A Court Lady
by
Clova Leighton
Smashwords Edition
Presented by Publishing by Rebecca J. Vickery
A Court Lady
ISBN: 978-1-4581-5621-1
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Copyright © 2011 by Clova Leighton
Cover Art Copyright © 2011 by Karen Michelle Nutt
Produced by Rebecca J. Vickery
Design Consultation by Laura Shinn
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A Court Lady is a work of fiction.
Though some actual towns, cities, and locations may be mentioned, they are used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author. Similarities of characters or names used within to any
person past, present, or future are coincidental.
A Court Lady
by
Clova Leighton
Chapter I
Sebastian Von Lichtenberg stood waiting, tense and unhappy. His lean, dark face usually showed little of his feelings, but now the muscles in his jaw clenched. He was a nobleman, and had once been ruler of his own small world, answerable only to the royal family and bound only by his sense of right and wrong, and the customs of his native land. But he was also a soldier and in these turbulent years, he had come to grant allegiance to the man who was undoubtedly the greatest soldier of his age, Napoleon, now the Emperor of the French. He admired Bonaparte. The man was a great military and strategic genius
His native Alperstein had been fought over during the wars brought about by the French Revolution. The current ruler, Duke Frederick had thrown in his lot with the French. The Duke was a generous and liberal minded man, and he had come to the throne intending to be an enlightened despot.
Sebastian had always wanted to be a soldier. He was intelligent and interested in matters of the mind, but he also loved the adventure of soldiering. He had been with Napoleon for many years. After all this time, he was beginning to have doubts about the Emperor. The man was a military and administrative genius – but as a man, he could now see that he was far from great.
Yet, given the state of the French before the Revolution – and the dire poverty and backwardness of much of continental Europe, it seemed to him that Napoleon's rule, harsh as it was, in some respects, was a necessary evil. It would give way, he hoped, in years to come, to greater prosperity and freedom for the countries under him. He knew Alperstein's army could never have stood up to the victorious French armies. In his opinion, Frederick had been right to place himself on Napoleon's side. He would have otherwise risked the country being overrun, forced to flee and seek asylum somewhere else and a minor member of Napoleon's family would have been placed on the throne.
Now, for the first time, he was in the unpleasant position of being criticised by the Emperor. Sebastian felt that, with the Spanish crisis that had blown up, and with Napoleon on the verge of going to Spain to negotiate with the Royal family there, the man would have had enough to worry about, without bothering about a minor problem in his own family. But then the man was always a master of detail and was able to do twenty things at once.
He had summoned Sebastian to his study, and proceeded to rage at him.
The German had tried to retain a cool and dignified manner, which was not easy to do when the Corsican was in a full-blown tirade. Napoleon had once been a thin and serious looking young man, with olive coloured skin and fine Roman features. But now he had begun to put on weight and he was less handsome than in his younger days. Now when he saw the great Emperor, storming around the room, like a bad actor, and with his face reddening with anger, the German soldier was conscious of a certain distaste for the man he had once admired so much.
Sebastian's face hardened even more but he reminded himself that he had been brought up in a tradition of greater formality of behaviour. He could never lose his temper in the exaggerated and vulgar way that his Emperor did so easily. He was somewhat shocked at the way that the Corsican would go into violent foul-mouthed rampages at his subordinates. Napoleon was also increasingly vulgar in his personal tastes, and he nowadays allowed his greedy and stupid family to indulge their love of pleasure and money at the expense of better men. But – he had to admit that in this instance, Napoleon's anger at him was justified.
Yes, he had been foolish – at least in this one instance.
Sebastian knew, without a doubt, that while his own military record was exemplary, Napoleon would refuse to recognise this and would still belittle him as he so often did. Sadly, he was now a mean-minded man, and he was rarely generous to his subordinates. Sebastian expected that. Besides, his commander's doubts about him weren't entirely unfounded. Like many of his fellow nobles of his age, he had visited England and had been interested in and admiring of the English political system
He continued to stare stiffly at the Emperor as he waited for the tirade to end. Then Napoleon seemed to calm down.
"I do not entirely blame you, Von Lichtenberg. You are a young man, and young men are unwise. I have never been a fool over women, of course, but I know that all men cannot be as wise as I am."
* * * * *
Sebastian continued to look cold and unmoved. He had his pride.
The German baron knew that some years ago, Duroc, one of the Emperor's closest aides, had been in a rather similar situation. He had not offended the Emperor, but the Corsican could never resist meddling. He had made Duroc an offer – he was giving him a chance to marry into his own family. His aide had taken offence at the proposal, which had been couched in such rude and unpleasant terms that any man with any pride would be annoyed by it. Napoleon had more or less ordered that he wanted Duroc to marry his own step-daughter Hortense, but, then, he had said, he wanted them to be based far away from Paris. He didn't want any rivals so close to home.
Duroc had been truly fond of Hortense and she had cared for him, but hearing Napoleon's proposal, he lost his temper and had turned down the offer, just as rudely. He had said that Bonaparte could "keep his daughter" because he himself was "off to the whorehouse."
Now he, Sebastian, was being given this chance to marry, a chance that would greatly improve his position at court.
"Von Lichtenberg, I wish that you will consider this offer. I want to see you married off. It is your duty, as a soldier, to found a family, before you go to fight. And there are several young ladies who might be acceptable. There is Mlle. De Belmaris. If you were to take her, I'd be very generous with your next command…"
Sebastian cursed himself. For the first time, he began to wonder why he had put himself under this vulgar upstart's patronage. Was he right in supposing that in the end, Napoleon's abilities as an administrator would triumph and greatly improve the condition of the French and their satellites?
