The Second Empress (24 page)

“Yes.”

“And you’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you?” she asks suddenly. “Because there’s no one like him in this world. The things he plans to do … the things he’s already done …”

I watch her carefully, but she seems to be genuinely concerned for him.

“Everyone wants something from Napoleon,” she clarifies. “Money, titles, opportunities. He needs the women around him to be utterly loyal.” She looks at me, and her dark eyes seem to know exactly what I’m thinking.

“I will be loyal,” I promise.

“I hope so. Because it would crush him to have brought home a second Joséphine.”

T
HAT EVENING
, as Hortense shares a small gelato with me before bed, I tell her about Pauline’s question. “She wanted to know if I would be loyal.”

Hortense puts down her spoon. “She’s heard about Count Neipperg
then,” she guesses. “From Queen Caroline. Or maybe one of the queen’s women.”

My heart is racing. “What will he do?”

“Nothing,” Hortense says easily. “It’s only a rumor.”

“He won’t punish my father?”

“How?”

In any number of ways. “He might remove him from the throne of Austria.”

But Hortense looks doubtful. “The count was here for a few minutes, and you were not alone with him,” she reassures me. “He gave you Sigi, and that was it.”

We both look toward the fire, where my spaniel is curled up in his new basket, sleeping.

“Besides”—she smiles—“do you really think he’ll punish you after this news?”

We’re both looking down at my little belly when the door of my chamber creaks open and Napoleon steps inside.

“Your Majesty!” Hortense hides her surprise and rises. This is normally his time with Méneval.

“Leave,” he says.

Hortense glances at me.

“Go,” I tell her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She leaves her gelato, and Napoleon watches me from the door. “An old friend of yours?” he asks.

I put down my spoon. “Who?”

“
Who
?” he repeats, then crosses the chamber so quickly that I can’t prepare myself for what he does next. He reaches for the gelato and shoves the bowl into my face. “Do you think I’m a fool?” he rages. “Do you think I didn’t see what was happening?” He pushes the bowl harder, then lets it drop to the floor. “Come on, little piggy. Keep eating. Isn’t that what you do best?”

I can barely breathe. I reach for a serviette, but my hands are
trembling too hard to wipe the food away. I have never been so humiliated, and by my own husband. I rise from the chair to clean myself, but his hand on my shoulder holds me down.

“You want to know why I’m eating?” I cry.

He doesn’t say anything, so I tell him.

“I’m
pregnant
.”

He withdraws his hand as if he’s been burned, and I watch him with open hatred. “How—how do you know?”

“Because tonight was the second month that I’ve missed … because I’m certain.”

“Marie—”

“Stay away from me!” I scream. I rush from my chair, but he follows me into my boudoir.

“
Ma bonne amie
. I’m sorry.”

I wash my face in the bowl of lemon water the servants leave out for me each night, and I can sense Napoleon behind me as I cry.
What if this child turns out like its father? What if he’s just as twisted and cruel
?

“
Mio dolce amore
,” he says tenderly. “If I had known …”

The words make me cringe. I put down my towel and hope he can see the disgust in my eyes. “Now you do.”

“I will make it up to you. Whatever you want. I promise.”

But it’s too late for that. What I want has returned to Austria.

C
HAPTER
17

PAULINE BORGHESE

Fontainebleau Palace August 1810

W
HY IS IT THAT
G
OD PUNISHES ME LIKE THIS
?
P
REGNANT
! And now my brother is handling his wife like she’s made of Sèvres china, plying her with silks, and lace, and sweets. Paul told me that last night, when he was visiting the emperor in his study, she arrived, and he let her write an official letter to Russia. And when she was done, he praised her for its tact!

I look across the room to his most recent gift to me and want to tear it apart. How dare he think he can buy my forgiveness with a fur pelisse. De Canouville sees the direction of my gaze and frowns.

“Napoleon’s gesture of goodwill,” I snap. “From his visit with the Russian emperor. He was gifted with three. There is nothing unique about it. If you want it, have it. Use it to trim your uniform. Or your jacket. Or your undergarments.” Despite the pains in my stomach, I walk to the chaise and pick up the pelisse. “Take it,” I say firmly. “I never want to see it again.” Besides, he’ll look fetching in black fur.

