Becoming Josephine by Heather Webb Page A

seek advice.
    She closed the book she held on her lap. “What the devil has gotten into him? You must meet with the provost and get him back.”
    “Do you think I have a chance?”
    She walked to her desk and rummaged through her drawers. “I will write a testimonial on your behalf.”
    I toyed with the buttons on my gloves. “Désirée?”
    “Hmm?” She pulled out a chair and sat down to write.
    “You will not like it. It isn’t conventional, and I understand my chances of success are slim, but . . .”
    She looked up from the letter she had already begun.
    “I’ll be doing more than requesting Eugène’s return. I plan to file for a separation.”
    “You have a good case now that Alexandre has taken Eugène, but you must be convincing. Ask Fanny and anyone else you know to write on your behalf. The court doesn’t rule in a woman’s favor often.”
    “You aren’t disappointed?”
    She put down her quill pen. “Alexandre is my stepson. I love him, but he has behaved like a spoiled child. You have my complete support.”
    I moved to take her hands in mine. “Thank you, Désirée. It means so much to me to have your support.”
    I would beat Alexandre at his own game.

    Claire used her connections to secure a speedy appointment with the provost of Paris. Within the week, I found myself waiting in the court of justice with Claire at my side. I shifted in my seat and fingered my stack of documents. Surely the judge would rule in my favor. I had proof of Alexandre’s negligence. I prayed it would be enough.
    “Madame de Beauharnais?” At last, a clerk called my name.
    “Yes.” I stood.
    “Right this way.”
    “
Courage.
” Claire blew me a kiss.
    The clerk led me through a series of corridors until we reached the judge’s office. I inhaled a fortifying breath before entering. I must exude fortitude.
    “
Bonjour.
Have a seat,” the judge greeted me.
    I described every detail of our marriage—my husband’s infidelity, his accusations, his fleeting time at home and lack of financial support. Last of all, I explained Eugène’s kidnapping. The provost read through my letters, taking notes on his elegant stationary.
    “Madame de Beauharnais, it appears you have suffered a great deal, but it’s essential I hear both parties.” His pale eyes were kind. “I’ll request your husband’s presence in two weeks’ time. It would be in your favor to be present as well.” He shuffled his papers into a pile and placed his wrinkled hands on top.
    “
Merci
, monsieur. I am aggrieved at Alexandre’s conduct.”
    “It is my pleasure to help an innocent young woman.” He smiled beneath his bushy mustache.
    I daresay he liked me. As Claire and I swept into our waiting coach, a spark of hope ignited in my bosom. It was time for my luck to change.

    The days before the trial crept along. Visions of Eugène’s terrified face plagued me. I couldn’t wait to bring him home. The appointed day arrived on a frosty March morning.
    Alexandre arrived just as our names were called. The moment I saw him, my anger flared.
    “I’m so glad you could make it,” I said, the hate in my voice controlled but unmistakable.
    “Let’s finish this business once and for all, shall we? I’ll be glad to be rid of you.”
    I clenched my fists inside my green wool muff. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me upset. I had learned to hold my temper, to appear a lady at all times.
    “Right this way.” The clerk motioned us through an open door.
    The provost addressed us without looking up from his papers. “
Bonjour
, Madame de Beauharnais.
Bonjour
, monsieur. Please have a seat.” He waved his hand to indicate the chairs in front of his massive oak desk.
    Alexandre sat as far from me as possible.
    The judge locked Alexandre in his gaze. “I will come to the point. I met with Madame de Beauharnais on a previous occasion. I have reviewed her letters from your family and friends. They all support her innocence despite