Becoming Lisette: A Novel (The Queen's Painter an Historical Romance Book 1)

by Rebecca Glenn

  Lisette was wearing one of her best dresses, a pale blue taffeta gown and matching petticoat. Her mother had insisted that Lisette wear a corset as well. At first, Lisette refused, arguing that some women were giving up their corsets. Jeanne would hear none of it.

  Now, sitting in the carriage with her papa, Lisette considered how much freer she would feel without the corset. Lisette shifted in her seat, searching for an agreeable position. She realized it was futile. The whalebone stay precluded comfort.

  “Lisette, please stop fidgeting,” her papa said, his voice tinged with irritation. “This carriage isn’t big enough for it.” To attend Vernet’s exhibition today, Louis had hired a small, one-horse, two-wheeled carriage. It barely held the two of them, but the cabriolet was the least expensive. Her papa smiled at her. “I don’t mean to be cross. Next time, we will hire a fiacre and enjoy plenty of space. I’m certain I’ll have been paid in full for the King’s paintings by then.”

  Lisette tried to distract herself with the sights and sounds of the streets. She watched as they passed slowly through the Palais-Royal neighborhood. Their carriage carefully maneuvered around the multitude of vendors, entertainers and pedestrians. Lisette noticed the cabriolet begin to slow down until it was creeping along. Then it came to a complete stop.

  She peered out and saw two people standing in the middle of the road quarreling. Covered in a sheet of white flour, a wig merchant was violently shaking his wares in another man’s face. The carriage driver demanded that the men clear the road. After a few moments, the carriage lurched forward. From what Lisette could make out as they drove past, a wigmaker was trying to collect what he was owed from a customer who thought he was being overcharged.

  People weren’t the only impediments. Other carriages retarded their progress too. The general disorder and chaos of the streets made travel anywhere within the city slow and dangerous. Sometimes, traveling via carriage was no faster than walking. But when you arrived, you were clean and not covered in layers of dust and mud. You were also less likely to be hurt. Without dedicated passageways for pedestrians, people were forced to walk in the street alongside carriages. Not all drivers were patient and careful. Some tried to be responsible by having footmen or greyhounds running ahead of the carriage yelling make way, but most were impatient and charged ahead like a capitaine leading his regiment into battle. Lisette’s mother had always told her to remain close to the buildings, thereby reducing the chances of colliding with a carriage and losing limbs. Like most women whose husbands’ livings depended on the use of their arms, Jeanne was most afraid that Louis would lose his. Accident victims were awarded set amounts of money for lost appendages, but Jeanne said receiving a few livres would never be fair recompense for the loss of their livelihood.

  As the cabriolet rolled forward, Lisette watched the street vendors plying their wares shamelessly, their individual cries drowned in a sea of collective voices. It was difficult to distinguish the calls of the knife grinders from the wood cutters. She saw a woman remove a large wicker basket from her back and take out a stone bowl. As the woman traded her goods for money, Lisette noticed her disfigurement. The weight of the stone-ware had taken its toll on the woman’s body, preventing her from standing completely upright. Next to the stoneware peddler was a rat-catcher. Lisette followed his movements as he meandered from one side of the street to the other, with little regard for pedestrians or carriages. He quickly disappeared from her sight. Then, without any notice, they came to a sudden stop.

  “Watch yourself!” the driver of the carriage yelled out.

  Lisette turned her head and saw the same rat-catcher jump out of their path. Their cabriolet had narrowly missed hitting him.

  The man came right up to the carriage and yelled back at the driver, “You watch where you are driving.” The man, who was now very close to the carriage on Lisette’s side, started shaking his fist at the driver. In his other hand, he held a spear. Tied to the top of his tall, wooden stick were over a dozen dead rats. Lisette considered the rats. She knew that some rat-catchers collected only the tail rather than the entire creature. Paid per tail, many rat-catchers simply cut off the rats’ tails rather than fully perform their duties of ridding the streets of the vermin.

