The Josephine B. Trilogy by Sandra Gulland Read Free Book Online Page A

evening prayers together, I could hear sniffling. Da Gertrude had her face in her hands.
    I woke before dawn. I lay there for a time, dreaming. What will Monsieur de Beauharnais be like, I wondered. I imagined that he would be handsome and gallant, but perhaps a little shy, so that I would have to coquette a little to put him at his ease. I practised rolling my eyes, which I am told are my best feature, and kissing the back of my hand, but this only made my hand wet, and reminded me of William. I hoped that Monsieur de Beauharnais would be very much like William, only titled and rich, and that he would come to love me very much. As for myself, I know I will come to love him, for Da Gertrude says I could love a flea.
    Grandmother stirred, poked Mother to help her up, and the day began. I went to the window and pulled back the heavy brocade. Our sailing ship was still there, beside the little fishing boats. One of the sails had been unfurled. I was anxious to be on deck, for what if a wind came and we were left behind?
    For once Mother didn’t have to tell me to get ready. Da Gertrude laced me into my best gown, the yellow one with the fichu I’d embroidered myself.
    Mimi, still in her petticoats, joined us from the other room. “I had a bad dream last night.” She wiped her sleepy eyes.
    Da Gertrude threw her hands to her ears. “Don’t say that!”
    “Hush!” Mother said, crossing herself.
    Finally, we were ready, dressed in our church clothes. We’d eaten, had coffee and milk, said our morning prayers, which went on for so long my knees ached.
    Uncle Tascher ordered two teams harnessed. His coachman (in new livery—very handsome) and Sylvester loaded the trunks onto an open wagon harnessed to two sleepy mules. Mimi, clutching her wicker basket, and a sniffling Da Gertrude climbed in behind. Sylvester swung himself up onto the driver’s seat. Uncle’s coachman—looking liquorish, in spite of the hour—helped us into Uncle’s new carriage.
    “My,” Mother said, touching the blue silk upholstery. “Are you sure we are supposed to sit on it, Robert?”
    Grandmother knocked on the glass to see if it was real and pulled down one of the shades to see if it worked. “Pity it’s that colour,” she said.
    “Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, do sit.” Uncle Tascher’s wife arranged her pleated skirt of brown taffeta (from Milan ). “I never walk anywhere any more.” She looked in the glass to make sure her frightful red hair was well hidden under her lace cap.
    “I feel like a queen in such a carriage,” I said. Then I slapped my hand over my mouth, for there was talk of my fortune still.
    The coachman cracked his whip and the horses jumped forward, throwing us into a tumble.
    As we approached the docks, Father took my hand. “Nervous?”
    “Mon Dieu,” Mother said. “That ship’s not so very big, Joseph.”
    “We’ll be changing to a bigger one at Saint-Domingue.” Father jumped down onto the dock as if he were a young man. He let down the metal step.
    “A ship and an escort.” Uncle Tascher adjusted his hat, for he was Port Commander now. He took Mother’s hand as she stepped down. “They should be safe from attack.”
    Sylvester pulled the wagon carrying Da Gertrude and Mimi up behind us. Our two sea trunks were loaded into a rowboat and suddenly we were all saying goodbye.
    “Send me a doll!” Manette demanded, clasping me tightly around the waist.
    I kissed her dear, tear-streaked face. “You’ll write?”
    She nodded, but I knew she wouldn’t.
    Mother took my hands. “You must remember to wash under your nails.”
    “Maman!”
    She put her hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be a good girl?”
    I embraced her then. I feared she might cry.
    Mimi and Father were already seated in the little passenger dingy. Father was yelling for me to get in.
    Da Gertrude took me in her arms. “My baby!” I began to weep as well.
    I kissed her wet cheeks and pulled away. A sailor with a beard helped me into the