Brilliance (22 page)

He shook his head determinedly. ‘I can’t believe that you want to remain single till the end of your days!’

In her own mind she had already seen her rejection of his offer of marriage as the end of everything between them. ‘I’m very fond of you, Michel, but you must look elsewhere for a wife. There is nothing you could say that would make me change my mind.’

‘I can’t believe that!’

‘Then we must make an end to our relationship. It is not fair on you to hope in vain. This has to be goodbye.’ Gathering up her wrap together with her beaded evening purse, she pressed a hand down on his shoulder when he would have risen to his feet with her. ‘I’ll go now. Stay where you are.’ Her voice was tremulous. ‘The doorman will summon a cab for me. I’ll always remember the happy days we have shared.’

As she turned to leave he caught her wrist and compelled her back into her seat beside him, his expression torn and anxious. ‘I love you! Nothing can change that! I want you and will always want you. Sooner or later you will agree to be my wife! I’m sure of it!’ His voice took on a gentler tone. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at little children. You’ll want a family of your own one day, however much you deny it now.’

Although she was very moved by this outburst of his feelings, she doubted that he would ever comprehend that many children, although loved as much, could never fill the gap left by a lost child. She rested her palm lightly against his face. ‘You’re a good man, Michel. But it can’t be.’

He moved her palm from his cheek and buried a kiss in it. ‘I’ll wait years for you if needs be, but don’t condemn me to that, Lisette.’

Now, as she collected her bicycle from the factory shed, her mind was occupied with thoughts of Michel and she forgot all about Louis Lumière and the motion picture camera set up beyond the factory gates. She went cycling right past him before realizing that she must have filled the camera lens for a matter of seconds. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw the women workers emerging self-consciously from the factory gates, smiles on their faces, while the men, some on bicycles, stared with interest in the direction of the camera. A dog was leaping about as if knowing that something unusual was taking place.

That evening the Lumières gathered in the family home to view the motion pictures that had been taken over the past few days. Madame Lumière was given a front seat beside her husband while young Edouard sat on the floor by her feet and the rest took the other chairs. Auguste and Louis intended to cut out surplus runs of the pictures, but only after the family had viewed them all.

The lamps were lowered and Louis began turning the handle of the camera. There were murmurs of admiration from Madame Lumière and her daughters-in-law at the superb clarity of the pictures. A horse-bus went by. There were boats on the river. Some children ran along, bowling hoops. Next came Auguste sitting with Marguerite at a garden table with their baby daughter, Andrée, between them. None of these strips of film lasted longer than a minute and it took the same amount of time to reload, but that gave the family the chance to chat excitedly during these impromptu intervals about what they had seen so far. Then came the factory pictures, beginning with a young woman cycling right past the camera, her face captured fully for only a matter of seconds. Yet it was long enough to cause Madame Lumière to sit forward abruptly in her seat.

‘I’m sure I know that girl!’ she exclaimed.

Nobody thought her remark held any significance. It was not often that Jeanne-Josephine Lumière went to the factory, but apparently she had recognized somebody she had seen there. Yet, when the lamplight was raised again, she did not let the matter rest.

‘Do run that strip of the factory through again,’ she asked her son. When he had obliged she turned to her husband. ‘Antoine! I’m sure that was Madame Decourt’s granddaughter!’

‘Do you mean little Lisette?’ he asked in surprise.

‘She wouldn’t be little now.’ Madame Lumière thought for a moment or two. ‘I’d say she is at least nineteen, which is surely the age of the girl on the bicycle!’

‘But why should she be working in our factory? There was no shortage of money in the Decourt family. I passed the Bellecour house the other day and it is still closed up. Surely you remember that Lisette was not going to inherit it until she married or came of age? So there’s no reason for her to be here.’ He shook his head. ‘I think you’re mistaken, my dear.’

Madame Lumière was not satisfied and turned again in her chair to address her sons. ‘Auguste! Louis! Do you have a Mademoiselle Decourt working at the factory?’

They were busy with the strips of photographs and neither had been paying attention to their parents’ discussion. She had to command their attention again.