  The driver was about to descend, probably to confront the rat-catcher, when Louis caught his attention. “Driver, please continue toward the Palais du Louvre,” Louis said politely, but forcefully.

  The driver nodded and coaxed the horse moving again, but Lisette heard him talking to himself as they drove off, “No good rat-catchers. He likely bred those rats himself to collect more money.”

  “We’ve arrived,” Louis said as the cabriolet drove into the Cour Carrée. Looping around the large courtyard in front of the Louvre was a long line of carriages waiting to unload their passengers. Lisette surveyed the royal palace. She looked up toward the arm of the building that was nearest to their carriage.

  “Papa, is that where Monsieur Vernet’s atelier is?” Lisette asked. She had been to the Palais du Louvre many times with her papa, but only to the Grand Galerie, which displayed the royal collection of paintings.

  “Yes. It is up there in the northeast pavilion…not very close to the Grand Galerie. I know what you are thinking, Lisette. Remember, we promised your mother,” Louis said pleadingly.

  “Papa, I remember. I won’t get into trouble,” Lisette said.

  “More than that, Lisette, I need to be sure that you won’t wander off by yourself. I know how curious you can be. No matter how much you want to see the King’s paintings in the Grand Galerie, please stay by my side, even if you are bored of waiting for me. I need to discuss the Guild fees with Monsieur Vernet. He indicated that he has some ideas to prevent their increase. I am anxious to hear them.” Louis paused and then leaned in closer. “Lisette?”

  She nodded slightly as she continued to study the building. I’m sure there is a painting of Venus in the collection, she thought. She wanted to see how the Italian painters rendered Venus. Lisette would take this opportunity to gain inspiration from the Old Masters in the royal collection.

  “We are agreed then,” her papa said.

  Lisette said nothing more and before her papa could question her again, their carriage had reached the front of the queue. It was their turn to disembark.

  Lisette linked her arm through her papa’s and they went inside the palace.

  When they had reached Vernet’s studio, they encountered another line. Lisette and her papa took their place at the end of the queue. Her papa had been right. Many people wanted to see Vernet’s seascapes. They waited patiently until they were inside the studio and it was their turn to greet Monsieur Vernet.

  “Louis, it is wonderful you could make it today,” Vernet said to her papa. “And you brought Lisette.” Vernet bowed slightly.

  “I would never miss this important reception, Claude-Joseph. I recall you told me once, ‘Guild membership is forever. ’ We support each other for life,” Louis said.

  “Yes, Louis, I remember well,” Vernet said.

  “Where is Madame Vernet? I should like to say hello.” Louis was interrupted by his coughing. It took him several moments to regain his composure.

  “My dear friend, are you well?” A concerned look came over Vernet.

  “Yes,” Louis responded as he kept coughing.

  “You don’t appear to be so. Come. Let me take you into my private study to rest. I can fetch my private physician…or better yet my surgeon. When was the last time you had a bleeding?”

  “Not necessary, but I would like to sit down. I’d like to talk about your ideas to prevent the Guild fee increases.” Her papa had managed to compose himself.

  “Of course, old friend.” Vernet took Louis by the arm and escorted him out of the room.

  Lisette started to follow them and then stopped herself. Should I go now? If I hurry, I can see the Old Masters and be back before Papa is finished discussing the Guild fees with Vernet, she thought. Lise
tte decided that this was her opportunity. Stepping out of Vernet’s studio, Lisette realized she would have to walk quickly to cover the distance to the Grand Galerie.

  Moving as fast as she could without drawing unnecessary attention to herself, Lisette made her way through the pavilions of the Cour Carrée and toward the Grand Galerie. As she approached the wide hallway of the Grand Galerie, her attention was diverted. The Salon Carré, she realized. It had been just over a year since she had been there last. She stepped inside the large room. During the biennial Salon de Paris, the room had been filled with paintings hung floor to ceiling. But today, there were only a few paintings displayed. She noticed one in particular and walked up to it. It was a self-portrait by Rembrandt completed toward the end of his life. Lisette was drawn to Rembrandt’s expressive eyes.

