.” I ti
ckled her middle. “As it should be, doucette. Your maman tumbled through the garden when she was little.”

  She climbed into my lap. “Want to sit with Maman.”

  I kissed her head. How fast she had grown! I could hardly believe she was three years old. And Eugène had been sent to school. A lump formed in my throat. I couldn’t wait to visit him, though I had no idea where the money for the trip would come from. I worried at my pitiful income. Independence had been more difficult than I’d expected. I looked up as Fanny waltzed into the salon.

  “How are my favorite girls?” She stooped to kiss Hortense, leaving a ring of rouge on her face. “Oh!” She laughed. “Let me clean your cheek.” She dabbed at the imprint with her handkerchief.

  “We’re well,” I said.

  “The royals are in town!” She beamed. “Do you know what that means? With the royals come their sycophants and lackeys, their supporters and enemies. The hunt will begin again and so will my salon, darling!”

  I whooped in glee.

  Fanny’s salons impressed as they had in Paris; the most brilliant minds, the most creative, and the most fashionable outside of the royal court attended. Even Claire came for an extended visit.

  One autumn evening, Claire twirled in a new gown. “How do I look?” Iridescent sequins sparkled in the candlelight.

  I admired the blush satin on her creamy skin. “Fresh as a peach in summer.”

  “Ripe for the picking.” We laughed.

  I pulled on a pair of ivory gloves. “Thank you for the gown. It’s lovely.”

  Claire had tired of a muslin sheath in mint green after wearing it twice. I didn’t have a sou to purchase my own. I had no idea how I would accrue rent for the apartment or for Hortense’s tutor. Alexandre sent money only sporadically.

  At Fanny’s, we parted ways to mingle. As I circled the room, I overheard conversations that shocked me. Everyone spoke ill of the Queen.

  “L’Autri-chienne!” a portly man guffawed.

  “A female dog, indeed. The Queen scampers around her harem like a bitch in heat!” a thin man with gold-rimmed glasses added. Their laughter bellowed.

  “The dauphin is sickly. Poor bastard. He pays the price for his mother’s bawdiness.”

  What bravado they possessed—to call the Queen such a name in public! The idiots! Someone could report such a statement and they would find themselves imprisoned, or worse.

  I scooted across the room to Claire, who flirted with a man I had never seen.

  “Rose, darling.” Her hand made a sweeping gesture. “Monsieur Jacques, may I present Rose de Beauharnais.”

  “I was just leaving to search out a cigar,” he replied. “Mademoiselle Pellier, it was a pleasure.”

  Claire showed a perfect smile, the gleam in her eye full of unspoken taunting.

  Lord, she had a way with men.

  “À plus tard,” she cooed.

  “You have met a man already?” I teased.

  “Of course.” Dimples popped from their hiding places in her cheeks. “Speaking of men, the gentleman in navy is staring at you.”

  I opened my fan and pretended to look past the dark-haired gentleman. He caught my eye and started in my direction.

  Claire elbowed me hard in the ribs. “Maybe this time you should do more than flirt. It’s time, mon amie.”

  I regarded his chiseled chin and aquiline nose. “He’s not handsome, exactly, but there is something attractive about him. He seems . . . self-assured.”

  “Well, yes. He’s rich and has loads of women vying for his attention.”

  “Who is he?”

  “The Duc de Bordeaux. He’s not married.”

  “Maybe he isn’t interested in women at all.”

  “Ha! I doubt that.”

  “Bonsoir, ladies.” The duke bowed. “I couldn’t help but notice the most beautiful women in the room.”

  “You flatter us, monsieur,” I said, fluttering my fan.

  “I wanted to invite you à la chasse and an evening of dining next week. At the château I’ve rented in town.”

  “Perhaps we’ll see you there.” I gave him a coy look.

  “Splendid.” He grinned. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have business to attend to. Enjoy your evening.”

  “I haven’t hunted in ages!”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking.” I reached for a flute of champagne. “I can’t kill an animal!”

  “I assure you we’ll not see the prey at all. We’ll ride behind the others.” Claire took her own glass of wine. “It’s great fun. And then there’s the duke.” Amusement danced in her eyes.

  “Don’t get your hopes up. I don’t plan to bed the duke.”

  I attended my first hunt in a cornflower blue riding habit with narrow skirts and epaulettes. But my hat! Gorgeous and petite, it had blue satin that shone and a perky cerulean feather waving like a flag in the breeze.

