Becoming Josephine Read Online Free PDF Page A

The finer boutiques would never allow such a thing; we had not bothered to enter them.
    I twirled for the second time in a yellow brocade. Who was the elegant stranger in the looking glass? Her cheeks were flushed, her form graceful. I smiled with glee.
    “Do you like this one, Désirée?” I asked.
    “It’s lovely. We’ll have one made for you. As you can see it doesn’t fit precisely as it should. And what about the green one?”
    “It’s quite expensive. I have already asked madame.”
    “I am aware of the price. Why don’t you try it on? It looks to be about your size,” Désirée said.
    Madame helped me into the rich silk gown and I moved to the mirror.
    “Oh.” My hand flew to my lips. “
C’est magnifique.
” I turned slowly, swishing the glossy skirts. I stroked the black lace cuffs that extended the length of my forearms. If only Maman
could see me look a lady.
    “I believe that gown was made for you.”
    “I’ve never worn anything so beautiful.”
    “Nor owned one, I suppose? Well, you do now, dear.” Désirée turned to madame. “We’d like this one as well.”
    “Oh, Désirée! Do you mean it?” I rushed to embrace her, bumping a small table in my hurry. A set of porcelain figurines rattled as if coming to life. I steadied them, stifling a laugh.
    “
Attention.
” Désirée gave me a disapproving look. “You must be aware of your person at all times.”
    I bowed my head in embarrassment.
    “Of course I mean it,” she said, her tone softened. “Now. You’ll need another for tomorrow. We can’t have you wearing your soiled dresses another day. Shall we?”
    I squealed and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, thank you!”
    By day’s end, I had a start to a proper Parisian wardrobe. I chose a gold-threaded brocade glittering with iridescent beads, three day dresses, and one made of navy wool. Hats, shoes and silk stockings, an evening handbag, and gloves. Never had I owned so many beautiful things.
    I wondered at the Beauharnaises’ fortune. Neither the house nor the furniture reflected wealth, and I had witnessed Désirée scowling at the bills. I dismissed the thought. Not my concern. Alexandre’s knees would buckle when he saw me.

    The following morning, I arose early for my toilette. I spent an hour on my hair alone to arrange my curls into a perfect chignon like Désirée’s. I applied my new powders with a careful hand and painted my cheeks with rouge. After a dab of perfume, I called to Mimi to assist me with dressing.
    “Stockings first, Yeyette.” She used my childhood nickname.
    I pulled the silky film along my calves and over my knees, and secured them in place with frilly garters.
    Mimi laced up my corset, thankfully with less force than the dressmaker. “Can you breathe?”
    “Barely.” I laughed.
    She helped me into my petticoats and pannier, and at last I pulled on a milky white dress dotted with embroidered cherries. It had been the only frock ready for wearing after minor adjustments. The gown happened to be one of my favorites.
    I smiled into my hand mirror. A Parisian lady, head to toe—a temptation for any man.
    As I swept down the stairs to the hall, Alexandre leaned over the table to select a hunk of bread from the basket.
    “How was your evening?” I touched a lose curl on my forehead lightly.
    “Quite fine. I’ve only just arrived.” He slathered his bread with apricots and ate it in a few bites, all without sitting.
    “I hope I may accompany you one evening soon.” I swished my skirts to and fro as I approached him. “I’ve been to see the dressmaker. Do you like it?”
    He eyed me silently for a moment. “It’s nice.”
    Nice? I looked down to hide my disappointment.
    He closed the short distance between us. “I’d like a closer view.”
    My stomach flip-flopped at his silky tone.
    He pressed his body closer and tucked his face into my neck. His hot breath reeked of cigars and wine.
    “Alexandre,” I said breathlessly.
    He kissed the