35. Édouard Vuillard and the Interior Vision

Matthew was surprised to see Elspeth. He looked up from his desk and saw her standing at the front door of the gallery, about to enter. She seemed to be hesitating, and it was a moment before she saw him looking at her from within. He rose to his feet and went to open the door for her.

‘I was worried you’d be busy,’ she said.

He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Never too busy to see you, my darling.’ He gestured at the empty gallery behind him. ‘And anyway, we’re not exactly run off our feet today.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Or any day, come to think of it.’

He ushered her to the seat beside his desk. As she sat down, she glanced at the large volume lying open before him. ‘Vuillard?’

Matthew pushed the book towards her. ‘Yes. Édouard Vuillard. Post-Impressionist. This is the catalogue raisonné – it has everything he did in it.’

‘I’ve seen some of his paintings,’ she said. ‘Women arranging flowers. Sewing. That sort of thing.’

‘Exactly,’ said Matthew. ‘They’re very peaceful. Take a look at this one.’

The book was open at a picture of a woman watering a clump of indoor hyacinths. Elspeth read out the title. ‘Madame Vuillard with Hyacinths.’ She looked enquiringly at Matthew. ‘His wife?’

Matthew shook his head. ‘No, his mother. Read what they say about it. It’s his mother in her flat above the rue de Calais. It’s 1916 and they were living in Paris.’ He paused, reaching out to touch the photograph of the richly coloured painting. ‘So luscious. Those textures.’

Elspeth’s eye moved to the commentary on the painting. ‘I see that they compare it to Dutch paintings. Why?’

Matthew cocked his head, to look at the painting from a different angle. ‘Light, I suppose. There’s that wonderful light coming in the window, isn’t there? The Dutch liked to capture light like that in their paintings. And there’s a window – we’re in a room looking out of a window. That’s another Dutch thing.’

‘Vermeer?’

Matthew touched her hand gently; an unexpected gesture. ‘Yes. Vermeer. Remember the Woman in Blue Reading a Letter – that light flooding in from the window. That’s why those paintings are so arresting. They just make you stop. Like that. Just stop.’

‘And?’

He moved the book away. ‘And you think, that’s just so beautiful. It’s something to do with taking a moment and capturing it and distilling all the beauty it contains.’

She sat back in her chair. She would tell him now. ‘Matthew …’

But he was not listening. Reaching into the drawer of his desk, he took out the Sotheby’s catalogue. ‘There’s something else I want to show you,’ he said as he began to leaf through the glossy pages.

‘What’s that?’