The Academie

by Dunlap, Susanne

  Valmont approaches me. “This is all very touching,” he says, “but you look cold.” He starts to unbutton his own coat to give to me, but Hortense stops him.

  “I have brought her clothes, including a warm cloak,” she says, handing me the basket she was carrying. I glance around. How can I change? I look at Valmont and blush. He has the good grace to turn away.

  “How are you going to explain this person?” he says, looking down his nose at Madeleine, who is indeed very much smaller than he is.

  “Hortense, we need to find Eugène,” I say, ignoring him.

  “That won’t be possible,” Valmont says. “All the generals and their aides are occupied in Paris.”

  “Then Madeleine must come to school with us,” I say.

  Valmont shakes his head.

  “Well, she cannot remain out here, nor can she return to where she came from!” Hortense puts her finger to her lips. I drop my voice. “There must be a way. Just for a few days, until Eugène can come for her.”

  “Perhaps she can pass as a boy and return with me,” Valmont says, but I can see by his expression that he is joking.

  “She can be my cousin!” Hortense says, lifting her chin and gently separating herself from Madeleine. “She is visiting from Martinique, and her parents would like her to spend some time with me at school.”

  “Perfect!” I say. “Madeleine is an actress. She can play the role, I’m certain. Now I have to become myself again.” I cast a pointed glance at Valmont, who sweeps an ironic bow in my direction.

  “I gather my protection is no longer needed,” he says.

  “I have only these clothes to wear,” Madeleine says, looking down at her dress, which is obviously ragged in the daylight.

  “I am certain we can think of something,” Hortense says.

  “None of us will be worth trusting if we don’t return to school soon,” I say. “And now, I must change.” I look around. The shops across the street are all closed for business now.

  “Stand in the shelter there. We’ll shield you,” Hortense says.

  Again I glare at Valmont, who suddenly shakes himself out of his stupor. “I’ll fetch a fiacre.”

  I have never felt the cold air against my base skin. It’s a peculiarly vulnerable yet free feeling. It doesn’t last long. Soon I am dressed as the genteel young lady my mother is determined I shall be—and no doubt assumes I have been during these days since she departed for Virginia.

  I finish very quickly, wanting to ensure I have transformed myself by the time Valmont returns with our conveyance.

  Hortense has just tied my sash and I stuff my uniform into the basket as a fiacre approaches us from around the corner.

  Madeleine, Hortense, and I climb in. Valmont tips his tricorn to us. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “That would be a fine thing! No, I shall sneak back into the College grounds on my own and reappear in time for afternoon exercises,” he says, nodding to the driver.

  I turn and watch him. I don’t understand why he has done any of this. What can we matter to him, really?

  My attention is diverted by Madeleine. “I’ve never been to school,” she says, breaking the silence we have fallen into as we roll along the cobbled streets.

  “How do you learn your lines?” I ask.

  “I can read, of course!” she says, and I remember her reaction to Eugène’s letter.

  “In a week, you’ll be walking with a stack of books on your head,” I say. “Now that’s what I call education!”

  We all laugh, relieved, I think, that the day’s extraordinary adventures are at last concluded—whatever happens next.

  40

  Hortense

  When I saw Eliza with Madeleine it was all I could do not to stare. This is the object of my brother’s affection? She is barely more than a child and looks so frail that someone like Caroline could easily crush her. Seated pressed up next to her in the fiacre I am aware only of the sharp points of her elbows, the way her dress hangs off her shoulders rather than clinging to the plump outlines of a bosom as it should.

  Why did Eliza bring her back? At Malmaison I was certain my American friend had begun to form an attachment to Eugène, futile as that would be. Perhaps she thinks to ingratiate herself to him by helping him achieve his object.

  On reflection, though, Valmont has become oddly attentive to Eliza since he discovered our plan. I wonder if her girlish affections have been swayed by his actions.

  We soon arrive at the school and my thoughts are interrupted.

