Chapter 13

The next morning I waited in the drawing room for William to arrive. I was trying to read Le Figaro, but Louise was playing a Chopin étude over and over again and I couldn’t concentrate. I kept jumping up to look out of the window.

Camille put down her anatomy book. ‘What’s got into you, Jessie? You’re as nervous as a cat. I know he’s your beau, but you’ve known William since you were a child.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Or is there something else bothering you?’

I wanted to tell her everything, how I had let Georges kiss me, how I had encouraged him instead of putting a stop to it. Now I’d betrayed William and misled Georges. I’d spent the night unable to sleep, thinking about what Georges had said: you and I are the same…neither of us give a damn for convention…I’ve never met a woman like you before… William too was unconventional, passionate about his calling, but when it came down to it, he was, well, William. I’d known him all my life and I couldn’t imagine him not being there, but I didn’t feel the same frisson of excitement with him that I did with Georges. I wondered if it were possible to love two men, at once. But everyone said – all the love songs, the novels and poems – there could only be one true love, the grand passion that was supposed to sweep all before it. I threw down the newspaper in disgust and buried my face in a cushion. Camille threw another at me and we both laughed. The doorbell rang and we froze.

Louise looked puzzled. ‘That must be your William. It’s Eugénie’s day off. Aren’t you going to let him in?’ When I didn’t move she crossed the room. ‘I’ll go, since you both seem to be stuck to your seats like one of those dreary statues you’re always droning on about.’

I could hear the front door being unlocked, Louise prattling in the hall, the low murmur of William’s voice. I pressed my hands together to stop them trembling and tried to compose my expression, but as soon as I saw his dear face peeking around the door I forgot all about Georges and rushed forward and threw my arms around his neck.

‘Oof, Jess! What a welcome!’ he said, staggering back like a music hall comic. He smiled and held me at arms’ length. ‘Let me look at you. Paris certainly agrees with you. You seem different, but I can’t say in what way.’

‘I’ve changed my hair.’

‘No, it’s not that.’

He searched my face and I cursed the heat I could feel blooming in my cheeks. I hoped he couldn’t read the guilt in my expression and forced myself to meet his eyes. I would have to brazen it out. ‘I’m probably as fat as a pig,’ I said. ‘The food is heavenly here.’

‘You’re as perfect as ever,’ he took my hands and kissed them.

I turned to Camille. She was standing at the window, watching us.

‘William, I want you to meet my friend, Camille Claudel.’

He strode towards Camille and pumped her hand. ‘Mademoiselle Claudel! A pleasure, an absolute pleasure.’

She removed her hand and made a show of flexing the fingers. Her expression was unfriendly, her tone more so. ‘Please, call me Camille. I hate these ridiculous bourgeois formalities, so like a straitjacket.’

‘You’re quite right, manners can be tiresome. Camille, then, and you must call me Monsieur Elbourne.’ She scowled and William grinned. ‘Just my little joke, please call me William.’ He put an arm around my waist and Camille frowned. For a moment, I could have sworn she was jealous but William didn’t seem to notice her coldness. He babbled on happily, pulling me closer all the while until I gasped and pushed him away with a laugh.

‘My darling Jess writes so warmly about you,’ he said to Camille, ‘I feel as though we are already acquainted.’

Camille put her hands on her hips. ‘Ah oui? In that case, why don’t we get to know each other better? Come with us now to the atelier and you can see where Jessie and I work.’

Camille was being imperious, trying to intimidate him. I had so hoped they would be friends, but my William had never been one to be overawed. I held my breath while he looked at her for a while. Then he bowed. William never bowed. He was teasing her again. I breathed out. William was too good-humoured and intelligent to be drawn into one of Camille’s dramas.

‘I should be deeply honoured,’ he said with an affable smile. ‘But, your studio will have to wait until later. First, I need to stretch my legs after spending yesterday on trains and boats and more trains.’ He held out his arm to me. ‘Jess, will you take a stroll with me? I haven’t been to Paris for years. On the way, you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to.’

Before Camille could object, he gave the Claudel sisters a cheerful wave and pulled me out of the room. I could hear Louise laughing softly and Camille barking at her.

Once we were outside I said, ‘William, you were teasing Camille.’

‘Me? Never!’

‘William Elbourne, don’t you think I know when you’re teasing?’

‘Oh, well, she deserved it. She’s quite a handful, and I pity any chap who takes her on, if there’s one brave enough. Luckily, I’ve had plenty of practice dealing with bossy women.’

I pinched his arm, hard.

‘Ouch! I didn’t mean you of course, dearest heart. I have three formidable sisters and an even more formidable Mama. You, on the other hand, have a sweet and easy nature, except when you’re doing your impression of an exploding volcano.’ He batted his eyelids at me and I pushed him off the pavement. He skipped over a pile of horse dung. ‘That’s no way to treat your betrothed.’