Louis glanced up this time. ‘Who? Mademoiselle Decourt? Yes, she’s in our bookkeeping office. You saw her on the screen a few minutes ago. Michel Ferrand is her beau – he and I were pupils together at the Lycée de la Martinere.’

‘Yes, I remember. Now listen to me. I want to see Lisette. Give her permission to leave work early tomorrow afternoon and I will receive her at home. I can guess why she has never been to see me. There was that scandal about her being a runaway bride. Now you will remember to invite her, won’t you, Louis?’

‘Yes, Maman.’ Louis exchanged an amused glance with his brother. There were still times when their mother seemed to forget they were no longer children.

The next morning Louis summoned Lisette to his office to pass on his mother’s invitation. When he had explained how it had come about, she hesitated before accepting.

‘I have stayed away from visiting her as I was involved in a scandal,’ she said frankly. ‘Are you sure—?’

Louis cut her short with a reassuring smile. ‘You have no need to be concerned. My mother has no patience with gossip. She will expect you at three o’clock.’

From the moment Lisette was shown into Madame Lumière’s presence, she was enveloped in all the kindness and warmth of hospitality that she remembered from the past. Her grandmother’s old friend kissed her fondly on both cheeks.

‘What a joy to see you again, Lisette! You were a pretty child and now you are a beautiful young woman. Oh, how I have missed your dear grandmother over the years, but now you are back in Lyon again.’

She drew Lisette over to neighbouring chairs in front of a low table that had been spread with a lace cloth, ready with cups and saucers as well as a plateful of little cakes and pastries.

‘You look so well, madame,’ Lisette replied happily, ‘and not changed in any way.’ Then she added on a sober note, ‘I have wanted to visit you, but—’

Madame Lumière smiled and shook her head. ‘You do not have to say anything about it, because I guessed why. Yes, we did hear of the scandal at the time, but you must have had good reason for doing what you did.’

‘That’s very understanding of you. At the last moment an insurmountable barrier arose that made it impossible for me to marry Philippe and so I took the only escape route that seemed open to me.’

‘Then I believe, as your grandmother would have done, that you did the right thing. An unhappy marriage is a terrible state to be in.’ Madame Lumière began to pour pale golden-hued tea into the fine porcelain cups, adding a thin slice of lemon to each. ‘Your jilted bridegroom came looking for you in Lyon and called here to ask if I knew your whereabouts.’ She noticed Lisette’s startled look. ‘Ah! I can see you didn’t know that!’

‘No, I didn’t, although I did think that he might come to Lyon in his search.’ She took the teacup that was handed to her.

‘Are you aware that he married recently?’ Madame Lumière asked cautiously. ‘There was an announcement in one of the national newspapers.’

Lisette looked at her in relief. ‘What good news!’

Madame Lumière raised her eyebrows. ‘I wondered how you would feel about it.’

‘I’ve been so afraid that he would still be looking for me. Now I know that I’m truly out of his life. I hope he and his bride find happiness together.’

The older woman nodded in satisfaction. ‘I’m pleased to know that is how you feel. May I ask how you managed to disappear so completely after leaving the château? You were not to be found anywhere.’

‘I knew of a travelling lanternist who was leaving Paris and I worked as his assistant for a while. After that I gained employment in a shop and then as a housekeeper before arriving in Lyon.’

Madame Lumière regarded her approvingly. ‘Your grandmother would have been pleased that you’ve grown up to be self-reliant and that you know your own mind.’

She went on to chat about the past and give news of people whom Lisette remembered, and they discussed other topics that interested them both. Lisette also told of her clandestine visits to the Bellecour house.

‘You could have been arrested as an intruder!’ Madame Lumière exclaimed anxiously.

‘I know, but to be so near and yet so far made it impossible for me not to attempt an entry.’

‘Be sure to keep away in future,’ Madame Lumière advised. ‘You’re too young to realize yet how swiftly time flies, but the next two years will melt away and then the house will be yours.’