  “We’ll all go in the back way, Madeleine, and you come to the front and ask for me. Say you have just arrived from a long ocean voyage,” I say.

  “I have no luggage,” Madeleine points out.

  Of course. I hadn’t considered that. If she is my cousin, she would have some means, surely.

  Eliza speaks. “Say your trunks will arrive soon. Then we can claim they have become lost at sea.”

  “Yes! That is a perfect plan.” I am relieved, but also surprised that Eliza might have thought of such a thing.

  Eliza and I sneak in easily enough the back way. Geneviève is there to ensure that we are not seen.

  Eliza and I descend to the parlor, finding Caroline already there.

  “Some broth? Or warm milk?” Madame Campan asks.

  Although I have not eaten all day and my stomach is hollow with hunger, the idea of food makes me feel queasy. I don’t have to pretend to be unwell, I am so anxious about what is to come with Madeleine.

  “Perhaps just some dry biscuits,” Caroline says, placing her hand over her stomach in a rather melodramatic way. We had already agreed upon the story that something we ate at Malmaison made us unwell.

  Poor Eliza eyes the sweet biscuits hungrily, but she, too, abstains. Soon we are all settled in the parlor, sipping tea and talking quietly when I hear the bell tinkling down in the kitchens announcing a visitor. I listen to the footsteps of the maid who answers the door, and it is only moments before the serving girl appears in the parlor.

  “Mademoiselle Hortense has a visitor,” she says with a curtsy.

  “At this late hour?” Madame Campan is not pleased. “And she has not been well!”

  “She says she has come from very far away and begs to be admitted to see her cousin.”

  Caroline almost spoils everything by looking very confused. We have not had time to tell her about Madeleine. I prevent her from asking an awkward question by exclaiming, “She is come—at last! We have expected her these few months now, but the weather has been so bad for sailing.”

  I rise and go to greet Madeleine, whose surname we decided would be Mornay—just in case Madame Campan is familiar with the theatrical family and their dubious history.

  I bring Madeleine in on my arm, and I feel her trembling. Surely such a consummate actress cannot be nervous in this small theater of our school. It makes me pity her more, knowing she is.

  I introduce her to Madame Campan and the rest of the girls—the ones who are old enough to sit up after dinner, that is. For a moment, I am afraid Eliza’s propensity for nervous giggling might give us away, but she controls herself, turning her reaction instead into an expression of delight at meeting someone new.

  Madame Campan calls for more tea and sandwiches for the traveler, and some broth for those of us who have spent the day in bed. I confess it pains me to have deceived her in this manner, the lady who has taken me in for less than the accustomed tuition as a favor to my mother—and never spoken of this arrangement to anyone. But we really have no choice.

  “Tell me, Madeleine, why did you not go directly to Malmaison instead of here?” Madame Campan asks once we are all settled again.

  I hold my breath. We didn’t think of that!

  “It was my mother’s express wish that I be permitted to remain at your school, madame.” As she delivers her line, Madeleine’s voice begins to tremble, until by the end two tears spill over the barriers of her lower lashes and make their way d
own her cheeks, as if she is capable not only of controlling when her tears fall, but how many and how quickly.

  “Was?” Madame Campan’s face, normally so placid, becomes the picture of concern.

  Madeleine sets her teacup down on the table and starts searching in her pockets for a handkerchief, which she does not find. In the meantime, tears continue to streak her face.

  To my amazement, Madame Campan reaches into her own pocket and produces an exquisite lace-edged square with her initials elaborately embroidered on it. She goes to Madeleine and kneels down by her, dabbing at the now sobbing girl’s cheeks.

  Madeleine shakes her head prettily, but takes the handkerchief she is offered nonetheless. Madame Campan gets up off her knees and brings her chair over to Madeleine’s side.

  “There now, ma petite. Tell me what happened.”

  Madame looks up at the rest of us and signals that we should take everyone away. It is nearly time for us all to retire anyway, but I desperately wish I could stay and hear the tale Madeleine is about to spin.

