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

by Rebecca Glenn

  Lisette pulled out a small sketchpad that she had hidden in the pocket bag underneath her dress. Before long, she had already sketched the background and middle ground. Her pencil moved rapidly across the paper. It was as if her hand was acting on its own and she had no control over it.

  Lisette stepped back for an overall view of the enormous painting. She looked down at her sketch and then back up at the painting. How does Veronese make them look so real? she wondered. She thought about it for a few moments and then decided it was his brushstrokes. Of course, Lisette realized.

  She raised up her right hand and pretended she had a paint brush in it. Lisette tried to recreate Veronese’s brushstrokes in the air with her imaginary paintbrush. She moved her hand in small semi-circular motions, retracing the tiniest swirls of color used for the women’s dresses and the men’s togas.

  “Lovely mural, isn’t it?” a female voice said. It came from behind Lisette. “The women wearing the Venetian gowns are my favorite.”

  Lisette had been so absorbed in her imaginary painting that the voice took her by surprise. Startled, Lisette spun around too quickly and she nearly toppled over. She caught herself just before she fell to the floor.

  “Do you require assistance?” the young woman asked her.

  When Lisette had regained her composure and stood squarely on both feet, she looked up. It was the Queen. Lisette tried to find her voice.

  “Your Majesty.” Lisette bowed and curtsied deeply to her.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Marie-Antoinette said.

  “Your Majesty, I thought I was alone,” Lisette replied.

  “That is the curious thing about Versailles. One can be very alone at Versailles and yet one is never alone here.” She had a sad look on her face as she spoke.

  Lisette had never been this close to the Queen. Marie-Antoinette appeared to be no older than Lisette, yet she was already married and a Queen. To Lisette, Marie-Antoinette had already experienced ten lifetimes.

  Before either of them had the chance to speak again, they were interrupted by a servant who came rushing into the room with an armful of candles. As soon as the servant realized that he was not alone in the room, he apologized profusely and then abruptly left.

  “Did you leave morning Mass early? I am supposed to stay for the entirety, but I needed a few minutes by myself, before the Grand Couvert,” the Queen said.

  Le Sèvre and Mother, Lisette suddenly remembered. She was sure her mother was panicking by now. She could see Le Sèvre’s disapproval and hear her mother’s voice saying, Where were you? Her heart began to race.

  “I apologize your Majesty, but if you will excuse me, I must be going.” Lisette turned to leave so quickly that she dropped her sketchpad right at the Queen’s feet.

  The Queen retrieved it and began flipping through its pages. Her face lit up. “You are a superb artist. Do you paint people too?”

  Lisette wanted to say, Yes, but only because of Le Sèvre, but she knew candor was inappropriate. Lisette simply shook her head affirmatively.

  The Queen clapped. “Splendid!”

  Lisette knew what the Queen would ask next.

  “Will you sketch my likeness?”

  Lisette realized that she did not have time to sketch the Queen. She had to return to her mother and Le Sèvre, but it was not possible to deny the Queen either.

  Marie-Antoinette did not wait for an answer, instead she handed Lisette her sketchpad and sat on the embroidered sofa. She turned her body as if she was posing for a portrait. “Should I sit like this?”

  Just as Lisette was about to plead with the Queen to allow her to leave, an older woman flew into the room like an upset hen.

  “There you are. Madame, where have you been? I have been looking all over for you.” The woman seemed to be holding back, as if she wanted to be harsher and reprimand the Queen more, but couldn’t.

  The Queen quickly defended herself to the frenzied woman, “I needed some air. I was feeling faint, Madame de Noailles.” The Queen looked over at Lisette pleadingly.

  Madame de Noailles shot Marie-Antoinette a stern look of disapproval. The grim older woman retorted, “It is not proper etiquette for Madame to just...wander the palace! You are Queen now.” The woman was losing her previous control. “As Dame d’Honneur, it falls to me to ensure court rules are always followed…and that you behave like a proper Queen of France. To perform my duties properly, I must know where you are at all times.”