He was beginning to doubt it. Certainly Napoleon had made many improvements; he had modernised France, and had improved the lot of many people. He had improved the tax system. Sebastian admired the way that the man, working all the hours of the day, had slaved to revitalise the economy and to promote French industry. He liked the fact that there was also greater religious freedom.
As things stood, Sebastian knew that he was indebted to his commander, and it would be expedient to obey him. He was prepared to agree. Having a wife would not really change his life.
"Very well, sire. If it is your wish that I consider marriage, of course I will do so."
Napoleon gave a short laugh.
"Indeed, if you have some other woman in mind, provided she's of suitable rank, I would be happy enough. As long as she is a lady…"
Sebastian wondered if Napoleon wanted to see his wife's young
protégée, Corisande de Belmaris, settled in marriage. If that were
the case, he supposed
he should think of choosing her. He made a stiff little bow, a mere
inclination of the head, and said
"Very well, sire. I shall do as you wish, and look around the ballrooms for a suitable lady."
Chapter II
When Sebastian left the imperial presence, and returned to his room in one of the smaller buildings on the Malmaison estate, he told himself that it was for the best. After all, he would marry some time. Besides, while Napoleon now regretted the ease with which divorce had become available during the Revolution, he had not completely rescinded the laws. He had made it more difficult to end a marriage but it was still possible. It was easier for men than for women. Besides, the social stigma was not as great in France as it was elsewhere, although Napoleon did tend to ban divorced women from Court. However in the unfortunate event of his marriage being a failure, that stigma would not affect him.
Still he cursed himself for having put himself in this position. It was only natural for a man to wish to have a free choice when it came to marriage. Like Duroc, he had his pride and he didn't want to take a woman at another man's bidding, even if that man were the ruler of most of Europe.
But after all, Corisande de Belmaris was a suitable match. She was indeed well born; on one side of her family at least... She had a small fortune, which would be advantageous to him. He did not really know her, personally, and she was partly of bourgeois stock, but he thought she seemed pleasant enough. True, she was very young.
He had once or twice heard her chattering rather too freely at parties and receptions. Like so many girls, she seemed to have little on her mind but flirtation and new gowns. Sometimes, she wore the sort of diaphanous muslin dresses that had shocked Paris in the days of the Merveilleuses. Thin, light gowns, very low cut and clinging to the body, with very little underwear. Although he had to admit that they revealed a very pretty figure. He had even heard her teasing a young newly married woman who was part of Josephine's household, laughing at the young lady who was extolling the new-found pleasures of the marital bed. Possibly she was just being silly and amusing but… He could not imagine any woman his mother might approve of behaving in such a way.
So far, he had not thought of marriage, since he had been dedicated to his military career. But now, if he didn't agree, he might well have found himself with a far worse posting. Many men who had been known to be Pauline's lovers had been "told" to join the army and given dangerous postings. These were the type of men who would not normally have chosen such a dangerous profession, but he was different. He wanted a dangerous posting, to prove his skill as a military man. He laughed softly to himself. For the truth was that he had never even been her lover. But he had to admit that he had been indiscreet and foolish, in his friendship with her.
He sighed to himself and murmured, "Paulette," thinking of the Imperial princess who had ensnared him for a short time.
Pauline Borghese was ravishingly beautiful – although she was also silly, thoughtless, selfish and wanton. She was universally considered to be the loveliest woman of her age. He had not intended to start a flirtation with her, but she had taken a fancy to him and he had found her attractive. No normal man could fail to do so. But she was indiscreet, like all the Bonapartes. She lived for pleasure. When he had first met her, she was bored with her second marriage to the Italian Prince Camillo Borghese.
Pauline had grown to hate living in Italy and had managed to persuade her brother to let her spend time in her beloved Paris and then to visit spas in the south of France, to recover from her chronic ill health. There was a sweetness about her that was charming, in spite of her faults. She was by far the most amiable of the Bonaparte girls. The other two, Caroline and Elisa, were hard and ambitious. They took lovers to further their own political careers. Pauline just took lovers because she liked them and enjoyed making love. Sebastian had grown fond of her. It was hard not to like Paulette. But to have spent so much time with her, to have allowed himself to be seen visiting her much too often, well that had been damnably foolish of him.
He had not idealised her. He knew what she was like. But he lived mostly in a very masculine world, and there were times when he longed for a little feminine softness and even silliness, just to make life more comfortable. She had been so flirtatious and charming. She had asked her to visit him and had seemed to enjoy his company so much. She had made him feel like a man who had won her heart. They had indulged in nothing more than a few kisses and embraces. He had not pressed her to go any further than kissing on her couch, and she had seemed to be contented with that. But even now, he could still remember the feel of her beautiful body, the sight of her full white breasts in dangerously low cut bodices, the warmth of her mouth under his. Her hands stroking his body, slipping into his breeches...
Their brief warm friendship had happened the previous year, and then Napoleon had not noticed it. But now, the German was incapacitated for active service because of a leg wound, and had been seconded to duties at court. Sebastian wondered if perhaps he had aroused someone's jealousy, and that person had let Napoleon know about it. The Emperor had an ambivalent attitude toward the Germans who had thrown in their lot with him. Because of their geographic position, he was afraid of their changing sides.
