Chapter Nine #2
Gus shifted in her chair, frowning and uneasy with this topic. She had known the old duke and liked him very much. “Aunt had no desire for a picture then. She was very much in love with the duke, and his loss took much life and laughter from her.”
“Let us speak no more of sad things,” Amber encouraged them with a soft smile.
“Exactly,” agreed élisabeth, then she turned to Giselle. “I must know, ma petite, if you still draw and paint.”
Giselle took the question as a natural one from the lady who had taught her much about the art she pursued every day.
But she would be selective about what she told her.
“I do. Lately, I tend to sketch, drawing with pencil or ink. I use watercolors here in England. They give an ethereal quality to my works that I appreciate.”
“Ah, oui. I understand your turn to pencil and watercolor. I have tried repeatedly to use oils here in Brighton. But the air is too humid. I cannot get the right mix to any shade I want. I have met a few old friends who live north in London. The Comte d’Artois, Louis XVI’s brother, and my old friend the Comte de Vaudreuil are among those living here.
Both demand of me new portraits. But I have discouraged them unless we can all go farther north, where the air is cooler—and my oils can mix! ”
“I do agree,” Giselle said with a nod. “Oil does work best for portraits.”
“Ah, mais oui.” élisabeth looked at Giselle. “When you come to London, I will take you to visit Vaudreuil. He thought you so talented when a child, and he will be so pleased to see how lovely you are as a mature woman.”
“Merci beaucoup.” Giselle had to thank her for the compliment, but she disliked Comte de Vaudreuil.
He was a noted roué of obscure sexual practices.
So notorious was Vaudreuil that Giselle’s husband even thought him dastardly, a man to be avoided.
But Vaudreuil was condemned by many for other vices.
He was so friendly with Marie Antoinette that he covered her infatuation with a German count.
Influential, too, to King Louis in finance, Vaudreuil led the king into heinous debt that the Crown could not repay.
Many said Vaudreuil’s only good deed was that he encouraged many artists, schooled others he thought worthy, and bought their works, albeit at ridiculously low prices.
He packed up many of them when he left Paris in a rush the day after the Bastille fell.
He had the bad taste to brag now about their immense value.
To say one good thing about him was that he was a generous benefactor to artists like élisabeth. Some even said the two had been lovers.
“But I do not wish to intrude, élisabeth.”
“Nonsense. He loved you as child.”
He loved too many as children. I managed to escape his particular interest in young girls. She would escape him now, too, and purposely not send her address to élisabeth if and when she went to London. “He did.”
“You must come,” said élisabeth. “Your skills are unique. And your talents with draftsmanship precise.”
Giselle had to give the man his due for advising her as a young girl. “He was very kind to humor a child of ten who wished to draw his elaborate gardens.”
From Vaudreuil, Giselle had learned the necessity of precise measurements of eye, the necessity of perspective, and the wisdom of choice of complementary color and architectural form.
But she would not see him. There was his reputation to deter her.
But also part of her did not wish to return to the past, not out of courtesy, nor duty.
Her life in France was gone. Her skills remained, and she would use them to her benefit and Britain’s.
It was the only revenge she had against the likes of Vaillancourt, Fouché, and the memory of her dastardly husband.
élisabeth was rattling on about Artois and Vaudreuil.
“I also tell both gentlemen that they are much too advanced in years to wish for a portrait. An artist can do only so much to improve one’s looks.
Especially men who have lived hard lives.
” She lifted a polite finger and indicated the three ladies with her.
“I would do well to paint the three of you! All ravishing women, friends who have suffered and also laughed together. Allow me to paint you!”
“Oh, élisabeth,” Gus said. “We would be honored, but we cannot take up your time when so many others are so much more important, and they are your longtime friends.”
“Think nothing of it.” The lady sat back. “When do you return to London?”
“A week Saturday,” Amber told her. “Not enough time, I’m afraid.”
Giselle knew both Amber and Gus had come to keep their appointment with her here in Brighton. Their recent note to her this morning said they should meet at the house the two ladies rented tomorrow at ten.
“When I come to London,” the lady said, “I will call upon you and the three of you will name a time. Do not refuse me!”
Giselle stared into Amber’s green eyes. She had no idea when she would return to London.
Plus, she definitely did not want her face on any work by the famed élisabeth Le Brun.
Sought after by Vaillancourt in France, Giselle wished to remain inconspicuous here in England.
Preferably along the coast while she finished her work.
After that, she would like to remain inconspicuous wherever she lived.
Gus checked Amber and Giselle’s faces. A flicker of defiance lived in her eyes. “Very well. We will try to find dates suitable.”
Giselle hid a smile. No dates were suitable for any of the three.
élisabeth clutched her hands together. “Superb.”
“And then, élisabeth,” Gus said with a wicked smile, “you must join us for a ball. Tomorrow night in the ballroom of the Old Ship Hotel.”
“Non! Non! I do not dance, mes amis.”
Amber laughed. “Come for the conversation, then!”
élisabeth leaned forward. “Have you invited the prince regent?”
Amber chuckled. “Oui, we have. He may not dance, but he likes to pretend he can still command the floor.”
élisabeth put a hand to her brow. “I fear the sight!”
“Don’t we all!”
“Please do come,” Gus told her.
“At that huge hotel on the beach?”
“Oui!”
“I will. I will.” élisabeth waggled her brows like an impulsive French lady. “For the conversation only. Now, you will forgive me, as I must see to my other guests.”
When élisabeth had gone off and was well involved with a few of her other guests, Giselle switched to English and said, “I am so happy to see you both.”
“And we to see you too, Giselle,” Gus said with concern in her eyes. “We saw you day before yesterday in the Lanes. Why did you not approach?”
Amber cocked her head. “Was it the presence of a certain gentleman?”
Giselle let out a breath. “Yes, it was.”
“He is charming and here on holiday.”
Giselle widened her eyes.
“Oh.” Amber sat back. “I see. He is interesting.”
“Alluring,” teased Gus.
“You two fantasize,” Giselle said with less conviction than she should.
“He is very handsome,” Amber added. “A widower, you know.”
“I do.” Giselle tried to laugh away the subject of her enchantment with Carlisle. “Please listen to me. I need to talk with you both privately.”
“Tomorrow,” Gus said, a quick scan of the room allowing her a small, strained smile.
“I must tell you three things now.” Giselle lowered her voice. “Our mutual friend’s agent did not appear to me the other night.”
“We know,” Gus replied. “Do not despair. We have much to tell you in that regard. And the second problem?”
“My bodyguard has disappeared.”
Amber looked stricken. “And the last problem?”
“I do believe a strange man is following me, and he resembles someone I may have seen in Hastings.”