Chapter 31

Villeneuve

Boxing Day, 1884

I slept dreamlessly through until the next evening. When I carefully made my way downstairs, my legs still weak from the ordeal on the moors, William was waiting at the Christmas tree. He was holding two glasses of champagne and handed one to me.

‘How is Camille?’

‘The doctor has bound her ankle and ordered bed rest.’

‘I have you to myself, then.’

He kissed me, his lips warm, and the shape of his mouth familiar. I thought briefly of Georges and the way he’d pressed his mouth against mine, the wild hunger we’d shared. I had been wrong to let him go so far. I’d pulled away from him just in time.

William looked down at my dress. ‘I’ve always liked you in that green velvet.’

‘I know it’s your favourite.’

‘I’m glad you wore it tonight. I want to give you the rest of your Christmas present while it’s still just the two of us.’

William reached into the tree, festooned with apples, ribbons and coloured gelatine lights in glass cups. He unhooked an ornamental paper box of the kind my mother filled with sweet treats every Christmas at home.

‘William, how did you know I’d be homesick for Ma’s sugarplums? Don’t tell me you made the box yourself? How sweet!’

Inside was a velvet box. And inside that an emerald ring. My hand flew to my throat. ‘Oh, William. I don’t know what to say.’

‘Say you’ll be mine, Jessie. I know it’s always been understood we’d be together, ever since you were in pigtails,’ he pulled a tendril of my hair loose and wound it around his finger. ‘But I want everyone to know. No more waiting. I was so worried when I got your letter. I didn’t understand it, and why you kept saying you were sorry. Jessie, I know you’ve changed since you came to Paris. You dress more unconventionally, but it’s not only that. You’re more self-assured, more you, somehow. Paris has distilled you, and it’s made me love you even more than ever. But I don’t want to lose you.’ He slipped the ring on my finger. ‘Will you marry me, darling Jess?’ He smiled. ‘Forsaking all others and all that sort of thing? I’ve been offered a job, a good one, in Manchester, teaching chemistry at a new university. You should see the laboratories – all the latest equipment, and some excellent minds working there. You could still sculpt, maybe give some art classes, until the children come along. We can make a good life for ourselves there.’

I thought of Georges working on a sculpture with his sleeves rolled up and a frown of concentration on his handsome face. I thought of Camille and Rosa and Henri and Suzanne sitting in a Montmartre café, surrounded by a swirl of colour and music. I pictured Manchester: smokestacks belching into a grey sky and rows of houses, each one the same. William mistook my hesitation and laughed.

‘It’s a surprise, I know, on top of everything you went through yesterday. But you must have guessed when I sent you the pendant. They’re a set.’ He frowned. ‘You aren’t wearing it. I’ve always wanted to see you wearing Grandmamma’s emeralds. Where’s the necklace?’ I glanced upstairs and his expression cleared. ‘Of course, in your jewellery box, I’ll get it for you.’

I took out the ring and held it against the coloured lights on the Christmas tree. The stone was nearly as large as the one on the necklace. The necklace that was in my jewellery box, sitting on top of Georges’ portrait. I turned and gathered my skirts and ran up the stairs two at a time. In my room, William was standing holding the drawing in one hand, the card in the other.

‘William, I…’

His eyes were in shadow. ‘I understand now.’ I’d never heard him sound so cold. ‘Here, this is what you want.’ The card bit into my palm and a nail from the wooden frame scraped the inside of my wrist. I watched it bead with blood as the door slammed behind me.