Ém’s head was bowed, but I saw a hint of a smile.
* * *
—
After a celebratory meal, Maman and I left for Malmaison. The General, Flauvelet and Eugène were still working, so Maman and I played billiards (she won, as always) before retiring for the night. I fell asleep thinking of the miracle of my uncle’s return. It made me happy, especially for Ém, but also a little sad. My father’s absence was irrevocable. Nothing would ever bring him back. I thought of Citoyenne Lenormand “contacting” my father’s spirit. Had that really happened? Lenormand may have known what father had written on that handbill, but she couldn’t possibly have known about Nelly’s test for M and N, or the color of her sash. I was beginning to believe it possible that spirits were with us, that Father was with us—and that gave me comfort.
* * *
—
I woke the next morning to an empty house. Eugène was out fishing and Maman and the General had gone early into the village. As I was finishing my second coffee and a dish of pudding with stewed prunes, Eugène came back with an enormous carp he’d caught.
“Perfect,” Mimi said, summoning the cook. “We’ll roast it for our guests this afternoon.”
Maman and the General returned shortly after—with four pug dogs, identical tan puppies with black faces, all squealing, chewing, yapping and snuffling. They were adorable.
“Bonaparte insisted we take the entire litter,” Maman said, laughing. She was happy at Malmaison. Even the General didn’t glower quite so much when there.
“But how will we tell them apart?” I asked, picking one up and holding her to my cheek. She licked the tip of my nose.
“With different-colored trimmings,” Maman said, showing me a basket of ribbons. “We’ll make collars for them this evening.”
“Why not now?”
Maman glanced over at the General, who was absorbed in a book on Italian geography. “Bonaparte has something he wants to show you. Bonaparte?”
He looked up, distracted.
“You have something for Hortense?”
“Oh! Yes.” He jumped up.
“Eugène, you go too,” Maman suggested.
* * *
—
Eugène and I followed the General out to the ramshackle stable. “What’s this about?” I asked Eugène in a hushed voice.
“You’ll see,” he said mysteriously.
Coming out the stable door was a boy with a mare, a beautiful gray with black socks and a white blaze.
“She’s for you, Hortense,” the General said, taking the rope lead and handing it to me.
“For our ride?” We’d been planning a tour of the property.
“Not exactly,” he said.
Then? I was confused.
“I mean, it’s your horse,” he said. “To keep.”
I glanced at Eugène, who nodded.
“Don’t you like her?” the General asked, for I was speechless.
“No,” I said brightly, “I don’t.” I felt my cheeks flush. “I love her,” I said, stroking the mare’s neck. She had big, intelligent eyes.
Eugène grinned. “We thought you might. Christophe and I helped pick her out.”
Christophe? “But Colonel Duroc’s in the north.”
“We chose her before he left,” Eugène said. “She needed a bit more schooling. She’s spirited, but she has a smooth gait and she listens well.”
A horse, a horse of my own! “Thank you,” I told the General, overcome.
“No racing,” he said, teasing. (He was the one who loved to race.)
“She goes nicely astride or sidesaddle, whichever you wish,” Eugène said.
“Hortense would ride too fast astride,” the General said.
“Then astride it will be,” I said, teasing back. “And bareback,” I added, for good measure. “What’s her name?”
Eugène made a face. “Clockwork, but—”
“Clockwork?” How bizarre.
“You could change it,” he suggested.
“Very well. From now on, she’ll be Game of Hope.” It just popped into my head.
They looked at me like I was lunatic.
“But Hope for short,” I said with a grin, stroking her neck, her soft muzzle. Hope, indeed.
* * *
—
Hope was fast. I outdistanced Eugène on Pegasus!
* * *
—
Nasty: Swallowing a flying insect.
* * *
—
Caroline and her husband arrived early, shortly before one. She was lavishly dressed, flaunting her married status. I felt shabby by comparision. I was still wearing the patched riding habit Maman had passed onto me.
Despite Caroline’s finery, she was eclipsed by her husband, who wore a gold-embroidered harlequin coat, purple pantaloons and bright-yellow boots. Three ostrich plumes and an expensive heron plume graced his hat. (The General called him “Franconi” after the famous circus clown.)
Up in the room we’d assigned to “the Murats,” Caroline showed me the oriental dancer costume she was going to wear to the masquerade ball.
“Your husband will let you be seen like that in public?” The top was scanty, to say the least.
“He suggested it.”
“I’m going as a nun,” I said, half-jesting.
“That’s no fun,” Caroline said.
“I know.” After all, Christophe wouldn’t be there.
* * *
—
I was about to change into a presentable gown when more guests arrived: Maîtresse, Mouse and even Isabey with his daughter, little Alexandrine. We were settled out back when Ém, Antoine and my Uncle François surprised us with a visit. We greeted them with exclamations of joy.
“I’m so happy for you, Ém!” Mouse exclaimed, embracing my cousin heartedly.