  “It is fantastic, isn’t it?” Claire relished my excitement. “With kid gloves and half boots, you look a natural. Regarde.” She pointed at a man carrying a giant curled horn. “It is time to begin.”

  We mounted our sidesaddles with the help of a stable hand. A cheerful smattering of voices and the whinnies of horses floated on the crisp autumn breeze. Energy pulsed in the circles of waiting hunters. All listened for the horn, the signal to begin. Nothing in Martinique resembled such an event, with its display of horses and their regal riders. My pulse raced at the thrill.

  I scanned the crowd. Still no sign of the duke.

  The crowd hushed.

  I held my breath. My horse, Sable, pranced beneath me in anticipation.

  The horn’s melody sounded and cheering erupted. A blur of thundering horses and bawling hounds raced for the forest. Sable bolted. Leaning forward in the saddle, I focused on the path ahead. We sailed through thickets of oaks, maples, and walnut trees, their leaves a parade of burnt orange, lemon, and red currant. Wind billowed in my skirts.

  “Va Sable, Va!” I shouted. Chunks of soil flew from under her speeding hooves. The scent of polished leather, the rhythm of muscles and sinew intoxicated me.

  Just ahead, a stream came into view, gushing from the past few rain-soaked days. Anxiety washed over me. Should I pull back? Sable’s hooves pounded forward without hesitation. At the bank of the stream, I closed my eyes.

  My stomach dropped. Weightlessness overtook me. In one smooth leap, Sable bounded over the stream.

  A peal of laughter ripped from my lips. “Magnifique!” I nudged Sable faster, to leave all behind. “Onward!”

  That evening, I wore rose-colored velvet with gold embroidery and cream satin ribbons. The dress had cost a fortune, but Claire insisted on helping me pay for it. We descended the stairs to wait for Fanny’s coach. She would escort Claire and me tonight. When the coach stopped in front of the house, its door flew open.

  “Get in! We’re almost late,” Fanny called.

  I bumped my head on the doorframe as we jerked forward. “Ouch!” I blotted my forehead, trying not to touch my hair. It had taken me more than an hour to get it right. Curls sprang from a pink flower pin, the perfect complement to such an elegant gown.

  “You’re perfect, darling. Not to worry,” Claire said. She was ravishing, herself, in yellow silk and diamonds.

  “Why are we in a hurry?” I asked.

  “I’m meeting friends to discuss reform.” Fanny folded her hands in her lap.

  “Reform? What sort?” Claire asked, her head swaying side to side to the rhythm of the moving carriage.

  “The royal treasury is bankrupt. We’ll see another increase in taxes soon.”

  “I’ve heard the King will no longer host court in Fontainebleau when this season concludes. How dull everything will become,” Claire complained.

  “An increase in taxes?” I asked anxiously
. “As it is, I have borrowed to survive these last months.”

  “Times are unstable. We don’t want to be associated with the wrong side. Be prudent with your opinions,” Fanny warned. “Many fear revolt.”

  We nodded in silent agreement. The thought of a revolt turned my stomach.

  Fanny had no need to be discreet. Everyone debated reform.

  “The King should fire the Minister of Finance. His support dwindles,” a gentleman said.

  “King Louis is an arrogant fool. Too busy hunting and letting the Queen spend the national treasury on frippery,” another said.

  Remaining neutral was my natural inclination; both sides had their points and dividing my friends concerned me. I thought it ludicrous to lose a friendship over opinions about the King. He would be King for posterity.

  I searched for the duke throughout dinner, but did not see him in the sea of faces. As the wine flowed, the guests’ discussions became more animated and the ambience darkened. I excused myself to seek fresh air; a headache brewed.

  On my final turn through the rambling halls, I spotted a door leading to the main gardens. The chilly air bit at my nose and ears. Stars sparkled against a black velvet sky. Torches lit the mansion’s rows of hardy flowers, which thrived in spite of the autumn frost. I descended a staircase leading to a terrace of topiaries and fountains.

  “Madame, are you cold?” A voice startled me. “You are shivering.”

  I squinted at a form in the darkness. “Who’s there?”

  “Please, take my coat. I am quite warm.” The figure stepped into a halo of light from a nearby torch, revealing a familiar chiseled face. The duke.

  I smiled. “Thank you, monsieur. That’s very kind of you.” He slid his coat off and wrapped it around my shoulders.

  “You are very beautiful tonight, madame.” He leaned forward, taking my gloved hand in his and grazing it with his lips. A tingling spread up my arm. “It’s a lovely night, but a bit brisk. I’m surprised to find a woman out of doors.”