Brilliance

by Rosalind Laker

  Before going back indoors she went into the coach house and saw that her grandmother’s carriage, covered by dust sheets, was still there. Propped against the wall was a lady’s bicycle with solid tyres, which her grandmother had ridden in the early craze for cycling that they had enjoyed together. Her own smaller bicycle was nearby. Both were hung with cobwebs, but she did not doubt they were still usable. Moving on into the stables, she stood looking at the empty stalls where once fine carriage horses had been fed and groomed. As a child she had loved feeding them sugar and apples. How she would have enjoyed bringing her daughter to pat the necks of the horses as she had done.

  Then such anguish followed her thought that she uttered a strangled cry, driving her knuckles against her temples. She must not think like that! It was where madness lay. But, against her will, despair overcame her and for some time she stood huddled against the stable wall, unable to stop her helpless sobbing. Eventually she recovered enough, in spite of tears still running down her face, to go in search of an oilcan, and she found one on a shelf in the workshop off the stables. When she had oiled the lock of the door in the wall she went back into the house and heated water for a bath.

  She soaked in it until the water turned cold. With it she seemed to freeze inside herself, creating a carapace of isolation that would enable her to go on with her life without the child whom she would love until her last breath.

  That same afternoon Lisette left the house unnoticed and went to the post office where she sent the letter she had written that morning to thank Josephine for her generous gift. Her next call was at an employment exchange where she awaited her turn to take a chair in front of a very round woman in spectacles. Her character references were carefully read.

  ‘These are excellent,’ the woman said, ‘and I see you have had experience in bookkeeping and shop work. I have several vacancies for domestic help, including that of housekeeper. There is a haberdashery shop that requires a saleswoman if that interests you. I also have two vacancies for a bookkeeper, one of which is at a furniture company and the other at the Lumière factory.’

  Lisette caught her breath. ‘I should like to try for the Lumière factory. I remember that photographic plates were made there.’

  ‘That is correct. The factory used to be the site of a hatter’s before Monsieur Lumière, the well-known photographer, bought it. These plates were an invention of his two sons, Auguste and Louis – both brilliant men, who have been extremely successful financially ever since they were in their twenties and they’re only in their early thirties now. They manage the business for their father and must be making a fortune with every shipment that goes out.’ The woman gave a decisive nod. ‘You would do well to apply there. Monsieur Lumière may leave most matters to his sons, but he takes a paternal interest in the welfare of his workers, who number over three hundred at the present time. Some while ago he introduced savings schemes and pensions for them all, an example that most employers don’t care to follow. I’ll give you the address of the factory and also that of the furniture manufacturer.’

  Outside the office Lisette set off in the direction of the district of Monplaisir where the Lumière factory was located. She remembered hearing in her childhood how brilliantly clever Auguste and Louis had always been. She was confident that neither of them would recognize her after such a lengthy absence during which she had grown from a child into womanhood. She was less certain about Monsieur Lumière. Her surname might stir his memory if ever he should hear it, but she was not ready yet to let anyone know she was back in Lyon.

  When Lisette reached the entrance to the factory she was amazed by the size of it. She could see that many new workshops and extensions had been added to the original site and it was a hive of activity. A man on duty at the gates directed her to the office.

  Twenty minutes later her interview was successful and she had been shown the desk in the bookkeepers’ office where she would work. She had not seen either of the Lumière brothers, but was to start the following Monday at an acceptable wage.

  She also left the factory with the addresses of several places of approved accommodation, which had been given to her after she had explained that her present address was only temporary. On her way to view the property she went into a pawnshop, for she guessed she would have to pay a month’s rent in advance wherever she went. She handed over her diamond brooch and received the money and the receipt ticket. She was determined to retrieve it at the first opportunity.