“How delightful that you were able to come by today after all,” Maman said, sending Mimi for more chairs.
“Grandpapa was napping, and what with this lovely warm spring weather, we thought we’d go for a short drive,” Ém said.
“Perfect,” Maman said. “We’re just about to eat. Please join us.” A table had been set up close by and Mimi and a scullery maid were setting out china.
“Yes, please do,” said Eugène, juggling two of the puppies in his arms.
“We’re having a carp Eugène caught this morning,” I said.
“An enormous carp,” he said, handing the puppies to me and stretching his arms out wide.
“It’s huge,” I assured everyone, cuddling the pups.
“And it’s being baked now,” Maman said.
My mouth watered to think of it. Carp stuffed with bread, almond paste, currants and herbs was delicious.
“I’m sure your grandmother would understand if we stayed,” Antoine told Ém.
“I’d like that,” Ém said, smiling up at him.
Maman caught my eye. At last.
“Will you be going to the masquerade ball?” Eugène asked.
“Yes,” Ém said, her big eyes shining. “Even Nana and Grandpapa.”
“In costume?” I asked, surprised.
“Of course. And my father, as well,” Ém added.
“Don’t tell! I want to surprise them,” Uncle François said, laughing.
“The fact that you’re back here in France is all the surprise we need,” Eugène said, patting his uncle’s shoulder.
“We have almost all our costumes figured out,” Maman said. “Everyone but—”
“Everyone but me.” I made a sad face. “I can’t decide,” I said, letting the squirming puppies down onto the grass to frolic with the others.
“But it’s tomorrow evening,” Ém said.
“I know,” I said with a disheartened
shrug.
We heard the sound of a cantering horse out front. “Now who can that be?” Maman said, and headed back into the house to see.
“Hortense,” I heard someone hiss.
I glanced up. It was Caroline, leaning out her bedchamber window.
It’s Colonel Duroc, she mouthed.
I frowned. Christophe? That wasn’t possible!
She nodded vigorously.
Aïe! “I’d better see if Mother needs my help,” I said, excusing myself. Once in the house, I ran up the back staircase to my room to change.
CHECKMATE
I descended the stairs slowly in a fresh white muslin gown with a wide sash of shimmering yellow silk. I’d decided on my rustic straw hat because it was adorned with yellow cloth daisies and a hat band to match. I heard men’s voices in the room the General was using as a study. I paused for a moment, listening. It was the General and Christophe.
“Dear heart!” Maman’s voice startled me. “Come, we’re ready to eat,” she said. “You look lovely.”
I hoped she wouldn’t notice that I had pinked my lips.
“Where’s your apron?” she asked.
“I must have left it upstairs,” I said. Intentionally. “What about the General?” What about Christophe?
“He’ll join us in a moment,” she said, leading the way outside. “He’s with Colonel Duroc, who just arrived. What a surprise!”
Most everyone was already seated at the long table, which looked wonderfully festive. Set along the length were platters heaped with food, interspersed with bottles of Malmaison wine, pitchers of mint water and clusters of golden primroses.
“Hortense, this is for you,” Mouse said, patting the seat beside her. Across from us were Ém, her husband and father, with Caroline and Joachim on our right.
“The General is with his secretary and Colonel Duroc,” Maman announced, taking the chair between Maîtresse and Isabey at the far end of the table. “They will join us shortly. Bonaparte insisted that we begin,” she said.
“Colonel Duroc came all the way from Austria,” I whispered to Mouse as we helped ourselves to the carp, pigeon pie and duck stew. It all smelled so good!
“Caroline told us!” Mouse said, her eyes wide.
We’d had more of the Malmaison wine and several helpings of the delicious food by the time the General, Christophe and Flauvelet appeared. “Bravo!” we all cried out, and then laughed at our merriment.
Christophe looked wonderfully distinguished in a pale waistcoat and doeskin breeches, a pristine white cravat at his neck. Maman placed him at the far end of the table between Eugène and the General. We toasted his diplomatic successes in the north, again and again.
“Thank you,” he said graciously, “but the negotiations are far from over.” He’d come back to consult with the General and had to return immediately, he explained.
(I was not happy about this—not in the least—but dared not show it.)
“But surely you could stay for a few days more, Colonel?” my mother suggested, offering him the carp. “There’s to be a masquerade ball tomorrow night in Paris. Even the First Counsel will be going.”
“Colonel Duroc has crucial things to attend to,” the General said, helping himself to the roast chicken.
“Negotiating a peace treaty is imperative, indeed,” Maîtresse said with approval, and we toasted yet again to Christophe’s success.
I was awed—and so very, very proud—but disheartened, nonetheless. If only Christophe could stay for the ball!
* * *
—
After pistachio custard, four macarons and a madeleine (just one—I’m trying to honor my vow, at least a bit), I had a chance to tell Christophe how pleased I was with my horse. “I’ve decided to call her Hope,” I told him. If he only knew what it was I hoped for!
