Becoming Josephine (23 page)

“
Bonsoir.
” A dazzling smile lit her features. “I’ve heard so much about the widow Beauharnais.” She kissed me on each cheek.

Taken aback, I laughed. “And I you, our Lady of Thermidor.”

“Please, call me Theresia.”

“And I am Rose.”

“If you will excuse me, ladies, I have business to attend to.” Tallien motioned to a gentleman from the National Assembly. “I hope you will join us again, citizeness.”

“You may count on it,” I replied.

Citizen Tallien lifted Theresia’s hand to his lips possessively. “Darling, I’ll see you later.”

Theresia leaned in and kissed him passionately on the mouth. Someone whistled through the din of music and voices. The hero and heroine of the Republic laughed before Tallien disappeared into the crowd.

Theresia and I shared details of our time at Les Carmes, past husbands, and our shared love of fashion, dancing, and meeting new people. In a short time, I felt as if I had known her since birth. We linked arms and swept around the beautiful array of candied fruits and pastries. I hadn’t seen so much sugar in years. I sampled a dozen pieces, taking care not to spend much time chewing them. My sensitive teeth began to ache, nonetheless, so I chucked my final plum, half-eaten, onto a servant’s tray.

“Pure bliss.” I sighed.

Theresia laughed at my enthusiasm. “You’re definitely Creole. Living without sugar must have been the most unnatural thing in the world.”

“I had no idea how much I missed it.”

We plunked down onto an empty sofa in the adjoining study.

“It has been such a lovely evening with you, Theresia. I feel as if I’ve known you for years.”

“As do I.” She patted my hand.

I swigged from my wineglass. “Forgive me for mentioning a solemn subject on such a fine night, but it weighs heavily on my mind. From one woman to another, I’m certain you’ll understand.”

Curiosity crossed her angelic countenance.

“I’m plagued with the disgrace surrounding my husband’s death,” I continued. “After his execution, the government sealed his properties and accounts. The Beauharnais name carries a black mark and my children and I must bear his shame. I’ve petitioned, but I am ignored. I’m not sure where else to turn except to your Tallien. But he is so busy. I don’t want to be bothersome.”

She fingered a shiny black curl. “Say no more. I’ll make sure he pleads Alexandre’s case. Too many innocent Republicans have suffered. Your husband’s execution was a crime.”

A little inebriated, I threw my arms around her neck and kissed her. “I cannot thank you enough.”

She laughed and patted my back. “You may thank me by coming for dinner tomorrow night.”

Excitement fluttered in my stomach. “I would love to, but I have traveled from Croissy. I did not make plans to stay in Paris.”

She understood my meaning. Theresia knew I possessed little and would need to arrange to stay with a friend. “You shall stay here. And do not try to argue. I insist.”

A broad grin crossed my face. My luck had proved capricious, but this was a start in the right direction.

Theresia and I became inseparable. We waltzed evenings away at the dance halls or attended art exhibitions. When spring arrived, we played games in the country and rode horses with friends, relishing the
fraîcheur
, the smell of grass and sunshine. Nature had never appeared so divine—a gift—as it had in those months after our incarceration. I marveled at its eternal renewal, and threw myself into the celebration of life I had taken for granted.

Most evenings we languished at La Chaumière. My circle of influential friends expanded and I borrowed from powerful bankers who liked pretty women. Theresia’s admirers abounded and soon, so did mine, though I remained in her shadow. I worked to preserve my youth with creams I concocted, facial masks, and expensive rouge, though it felt all for show. But a show is what I must give them.

Ten years my junior, Theresia was a blooming beauty, but my thirty-one years threatened my position among our beautiful friends.

Theresia laughed at my concern.

“You’re graceful and lovely. Men flock to you. Haven’t you noticed?” she teased one afternoon as we lay under an oak in the garden. Tallien fed her grapes.

So easy for her to dismiss my concern when her own youth stretched before her. I fingered the silver ribbon on my new hat. It complemented my purple dress perfectly. Both had cost far more than I could afford, but I had to reinvent myself once more, else I might find myself destitute. I shifted in the grass. The thought made me ill at ease.

“My dear friend”—I stole a grape from the dish—“they flock to you and merely tolerate me.”

Tallien laughed. “Really, Rose. That’s absurd.” He popped a grape into his mouth.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” I said. “I’ve dreaded this moment because you have already been so kind, but my conscience won’t let it rest.”

“Ask away.”