  Once upstairs, the three of us gather in Caroline’s chamber, the largest. Eliza and I quickly explain everything to Caroline, who now strides up and down, wringing her hands.

  “What will she say! She could put us all in danger. I blame this on you, Eliza!”

  Eliza recoils as if Caroline has slapped her. I go to her and put my arm around her shoulder. “It is not her fault, Caroline. Remember, we each left Eliza to attend to our own affairs.”

  To her credit, this elicits an apology from Caroline, who then continues, “The fact remains that we now have a problem. Madeleine cannot stay here. Who will pay her tuition? And if she does not stay here, where will she go?”

  Caroline seems so distressed, I sense that something is wrong beyond any concern over Madeleine’s tuition. “Caroline, is something the matter?” I ask.

  Her eyes begin to fill with tears. “It’s nothing, really. I know he is fine. It was just a scratch.”

  “He? A scratch? What is it?” I ask. Eliza and I each take one of Caroline’s hands.

  Eliza whispers to me. “It’s Napoléon. He was wounded today at the château. I saw it.” Caroline is now crying in earnest.

  The news shocks me. I have not even thought about the outcome of the day, only assuming it was completed to everyone’s satisfaction. “Oh, Caroline! You must know how I can sympathize with you. I was so distressed when my own brother was injured....”

  She shakes her head and frees her hands, rubbing them together as if they are cold. “He is well. He must be, or I would have heard. My brother is stronger than that. He can withstand a superficial wound.”

  We are silent. I am thinking how selfish I am, to worry about the state of my heart when the future of France is at stake, when my stepfather may be mortally injured.

  But I cannot forget Michel. And I suspect Caroline is still desperate for Murat. I wonder if she saw him? Perhaps that, too, weighs on her now.

  Added to everything, downstairs is a young actress who could destroy not only my brother’s life, if she chooses, but could expose all of us for the frauds we have been this past day.

  We each recognize that we have inadvertently entrusted our most cherished secrets to someone about whom we know almost nothing, except that she has captivated my brother.

  “Bonaparte will survive, and Eugène will make everything right,” Eliza says.

  I don’t have the heart to tell her that my mother will use all her powers to prevent him from doing any such thing.

  41

  Eliza

  This morning, the news is all over France.

  “Caroline! Hortense! Eliza!”

  Madame Campan calls to us and I can hear her running up the stairs. I have never seen her run before. She usually chastises us if we move too quickly, so at first I imagine there has been some terrible catastrophe.

  Hortense and I meet in the corridor. She is neatly dressed in a white gown with a dark blue sash, her hair done simply but perfectly. I am dressed but my hair has not been arranged. A moment later, Caroline emerges from her room still in her dressing gown. We all three are gathered just as Madame Campan reaches the landing.

  She is out of breath and must stop before speaking to us. While she composes herself, she opens the Gazette and waves it in our faces.

  “Bonaparte,” she finally gasps out. “Bonaparte has been made first consul of France. It is only a step, but an important one.”

  “A step?” Hortense says.

  “Toward a monarchy! And toward a France as glorious as she has ever been.”

  Her eyes are shining. At first I am confused. Then I recall that she was mistress of the bedchamber to Marie Antoinette, and that apparently she had a great fondness for the queen. Of course she would welcome a return to something closer to a system that was so kind to her.

  And then I think of Armand. This was what he wanted. He, like Madame Campan, is eager to see things go back to the way they once were.

  Madame Campan takes Hortense’s hand and then Caroline’s. I stand a little aside. She seems to have forgotten me. Her eyes are moist with tears. I have never seen her display so much emotion.

  “I beg you finish dressing and come down to breakfast. We have a great deal of work to do.”

  “Work?” Caroline says.

  “These events call for a celebration. With both of you here at my school, we must show our loyal support for Bonaparte and the consulate.”

  “So Bonaparte is not injured?” I ask, then immediately regret it when Caroline glares at me.