I sit on the chaise and put my head in my hands. I am the one who brought this about. I convinced my brother to divorce Beauharnais. And now it is all Marie-Louise.
What does Marie-Louise want? What does Marie-Louise think? Would Marie-Louise care to answer letters in my study? After all, she has such wonderful political acumen and competence
!
When I think of how Paul convinced me to apologize to her, I want to kill him.

De Canouville tenderly rubs my back. “He will never stop being your brother,” he says.

“He wants me to meet him in his study tomorrow,” I reply. “He wants my help decorating the child’s apartments.” Tears of rage cloud my eyes, and I wish I had never heard the name Marie-Louise.

“Then it will be your style that influences the king of Rome.”

But I’m in no mood to be placated.

W
HEN
I
REACH
my brother’s study the next morning, every courtier in France is rushing about like a headless chicken.

“Which design do you prefer?” he asks me. “The first one, with the silver armoire?”

I lean over his desk. “The third one.”

“With the library?”

“You want the child to be literate, don’t you?”

He takes his quill and circles the third design.

“You know,” I say, “there was a time when you believed all great reputations came from the east, and that Egypt would fix your name in the records of posterity.”

“Not now,” he warns. “Egypt is finished. Do you understand? It was an exercise, Pauline. A three-year training for real wars. Be happy with the treasures you have. Don’t live in the past.”

“You didn’t always believe that.”

“And we didn’t always believe the earth revolved around the sun.”

There’s no winning with him. There will always be an answer, or a quip, or some jibe. “You want this christening to look like Marie-Antoinette’s christening of her Dauphin?” I ask. “You want your son—or daughter,” I add provocatively, “to be dressed in the same clothes as Louis XVII?” I step back. “Then go ahead. Build nurseries in the
Tuileries and Fontainebleau, but when your people revolt, don’t come asking me why.” I turn around, but he grabs my arm.

“You are not dismissed.”

My eyes meet his, and I hope he can feel their heat. “What? Shall we plan the child’s wedding, too?” I wrest my arm free and cross the chamber.

“Do
not
leave this room.”

“Or what?” I open the door and slam it shut. In the hall, Marie-Louise is waiting to see Napoleon. Immediately, she rises from her chair. I look at her stomach beneath her blue and white gown. God only knows what she’ll fit into in a few months. They’ll have to send for a tent. “You think you’re very clever, don’t you?” I ask, and I can see her surprise at my sudden change in attitude. “Beating my brother at chess, embarrassing him at billiards. We came from poverty,” I remind her sharply. “Some of us didn’t pass our childhood in games. But enjoy this time,” I suggest. “The presents, the flattery, the attention. Because six months from now, no one will be interested in you at all. And when my brother rejoins his army in Spain, don’t be surprised when he takes your child with him.”

She flinches, and I don’t wait for her to respond.

I
FIND
P
AUL
and de Canouville in my chamber. They are reading on opposite sides of the room. Paul, some book on fallen empires, and de Canouville—well, who knows what de Canouville reads? Probably a play. Some light piece that Talma would never touch. They both stop as soon as they see me, but only de Canouville hurries to his feet.

“Is something wrong?” He puts down his book. “What happened?”

I’m about to tell him when a knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. “What?” I snap, and suddenly Paul rises to his feet.

“Your Majesty.” Paul bows, and de Canouville follows suit.

I turn to meet Napoleon’s gaze and realize what has happened.

“What did you tell my wife?” he asks quietly. “What did you say to
her?” he shouts. When I don’t say anything, he tells me, “I am done, Pauline. I am finished with this. With
all
of it. What did you tell her?” he asks me again.

“I—I warned her that once the child comes, things will be different.”

Napoleon looks at Paul, as if my chamberlain could somehow verify this statement. Then he sees de Canouville, and his whole body stiffens. I follow his eyes. It’s inspection day, and de Canouville is wearing his captain’s uniform. But unlike the jackets of the other men, his is trimmed with Russian fur. He looks down at his coat, and the color drains from his face.