Free The Josephine B. Trilogy by Sandra Gulland

Désirée had had made for me: an ivory white silk, cut low—quite low!—with a tiny waist. (As tiny as I can get, anyway—I’ve been trying to lose weight.) The sleeves have gold frogs on them, very pretty. The full skirt is tucked up by pretty little bunches of flowers, revealing a skirt of gauze and a quilted silk petticoat.
    It took more than two hours for Aubin to get my hair piled up into what is called a hedgehog—in three waves over my forehead. First my hair was greased and combed over a wire mesh secured into place with pins. Then I went into the powder closet to be powdered (I almost choked). At the last he attached ribbons, feathers and silk flowers all over. In a wind, I fear I might topple! I’m to wear a cap over this heavy confection days and nights so that it will stay nice until after the wedding.
    Before we left, I went to Father’s room to show him my ensemble.
    “It’s too…!” He sighed, lay back on the pillows. “You look lovely. ” He smiled. “Your mother would never approve.”
    “This is Paris, Father,” I said, preparing his evening elixir. “This isn’t Trois-Ilets.”
    “I should say,” he said, taking his glass. “Remember to leave your gloves on.”
    “And to sit up straight, and to keep my mouth closed when I chew, and to—”
    “Have a wonderful time,” he said.
    Everyone cheered when Monsieur de Beauharnais and I made our entrance. There were a number of guests: uncles, aunts, several cousins as well as friends of the family. I was introduced to Monsieur de Beauharnais’s older brother, François. He’s not nearly as good-looking as Monsieur de Beauharnais, nor as clever, but he seemed a gentle man, and very courteous. He looked distinguished in a black satin waistcoat with blue glass ornaments. He is married to Marie (his cousin), who is big with child. She looked ill and did not speak. Her hair, which was not dressed, was hidden under a cap ornamented with vulture feathers. They left soon after the meal, for Marie’s time of confinement is approaching. Aunt Désirée told me that her first baby died not too long ago and that Marie has not taken it well.
    There were a number of distinguished men and women there. A Monsieur de la Chevalerie * and his daughter were charming. Monsieur had spent his youth in the military on Saint-Domingue, so we talked of the Islands. Mademoiselle de la Chevalerie invited me to the next meeting of her Masonic lodge. “We have feasts and perform good works.” Her hair was back-combed all around her face, giving her a woolly look.
    Supper was elegant and abundant, served on a table laid with eighteen covers. We had sole fried, rump of beef boiled, boiled rabbit and onion sauce, jigget of mutton roasted with sweet sauce, batter pudding and drippings, macaroni and tarts all together with wine in abundance and brandy. By way of dessert we had filberts, apple pudding and some cheesecakes. So much! I was thankful for the severity of my stays, for surely I would have split a seam. As we dined, a violinist played.
    After dessert, in the game room playing billiards, Monsieur deBeauharnais and his brother played billiards while “discussing” politics (it was more of an argument).
    “Oh politics, always politics,” Mademoiselle de la Chevalerie whispered to me. “At the lodge we only talk of lofty things.”
    I was tempted to advise Monsieur de Beauharnais on a more likely angle for a shot he was setting up, but held my tongue. He shot and missed, leaving the way clear for his brother to sink four running.
    Someone began to play the harpsichord in the front parlour. “Your fiancé may not be good at billiards,” Mademoiselle de la Chevalerie whispered as we left the game room, “but he is so very charming. He is the favourite with all the ladies.”
    In the parlour Aunt Désirée was playing the harpsichord as a woman sang. I was introduced to several people who had newly arrived. Soon Monsieur de Beauharnais and his brother joined us