Sebastian had taken service with the French army, rather than his own small country's forces because he wanted to fight under Napoleon himself. As a youth, he had been in Paris, studying, when the Corsican had gone on his famous expedition to Egypt. He had then had a boyish admiration for the great General Bonaparte, whom he saw as a military and intellectual genius.
He had contrived to get himself sent along, and after the Egypt trip, he had become a soldier. Napoleon generally seemed to like him, he thought.
He saw Sebastian as a link between the German princes and himself. He was highly intelligent, and had had a good education, so he was not just "cannon fodder", but could be of use to him in such matters as diplomatic relations with other countries, and he also took an interest in the development of weapons and the science of war. In fact, Sebastian now realised, since he was so useful to Napoleon off the battlefield, he might never get back to having a military command.
It was ironical, of course. The truth was that he was not the sort to enjoy having love affairs with society women. He had had a few affairs with women of that kind, but he was usually ill at ease with the sophisticated Parisian women who invited him to their salons and balls and who amused themselves with many lovers. He thought them cold and only interested in men for their own pleasure. Some of them were even worse - they collected men as trophies rather than because they enjoyed their company or going to bed with them. He would rather make love to a pretty girl of humble origins, such as the young woman now living under his protection.
Rosalie had been a dressmaker and was still willing to do a little work for a millinery, so as to have a small income that was not dependent on her selling her body. He was fond of her, since she was sweet, warm, and kindly. He wasn't such a fool as to imagine that she loved him, but she was fond of him and certainly she showed more warmth and generosity in bed than the titled women who picked and chose among the men of the Imperial court.
As he thought about her, he found himself wanting a little amusement. His manhood hardened and he swore. It would take him some time to get into the city. But at the end of the journey there would be his little Rosalie, wearing a short chemise, her white thighs parted for him. Quickly, he changed his clothes. Then, he hailed a carriage and set off for the small Parisian apartment where his pretty grisette lived.
Soon, he let himself into her home, with his key. She lived alone, with only a maid he'd hired, who came in by the day. He was glad to note that the maid wasn't there. Little Mlle. le Brun sat plying her needle in a piece of fancy sewing. She looked charming.
Dear little Rosalie, the German thought to himself. She always seemed pleased to see him. Immediately she would put down her sewing or whatever she was doing, and her pretty face would look even lovelier as she smiled and spoke. Her gown rustled deliciously as she jumped up to pour him a drink.
"I'm so pleased you could come today. How did your meeting go?"
He took the glass of wine she offered him. He sat back in one of the high backed chair and sipped at his drink, savouring the taste. He enjoyed looking at her too. She was dark haired, with big brown eyes and a kissable mouth. He liked the fact that she was small, slender with full breasts.
"So what have you been doing, then Sebastian? What do the doctors say?" She smiled sweetly at him.
Sebastian shrugged; he hated thinking about his damned leg. "About my leg? Oh well, it's nothing. It is healing. The ball went clearly through, but it doesn't alter the fact that I still have not been given my command. I want to get back on active service very soon."
"I can tell you're bored."
"Yes. I am rather bored here, but certainly, I'm not bored with you, ma belle..."
Sebastian put down his glass and then rose to his feet. He looked down at her. She smiled again. He lifted her to her feet and then bent his head. Their lips met in a hard kiss, and then, he felt her undoing his coat buttons.
"Time for bed, ma chere," Sebastian said, drawing her hands away. He was hot and excited.
In the bedroom, he removed only the necessary clothes. But he needed to have a woman. He hated to admit it because he took a pride in being strong minded and independent, but he was lonely. While he had some good friends among the army officers and the German community in Paris, he still felt a lack in his life. That was one reason why he was considering marriage, as well as the desire to provide an heir. But he was cynical now, and thought it was unlikely that he would find a wife who was a true soul companion.
Rosalie was lying on the bed, half naked, now and waiting for him. He gave a short hard laugh and she leaned back, sighing.
"Ready, Sebastian?" she asked in her soft voice.
"More than ready," he said, slipping the chemise off her shoulder, and kissing the bare flesh. He continued to take her clothes off and kissed the naked skin as it revealed itself. She moaned, and made a protesting gesture, but he held her hands down and went on kissing her ear and neck. She was relaxed and welcoming, as he slid between her full white thighs. He whispered an endearment and she cried out softly as he went in. He felt the warmth and sweetness of her body around him. He groaned as he felt the most exquisite pleasure that a man could feel. He drove hard into her, feeling her shuddering and her body rose in response to his. Afterwards, he lay comfortably in bed while Rosalie brought them another drink. She sat on the bed, sipping at her glass and watching, as he finished the wine quickly.
"I have to be going, my dear."
"Must you? It's a very short visit. You never stay very long."
"No doubt, but indeed I must go."
He sat up and swung his legs off the bed and began to dress hastily. She was a sweet girl, but they had little in common outside the physical side of their affair and he usually found himself beating a hasty retreat when their love-making was over.
Chapter III
In her small salon at Malmaison, Mlle. Corisande Marie Mathilde De Belmaris awaited a visit from her uncle, M. François Romulet. But she was not really looking forward to it. He regarded it as his duty to visit her – but it was a tedious obligation for both of them. He had been willing to act as trustee for his young niece and he had looked after her fortune and helped to increase it. He was, in his way, an honest man. He found the girl tiresome, wilful, and wild, but he had a mild fondness for her.
