Fretwork

Chapter 3: An Invitation

Jack and Gabrielle were putting away their paints when a footman approached with a message from Emilie. She requested that Jack join her and her guest in the library.

"That's where your portrait of maman is," Gabrielle said, her eyes bright with excitement. "I bet they want to discuss it with you. Perhaps you'll get another commission!"

He hoped she was right. Although Cirey-sur-Blaise was several days away from Paris, many traveled here for a weekend of gambling and performances. That portrait had led to several requests from guests staying at the chateau. He and Leonard were also often hired to perform at soirées at other estates.

He stopped in his room for his coat and to comb his hair. He avoided wigs whenever possible. The powder made him sneeze. He'd become adept at styling his hair so it looked like a wig. In the countryside, powdered wigs were only worn on formal occasions. Then he and Leonard went through the ordeal of powdering their hair. Slapping on a wig would be much faster. But he'd have to shave his head and even a wearh's life was too short for that to happen.

He hesitated as he approached the library. The scent of sarsaparilla and caramel was unfamiliar but Emilie's guest was a wearh. He racked his brain for any wearh acquaintances Emilie had mentioned but came up blank. The only French ones he knew were associated with either the d'Aurillacs or the de Clermonts. Was this a member of Gerbert's family?

He forced himself to relax. Any wearh would be able to sense his nervousness. He was a nobody. A slight issue was that he was using his original name in France for the first time. He'd had no choice since that was the way he'd introduced himself to Voltaire in London. Still, there shouldn't be any repercussions. The d'Aurillacs already knew his English name.

Jack opened the door to the library to see a woman of timeless beauty. Her green eyes shone like emeralds against the porcelain perfection of her skin. Her hair was powdered and fashionably coiffed in tight curls close to her head. Topaz earrings dangled from her ears.

"Jack, I'd like to introduce you to Madame Ysabeau de Clermont," Emilie said. "She'll stay with us for several days."

Jack made a low bow to conceal his shock as he murmured, "Enchanté, Madame."

"I've been admiring the portrait you painted of Emilie," she said. "I hope to persuade you to paint one of me. My husband's birthday is approaching. Emilie has graciously consented to let me tear you away from your other activities for the project. Will a week give you sufficient time?"

Her voice was cultured and melodious. In appearance, she could be in her thirties, but there was a resonance to his ears that hinted at a far greater age. A small smile crossed her face. Philippe often reminded him of a lion. Ysabeau could be an equally ferocious lioness.

* * * * *

After speaking with the women, Jack raced upstairs. For the past several days, Leonard had been working in Voltaire's study, preparing a revised copy of the writer's latest play.

"What's the hurry?" Leonard exclaimed when he opened the door. "Are you being chased by lions?"

"That's too close to the truth to be funny. Ysabeau de Clermont is downstairs and she wants me to paint her portrait for Philippe!"

Leonard's jaw dropped. "Do you want congratulations or commiserations?"

"Maybe both then we'll flee together," he grumbled, only half-joking. "You know I'm not supposed to be in contact with any of the de Clermonts except Philippe and Freyja. How am I supposed to handle it?" He started to pace in the small room.

"Relax. This isn't your fault. Besides she probably hasn't heard anything about you." Leonard stopped abruptly. "Has she?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. At least, she hasn't said anything. But she wouldn't have. Emilie was with us at the time."