Read Online The Academie by Susanne Dunlap - Free Book Online Page B

was. The workmen were still there the last time I was forced to visit, in the summer, just after my brothers returned from Egypt. Napoléon was furious.”
    Caroline looks out the window with a cold smile uponher face. “Joséphine had spent an enormous sum on the place and at the time was planning to spend even more to make it truly habitable. And the gardens! They’re like a forest run wild. You’ll soon see for yourself.”
    I want to ask her more. Who are the people her mother referred to? By the time we have traveled the twelve kilometers to Joséphine’s country retreat in virtual silence, the questions have only multiplied in my mind.
    As we pass through the ornate gates, I gaze out the window of the carriage. “How lovely!”
    This is not the chaotic wilderness Caroline described. It is as beautiful a park as any I have seen. Caroline sits forward on her seat and stares out the other side. She slides the window down with a bang that makes her mother start but does not wake her, and leans her head out as if she cannot believe what she sees.
    On my side, I drink in the serene sight of manicured gardens and trees that have been trimmed, statuary, and peacocks strolling the grounds.
    “She must have spent a great deal more of my brother’s fortune,” Caroline murmurs.
    Soon we draw up to the main door of the château, whose proportions I note are very pleasing. Two footmen trot out in perfect unison and open the doors of the carriage. Caroline’s mother awakens and takes the hand of one, who helps her descend.
    “It’s magical!” I whisper. I feel as if I have beentransported to a fairy-tale castle, where everything is goodness and light.
    Caroline says nothing, nor does her mother. We walk up to the double doors, which open as soon as we reach them.
    A maid appears to take our cloaks. We hear men’s voices coming from behind the closed doors that lead off the vestibule to the right, opposite another pair on the other side. In front of us is a curved marble staircase, and everything gleams with fresh paint.
    “You are the only one who can do it! You are the hero of the hour!”
    “You do me too much honor,” comes a response, in a clipped, accented voice.
    “It is my brother!” Caroline whispers. Her face glows with genuine delight. All signs of petulance are gone.
    “The question is how to manage it,” the first voice says. “You need stalwarts by your side, because there may be trouble.”
    “You know I can be counted upon. I have shown myself willing to die for you,” says a third voice. And I recognize it. It is the young man I overheard at the ball, and whose picture sits in a frame upon Hortense’s desk. It is Eugène de Beauharnais, Hortense’s brother.
    I look at Caroline, who, with her mother, has drifted closer to the door. I think they would press their ears against it if they could, but my presence must inhibit them a little.
    “I know the men are behind you.” At the sound of a fourth voice, Caroline gasps.
    “What is it?” I whisper, going to join her by the door.
    “It’s Murat. He is here.”
    Before we can listen to anything more, a footman appears from behind the stairs, strides over to the doors, and knocks. All conversation within stops. He enters, closing the doors behind him.
    In a moment they fly open again, and this time a short man strides through, his jacket unbuttoned, a huge smile lighting up his face.
    “Maman! Caroline! What brings you here? I thought you were in school having your rough edges knocked off.” He chucks Caroline under the chin before throwing his arms around Madame Bonaparte. Caroline is still smiling, but she rubs her chin. I see that his gesture has annoyed her.
    Caroline turns her attention through the open door to the others in the room. All three of the men in military garb make deep, graceful bows in our direction, and we curtsy in return. I cannot help staring at Eugène, wondering if he recognizes me from the ball. He is not looking in my