I was about to tell him how fast Hope was when Caroline stood up. “Attention everyone!” she called out.
“Quiet!” Joachim joined in.
“Citoyenne Bonaparte has a suggestion,” Caroline said.
A hush settled and Maman stood. “I was thinking . . . The weather is so lovely, perfect for a game of Prisoner’s Base.”
We cheered! Well, most of us, for Maman caught the General’s arm as he was attempting to escape. “Just one game?” she asked with a caressing smile.
“I’m already a prisoner,” he joked affectionately, sitting back down and pulling Maman onto his lap.
“Of love,” Joachim said with a guffaw, and Caroline tapped him playfully with her fan.
We decided to play boys against girls. On the boys’ team there was Christophe, Eugène, Flauvelet, Roustam, the General, Isabey, Joachim, Antoine and my uncle François. On the girls’ team there was Maman, Mimi, Mouse, Ém, Caroline, Eliza, Alexandrine, me and even Maîtresse. It was a boisterous game with lots of shouting—and the girls won!
“I love that game,” I said breathlessly. My straw hat had blown off and my hair was wild, but I didn’t care.
“Hortense’s team always picks her to be the prisoner because nobody can catch her,” Eugène said, panting.
“We’ll have to see about that,” Christophe said with a smile, retrieving my hat and putting it gently on my head.
I looked up at him with a smile, my eyebrows raised. “And what might you mean by that, Colonel?” I dared to say, but before he could answer the General called out and he and Eugène went sprinting back to the château.
At the entrance, Christophe glanced back and tipped his hat at me. The door closed behind him and I swooned down onto the grass, gazing up at the blue, blue sky, my heart full to bursting.
* * *
—
Later, after many of our guests had left, Caroline poked her head into my bedchamber. “Writing your secrets?” she asked, trying to peek over my shoulder. I closed my composition notebook. A melody had come to me, and I wanted to put it down.
“Well, I have one,” she said with a little pout.
Of course I was thinking that perhaps she was in an interesting condition. But that wasn’t it.
“Christophe told Joachim that he will be able to go to the masquerade ball after all,” she said.
I squealed, pressing my hands to my heart. “But I thought he had return to the north immediately.”
“The morning after the ball, it turns out. But that isn’t my secret.” She beamed. “Christophe also told Joachim that he thinks you are . . .”
And then she wouldn’t say! She was provoking me on purpose.
“Clever,” she finally said.
I made a face. Boys didn’t like girls to be clever.
“And . . .” She took my hand and danced a gigue around me. (She still didn’t have the steps right.) “And that he likes you!”
* * *
—
Christophe!
Christophe!
Christophe!
Christophe!
Christophe!
Christophe!
* * *
—
That evening, in the salon, the General invited me to play chess. “I’m told you are hard to beat,” he said, offering me the seat for playing white.
“Did Maman tell you that?” I asked, arranging my skirts, keenly aware that Christophe was watching.
“No, I did,” Eugène said with a grin. “It’s true, though, isn’t it?”
He and Christophe pulled up chairs close beside us.
“I’ve lost a few games,” I said, placing my rooks, knights and bishops before lining up my pawns. At the last, I placed my king and queen, pausing before putting them down.
“Uh-oh,” Eugène joked. “She’s putting a spell on them.”
“Cheating already?” the General said.
“Never!” I said, glancing at Christophe. Would he not like it if
I won against the General?
“Don’t distract her,” Christophe said, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees.
“Whose side are you on?” the General asked, reaching out to pinch Christophe’s ear.
We played in silence for some time, the General frowning down at the board. His attention diverted, he would glance at the books on a side table, or, more often, stare off into space. Each time I took one of his pieces he exclaimed as if I’d killed him, making everyone in the room laugh.
I thought my king was safely put away by castling when the General took one of my pawns with his queen.
“Papa!” I cried out in protest.
Suddenly the room fell silent. Maman looked over, smiling. The General had a little grin too, and even Eugène. I glanced away, embarrassed.
“Checkmate,” the General cried out, scooping up my king with his queen, and we all groaned, me especially.
MASQUERADE
We returned to Paris the next day for the masquerade ball. I was looking forward to it now that Christophe would be going, but I didn’t have a costume. The fabric shops were out of silk because so many people were having exotic costumes made. Mimi found a blue velvet corset I could wear over a simple muslin gown and suggested I go as a milkmaid. The corset was well-fitted and showed me off rather nicely (she said). I hooked my skirts up with ribbons, revealing a lovely rose underskirt. A black velvet mask covered my eyes. Perfect. I wondered if Christophe would recognize me.
* * *
—
The ball was held at the Théâtre des Arts, which took up an entire city block. We stepped into a spacious vestibule with a high, richly ornamented ceiling. A liveried footman in a mask handed all of us cards engraved with dances on one side and lines for our partners’ names on the other. A tiny pencil dangled from a narrow red silk ribbon.