Having been reared before the Revolution, he had been brought up as a devout Catholic, but nowadays, when Catholicism was less in favour, he was far from devout. In this, he was unlike his brother, Martin. Martin Romulet was appalled by the anti-clericalism of the revolution. He had not been a great supporter of the Royal family. He had been shocked at the executions of the King and Queen and the expulsion of the others from France. However, he did not take much interest in politics and would have been willing to accept the Republic had it been less hostile to the Catholic religion.
He had been, in his youth a very successful businessman but he had chosen to retire when he had amassed a modest fortune. Now he lived quietly with his wife and daughters.
Francois, on the other hand, liked money, and he liked to live well. He was very much of a bon vivant, who loved to eat and drink, rather too much. Unlike Martin, he never felt that he had enough money. Both brothers had done well out of the Revolution, buying up aristocratic property when times were hard for the former ruling class and now they were both comfortably off. But Mathilde, their sister, had married a well born but impecunious soldier, who had thrown his lot in with Napoleon, and then been killed in battle. He had been a distant relation of the Beauharnais family and hence, related to Josephine by marriage.
Corisande's mother had died when she was very young, and as her father had no close relatives, her mother's family had taken her in. At first, she had been cared for by her Uncle Martin, who had recently married and had a baby daughter of his own. But Francois, while not wanting to take on the care of a child, had other reasons for taking an interest in his niece. He wanted to rise socially and he was willing to use the child for this purpose. He had approached Josephine to tell her of his niece's being an orphan with no real home.
She had not long been married to Napoleon, and was always kindly. It took no persuasion to get her to agree to take an interest. It didn't matter that Corisande was only a distant relation of her first husband's – she was warm hearted. So she agreed to make Cori her protégée. She took the child into her home and had her looked after by one of the women she had brought with her from Martinique. Later, she had sent her foster daughter to Madame Campan's famous school. Her own Hortense and the Emperor's younger sister Caroline had been educated there, and Josephine knew that she would receive a good training in the social graces and a good education as well.
Corisande had had a reputation at school for being wild and flighty, but she had enjoyed her schooldays. She didn't like the regimentation of boarding school, however. Josephine had gently scolded her at times for getting into trouble. Hortense, she had said, had been a much more docile pupil. She had never played pranks like putting the school clocks ahead, so as to upset the mistresses and shorten lessons… And naturally, Corisande thought, Hortense had been too "good" to flirt with the masters who came to teach various subjects like drawing, or to incur Mme Campan's wrath by wearing dresses of very light almost transparent muslin on fete days.
But now Corisande sighed to herself as she thought about her older friend. Hortense had left the school some years earlier, and had been married when she was barely nineteen herself, but that marriage had been a disaster.
Cori knew that girls had to marry, and that in all European countries, even England, marriages were usually arranged. But still, she had been determined to have some say in choosing her own husband.
Back in 1802, when she had first gone to Mme. Campan's, she had met a couple of young English girls, whose families were visiting France during the Peace of Amiens. They had been sent to the school for a while and Corisande had become friendly with them. She knew that things were a little different in England to most continental countries. Girls were allowed to go about in society, and remain single, sometimes for years. They were allowed to meet with young men much more casually and even to arrange their own marriages. But in France, girls were married early and usually to men that their families had found for them. But she had pleaded with Josephine not to be pushed.
Poor Hortense had been almost forced, by her mother, into a marriage with Louis Bonaparte. She had had plenty of admirers because she was a very pretty girl and was Napoleon's step-daughter. Josephine had begged her child to take Louis Bonaparte, because she believed that it would secure her own position as Napoleon's wife. The Empress was now past childbearing and she was afraid that Napoleon might divorce her, now, since he wanted an heir. Corisande was intelligent enough to see the poor woman's plight, and knew that she had truly believed that by having her daughter married to Louis, and having children with him, this would solve her problems. She had believed that Louis would be pleased to have his sons named as heirs to the Emperor.
It had seemed a good plan, and certainly the Emperor had also appeared to believe it was a workable solution to his problem. He did not want to lose her, but he did want a son to follow him onto the French throne. But the flaw in the plan was that Louis Bonaparte was selfish and eccentric to the point of insanity. He had seemed fond of Hortense at first, and had been willing to marry her. But within a short time, he had become so jealous that many people began to believe that he was insane. When she had become pregnant, with their first son, he had decided that the pregnancy had happened too quickly and that the child was not his.
Corisande shivered a little as she thought of it. It was a reminder that marriages did not always end happily. "I must be careful," she told herself.
Now, she stood on tiptoe to peer at herself in the mirror over the fireplace. Her thick rich brown hair was arranged in loose ringlets, and her piquantly attractive face with its large green eyes, was, attractive enough. She was wearing a pale yellow silk gown, with a modestly cut neck, edged with satin trimming. She spent a few minutes admiring herself. Satisfied that she looked pretty enough to entertain a mere uncle, she sat down again and awaited his arrival.
Chapter IV
M. Francois Romulet came in to the small yellow saloon where young ladies of the court were allowed to receive guests.
"My dear little niece," her uncle said, his voice rather oily, as usual. He was always rather too effusive.
He kissed her, in spite of her attempt to reduce their greeting ritual to a polite curtsey on her part and a smile and a bow on his. She accepted the embrace as politely and swiftly as she could. She could not help but find him embarrassing. He was too fat, too over dressed, too much of everything. Although he had done well for himself financially, and through her connections with the Imperial family, he had travelled far higher in society than he might ever have expected to, he was always inclined to lack the sort of easy grace that was supposed to distinguish a man at Court.