  “Such sad eyes,” a man’s voice said.

  Lisette quickly turned and saw a tall, broad-shouldered man standing next to her. She had thought she was alone. The man was wearing a royal blue waistcoat trimmed with red collars and cuffs and red culottes with white leggings. Is he an officer? Lisette wondered.

  Agreeing that Rembrandt’s eyes were sad, Lisette nodded.

  “Capitaine Amante Fabien de Chaumont, of the Armée Royale Française and the Gardes Françaises, at your service.” He reached out to take her hand.

  Lisette wasn’t sure if she wanted to extend it to him. She glanced around. They were alone together in the room.

  He smiled warmly and said, “I assure you, Mademoiselle, you are quite safe with me. I intend you no harm. What is your name?” He kept his hand out to take hers and kiss it.

  His gentle voice competed with his imposing stature. Lisette decided to trust his kind eyes. “My name is Élisabeth Louise Vigée,” she said reluctantly as she extended her hand.

  He kissed it politely and then promptly returned it.

  “The daughter of Louis Vigée, the Guild painter?”

  Lisette nodded.

  “I saw you waiting in line with him at Vernet’s atelier. He did not appear to be well. I believe Vernet called for his surgeon.”

  Lisette stood up to leave. Her papa needed her.

  “I can take you to him,” he said.

  “Thank you, but I can find my own way, Capitaine de Chaumont,” Lisette said.

  “Please call me Amante.” He offered her his arm. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Really Capitaine − ”

  “Please, I insist.” He drew close to Lisette and extended his arm again. “Call me Amante.”

  Lisette knew that her mother would disapprove, but she somehow trusted this man.

  “Shall we go?” Amante asked her.

  Lisette took his arm. They walked out of the Salon Carré and started down the corridor back toward Vernet’s rooms.

  “Do you have a favorite Rembrandt?” He spoke as if they had known each other for ages.

  Lisette said nothing. She couldn’t allow herself to be that relaxed. Her mother had lectured her time and again about the need for chaperones when in the presence of men. Your reputation as an honorable and virtuous woman depends on it. Never let yourself be alone with a man until you are married. Lisette could hear her mother’s words.

  “Mine is the self-portrait that you were examining when I found you. There is something about his eyes.”

  “I like how he uses so many layers of paint in his paintings. I have tried to replicate it,” Lisette blurted out. She found it so easy to talk to him. It seemed natural. What am I doing? she wondered. Lisette could not let down her guard.

  “Ah, you are an artist. Do you study here at the palace?”

  “No, but I have seen many paintings here…from the King’s collection and from the Salons.”

  “Have you approached Master Briard for lessons? He takes female pupils.”

  Lisette looked down at the floor. “No.”

  “Would you like me to speak to him? After he returns from Italy, of course.”

  Puzzled, Lisette studied him. Why would this man help me? she wondered.

  “My papa would not allow it.” Lisette wanted to explain that there were so many obstacles, not the least of which was her papa.

  “What if you were to have a patron?” he asked.

  Lisette looked at him like he was speaking a foreign tongue.

  “A patron,” he repeated. “Someone who takes an artist under their care and protection…pays for training, supplies, and more…in exchange for paintings whenever they ask.”

  Lisette had a vague notion of what a patron was, but she wasn’t sure exactly how the relationship worked. Her mother had often mentioned her disdain for wealthy patrons. Jeanne would criticize Louis’ friends for being beholden and obsequious to their patrons. Lisette had heard her papa talk about them more favorably, but she never considered that she could have one.

  “Who would want to be my patron? I’ve not yet sold any paintings.”

  “I am certain you will attract a patron…and sell many paintings.”

  “But how? You have never seen my work.”

  “I have a feeling.” His eyes danced as he looked at her.

  Aside from his great height, his dark eyes set him apart from other men. They were mysterious and yet familiar at the same time. They drew her in, much like his lips which were full and appeared soft. She watched them as he spoke.

  “You have become quiet,” he said to her.

  Lisette dropped her eyes. “I should return to my papa.”