  Half an hour later she became the tenant of a tiny, two-roomed apartment at the top of a large building in a good residential area and, as she had anticipated, she had to pay four weeks in advance. Her rooms were startlingly wallpapered in roses, but were comfortably furnished, even though everything had seen better days. Yet its two rooms were all she needed and there was a gas ring as well as a small sink in an alcove behind a curtain. A kettle was supplied and a couple of battered saucepans, which she could replace later with two from Bellecour. On the floor below there was a small bathroom leading off the landing, which she had to share with other tenants.

  In the early evening, having cleaned her grandmother’s bicycle, she strapped her travelling bag on to the back of it as well as a valise she had found in the house and into which she had packed some bedlinen and towels, cutlery and two cups, saucers and plates. The house was well stocked with everything, but she was careful to remove only items that would not be missed by the cleaning women. Then she locked the house up again. She wobbled about unsteadily on the bicycle at first, but soon got into a steady pace.

  She arrived at the entrance door of her new abode just as a well-dressed man, tall and dark-haired, was emerging. She wondered if he was also a tenant and for that reason took note of him. He had a square, good-looking face with a long straight nose, the nostrils strongly curved, and a mouth well shaped with a determined fullness to it. She thought he was about thirty. He smiled at her, raising his brown bowler hat, his eyes a remarkable blue.

  ‘Good evening, mademoiselle,’ he said. ‘I can see you’re moving in.’

  She gave him an answering smile. ‘Yes, I am. Do you happen to know where I can leave my bicycle? I forgot to ask the landlord.’

  ‘There is a shed at the back of the building. Let me take your bike and I’ll show you.’ He took the handlebars and wheeled the bicycle ahead of her down a narrow passageway. As she followed him he glanced back over his shoulder at her. ‘My name is Michel Ferrand. I have an apartment on the ground floor.’

  She knew it to be one of the larger and much more expensive apartments with its own bathroom. ‘I’m up in the attic,’ she replied and then told him her name. They had reached a small courtyard with a shed.

  ‘Your bicycle will be quite safe here, Mademoiselle Decourt,’ he said, propping it up against the shed.

  They walked back to the entrance together, he carrying her baggage, which he took right up the five flights to her door. There she thanked him.

  ‘It’s been a pleasure to meet you,’ he replied. Then he went away down the stairs and she unlocked the door to her new home.

  Twelve

  Lisette had been three weeks at the factory before she saw the Lumière brothers, although they were there every day. Then at last she caught sight of them in the courtyard together where they seemed to be in amiable discussion about one of the buildings, gesturing towards it in turn. Both Auguste and Louis were dark-haired with handsome moustaches and intelligent good looks, and she remembered them well. They did not notice her as she went by on an errand, taking some ledgers to another office.

  Those with whom she worked had given her plenty of information about them, some of which she already knew from the past. From the time the brothers had started school neither had ever stopped studying and working, both having brilliant scientific minds. In school holidays and whenever possible they had assisted their father in his studio and with his experiments in photographic developing, their health sometimes suffering through overwork, but s
till they would not stop, insatiable for knowledge.

  They had married two sisters, Marguerite and Rose, daughters of a local brewer, Alphonse Winckler, who was an old friend of their father. The eldest Lumière daughter, named Jeanne, had been the first to marry, her husband a professor. Strengthening still further the friendship between the Lumière and the Winckler families, two of Monsieur Lumière’s remaining daughters, Juliette and France, had married the two Winckler sons, Jules and Charles. There was also a ten-year-old Lumière, named Edouard, and there was family speculation that he might end up marrying the brewer’s youngest daughter.

  ‘There has always been such domestic harmony in the Lumière households,’ one of Lisette’s informants, an older woman named Aude, had told her that, ‘Monsieur and Madame Lumière, together with their two sons and their wives, the three sisters and their husbands, all meet socially at the homes of either Auguste or Louis for the pleasure of one another’s company. It is said that the Lumière family eat more meals together than they ever do apart! What’s more, they all play musical instruments and have impromptu concerts. Monsieur Lumière sings and has a splendid baritone voice.’

