Free The Last Great Dance on Earth by Sandra Gulland Page A

roaring fire. “Hortense has agreed to consider an offer of marriage, were one submitted to her.” I cringed. Bonaparte can be so blunt! “I recommend her. She is a sweet and virtuous girl.”
    Just then Hortense came into the room with a bound music book in her hand. Seeing Louis, she turned and fled.
    “A bit timid, perhaps,” Bonaparte said, bemused.
    [Undated]
    Now all that remains is for Louis to make his declaration to Hortense. The two are painful to watch, always at opposite ends of a room, always silent. Bonaparte and I wait … and wait and
wait.
How long can this go on?
    October 3, 1801, Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne
    Chère Maman,
    A quick note (the courier is leaving soon). The news that England has finally agreed to sign a peace treaty is glorious!
    Victor wrote that he has been put in charge of the fleet sailing to Saint-Domingue. * What a splendid command! This is his opportunity to prove his worth. Pauline must be pleased.
    Hortense hasn’t written for some time. Too busy entertaining suitors?
    A thousand kisses, I am well,
    Your loving son, Eugène
    October 14.
    “Perhaps you should have a word with Louis,” I suggested to Bonaparte. “Encourage him to …
you know.”
Propose! Simply getting the young man to
speak
to my daughter was going to be a problem. “What do I know of these things?”
    “Would you prefer that I take care of it?” Our big ball was coming up: the perfect setting.
    October 21, 6:00 A.M.
—
Malmaison.
    Oh, it’s early in the morning, but I’m too fraught to linger in bed. My heart is aswirl with feelings of joy, doubt—but most of all, relief.
    Bonaparte and I opened the ball last night with a minuet. (He only missed two steps.) “What are you going to say to Louis?” he hissed, for we had decided that the time had come.
    Presentation of the right hand: “What do you think I should say?”
    Presentation of the left hand: “Tell him to get on with it!”
    I induced the shy suitor to sit beside me. “Louis, do you think it would be improper for a woman to request a dance with a man?” A cotillion had been announced and couples were proceeding onto the floor.
    “I believe it is the man who must always ask,” he said solemnly.
    “Pity,” I said, with what I hoped would be a giveaway smile. Unfortunately, he didn’t understand. “Would you find it shocking, then, were Ito inform you that if you were to ask the honour of my hand in the dance, I would be happy to accept?”

    He looked at me in all seriousness, a small frown between his eyes.
(Nice
eyes. Madame Campan is right: their children would be handsome.) “You’d like to dance, Aunt Josephine?”
    “I’d be delighted.” He led me out onto the dance floor. Hortense was sitting with Caroline near the musicians; I wiggled my fingers at them.
    “Your daughter is usually one of the first on the floor.”
    “She is passionate about dance.”
    “She dances well,” he said as the music began.
    “As do you, Louis.” Although, in truth, his movements lacked confidence. Perhaps with time Hortense could …
    “I aim only not to make a fool of myself,” he said as we proceeded down.
    “You underestimate your abilities.” This was true. Louis has exceptional qualities. Turning my head (the old women sitting at the edges of the dance floor knew how to read lips), I said, “Louis, Bonaparte and I have been thinking about you and Hortense. Have you given any thought to
when
you might make a proposal? Tonight might—”
    “No! I mean, yes.” Louis missed a step, and try as he might, could not correct it.
    “I’m breathless,” I lied. “I believe I should sit down.” It was a faux pas to leave the floor in the middle of a piece, but at least we were at the bottom of the dance.
    He escorted me to my chair. “Won’t you join me for a moment?” I asked with authority, offering the empty seat next to mine. Dutifully he sat down beside me, his eyes darting about with the look of a captured animal. Men! I thought,