  The Queen defended herself, “Madame de Noailles, there is no cause for concern. I haven’t been engaging in activities of ill repute. I’ve just met the most magnificent artist...” A slight frown came over the Queen’s face. “We have not been introduced,” the Queen said.

  There was an awkward silence until Lisette realized that she should introduce herself first. “Élisabeth Louise Vigée,” Lisette curtsied deeply as she gave her full name.

  The Queen continued addressing her Mistress of the Household, “Mademoiselle Vigée has most graciously agreed to sketch my likeness, a quick portrait on paper, if you will.” She looked over and waited for Lisette to confirm her statement.

  Lisette had not yet agreed to anything, but the Queen appeared so desperate, she decided to go along with her. “Yes, it is true. I was about to begin a sketch of her Majesty,” Lisette said.

  The Queen smiled at her thankfully, like Lisette had just spared her from a terrible punishment. “Madame de Noailles, please leave us alone so that Mademoiselle Vigée can give my sketch her full attention. I want you to fetch Monsieur Pierre and bring him here in exactly twenty minutes. As the Premier Peintre du Roi, I will require his opinion of Mademoiselle Vigée’s work.” The Queen was now speaking with a new sense of confidence to her lady-in-waiting.

  “Yes, Madame.” Madame de Noailles curtsied and then left the room.

  First Painter to the King, Lisette thought. Lisette had never met such an important artist of the court before. When she was sure they were alone, Lisette asked the Queen, “The Premier Peintre will be here to look at my work?”

  “Yes. From what I saw in your sketchbook, you are quite skilled. If I can secure Monsieur Pierre’s approval of your work, then I will encounter less resistance when I ask you back to paint me.”

  Paint the Queen? she thought. Lisette couldn’t believe her ears. She bit her lip as she tried to control her excitement. Lisette knew it was impolite to express too much emotion, but she wanted to jump up and down.

  The Queen smiled and continued, “I enjoy your presence, Mademoiselle Vigée. I believe it would be positively amusing to sit for you. None of the court painters want to talk with me. They want me to remain silent for the duration of the sitting.” She paused before she finished explaining. “I have few friends here at court.” The same sad look she had expressed earlier came over her face again.

  Lisette was surprised at the Queen’s honesty. She was also alarmed to hear that the Queen wanted for friends. Lisette had always heard that court life was busy and full. It was difficult for Lisette to imagine being lonely amid so many courtiers bustling around the palace. Nonetheless, the Queen seemed to carry a great burden.

  “You may begin,” the Queen said.

  Lisette studied her. She emanated a deep sadness. Perhaps this sketch will bring her some joy, Lisette thought as she began sketching.

  Lisette concentrated intensely as she drew the Queen. To Lisette, Marie-Antoinette was striking. She possessed a narrow oval face and small blue eyes. Her nose was slender and her mouth didn’t appear to be too large for her face, although her lips were full. But what struck Lisette most, was her complexion. It was so creamy white that it seemed almost transparent. Her skin tone looked as fresh as the ground after a newly fallen snow.

  Lisette then surveyed her neck and torso. The Queen’s neck was the same creamy white as her face. Her gown had a low neckline that revealed her pristine skin. It was similar in style to Lisette’s own dress, but the Queen’s dress was trimmed in muc
h more lace than Lisette’s and was made of a pale blue silk instead of taffeta. She looked down at the Queen’s shoes. They were the exact color of her dress and were also made of silk. Lisette thought that Marie-Antoinette was flawless.

  There was silence while Lisette sketched. Her hand moved the pencil furiously across the page. Lisette was glad that today she was working with pencil. Oil would be another matter. Lisette wasn’t certain of how she would paint the Queen’s translucent flesh tones in oil.

  After just a few minutes, the Queen said, “That is an exquisite necklace.”

  “Thank you, your Majesty,” Lisette said. She didn’t want to answer questions about it or talk about Le Sèvre, so she quickly changed the subject. “Would you like me to sketch your bust in addition to your face?”

  “Today, we only have time for my face. Are you nearly finished?” the Queen asked Lisette.

  “No, not quite.”