“I have a few friends still at Les Carmes.” I looked down at my hands. Guilt pooled in the pit of my stomach. Here I sat with friends, enjoying fine food—freedom—while they wasted away unjustly in prison. I had to do what I could for them.

Tallien noticed my change in humor. “I will see to their release. Give me their information and I’ll look into it first thing in the morning.”

I sighed in relief. “They’re good people. It sickens me that they are incarcerated without cause. How will I ever repay you?”

He sat for a moment, lost in thought. “Perhaps you could amuse Citizen Belfour. He arrives tonight from Bern and will be in want of company.”

I grasped his meaning. It would not be the first time I had entertained men in exchange for someone’s life. It was a small price to pay and sometimes it was amusing.

I nodded. “Of course.”

I relished letters of Eugène’s progress and visited Hortense when possible. How I missed them.

Citizeness Campan assured me Hortense was an industrious student.

“She’s well liked and a prodigious pianist.” Citizeness Campan looked through a ledger scribbled with notes. “Hortense’s scores are quite high.” She ran her finger down the page. “She’s attentive during classes. I wish I had more students like her.” She closed her book.

I could not have chosen a better teacher. Citoyenne Campan knew more about etiquette than anyone. Republican or not, my daughter would possess the manners of a well-bred lady. I would not wish for my daughter to suffer as I had at a young age.

Hortense grew more like a woman each time I visited. Her figure blossomed, her round face thinned, and her smile grew confident. We laughed and talked as women, though she was only twelve.

“Darling, you’re beautiful,” I said as I kissed her.

We settled on a red
canapé
in the sitting room. Hortense blushed. The pink stain on her cheeks accented her violet eyes and blond hair all the more.

“You have to say such things, Maman.” She fingered one of her elaborate braids.

I laughed. “That may be, but it’s the truth. Soon, you’ll catch a young man’s eye, if you haven’t already.”

More blushing. “Please, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Then my work here is done. I’ll speak no more of it.” I winked. “I have good news, darling.” I covered her hand with mine. “Your papa has been exonerated!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” She jumped up to embrace me.

“Our name is clear again.” I patted her back. “But there is another matter I have to contend with. His properties have been restored, but I will have to sell them to pay his debts. And ours.”

Her face fell. “We’ll have no inheritance.”

“I’m afraid not.” I gathered her hands in mine. “But we have our honor. And we have each other. What could be more important?”

Hortense kissed my cheek. “How right you are.”

I motioned to the pianoforte. “Will you play for me?”

On Sunday afternoon, I looked at my latest bill note. Three thousand livres. I chewed a fingernail to the quick. The jeweled hair clip could be returned and my dress would still be stunning. What would I do about the other bills?

Mimi set a tray on the desk. “Chocolate and bread.”

I rubbed my face in frustration.

“What is it?”

“I’m hopeless with money.” I sighed and folded the papers on my desk.

“It’s all them dresses, Yeyette. Your
maman
would scold you if she saw you acting so frivolous.”

I studied her face: round nose and pillowy lips, high cheekbones—all so familiar, so dear. “You’re right. I have plenty of dresses for the season. And Theresia will let me borrow hers.”

Wealthy friends ensured my financial support, but keeping pace with them drove me further into debt—a vicious cycle I could not escape. I needed a husband, but I would not marry just anyone. I sighed. And what of love? I tired of the constant search, the constant failure. Love and marriage certainly didn’t go hand in hand. Alexandre had taught me that.

One cool evening in the month of Floréal, Theresia and I rode in her violet carriage to a soiree at the Palais-Égalité. Paul Barras, current president of the National Assembly, had invited us. I could not wait to meet him. His reputation for scandalous parties intrigued me. I hoped tonight would be no exception. The theme—
bal des victimes
—demanded guests wear red velvet ribbons around their throats. Prison survivors assumed positions of honor at the tables and a dance mimicking a beheading would commence the ball.

Theresia and I wore matching blood-red silk gowns and had pinned our shoulder-length locks in tight curls. We had not covered our arms in gloves or our heaving breasts with fichus. Shocking the crowd was too much fun.

“I thought these beautiful.” Theresia pulled two gold tiaras from her bag. “One for each of us.”

I clapped in delight. “They’re beautiful.”

Theresia pinned hers in her hair. “What do you think?” The dim lighting glinted off the glittery band.

“Perfect.”

“No man will resist us tonight,
mon amie
.” She blew me a kiss.

“Is Tallien coming later?”

Her expression grew guarded. “I don’t know. I left him.”

I gasped. “When?”

“Three days ago. I am filing for divorce. That man has battered me for the last time.”