Becoming Lisette
A Novel
Rebecca Glenn
Zinerva Publishing, LLC
Becoming Lisette is a work of historical fiction. Except for the well-known actual people, places and events that make up the narrative, all names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Becoming Lisette Copyright 2015 by Rebecca Glenn.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of Rebecca Glenn.
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zinerva.com
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Book and Cover design by EBQ Book Designs
ISBN: 978-1-941081-21-1
First Edition: April 2015
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Emma, Will and Owen
Table of Contents
Chapter One - May 16, 1766
Chapter Two - May 22, 1772
Chapter Three - May 23, 1772
Chapter Four - June 10, 1772
Chapter Five - July 2, 1772
Chapter Six - July 3, 1772
Chapter Seven - September 27, 1772
Chapter Eight - October 27, 1772
Chapter Nine - October 29, 1772
Chapter Ten - January 30, 1773
Chapter Eleven - February 2, 1773
Chapter Twelve - February 9, 1773
Chapter Thirteen - February 11, 1773
Chapter Fourteen - February 12, 1773
Chapter Fifteen - February 18, 1773
Chapter Sixteen - March 3, 1773
Chapter Seventeen - March 30, 1773
Chapter Eighteen - May 31, 1773
Chapter Nineteen - June 1, 1773
Chapter Twenty - June 8, 1773
Chapter Twenty-One - October 27, 1773
Chapter Twenty-Two -October 28, 1773
Chapter Twenty-Three - October 29, 1773
Chapter Twenty-Four - June 23, 1774
Chapter Twenty-Five - September 27, 1774
Chapter Twenty-Six - September 29, 1774
Chapter Twenty-Seven - October 18, 1774
Chapter Twenty-Eight - October 25, 1774
Chapter Twenty-Nine - November 7, 1774
Chapter Thirty - November 9, 1774
Chapter Thirty-One - November 10, 1774
Chapter Thirty-Two - November 11, 1774
Chapter Thirty-Three - November 12, 1774
Chapter Thirty-Four - November 13, 1774
Chapter Thirty-Five - December 13, 1774
About the Author
Coming Soon!
Chapter One
May 16, 1766
The nuns’ busy chatter awoke Lisette as they approached her cell. Most days, she would have dreaded hearing their voices coming down the corridor. But today was different.
During her solitary confinement in the underground storeroom, Lisette had comforted herself with memories of painting with her papa. Alone with nothing but the convent’s summer supply of grain, Lisette thought about returning home to her parents. After today, she would no longer have to endure these punishments. I have more than repented this time, she thought.
Lisette slowly opened her eyes. Was it morning? She looked over to the small crack in between the floor and the door. It must be about seven, she thought. For the duration that Lisette had lived at the Convent of the Trinité, the nuns had kept a tight schedule. Each day of the past five years had been the same. Days began at precisely seven in the morning with prayers, followed by a light meal and morning studies of reading, writing and counting. The afternoons were reserved for sewing, embroidery and etiquette lessons.
Lisette had spent the first six years of her life in the village of Épernon, near Chartres. Like many other bourgeois girls, she had lived with a peasant family in the care of a wet nurse. According to her mother, the peasant woman had cared for Lisette like she was her own daughter.
At the age of six, Lisette was enrolled as a student in the Convent of the Trinité, on the Rue de Charonne, in the Faubourg Saint Antoine just outside Paris. Having reached her eleventh birthday, Lisette’s years of formal schooling at the convent were ending.
Today, Papa will be here to take me home, Lisette thought. Soon, I will be painting again.
As the nuns approached her cell, Lisette listened carefully. She recognized Mother Marie's and Sister Grace’s voices. If only it was Sister Anne and not Mother Marie, Lisette thought. Sister Anne always brought a fresh biscuit and uplifting advice, while Mother Marie delivered stale bread and chastisement. The nuns at the Convent of the Trinité had never tolerated her drawing, especially during her lessons. When Lisette would tell them that her hands had a mind of their own, she would be punished even more severely. Mother Marie often accused Lisette of taking credit for someone else’s work. She was convinced that Lisette’s drawings were executed by a boy. The punishment that resulted was usually bread and water in place of her daily meals, but sometimes she received lashes and solitary confinement.
Lisette listened. The voices outside the door became quiet. A key clicked in the lock and the door creaked open.
“Time to rise.” Lisette heard Mother Marie’s voice before she could see her.
With the door open, Lisette was temporarily blinded by the flood of bright sunlight into the windowless cell. Her eyes burned as they adjusted.
“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” Mother Marie ordered.
“The light is very bright,” Lisette said as she tilted her head up toward the voice and squinted. Where is Sister Grace? she wondered. Lisette saw only Mother Marie. With her large build and long, flowing robes, Mother Marie was an imposing figure. “I apologize, Mother,” Lisette said cautiously. She didn’t want to anger Mother Marie today of all days.