  “We don’t have much time. Once my lady-in-waiting returns and the First Painter gives his official opinion of your work, I will be expected to dress for the mid-day meal and rejoin my husband. How I dread the Grand Couvert. I much prefer to dine in private.” Lisette watched the Queen’s face fall as she spoke. She looked despondent.

  “May I ask you what is wrong?” Immediately after Lisette asked this question, she realized that she should not address the Queen so informally.

  “You are sweet and kind for asking. Even in four years, no one here has made me feel especially welcome. I still miss my mother, my home and my country. I miss Austria.”

  Lisette was relieved that instead of being offended, the Queen was touched that someone would inquire after her well-being. Lisette genuinely felt sympathy for Marie-Antoinette. Her melancholy expression made her seem less like a Queen of France from one of the most prominent royal families in Europe and more like a scared girl who was lonely, homesick and looking for a friend.

  “But doesn’t your husband, Louis, keep you company and offer you comfort?” Lisette asked.

  This question brought the Queen to the brink of tears. Lisette felt like she had made the situation worse.

  “He offers me no comfort. He won’t even allow me to perform my duty as a wife and share his bed. He barely touches me. I am lonelier than ever. I don’t belong here.” The Queen started to weep as she answered Lisette.

  Lisette took the Queen’s hand. She briefly considered that she was violating court protocol again, but the Queen was so distraught, Lisette felt compelled to help her. “I often feel the same way. I don’t share the same interests as other girls. I have no desire to discuss suitors, marriage or the latest gossip on recent engagements. I only want to paint. Yet painting is the domain of men. I am not wholly welcome there either. I don’t belong anywhere.”

  The Queen was silent for a moment and then giggled. “We are a pair, aren’t we! Each of us a misfit, in our own way. Oh, Élisabeth, it is marvelous to talk to you.”

  Lisette returned the kind words, “It is wonderful to talk to you, Madame, and please call me Lisette. All of my friends do.”

  “Please, call me Antoinette.” The Queen smiled at Lisette. “Let’s finish this sketch.”

  Antoinette’s voice was exuberant. It seemed to Lisette that their conversation had lifted the Queen’s spirits.

  Lisette returned to her drawing. She knew that Mass had ended and that her mother and Le Sèvre would be upset with her. But she couldn’t leave the Queen just yet. Lisette hoped that she would be forgiven.

  Lisette was nearly finished with the sketch of the Queen when her lady-in-waiting returned. Madame de Noailles entered the room in such a rush that she narrowly avoided stumbling over a stool. She quickly glanced at Lisette and appeared to be on the brink of embarrassment. This matriarch of manners was exhibiting significantly less grace than earlier.

  Lisette looked away.

  Breathless, she addressed the Queen. “Madame, I am sorry to report that I was not able to locate Monsieur Pierre,” Madame de Noailles said as she smoothed out her dress.

  “What do you mean?” the Queen seemed irritated at Madame de Noailles. “I must speak with him.”

  Madame de Noailles replied, “I left word with his assistant.” She hovered over the Queen as if she wasn’t finished speaking.

  “Is there more?” the Queen asked.

  “Your Majesty, I want to remind you that you are expected in the Salon of the Grand Couvert shortly. We don’t have time to wait for Monsieur Pierre.”

  Lisette noticed that Madame de Noailles had recovered her composure. Her haughtiness had returned.

  “Madame de Noailles, we will wait for Monsieur Pierre and I will hear his official opinion,” said the Queen.

  Lisette wondered if their time alone together hadn’t given the Queen a fresh attitude. Antoinette was acting less like a frightened girl and more like the Queen of France.

  “Madame, I feel that I need to repeat myself. We do not have time to indulge your interest in amateur painters. You are the Queen and your time is best spent in the presence of serious artists who can create portraits worthy of a queen. Do not forget that your mother, the Empress, is waiting for a portrait of you that satisfies her,” Madame de Noailles said, undeterred.

  It became clear to Lisette that even though Antoinette was no longer Dauphine, Madame de Noailles still felt that her duty was to guide Antoinette in the ways of the court. It was also obvious that Madame de Noailles did not accept orders blindly, even from the Queen.

