Brilliance (6 page)

Gradually her thoughts began to gather again and slowly she sat up, trying to decide what she should do. How could Philippe betray her so cruelly! He knew how much she loved and trusted him! And he loved her! Nothing could shake her conviction that all he had said to her in tender words over past months had been true. It could only be that treacherous Isabelle was to blame! Somehow she had seduced him. She must have chosen her moment carefully and waited in the shadows for him to come along in his gig on his way home down the drive. Suddenly she would have stepped from the shadows into the moonlight. Surprised, he would have alighted at once. Then her seductive voice in the sultry night, her perfume and the temptation she offered would all have overwhelmed him.

Suddenly Lisette clenched her fist and thumped it down on the arm of the seat as white-hot fury seared through her. But how weak he was! What trust could she put in the marriage vows that he would make to her?

Then she caught her breath. The whisper of gravel told her that they were coming along the path, but the rose bushes were thick enough to block any view of her. They were talking quietly together and once they laughed. He was obviously escorting Isabelle back to within sight of the château. Then, as they passed by, just a snatch of Isabelle’s words reached her like a soft purr.

‘Remember your promise not to prolong your honeymoon
chéri
. I shall miss those afternoons we spend together until I’m in your arms again.’

‘We’ll also meet here whenever an opportunity presents itself,’ he replied softly. There was a pause as if they had stopped to kiss before they moved on again.

Lisette closed her eyes tightly in anguish. Already in shock, she could scarcely comprehend such treachery, but fury was sustaining her. They thought her too young and gullible as well as too infatuated with him to ever suspect what was going on between them. With her out of the way at the Paris house they would use her father’s home for their liaisons!

Then let them have each other. She never wanted to set eyes on either of them again! She would not spend another night under the château roof and neither would she ever return. She would leave now!

Then she realized she would have to get back into the château before Isabelle, who would lock the side door again. Springing to her feet, she took the flight of steps opposite the path and left the sunken garden to run as fast as she could through the trees. Then, well hidden by the box hedges, she reached the door and plunged through it. She was just in time. As she reached her bedroom a tell-tale creak told her that Isabelle was beginning to ascend the grand staircase. Silently she closed her door and locked it.

Briefly she leaned against it to get her breath and listened intently until she heard Isabelle’s door close. Then she sprang into action and darted into her dressing room. Her satin wedding gown, which was exactly how she had wanted it to be, was hanging on a special frame, a white cloth covering it, and her veil was a filmy froth suspended from another stand. She avoided looking at them and also at the trunks that were already packed with new clothes for her honeymoon. Instead, she grabbed up one of the valises that had yet to be filled and began to push in everything she would need for the next week or two. The rest of her belongings could be sent on to her when the wedding date was over and Isabelle would no longer care where she might be. A purse full of francs, ready as a lavish amount of honeymoon pocket money, went swiftly into her coat pocket.

The valise was heavy when she picked it up, but that was not important. All that mattered was to get as far away as possible before her absence was discovered. Once again she crept down the stairs to leave by the side door. There she hurried to the stables and into the tack room where her bicycle was stored. Hers had a place for a small picnic basket behind the seat and, snatching down a strap from a collection hanging on a hook, she secured her valise to it. A minute later she was cycling away down the drive, wobbling a little at first, for she had never had any extra weight to carry along before, but by the time she sailed through the gates she had become used to it.

She was grateful for the moonlight as she sped along the country road. Although it was not yet midnight, there was nobody about, for local farming folk went early to bed. She knew exactly where she was going to avoid being traced. It was as if her brain, after being temporarily numbed by shock, had begun to work with lightning speed, her thoughts totally clear.

The fields and meadows began giving way to residential areas. She had almost reached her destination when a cat streaked across her path, causing her to brake too sharply. Tossed to the ground, she saw her bicycle spin away to crash against a lamp post. Exasperated, she scrambled to her feet and rushed to it, only to discover that the collision had done some damage to the front wheel. With an exclamation of fury, she unbuckled her valise and then thrust the bicycle into a hedge. Fearful that her escape plan would go awry if she lost any more time, she snatched up her valise and set off to cover the remaining distance at a run.