Corisande had to admit that he was vulgar and a bit of an embarrassment. His brother Martin had not attempted to rise out of his own sphere. He lived comfortably but not extravagantly, without attempting to get on in society. His manners were not perhaps those of the high aristocracy, but he was in his way far more polite and well bred than Uncle Francois. If only he weren't so prudish.
Poor François was at heart a nice man, and so too was Uncle Martin. They both meant well. It wasn't François's fault that his laugh was over loud, that his bow was too deep, that he gave himself away all the time.
She had been afraid that her uncle was going to use this occasion to talk to her about marriage. He was anxious for her to find a husband, since he wanted to have her "settled," and give the control of her fortune into someone else's hands.
Corisande had been out of school for over a year now and had taken part in all the events of the social round, but she had not found anyone she wanted to marry. While the Empress was easy going, Cori knew that soon she would be pressured to make up her mind.
However, it seemed that Francois had merely come to give her a present for her birthday, which had actually taken place a month earlier. She opened the little box and found a small locket set with seed pearls. It certainly had not cost him very much, but she knew that she had to act as if she were delighted.
She exclaimed loudly. "Oh my dear uncle, thank you so much. It's beautiful. I shall wear it tonight."
"I am glad to hear that, my child. I hope that you are well and being a good girl? The dear Empress is pleased with you?"
"Oh, I hope so."
Corisande tried to think of something else to say. It was always the same, talking to Francois. He was so dull, and so inept at conversation. "How is Uncle Martin? And my aunt and cousins? I hope they are well?"
"Oh, indeed I haven't seen your uncle for weeks. But he is always well. He leads such a quiet and wholesome life. Hardly ever even goes out of Paris for the country air though. But good folks like him are always healthy eh?"
"I imagine that you are very busy, with your – um your business interests, dear Uncle? I don't know how you find the time to visit me. You are always so hard at work."
This was the right tone to take. Francois believed himself to be a man of affairs, a very busy and hard working fellow. But Corisande felt sure that he tried to increase his fortune by begging favours and by making use of other people's talents, rather than by any kind of hard work or management. He had bought up a lot of property some years ago, and made some shrewd investments, due to good advice. He spent a lot of time talking to agents who bought and sold, on the market, and so far he had not lost anything. She had trusted him to guard her own fortune, and she knew that it was safe in his care.
He puffed out his chest in a very laughable manner.
"Ah indeed, that is so, my dear Corisande. I am always engaged, with my banker, with the agents who run my house properties, the agents who trade on the Stock Exchange. I scarcely have a moment to call my own. But I know that a young girl like you would be bored with such talk. You are still too young to think of anything but frivolities eh? I know that you young ladies need plenty of pretty dresses and jewels. You don't care about the poor fellows like me who have to work to pay for your silk ribbons and bonnets and jewels and the like."
Corisande tried to shrug prettily.
"Well, Uncle, you're a
man of the world, you know that at court, one has to keep up
appearances. A woman here must have dozens of gowns and all sorts of
clothes…"
"Ah, of course. It is an excellent situation for you but it is expensive too!"
Corisande's official position at court was as a "reader" or "lectrice" to the Empress. Josephine liked to have young women to read to her while she relaxed, and to help her with tasks such as writing letters, related to her charity administration or dealing with merchants and other visitors. It was one of the few ways that a genteel young woman could be employed. Corisande rather enjoyed the feeling that she was doing something useful, even in a very small way - and that she was a part of court life.
She was extravagant, like the Empress. She did indeed need a lavish supply of dresses, bonnets and hats, underwear, shoes, trinkets and so on. And she wore cosmetics, although some people believed young girls should not do so.
"You know how it is, dear Uncle. The Emperor likes women to be expensively and well dressed. He does not approve of muslins and gauzes and cambric. So I am positively forced to spend a good deal of time with my dressmakers!"
This was partly because Napoleon genuinely liked such expensive and beautiful fabrics and thought them more becoming– and partly because he wanted to stimulate the French silk industry, rather than have French women spending their money on muslins which came from British India. So Corisande had many silk gowns. She liked the feel of the more expensive cloths such as silk and satins, and the look of rich embroidery on her gowns.
Still, it wasn't easy, maintaining such an expensive look. She spent a good deal of money on her clothes, but she also liked to buy other things. She was a passionate reader, she loved the theatre, and she enjoyed amusements such as riding, which cost a quite a sum, as well.
Francois's powers of making conversation with a young woman were now almost exhausted. He loved the fact that his niece was at court, but he had realised that she was not likely to secure any invitations for him. So he did his duty by her and visited regularly, but he was just as pleased as she was when he could take out his watch and say that he had to leave.
After his departure, Corisande let out the yawn she had been stifling. Then Marthe, her maid, came in to remind her that she was due to visit the Empress in an hour, to read for her.
"Thank you Marthe, is there anything else?"
"Well, Mam'selle, there is this." Marthe handed over a small folded piece of paper.
"From M. de Brize."
Annoyed, Corisande crumpled the note without reading it. She knew that she should reprimand Marthe for acting like this, but the poor girl needed the money that various men gave her, as inducements to get her to pass on notes and gifts to her mistress. And Corisande, while not caring much for many of her admirers who tried to win her favour in this way, was usually flattered by male attention. It was this trait in her nature that made her feel a little guilty, especially when she met with her devout relatives.