  “But Madame de Noailles, I believe I have found such a serious artist in Mademoiselle Vigée. I want her to paint my next portrait…one that we send to Mother.”

  “That is preposterous. I am not going along with any such charade.”

  “I think if you see her work, you will believe otherwise. Look at the sketch of me she is making now,” the Queen said.

  Madame de Noailles scowled as she bent to examine Lisette’s drawing of the Queen. Amazement quickly replaced her grimace. She looked like she was trying to control herself. “It has merit,” she said flatly.

  The Queen stood and glided across the room to where Lisette was sitting. Lisette had never seen anyone move so gracefully, not even the Salonnière. It was as if the Queen’s feet were hovering above the floor.

  “Just look at my eyes…you can see into my soul,” Antoinette said as she pointed to the various details of the sketch. The Queen was giddy as she spoke.

  “It is an acceptable rendering of your visage.” Madame de Noailles remained calm and unemotional, but she could not take her eyes off of the drawing.

  “Monsieur Pierre,” the usher standing by the door called out in a loud voice.

  “Let him in,” ordered the Queen.

  Lisette glanced up as the door opened. Her heart raced and she felt her palms moisten. What will he think of my sketch? she wondered.

  Monsieur Pierre walked over to where the Queen was sitting and bowed deeply to her. “Madame, how may I serve you?” Monsieur Pierre shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He seemed to be in a hurry, as if he wanted to finish his duty and leave the room as quickly as possible.

  To Lisette, he appeared both bored and annoyed.

  “Monsieur Pierre, as Premier Peintre du Roi, I want your official opinion on this sketch,” said the Queen.

  Monsieur Pierre reached for the sketch and began examining it. “It is very good, Madame. A most remarkable likeness of you. An almost exact likeness, in fact. Who is the artist?”

  The Queen smiled, obviously pleased that her initial assessment of Lisette’s work had been affirmed. “She is right here.” The Queen gestured toward Lisette who was sitting directly across from her.

  Monsieur Pierre put down the sketch and stared at Lisette. It was the first time he had looked at her since entering the room. Instead of irritation and boredom, his face now registered wonderment and curiosity. His eyes widened as if he was looking upon something that he had never seen before.

  “Go ahead and thumb thro
ugh the rest of her sketchpad. There is much more that you should see,” said the Queen.

  Still studying Lisette, he replied, “Indeed.” Monsieur Pierre went through Lisette’s sketchpad. With enlarged eyes he carefully examined each page. After the first dozen pages, his pace quickened and he hastily flipped through the rest of the sketchbook. As he reached the end, he took his time, lingering on the last few pages. His eyes narrowed. Without glancing up, he said, “I would have hardly suspected that this came from a girl’s hands.”

  Lisette immediately retorted, “I am not like other girls.”

  “Obviously you have proven that, Mademoiselle. You possess a rare talent,” Monsieur Pierre said, still examining her sketches.

  “Monsieur Pierre, I believe her work is worthy of the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture,” the Queen said boldly.

  The Queen’s voice seemed to startle Monsieur Pierre. He closed the sketchbook and looked up at Lisette. His gaze was fixed on her. She saw a look of revulsion and contempt in his squinted eyes.

  He turned toward the Queen. “I would hardly go that far. Académie membership is a very serious endeavor, not appropriate for a woman. Women are no longer allowed membership.”

  “The King did not approve that measure,” Antoinette said boldly.

  Both Madame de Noailles and Monsieur Pierre stared at the Queen.

  Monsieur Pierre scrambled to find his voice, “The old King, may he rest in peace, did not. You are quite right, your Majesty. But I have every confidence that your husband, the King, will approve it. We must reserve Académie membership for men.”

  Madame de Noailles, who had been silent, stood. “Madame, I’m afraid it is time we leave. You are expected by the King.”

  “Very well. Monsieur Pierre, thank you for offering an official opinion of Mademoiselle Vigée’s work. You are excused,” said the Queen.

  “Your Majesty.” He bowed to the Queen and then glared at Lisette. He seemed to be frozen, still holding her sketchpad.