Soon the hall where the magic lantern shows had taken place came into sight and it looked dark and deserted. Then to her relief she sighted the lanternist’s horse and bright red market cart, which had
Shaw’s Magic Lantern Show
painted on its sides. It stood in the yellowish glow of one of the street gas lamps outside a bistro. The horse was munching on a nosebag, but was Daniel Shaw also having a meal?

She ran up the stone steps of the bistro to lean over the side railing and gaze searchingly into the window. There he was! Seated alone at a table, he had obviously finished his meal and was emptying the last drop of wine from a carafe into his glass. She should not have long to wait.

When Daniel Shaw emerged from the bistro, he thought himself alone as he paused contentedly on the top step to breathe in the clean air of the night and gaze up at the stars canopying the whole of Paris. The blended aromas of garlic, wine and bouillabaisse wafted out after him before the door swung shut again.

His sense of well-being was only partly due to the excellent supper and wine he had enjoyed. He was content, feeling as much at home in France as he did in his own country across the Channel, and for that his French mother was responsible. Although she had married an Englishman she had always preferred to speak her own language whenever possible and he had been bilingual from the cradle. His tour of the Paris suburbs away from competition in the heart of the city had brought him packed houses all the time and now the rest of France was his to entertain. By the autumn he should have enough funds to continue his particular line of research into perfecting a camera that would make pictures move, and for that he needed money.

‘Monsieur Shaw!’

The lights from the bistro fell full on to the girl in a green silk coat and a stylish hat, who had stepped forward, leaving a tapestry valise on the pavement by his cart. Instantly he recognized her as having been with a party of well-dressed people at his show earlier that evening. His gaze had lingered on her more than once, for she had fine features and her long-lashed eyes had sparkled excitedly as she had watched the screen. Now she looked taut and anxious and almost plain, but most of all he thought how extraordinary it was that she should be waiting here in the street at this time of night. He supposed she had companions waiting for her somewhere nearby.

‘Yes, mademoiselle?’ Leisurely he descended the steps. All his lantern equipment was already stowed away in the cart under its protective tarpaulin and he wanted no delay now to his departure. ‘Is there something you wanted to ask me about the slides?’

‘No, it’s not that. I knew from what you said at the end of your show that you would be moving on tonight and I want to ride with you to your next destination.’

His face did not change expression. ‘Why should you want to do that?’ he enquired coolly.

‘It’s for a very urgent reason that I can’t disclose. All I can say is that I need to get away from Paris tonight. Now!’

‘Are you running from the police?’ he questioned with private amusement.

‘Indeed not!’ she replied indignantly. ‘Nothing like that! I just don’t want others to know where I have gone.’

‘How did you get here?’ he asked, regarding her steadily. In spite of himself his curiosity was aroused and he took a guess at what the reason for her flight might be. Trouble with her family? A lovers’ quarrel? ‘Did someone bring you?’

‘No. I cycled until I fell off and something happened to the front wheel.’

‘Never mind. There are plenty of trains at the railway stations,’ he said, ‘and I never take passengers.’

‘What about your assistant?’ she challenged triumphantly. ‘You take him!’

‘He was local help hired for the duration of performances at the hall.’

‘But I can’t take a train! A ticket purchase could be traced!’

‘Good night, mademoiselle.’ He had no intention of breaking his rule of solitary travel for anyone. As far as he was concerned the matter was closed and he turned his attention to his horse, patting its neck before removing its nosebag.

‘But I’ll pay! Whatever you ask!’ Her voice was becoming increasingly desperate.

He did not turn his head and tucked the nosebag away under the tarpaulin. ‘Your money is of no interest to me. As I said, I always travel alone.’ Stepping up on the seat of his cart, he gathered the reins into his capable hands.