“You will repent in your morning prayers. Come off that pile of straw and kneel,” said Mother Marie.
Lisette slowly maneuvered her legs underneath her body so that she could kneel. Stiff all over, Lisette’s body protested as she moved. For three days, she had been lying on a makeshift bed of straw with only a thin layer of burlap protecting her from the cold stone floor.
“Move faster!” Mother Marie barked.
Lisette’s eyes had adjusted and she could now see that Sister Grace stood behind Mother Marie holding a tray of food. She had been silent since entering the room. Sister Grace leaned down to set the tray on the ground. She placed her hand on Lisette’s back and guided her into praying position. The nuns knelt down on either side of Lisette.
Mother Marie led the prayer. “O God, we pray for this child today. We pray that she will know the error of her ways. We pray for her to know the path of righteousness. Have mercy on her soul. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen.” The nuns crossed themselves. Lisette did the same.
“It is time for private prayers, my child,” Sister Grace said. She spoke so softly
Lisette barely heard her words.
Still kneeling with her eyes closed, Lisette reached between the slits on the side of her simple, woolen dress and into the sack tied around her waist. Papa’s handkerchief is still there, she thought. Lisette had pushed it deep into her pocket bag. Touching it, Lisette felt as if her papa was kneeling next to her, protecting her.
With her hand clutching the handkerchief, Lisette began her silent prayer: O God, please let today be the day I see my family again. Please keep them healthy and safe. Please keep me safe. Please let me paint with my papa again. Amen.
Lisette remained kneeling on the unyielding floor waiting for the nuns to finish their prayers. She knew she should pray longer, but a few words were all Lisette could muster this morning as her stomach rumbled. More distracting were her thoughts of home. Silently waiting, Lisette thought about returning to her family. Being eleven years old, she had finished her schooling. Like other bourgeois girls, once her education was complete, she would return home to prepare for marriage. She would be expected to help her mother with domestic duties, but Lisette only thought of painting with her papa.
After what seemed like hours, the nuns finally stood. Lisette rose too.
“Lisette, my child. It is time to go,” whispered Sister Grace.
Lisette peered at the tray of food on the ground near her mattress. Her stomach grumbled again.
With a gentle motion of her hand, Sister Grace urged Lisette to take the food on the tray. “You may take the bread with you,” she said.
Lisette bent down, slid the bread into her pocket bag and began walking out of the storeroom.
“Wait. Stop!” Mother Marie commanded.
Lisette had passed over the threshold, but she stopped immediately. More than the words themselves, it was the tone that made Lisette pause.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Mother Marie as she contorted her body. She turned so that her torso was facing Lisette, while her lower half faced the rear of the storeroom. Her sausage-like forefinger pointed to the back corner of the room. Mother Marie’s impossible pose reminded Lisette of a statue of an ancient Greek athlete.
Neither Sister Grace nor Lisette said anything. Both stood frozen. Lisette glanced at Sister Grace who appeared confused.
“I asked you a question! Now answer me!” ordered Mother Marie as she jabbed her fat, extended finger in the direction of the back corner.
“Mother, I do not understand. Could you please explain to me what you are asking?” Sister Grace’s words trailed off as she spoke. She seemed as afraid of her own voice as she was of Mother Marie. Mother Marie was the most senior nun at the convent and nearly everyone was frightened of her.
“I’m not speaking to you, Sister.” Mother Marie turned her entire body around to face Lisette and then slowly approached her. “Lisette, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Lisette could smell last night's turnips on the nun's breath. I should respond, but what does she want me to say? Lisette wondered. Her mind searched for an appropriate answer. “Mother, please. I am sorry.”
“Let me help you remember why you need to explain yourself. Have you forgotten the reason you are in here in the first place?” Mother Marie said, without budging.
Lisette tried again, “I apologize for −” Lisette stopped herself. What had she done exactly? Lisette found it difficult to continue speaking.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lisette could see Sister Grace bent over to examine something on the floor. The drawing, Lisette realized. She now knew the cause of Mother Marie’s anger. She won’t let me go home, Lisette thought. She felt her palms moisten and her heart race.
“I know how to help you remember,” Mother Marie said as she pulled out a switch from inside the folds of her robes. She raised her arm in the air.
Lisette knew the time for words was over. She closed her eyes and prepared for the blows.
“Wait! Mother Marie, we can’t be sure of what this is,” Sister Grace said, pointing to the drawing. “I don’t believe there is any need for the switch.”
Still facing Lisette, Mother Marie said, “Of course we know what it is. It is the drawing of a man’s face….the bishop’s face,” Mother Marie said and then held her breath as she made the sign of the cross.
Lisette watched a small smile form at the edge of Sister Grace’s mouth as she inspected the drawing. “Even so, it is just the doodle of a child’s fingers in the dirt. No cause for alarm.”