  Lisette made no comment, privately remembering how she had always enjoyed the Lumière musical evenings whenever she had been included in an invitation with her grandmother. In retrospect she believed her deep love of music stemmed from those evenings at the Lumières’. Now, as in the past, Monsieur and Madame Lumière’s hospitality reached out to friends from all walks of life, whether they were intellectuals, politicians and local dignitaries or old friends in humbler circumstances from Antoine’s early days. Neither he nor his wife had ever harboured any false pride and had brought up their family in the same way.

  Lisette recalled how Monsieur Lumière had often spoken of the days when he had sung in a casino and in cafes to make some money when struggling to establish himself as a photographer. She thought to herself that Daniel was presently following a similar path with another kind of entertainment towards an ultimate aim.

  She also remembered that Monsieur Lumière had been quick to admit what everybody in the family knew, which was that he had always liked to spend lavishly as soon as he had money in his pocket, a habit that had followed him all through life. Since coming to the factory she had heard that his sons had twice rescued him from bankruptcy and restored the family wealth, but she was sure nothing had ever dimmed their father’s charm and exuberance.

  ‘They are a truly exceptional family in many ways,’ she commented.

  ‘Indeed they are!’ Aude replied on a sigh. ‘I wish my family could be on such good terms with one another, but it’s quite the reverse.’

  Lisette smiled. She thought how much the Lumières deserved their good fortune and their happiness through their kindness and consideration towards others, including those in their employ. She would have liked to call on Monsieur and Madame Lumière, but it was highly likely that they knew the scandal that she had caused through running away from her wedding. Although she believed that out of the kindness of their hearts they would still welcome her, she had no wish to cause them any embarrassment. Neither did she want any promotion she might gain at work to seem to be through her acquaintance with the family.

  She had been back to the Bellecour house several times and taken items that would be useful to her. In one of the chests she had found some bolts of silk and intended to have some new gowns made as soon as she could afford it. Out of her wages she had retrieved her jewellery from the pawnbroker and was thankful to have it in her possession again.

  She was enjoying her work and the weeks were sliding by with surprising speed. As she had a quick mind as well as being mathematically inclined, she never encountered any difficulties that she could not overcome and was pleased and proud when she was put in charge of one of the bookkeeping offices. She had seen Michel Ferrand several times since their first meeting, for he stopped to talk when occasionally they happened to meet outside or in the vestibule. He was a lawyer with his own chambers in the centre of town and, judging by his easy, confident air and his well-tailored clothes, quite apart from his expensive accommodation with a manservant to wait on him, he was clearly doing very well in his choice of career. He also knew the Lumière brothers and, although he had not mentioned it, she wondered if he handled their legal affairs.

  She had just arrived home one evening and was removing her hat and coat when there was a knock on her door. Opening it, she saw Michel standing there.

  ‘I hope this isn’t an intrusion,’ he began, ‘but I was wondering if you would care to dine with me this evening? Our conversations are so short whenever we happen to meet that I thought we could talk longer over dinner together.’

  She was pleased. ‘I should like that very much, but I’ll need a little time in which to change.’

  ‘Of course,’ he replied, grinning with pleasure that she had accepted. ‘I’ll wait for you downstairs.’ Then, before leaving, he nodded with narrowed eyes at the violent pattern of her wallpaper, which he had seen through the open door. ‘How do you live with that crazy rose garden?’

  She laughed. ‘Not very well, but I intend to redecorate one day.’

  He laughed too. ‘The sooner the better, I’d say.’

  When she closed the door she leaned against it for a few moments, smiling to herself. Ahead lay an enjoyable evening with a fine-looking man in a restaurant with white tablecloths, starched napkins and sparkling wineglasses. It would be a return to all she had been used to in the past.

  That made her think of Philippe. As far as her heart was concerned it was as if he had never existed. Daniel had been more than successful in driving her unhappy memories away, but unknowingly he had left the scorching memory of himself in their place.