  Amante stopped. They stood in front of a closed door in the desolate hallway. Amante came close to Lisette, placed his fingers on her chin and gently raised her head.

  “Monsieur Vernet’s surgeon is one of the best in Paris. I’m sure he’s already bleeding your father. He is in good hands, Mademoiselle Vigée.”

  Lisette found it difficult to speak. She knew that this behavior wasn’t proper. They were alone in a dark hallway.

  “May I kiss you?” he asked, still caressing her face.

  Lisette took a step backward. “Capitaine de Chaumont!” She had heard the tales of how many French army officers behaved badly, taking advantage of women wherever they went. He had committed a gross violation of etiquette by touching her so boldly and asking for a kiss. “Please take me to my papa, Capitaine de Chaumont,” Lisette said, standing a good distance away from him.

  “Your father is right around this corner.” Amante held out his arm again, but she refused to take it. Lisette would not continue to give him the wrong impression.

  They started down the hall. Lisette looked over at him and immediately noticed a fluttering in her stomach. What is wrong with my insides? she wondered. Lisette had never felt such a sensation. It was like a small creature was rolling around inside her.

  They continued down the hall. Once they had turned the corner, Amante stopped and pointed to the nearest door. Lisette approached and pressed her ear against the door to listen. The voices were muffled, but her papa’s voice was distinct. When she heard coughing, Lisette had no doubt that he was behind the door.

  “I will leave you here, Mademoiselle.” Amante came up to her and tilted his head like he was going to kiss her. His breath was warm on her face.

  Her heart raced and her chest rose and fell quickly with each breath. What is happening to me? she wondered.

  Amante didn’t kiss her, instead he touched her face again, this time caressing her cheek longingly as a lover might do.

  “Capitaine, what are you doing?” Lisette’s mind told her to move away from him, but deep inside a feeling of pleasure welled up at his touch and she found herself unable to move.

  “Simply admiring beauty,” he said.

  Stepping back, Lisette managed to gain control of herself. Her mind had won this battle.

  “I apologize, Mademoiselle. I did not mean to offend you.”

  Then, in muffled tones, Lisette heard someone say, “Good bye.” She suspected it was the surgeon. She also noticed her papa trying to speak th
rough his coughing.

  “Ma chérie, I must take my leave,” Amante said quietly and then strode away.

  Lisette had never heard a man speak to a woman with such a gentle tongue. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to see him again and yet at this moment she didn’t want to leave him. She couldn’t help but watch him walk away. Never before bewildered by a man, Lisette didn’t like feeling so flustered and out of control.

  When Amante was out of sight, she inhaled deeply. That’s better, she thought. Lisette was herself again. Then she felt her stomach flip.

  Chapter Five

  July 2, 1772

  Lisette, help me bring out more dishes for the first service. Only a few remain in the kitchen,” Jeanne said as she placed several covered serving dishes on the dining room table. “We must put out every dish for the first service before your father and his guests are ready to sit down and eat.” Now empty-handed, Jeanne walked back toward the kitchen.

  Instead of following her mother, Lisette moved to the doorway to better hear her papa and his friends. The usual dinner guests were in attendance: Jean-Baptiste Greuze, Claude-Joseph Vernet, Hubert Robert and Gabriel François Doyen. Besides these familiar men, there was also a newcomer, Denis Diderot. His bold statements captured Lisette’s attention as she kept watch from her unique vantage point.

  Careful to remain inconspicuous, Lisette had wedged herself in between a decorative column and the doorway that led from the drawing room to the dining room. Her papa had insisted on including the stately columns when the dining room had been installed, which was also at his insistence. At first, Jeanne had not understood the need for a room dedicated to eating meals. But after only a few weeks of use, Lisette’s mother found herself unable to imagine life without a dining room. Her mother had said, Louis, you were right. Eating in a dining room is more civilized than eating in the drawing room. It is so goût moderne! Lisette hadn’t seen many other homes, but she had heard her parents’ friends declare their dining room to be very much in the modern style.