Besides, she knew that while flirtation was very enjoyable, the serious business of life for a woman was to get married. Women could not pursue careers as men could and now after a full year doing the social round, it was something that preoccupied her mind very much. Even when she was attracted by a man and was ready to allow him to kiss and fondle her, she was always wondering if this one or that one was suitable as a husband…
"Don't do that again, Marthe," she said sharply.
Marthe looked a trifle sullen. She was a plump girl, and was mostly pleasant enough, but she had her moods of being annoyed.
"But there is one thing, Mademoiselle Corisande. You told me to remind you that you were going to visit M. Martin—"
"Tomorrow, Marthe. Please make sure that there is a carriage ordered. And you will need to lay out a suitable dress."
"Very good, Mam'selle." Marthe dropped a curtsy.
She dismissed Marthe and sat down again, her pretty face rather sulky. Now, she reached for her embroidery but while she stitched, her mind was engaged in thinking about her next session of reading for Josephine. The Empress loved to match make.
"You have been given a good deal of indulgence, my dearest Corisande," she had said the last time they had talked on the matter.
"The Emperor has always believed it is best for a young girl to have her marriage arranged, as soon as possible, but you have been allowed to enjoy yourself as a single girl, for some time."
"I know, Madame," said quietly with her head modestly bowed, was the only possible response.
Corisande knew that the Emperor didn't think very highly of women. He saw them as pretty little creatures there to amuse men and to bear children and keep house for their men folk.
* * * * *
The Revolution in France had given women something more of a voice. Many had taken an active part in politics, and some more occupations were now open to them. Bonaparte didn't like that, and had done his best to put back the clock. For herself, she didn't believe that women were necessarily stupid, although she didn't think that they could lead exactly the same kind of life as a man could
Corisande wished that it was possible for a woman to be more independent, but she knew that it would take a long time before things changed very much. She had seen the results of trying to make too many changes too fast. She had been growing up during the years of the Revolution and while she agreed with its ideals, she was also far too shrewd not to see that it had gone very wrong. Because of this, she admired Napoleon. He had his faults, but she thought it was undeniable that he was a great man. With only a military background, he had worked so hard to restore France to greatness and had improved the lot of the ordinary people in many ways.
Corisande was willing to praise him for that. She believed that he was the best ruler that the French could hope for, at present. She did not come from the generation of women who had been involved in the Revolutionary era; those blue stocking ladies had talked politics in the salons, and influenced the men who were trying to reform France. She did not take a deep interest in politics or philosophy. But she had a kind heart and a shrewd intelligence and she took some interest in the affairs of state, even though she knew that Bonaparte did not want his wife's ladies or readers talking about such matters. With Josephine, she visited charitable institution and saw the poverty of many Parisians, and coming from good merchant stock, she believed that setting up new businesses was one of the best ways of helping the poor, rather than simply doling out food and money.
Cori knew that she owed a lot to Napoleon and his wife. She wanted to please them. Besides, she felt it was time she married. She had enjoyed being single, but a married woman had greater liberties, provided she had an indulgent husband. But the problem was she wanted a man she could love and who would love her. But she was realistic too. At the very least, she wanted a man she could be fond of, and who would give her a reasonable degree of freedom.
As things stood, she was often in debt. Her free spending cost more then the small income she was presently allowed to draw from, could support. The Emperor and Josephine were generous. She was better off, living with them, than she would be, had she had to live in the care of Uncle Francois, or some other relative. But as it was, she often engaged in a little discreet commerce of her own, to make some more money.
She needed the maid as a chaperone when she went into Paris to sell some of her old gowns. She also made up cosmetic preparations, an art that she had learned from Josephine, for other ladies…
Chapter V
In the Empress's sitting room, she read for an hour or so, while Josephine arranged some flowers and drifted gracefully around – but only half listening.
The Creole-born lady had never been very interested in books. She read to the Emperor, because he liked it. Her mellifluous voice pleased him, and relaxed him when he was tired. But for herself, she was not studious and her preferred reading was either books about gardens, or the more illicit novels. When the reading was over, she looked relieved. She really preferred to chat with her ladies rather than to listen to their reading.
"So my love, what news? Your uncle came to visit today, did he not?"
"Yes, Madame. He had a birthday gift for me."
Josephine smiled carefully. She had learned to smile and laugh without showing her rather bad teeth. She wasn't a beautiful woman, but she knew how to make the best of herself, by dressing and making herself up with great elegance, moving with a slow sinuous grace and making good use of her sweet musical voice and silvery laugh.
"A little late, I suppose, but better late than never."
"Yes, my poor uncle is often somewhat forgetful, but he has so many things to think of, Madame."
Corisande had received a much more generous present from the Empress on her birthday, a blue enamelled music box with silver birds, which had delighted her.
"I love your box, Madame," she said tactfully.
"I am glad. So speaking of music, how are your harp lessons
going?"
"I don't think I'll ever be very skilled at it,
Madame. It is hard on the fingers."
"You must practice, practice and practice my dear. You need to develop all of your accomplishments Cori, because I think it is high time that you found a husband. But you have such a sweet singing voice, that I am sure it will attract many young men…"
"Your majesty is so kind as to say so."
The conversation ended there, as both women had other duties – mostly to prepare themselves for the evening reception.