  “Injured? Why would he be injured?” Madame Campan looks back and forth from me to Caroline.

  “It is only that so dramatic a change—can it have occurred without bloodshed?” Hortense says.

  I relax when I see that this explains my comment to Madame’s satisfaction. “I see. Of course. But it was all quite peaceful, apparently, although the army was ready in the event of trouble.” She turns her attention away from me and focuses once more on Caroline and Hortense. “We must plan a celebration. We shall have music and dancing. Do you think, Hortense, your mother would grace us with her presence? And of course we must have the students from the Collège here too.”

  Hortense blushes and casts a quick glance at Caroline, who has pressed her lips together. I don’t really blame her. Napoléon is her brother, after all, and she should have a bigger role to play in any celebrations that have to do with his new role in the government.

  Hortense is quick to soothe her. “I’m certain that a celebration at the school will bring all our relatives, if they are not otherwise occupied with important matters of state,” she says.

  Madame continues as though she hasn’t heard her, though, her mind racing ahead to the next matter. “I have sent word to Monsieur Perroquet to attend us this morning. We will have just enough time to rehearse some patriotic songs. I do hope there are some boys who can sing.”

  She rushes away as quickly as she arrived, leaving the three of us staring after her.

  “What next?” I ask.

  Before either of them can answer me, Madeleine appears. I permitted her to sleep in a truckle bed in my chamber. Hortense’s room is too small, and Caroline, still angry that she was here at all, did not offer to accommodate her. Madeleine slept restlessly, tossing and turning and occasionally calling out in her sleep. At last she lay still, so I did not wake her early. She was still asleep when I came out. Now I see she has dressed herself and her eyes are bright and wide, so that she looks as though she has been awake for hours.

  “What next?” she echoes.

  “How much did you hear?” Caroline asks.

  “Enough to know that there is to be a celebration, and that guests will come.” She smiles and takes hold of Hortense’s hand. “Do you think Eugène will be among them?”

  Hortense looks puzzled, and I realize her mind has been far away.

  “If Napoléon attends, Eugène is sure to follow,” Caroline says, not enti
rely kindly. But her comment appears not to have any effect upon Madeleine.

  “Excuse me,” Hortense says, then turns away from us without a further word and goes back into her chamber.

  I cannot imagine what upsets her so. Perhaps she is truly distressed about her brother’s love for Madeleine after all. Or perhaps she is worried about Napoléon, and not because he suffered a wound at the hand of one of the council members. I shiver.

  “I must make some preparations and write to my mother,” Caroline says. She, too, is preoccupied. I thought I was in their confidence, but suddenly, this morning, I am no longer certain.

  Madeleine and I continue downstairs for breakfast. Neither Hortense nor Caroline appears, but they both arrive as the entire school gathers in the ballroom.

  “Caroline, you must take charge of the costumes. Everyone should wear white, which we will decorate with red and blue.” Madame is already lining us up by size, deciding how we will stand in the old ballroom to perform our tribute to Bonaparte, the new first consul.

  “Eliza, I shall need your assistance planning the menu for the reception afterward. Kindly go to the kitchens and see what we have, and what we must send for.”

  The kitchens! For a moment I am so taken aback that I find myself fixed to my spot. Just as I recover from the blow of being assigned to the lowest of the tasks for the celebration, Madeleine stops me with her hand.

  “Please, let me go,” she says, casting a quick glance at Hortense before turning her eyes to Madame.

  “Very well,” Madame Campan says. “What is important is that it is done, whoever does it. I must meet with the headmaster of the Collège, who will be here any moment.”

  I think we are all ready to go and scurry about, preparing for the event, when Hortense steps forward. “If I may, madame,” she says, hesitating.

  Madame Campan looks up from the red and blue ribbons she is showing the younger ones how to fashion into rosettes. Her face softens. “Yes, dear Hortense?”

  “I have composed an anthem, to honor Bonaparte and his victories. Might we not perform it today?”