  Hurrying to her wardrobe she took out one of the silk dresses that Josephine had given her. It was a rich blue and suited her well. Recently she had followed up her written thanks to Josephine for the ticket by returning the money she had accepted as a loan, but to her surprise it had been returned to her, stamped ‘Addressee unknown’. She had then sent it to the convent to be posted on to Josephine and again it was returned to her, this time in an envelope with a covering note from the abbess’s secretary saying that Madame de Vincent had gone abroad and her address was not known.

  Lisette thought it strange that Josephine had not kept any contact with the convent, having been such a kind benefactress, but there must be a good reason even though it was impossible to guess what it might be.

  She puzzled over the little mystery again as she smoothed the blue silk down over her hips. Although bustles had vanished some time ago there was still the fullness of drapery at the back of a gown, which was far more graceful. As for her waist, Lisette was aware that it was fractionally rounder after childbirth, but a slight tightening of her corset made it a hand span as before. The sleeves of the dress came just below the elbow, but she had treated herself to a pair of long white gloves just two days ago, having foreseen that it would not be long before an invitation from Michel was forthcoming. With her pearls and earrings and a cape about her shoulders she was ready.

  As she came down the stairs Michel was waiting in evening clothes and his face revealed his appreciation of her appearance even before he said, ‘You look beautiful, Mademoiselle Decourt.’

  A cab was waiting and he took her to the best restaurant in Lyon, which was everything she had anticipated. An orchestra played and chandeliers glittered. The food was delicious and the wine superb. Michel was also extremely good company and their talk ranged from serious topics to the humorous when they laughed together.

  Back at her door she said how much she had enjoyed the evening.

  ‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that we shall have many more enjoyable times together. Would you care to go for a motor ride on Sunday afternoon?’

  Her eyes widened, for there were more such vehicles to be seen all the time and she had often wished to ride in one. ‘Oh, yes! I’ve never ridden in a
motorcar! What make is it?’

  ‘It’s a Panhard. I bought it two years ago when it was first produced. I’m watching out for a new model, but unfortunately I can’t promise that the ride will be without a hitch.’

  ‘I’ve heard how these motorcars break down from time to time.’

  ‘I’m afraid it is true.’

  ‘I’d still like to go for that ride!’ she exclaimed enthusiastically. ‘Where do you house the vehicle?’

  ‘In the next street. I don’t use it during the week as I prefer to walk to my chambers.’

  ‘Then that’s why I’ve never seen you driving it.’

  ‘So shall we say two o’clock on Sunday?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. I’ll be ready.’

  It was a glorious summer afternoon when she went outside to find Michel standing by the two-seater Panhard, which was a fine sight with its shining brass headlamps, outside gears, and a steering device shaped like a tiller. He was wearing a dustcoat and had another for her, which she put on over her dress before he helped her up into the padded seat. She had tied a gauzy scarf over her hat and looped it under her chin. As soon as he had wound the handle and rattled the engine into life he took the seat beside her and gave her a grin.

  ‘Here we go!’ he said.

  They set off slowly at first and on the way they passed Monsieur and Madame Lumière’s grand mansion and close by were the very fine homes of Auguste and Louis, for all were near each other and the factory. In one street a number of urchins ran alongside the motorcar for a while, shouting and cheering. In another Michel pointed out his chambers and she looked at the building with interest as they went by. When eventually they were out in the country he increased speed and they went bowling along at what was still a gentle pace.

  Lisette was enjoying every minute, even though the vehicle was noisy and shook her and Michel about. She gazed happily around at the spreading fields and woodland, sometimes glancing up at the sun-filtered foliage when they passed through an avenue of trees. Yet inevitably she began to remember sitting beside Daniel on the cart. Then there had been no noise of an engine, but only the clop of Prince’s hooves and, she thought, very little difference in the speed. It was on a similar summer afternoon over a year and some weeks ago that he had possessed her by the cornfield with such unforeseen consequences.