It was then that Monsieur Lumière came into the salon. He still exuded joviality and with his same irresistible charm he welcomed Lisette heartily before sitting down to have a cup of tea himself.

‘It’s a long time since I found you weeping in the garden on the day of your grandmother’s funeral, Lisette,’ he said reminiscently, ‘and I have to admit that I wouldn’t have recognized you on the motion picture as my wife did. But one thing I can tell you,’ he added, ‘and it is that the camera liked the look of you! That image of you was perfection!’

His wife nodded her head eagerly. ‘Yes, it was. The boys must take more moving pictures of you.’

Lisette smiled. ‘I feel very privileged to have been photographed already.’ Then she made a request. ‘Is it possible, Monsieur Lumière, that the plate used to take that last photograph of my grandmother in your studio is still in existence? I lost the photograph when it was stolen with the rest of my belongings from a train.’

‘Yes, we keep records and I know that plate will be listed. You shall have a replacement as soon as it can be done.’

She thanked him gratefully. When she left the house an hour later she felt buoyed up and happy to have renewed her friendship with the senior Lumières. A week later she received the new photograph of her grandmother in a handsome silver frame.

A
fter Lisette’s reunion with the senior Lumières she received invitations to social events at their home. It was always with other guests, for the Lumières’ own family gatherings were kept almost exclusively to themselves. As in the past she looked forward most of all to the musical evenings. These began with dinner at a long table finely laid with good linen and silver, an epergne dripping fresh flowers between candles. Over the good food and wine there would be lively conversation that encompassed everything from local and world happenings to the arts and usually the latest discovery in the field of science. There was also the recounting of hilarious incidents, which set everyone laughing.

Afterwards came the music. France’s husband, Charles Winckler, and Auguste both favoured the cello while Marguerite played the piano and others in the family took to the violin, flute or whatever happened to be their favourite instrument. Usually Monsieur Lumière sang a couple of songs and when it was discovered that Lisette had a good singing voice she was persuaded into a solo now and again. It was through this enjoyment of singing that she joined a choir that gave concerts four times a year, and through it she made new friends.

Time thus passed pleasantly into the New Year of 1895. She and Michel did not see each other quite as frequently as before, because she had developed other interests that kept her busy. Even when the colder weather set in she continued to enjoy her trips out with a weekend cycling club for rides into the country, Michel accompanying her whenever his work gave him the time.

She had also joined a local amateur dramatic society, for in acting she was fulfilling a dream that had been ignited long before in her childhood. It was through going to the theatre so often with her father and acting in plays at school. Each time had been a magical experience for her and she had longed to be able to act before the footlights, but she had sensed from remarks he had made from time to time that a career on the stage was the last thing he would ever wish for her. Anxious not to do anything to disrupt the harmony between them, which had been so important to her, she had put away that dream. Yet now it was resurfacing in a small but satisfying way.

At her request, Michel had not mentioned marriage again, but she knew he was biding his time. Yet unbeknown to him she had given the matter serious thought. To have children by someone of whom she was very fond, even loved, and whose company she enjoyed, as well as the certainty that he would be a good parent, would have weighed heavily in his favour if she had wanted a husband. But as yet freedom was too precious. Then late one afternoon on a windy, red and gold October day, Daniel Shaw came roaring back into her life.

He was waiting for her when she came out of the office building to join the stream of other departing employees at the end of the day’s work. He seemed even taller than she remembered, clad in a well-tailored greatcoat and wide-brimmed black hat, a scarlet woollen scarf thrown about his neck, reminding her in every way of a Lautrec poster she had seen of a man similarly dressed. He greeted her with a deep frown and spoke angrily, ignoring the other workers going by as if nothing else existed except the two of them.

‘You’ve taken a devil of a time for me to find!’ he declared furiously.

She raised her eyebrows incredulously, for his audacious greeting had taken her breath away for a moment or two. Fellow workers glanced in their direction with amusement. She stalked across to him and spoke in a lowered voice in order not to be overheard.

‘I should have thought that the way I left that day was enough to tell you that we had come to the parting of our ways,’ she said as fiercely in retaliation as he had spoken to her.