‘May I remind you that we are not engaged, not officially anyway?’

He waved his hand in the air. ‘A technicality. Now, stop being so stuffy and give us a kiss.’

He pulled me into his arms. It was comforting, like going home. I was enveloped in his familiar smell of sandalwood soap. I kissed him back and a messenger boy on a bicycle whistled as he rode past.

‘Eh, Monsieur, can I have a go next?’

William grinned. ‘Cheeky beggar.’ He didn’t let me go. ‘I’ve missed you, Jess.’

‘I’ve missed you too.’ But I wondered if that was quite true. I’d been too busy, too entranced with my new life, to give him more than a fleeting thought. I changed tack. ‘I hope you can be friends with Camille. She is rather forthright, I admit, but she’s been a good friend to me since I arrived in Paris, like a sister really. Besides, she’s spirited and pretty – I thought you liked those qualities in a woman?’

William swung my hand as we walked. ‘She’s quite attractive, I suppose, if you like those dark, continental looks. I find them a little overstated. Give me a fine English girl any day.’ He raised my hand to his lips. ‘Jess, you haven’t forgotten me, have you?’

‘Of course not, how can you ask such a question? I love you as much as ever.’ There was that wriggle of doubt again as I found myself comparing him to Georges. They were so different: William, clever, a crackling whirlwind of energy, who teased me like a brother and didn’t always take me seriously; William who I had known since childhood. But Georges, Georges with his languid charm, who spoke to me as an equal and trained his attention on me like a lighthouse on a vessel out at sea, or, as Rosa would have it, a wild animal on its prey. He was dangerous, unknown, intriguing and left me breathless, excited, disturbed. William, on the other hand, I knew like I knew myself and he kept me safe, loved, untroubled. William would never hurt me.

I shook my head impatiently; the sun was shining and we were in Paris. I took William’s arm. ‘Where do you want to go?’

‘I do of course want to see your work, so I’ll obey Miss Claudel’s imperial command, but first will you come with me to the Jardin des Plantes? I’ve been told there are some fascinating exhibits in the mineralogy museum.’

My heart sank: a dusty collection of rocks was a less than thrilling prospect. I was used to being free in Paris with no man my master. But I swallowed my resentment – after all, this was William’s day and he should spend it as he wished. I would have plenty more days ahead of me to do as I wished I consoled myself with the thought that I would see where Rodin had spent his days as a young artist, drawing with Rosa. As we strolled through the Luxembourg gardens, the sun streamed through the leaves in a haze of green and gold and my mood lifted.

‘Let’s find a bench.’ I said, leaning into William. ‘It’s so lovely to see you.’

We sat down and watched some children in starched white dresses and sailor suits chase a kite while their uniformed nannies chatted in the shade of a tree. Old men played boules in a sandy enclosure and the click of the balls mingled with birdsong and the children’s cries. William fished inside his coat and handed me a bundle of letters.

‘I nearly forgot,’ he said. ‘Letters from home.’

My mother had sent news of small hiccups in the rhythms of domestic life at Wootton House, while Papa asked about my work and suggested Paris exhibitions he had read about in The Times. William’s sisters’ cheerful letters were dotted with exclamation marks and heavily underlined in places. I laughed and dried my eyes as I read out snippets. Suddenly home seemed so far away.

William put his arm around me. ‘You’re a gentle girl, darling Jess. We all miss you. When are you coming home?’

‘I’ll be back in Peterborough next summer for a few months. Be patient, we both have our work – and the rest of our lives together.’

William heaved a dramatic sigh. ‘You’re right, duty calls. You must swan about in Paris with that she-devil to make Great Art, while I toil in my laboratory for the Advancement of Science. Give me strength for the battle ahead.’ He leaned in for a kiss, pouting and closing his eyes.

I pushed him away with a laugh. ‘Don’t tease. You love your smelly laboratory as much as I love my dusty studio. Come on, let’s go and see your minerals.’

As we left the park, an older couple passed us, their faces turned upwards to catch the sun bathing the gardens, and the man said, ‘Régarde les jeunes amoureux.’ He raised his hat and William smiled at him and held my arm tighter. I remembered Georges’ arms around me, the warmth of his throat as I kissed him there. I was such a fraud. I looked around the park, which was one of Georges’ favourite haunts and dipped my parasol to hide my face; it would be awful if we met Georges. We’d be less likely to bump into him in the museum than out in the open. I quickened my pace and William hurried to keep up.

‘Steady on, Jess, I had no idea you were so interested in mineralogy.’

‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me,’ I said.