“No cause for alarm? Have we not already forbidden her from this unnatural practice? Yet she continues to defy us. She must be punished until she understands,” Mother Marie said. She turned and glared at the junior nun.
Lisette watched Sister Grace back up slowly and carefully. Sister Grace dragged her feet as she moved backward into the corner.
“Sister! Watch your step. You will erase the evidence!” Mother Marie shouted. She held up her hands in protest as she rushed over to the corner where the drawing had been. “You’ve destroyed it!”
For a moment, Lisette feared that Mother Marie would strike Sister Grace. Lisette had seen that look of anger on Mother Marie’s face many times, especially before she would dole out lashes.
Mother Marie spun toward Lisette. “You insolent girl! Hold out your right hand,” Mother Marie screeched.
Lisette refused. She painted with her right hand and Mother Marie knew it. When Lisette didn’t move, Mother Marie grabbed Lisette’s right hand and extended it in front of her body.
Lisette closed her eyes and once again prepared herself for the lashes. Whoosh. One. Lisette started counting inside her head. Two. Counting the lashes helped her withstand the punishment. She had never received more than three. It would be over soon. Three. Lisette opened her eyes. Four. Mother Marie was not going to stop. Lisette saw the determined, twisted hatred in her face. Five. Lisette felt the skin on the top of her hand split open. She was too afraid to look down and see the blood. Lisette fought the urge to reach in her pocket and clutch her papa’s handkerchief. Six.
“That’s enough!” Sister Grace called out.
Her thundering voice startled Lisette and must have surprised Mother Marie, because the lashes stopped.
Sister Grace ran over to Lisette and pushed her arm down so that it rested naturally by her side. “This poor child has had enough,” Sister Grace said as she stood blocking Lisette.
Mother Marie was at a loss for words.
In her years of living at the Convent of the Trinité, Lisette had never witnessed any of the nuns stand up to Mother Marie. The senior nun’s authority was never questioned. Lisette feared for Sister Grace.
Lisette stared at Sister Grace, who in turn was fixated on Mother Marie. Can I move? she wondered. Lisette turned toward Mother Marie, but received no answer. The silence hung thickly in the air for what seemed like hours.
Finally, Mother Marie broke it. “This unholy girl requires further sanctification, but she is no longer in our charge.” Mother Marie swung around and floated out of the room. As she strode away, Lisette heard her voice echoing in the corridor, “See to her release.”
Sister Grace faced Lisette and gently rested her hands on Lisette’s shoulders. “It is time for you to go, my child. I will see that your belongings have been loaded onto the carriage. Your father is waiting.” Sister Grace retrieved a handkerchief from inside her robes and handed it to Lisette. “To stop the bleeding. You don’t want to stain yours.” She smiled.
Lisette saw genuine kindness in her light eyes.
“Now, be on your way. May you go with God, my child.”
As Lisette walked down the corridor, away from the storeroom, she placed Sister Grace’s handkerchief on the top of her right hand and held it firmly in place. It quickly soaked up the blood. Before she reached the end of the hallway, she looked down at her hand. The bleeding had stopped. Lisette took a deep breath and held it while she tried to make a fist. It hurt, but she could curl her fingers inside her hand. She slowly exhaled. Lisette w
ould still be able to hold a paint brush. She hoped that she could paint later that day. Then she remembered, Papa promised we would paint together again when I came home.
Chapter Two
May 22, 1772
As Lisette picked up a knife to slice the turnips, she noticed the long, white scars that stretched across the back of her right hand. She shuddered. It had been many years since she had been punished for sketching. While her hands had long ago healed from the lashes, the memory of the degrading incidents at the Convent of the Trinité lingered. But there had been no broken bones. Mother Marie had not taken away Lisette’s ability to draw or paint.
“Lisette, pay attention to what you are doing,” Lisette’s mother scolded.
Should I rework Venus so that she is clothed? Lisette thought as she sliced.
“Lisette! I said slice ten turnips, not twelve,” her mother said, this time in a harsher voice.
With her latest painting occupying her thoughts, Lisette found it difficult to concentrate on meal preparation. She had nearly finished her latest work, but had doubts about the painting. It was only the second time she had attempted an allegory painting. Lisette was pleased to have graduated from painting the less ambitious choices of landscapes and portraits. No, I should leave her nude, she thought.
“You are going to cut yourself! Watch what you are doing,” Lisette’s mother chastised her again. Abandoning her pie crust, Jeanne Vigée marched down to Lisette’s end of the long pinewood table that stood in the middle of the kitchen and snatched the knife away from her.
“Do you see what happens when you are distracted by art and not paying attention?” Jeanne said, raising Lisette’s scarred hand up to her face. Her mother’s hands were cold and slimy from handling the pie crust.
“Yes, Mother. I promise. I will concentrate on the cooking.”
Becoming Lisette: A Novel (The Queen's Painter an Historical Romance Book 1) Page 1