Becoming Josephine (10 page)

Claire used her connections to secure a speedy appointment with the provost of Paris. Within the week, I found myself waiting in the court of justice with Claire at my side. I shifted in my seat and fingered my stack of documents. Surely the judge would rule in my favor. I had proof of Alexandre’s negligence. I prayed it would be enough.

“Madame de Beauharnais?” At last, a clerk called my name.

“Yes.” I stood.

“Right this way.”

“
Courage.
” Claire blew me a kiss.

The clerk led me through a series of corridors until we reached the judge’s office. I inhaled a fortifying breath before entering. I must exude fortitude.

“
Bonjour.
Have a seat,” the judge greeted me.

I described every detail of our marriage—my husband’s infidelity, his accusations, his fleeting time at home and lack of financial support. Last of all, I explained Eugène’s kidnapping. The provost read through my letters, taking notes on his elegant stationary.

“Madame de Beauharnais, it appears you have suffered a great deal, but it’s essential I hear both parties.” His pale eyes were kind. “I’ll request your husband’s presence in two weeks’ time. It would be in your favor to be present as well.” He shuffled his papers into a pile and placed his wrinkled hands on top.

“
Merci
, monsieur. I am aggrieved at Alexandre’s conduct.”

“It is my pleasure to help an innocent young woman.” He smiled beneath his bushy mustache.

I daresay he liked me. As Claire and I swept into our waiting coach, a spark of hope ignited in my bosom. It was time for my luck to change.

The days before the trial crept along. Visions of Eugène’s terrified face plagued me. I couldn’t wait to bring him home. The appointed day arrived on a frosty March morning.

Alexandre arrived just as our names were called. The moment I saw him, my anger flared.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” I said, the hate in my voice controlled but unmistakable.

“Let’s finish this business once and for all, shall we? I’ll be glad to be rid of you.”

I clenched my fists inside my green wool muff. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me upset. I had learned to hold my temper, to appear a lady at all times.

“Right this way.” The clerk motioned us through an open door.

The provost addressed us without looking up from his papers. “
Bonjour
, Madame de Beauharnais.
Bonjour
, monsieur. Please have a seat.” He waved his hand to indicate the chairs in front of his massive oak desk.

Alexandre sat as far from me as possible.

The judge locked Alexandre in his gaze. “I will come to the point. I met with Madame de Beauharnais on a previous occasion. I have reviewed her letters from your family and friends. They all support her innocence despite your claims of her infidelity. I find it difficult to find her guilty with so many contrary witnesses. Do you have proof against her? If so, I will take your documentation at this time.”

My articulate husband bowed his head before the provost. “Monsieur le Jouron, I assure you my wife has not been devoted to me, as required by law. I heard many rumors while abroad, serving my garrison and my country. As you can imagine, I was vexed by such atrocious news.” Somehow he managed to conjure tears.

I stared at him, incredulous at his false display of emotion.

“She sneaked from the house to meet her lovers like a common whore.” He dabbed his eyes with his gloved hand. “It is I who deserve the rights in this separation. She has never been a respectable wife—”

“Monsieur de Beauharnais,” the provost said, “this is no place for insults and fabricated rumors—only facts. You have spent less than a year with your wife in a five-year period. I find it absurd you allege affairs having spent so little time at home. Who were your sources?”

“I relied upon the counsel of my aunt Désirée and my father, the Marquis de de Beauharnais. I cannot divulge my other sources. You must understand the sensitivity of my position.”

“That is complete nonsense,” the judge said. “Your stepmother and father submitted their word in writing in support of Madame de Beauharnais. I suggest you cease your falsehoods, monsieur, or you may find yourself facing contempt. Is this the only case you can make against your wife?”

Alexandre’s jaw set in a rigid line, but he said nothing.

He had been silenced. A miraculous feat, indeed. I studied the judge’s face as my heart thrummed in anticipation of the verdict.

“If you have no documentation, all charges against Madame de Beauharnais are to be deemed false and unfounded. Madame, your name is cleared and your honor restored. I grant you the separation you desire, including proper financial support due a wife.”

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.

Fontainebleau, 1785–1788

T
he 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 tickled 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.