The reception was dull and Corisande was rather bored. She decided that the following day, she would make her visit to Paris to sell off some of her old dresses. To her dismay, the next day, Marthe awakened with a sore throat. She was clearly suffering from a bad cold. Corisande was tempted to leave her behind, but the girl insisted that she should accompany her. She occasionally did dispense with her maid's protection, but there were times when it was useful to have a companion with her. So she decided to take her along but tried to think of a way to save the girl from being too tired out by the excursion.
On their arrival in Montmartre, they dismissed the carriage, and Corisande suggested that the maid should go to the local church, where she planned to go when her business was accomplished. She could rest there, or visit one of the parishioners that they knew and her mistress would meet with her later.
She greatly enjoyed her visit to the small dressmaker's shop, where she was to sell her gowns. She dressed modestly for these expeditions, wearing a drab pelisse and plain woollen gown. The dressmaker haggled, for form's sake, but she knew that the gowns were of the finest quality of materials and workmanship. She was going to make money out of selling them to the middle class Parisians who would be delighted to have a gown that they knew had been worn at court, even if the fiction was that it was a new dress, made by Madame Dorothee herself but based on the court style.
"But this one Mam'selle, I am not sure that I can dispose of," she said, looking at the last one, which was an ornate toilette of violet silk.
It was low cut, with a very high waist, and satin ribbon trimming around the hem. The puffed sleeves were sewn with lace and seed pearls and it had also high fan-shaped semi circles of stiffened gauze ornamenting the tops of the sleeves, which gave it a vaguely historical look. They were of white, to contrast with the dress and were sewn with amethyst beads.
"Well, I don't see that, Madame."
"It is too fine a gown for a bourgeois wife, I'm afraid."
"Surely not? Your customers are well off, and they like to display themselves in pretty gowns."
"But this is for a slender young lady, not a well covered plump middle aged woman."
Corisande laughed lightly.
"Oh, come, Madame, surely you have some young women in your clientele too. You could alter the gown, take off the gauze trimming from the sleeves and the amethysts, and they could be sold separately as – as pretty little knickknacks. And violet is the imperial colour. But I don't wish to teach you your business. I'm sure you know it very well."
Madame sighed heavily and tutted, but in the end, as Corisande had hoped, she agreed a price though not quite as good a one as she would have liked. All the same, she was rather pleased with herself. She needed the money, and she liked to bargain.
Before she left, she also had been asked to provide face powder. Middle class ladies did not usually wear cosmetics and indeed aristocratic ladies were beginning to abandon the practice because it could be harmful to skin and health. But she had learned how to make cosmetics from natural ingredients, which were more acceptable to the middle classes and which were safe to use.
"It will take about two weeks to make, though, Madame," she told the dress shop owner. "I put together rice powder, dried orris root and dried lavender flowers in a jar and shake it regularly each day, until the scent of the flowers mingles into the powder. Then I sift it and put it in another jar. So I will let you have it then."
"Very well, Mam'selle," the good lady replied. She didn't really approve of wearing make up, which to her was associated with actresses and fallen women - but there was no doubt that there was good money in the discreet provision of cosmetics.
She had taken a while to overcome her distaste for the idea of selling lip salve, but Corisande had persuaded her. It seemed even worse than powder, because it was not merely covering up the shine on a woman's face but actually colouring her lips red. Corisande charged more for this because it was more complicated to make, involving heating oil and beeswax, and adding beetroot juice for colouring
When she left the shop, she started to walk towards the local church. Her uncle lived in one of the more prosperous streets in Montmartre. His house was small but comfortable, and he was content with his modest prosperity. He and his family, she knew, did a lot of good among the poor there. She intended to leave some money with him or with the cure, for those in need. And then her uncle could call a fiacre for her and Marthe to go back to Malmaison. As she walked along, though, she began to question her own wisdom. She was attracting attention in this area. Although she was quietly dressed, she was too young and pretty and smart looking not to draw the eye of some of the men.
Corisande had a more robust nature than many sheltered ladies, and was not embarrassed by men of any class taking notice of her. She regarded herself as well able to handle men who were drunk or over effusive. And Montmartre was full of working men going about their business or drinking in a café or inn. It was also an area that had a large number of women of the streets, but there were also respectable working women who lived in the small apartments and plied their trades, as sewing women, laundresses, cleaners and the like.
But, while she had merely been amused, she was a little unnerved by one large rough looking bearded man who kept following her, laughing loudly, throwing out his arms towards her, and calling her sweetheart. She began to walk more briskly, dodging the people on the street. But Parisian streets were hard to negotiate, being very narrow and full of carriages and pedestrians.
Then she realised that there was a man – a tall dark man who was also following her. Unlike the big rather heavy workman, he was more than capable of catching up with her. She realised that it was the Baron Sebastian Von Lichtenberg, whom she knew slightly from his presence at Court. Just now, he was recovering from an injury.
He was from one of the small German principalities that had been overrun by Napoleon. She supposed that because of this, Napoleon and Josephine had shown him favour, since he wished to keep their German allies happy. The German states were uneasy about the Emperor, and the ruler, Duke Frederick of Alperstein, was one of the few princes who had welcomed the French. Due to the injury, the Baron was not at present fit for active service, so he was now seconded to a position as some kind of military aide.
He caught at her arm and stopped her.
"So it is you, Mam'selle De Belmaris, I thought so."