She caught at his coat and held it. ‘Wait! I implore you! You’re my only chance of getting away without trace! Nobody would ever think that I might be travelling with you!’

He looked down at her. Although that evening he had not announced his next destination, a list of venues on his circuit was always available from a table at every performance, for many people liked to notify friends in other towns to make sure to see it. But why was she so frantic to get there?

His thoughts went back to the young man with her at the performance. Nobody in an audience realized how much he saw as he stood in the darkness behind his magic lantern. Although there had been an elderly chaperone presiding over the party, the couple had exchanged stolen kisses and had been holding hands surreptitiously all the time. They had looked too much in love for any quarrel to sever them in the short time since the performance. Was it possible that plans for an elopement had gone awry and they had decided to meet in the next town by different routes?

‘Go back home, mademoiselle,’ he advised sagely. ‘Readjust matters and your travel arrangements tomorrow.’

He flicked the reins and his horse went forward. Instantly the girl caught her breath in a blaze of fury and frustration. To his surprise, she swung her valise to hit his cart hard as it passed her.

‘Go then!’ she cried. ‘I’ll walk!’

The next moment he heard her utter a whimper of dismay and shake her valise as if afraid that she had broken something in it, but all seemed to be well, for she set off in his wake.

It was his custom always to travel at least part of the night when he needed to cover a considerable distance. It meant he could arrive at his destination in good time to put up his posters and set up his equipment in his prebooked venue.

He had not gone far when out of curiosity he glanced back. The girl was trudging along and was pushing her bicycle with its wobbling front wheel. It was awkward for her and he saw her pause to adjust her valise and make it more secure before setting forth once more. With a shake of his head, he continued on his way. Yet he could not get her out of his mind. After all, she was young and foolish and desperate enough to accept help from any scoundrel who happened to drive by. Once again he looked back, but now a curve in the road had hidden her from sight. He gave a sigh and drew up to wait for her.

She did not start to hurry forward as soon as she saw him, which he had expected, and he supposed she was afraid of being rebuffed again. He sprang down from the driving seat to await her. As she drew near, her expression wary and defiant, he held out his hand.

‘Give me your bag, mademoiselle. I’ll stow it and your bicycle away in the cart.’

Her face flooded with relief. ‘
Merci
, Monsieur Shaw,’ she said quietly.

While he put the valise away under the tarpaulin and lifted in the bicycle she took her place swiftly on the seat as if afraid he might change his mind. As he took up the reins again he glanced sideways at her. She was looking stiffly ahead, her hands clasped over her purse lying in her lap.

‘You know my name,’ he said, ‘but what is yours?’

She told him. He nodded, but made no attempt to start a conversation and she was grateful for it. She needed time now to think about the future, for she had closed a door for ever on the past. How quiet the night was! Yet in the heart of the city there would be lights and music and crowds enjoying themselves while here she was changing the whole course of her life, not knowing when she would see Paris again.

T
hey drove on through the moonlit countryside. Now and again Daniel glanced at her, but she did not relax, continuing to sit rigidly straight-backed and looking ahead. She spoke only once and that was to ask him the name of his horse.

‘His full name is Prince of the Hills,’ he replied. ‘I’ve no idea why, except that he is high-stepping at times as if he has known grander days. I purchased him in England and brought him with me when I came to France two years ago.’

She gave a nod, but made no comment. After a while her head began to droop and, although she struggled against dozing, eventually she slept, sinking against his shoulder, which tilted her hat askew. He tried not to disturb her, but after he had driven for three hours he drew up, needing sleep himself.

Instantly she awoke with a start, blinked at her hat, which was half covering her face, and snatched it off to glance around nervously. ‘Where are we?’

‘In a lane just a short way from the main road. I want to sleep for a while. You can lie down on the seat if you like. I’ll give you a blanket.’