"M. Le Baron, please, let go of my arm. I don't know what you are doing here."
"What are you doing here, I would like to know? This is hardly a suitable area for a young lady."
The working man had now caught up with her, since she had stopped
walking. Sebastian wheeled around, his face pinched, his eyes
snapping with anger. He raised his voice slightly.
"It seems
to me that you were annoying this lady, and I would advise you to
leave her alone."
The man was drunk, but he was not so drunk that he didn't realise that he was talking to an officer and a gentleman. Besides, he hadn't meant to be offensive. He was just "gay with wine", so now he hastily mumbled an apology and turned away.
"Now Mademoiselle, I am going to get a fiacre, and escort you back to Malmaison..."
"M. Le baron, I assure you that I'm all right. The man wasn't bothering me… he was just… a little inebriated… and I can take care of myself."
Corisande smiled up at the tall German. He was glaring at her so she tried to look at her most bewitching. But he still looked angry. Well, it seemed like her brief escape from being a proper young lady was over, for now.
Sebastian asked crossly, "Where is your maid?"
"She's
unwell. So I said that I would call for her later. I was going to
visit my uncle, who lives here… and she said that she would go
there and wait for me, in some person's home or the church."
"Your uncle lives here?"
* * * * *
Sebastian's upraised eyebrows and scandalised expression almost made her burst out into laughter.
"Truly, Sir, I assure you... This is not such a slum as you seem to imagine, M. le Baron. My uncle used to have a successful business, but now he's retired, and devotes himself to the church and good works. I defy you to say that he is not respectable!"
Her spirited defiance amused him and it was, he had to admit, admirable that she was not ashamed of her uncle living in the area… He supposed that it was a decent enough place, but still, most of the people were either workers or petty bourgeois, so a young woman like her, unaccompanied, would stand out and attract the sort of attention that would have embarrassed most girls. She clearly didn't mind it all that much.
"I think we've wasted enough time, Mam'selle. I shall find your maid and then we will get a fiacre for you."
Corisande considered refusing to go, but she was, in spite of herself, impressed by his commanding manner. He was supposed to be an excellent soldier, after all and he did seem to have a way of dominating and controlling a situation. And perhaps it wasn't very wise to be walking around with a large sum of money on her person. It might be stolen…
Corisande directed him to the church, where they learned that Marthe was visiting the home of one of the poor women of the parish. She led the way to the house and then, with Marthe, they found a fiacre.
There was no further conversation until they were in the carriage, and bowling towards Malmaison.
Sebastian frowned to himself as they were whirled along the country road to the estate. He had been thinking of what Napoleon had said, and he was considering marriage. But this girl was impossible. She was flighty and defiant. He wanted a woman who would fit into his life, who would be able to manage his family estate, and business interests, if necessary, and who would be well bred, ladylike. This girl did not seem to be the housewifely type, unlike a well-bred German woman. Of course, he didn't want a bluestocking, who would bore him by showing off, but he wanted a serious woman, who liked to read and was not dependent on balls and flirtation to amuse herself. He believed her when she had told him why she was visiting that area, yet part of him wondered, was there – could there be another explanation? Was she meeting some young man that her guardians disapproved of?
But while he had his doubts about her, possibly she was worth getting to know better. He wanted to get back to the war, and she was likely to be Napoleon's preferred choice for him. He still did not want to marry anyone particularly, but if it meant getting a command…
Corisande settled herself back against the squabs of the carriage. She looked under her eyelashes at the Baron. She realised now that she didn't actually know his age. But he was tall and severe looking, and his manner today had been very much that of a strict schoolmaster, faced with a naughty little girl. She didn't appreciate that. But as always, with a man, unless he was positively aged or very ugly, she found herself trying to decide if he was interested in her. The Baron was hard to read though. His face was lean, and his expression was usually haughty. There had been no softening in his manner to her even when she had gone along obediently with him. No, he wasn't the sort of man who might find her attractive.
Then she realised that he too was looking at her, and there was something in his dark eyes. Surely, he could not be attracted by her? He was very German, very serious minded. But perhaps he was not any the worse for that. After a year of being courted and paid attention to by many young officers, in Parisian society, she had to admit that most of them were very boring when the first charm had worn off. They talked idly - about nothing much. They boasted of their military prowess, but many of them had not even seen action, as they were very young…or they told feeble jokes and laughed heartily at their own wit. The baron looked intelligent, even if he seemed to lack tact or the social graces.
Sebastian tried to look at Mlle. De Belmaris without being seen doing so.
She was an attractive girl; she had rich glossy nut-brown hair, which she usually wore in ringlets, trailing loosely from a knot at the back of her head. Her eyes were green, and she had a fresh pink and white complexion. Her features were irregular; she had a broad forehead, a small nose, but a wide full lipped generous mouth, and a determined chin. Her dark brown eyebrows were arched, like dark wings. They gave her face an irregular charm. Her face was almost a perfect oval, and her usual expression was smiling and pleasant. Her hands were elegant, her figure trim.
* * * * *
Corisande wondered if he was going to say anything more, and when he remained silent, she remarked,
"So, am I forgiven, M. Le Baron? I thank you for coming to my rescue. Perhaps it was foolish of me to walk alone in that district."
Sebastian was now feeling more pleasant so he resolved not to make any more critical comments.
"I am glad that I could be of assistance. But I suppose that if your uncle lives there, it is respectable enough and you would be safe. This uncle, is he a M. De Belmaris?"