The Black Swan (14 page)

Melancholy settled at the table. It was amazing how Belinda carried us along with her moods.

Then he said, “I’ve been wondering …” He paused for some seconds. “I rather think you would enjoy the chateau.”

Belinda’s eyes opened wide. Joy flooded back. He was smiling at her and I knew he found her enchanting.

“Well,” he went on, “it is the country … of course, we are not so very far from Bordeaux …”

“Do you mean … I could come with you?”

“I was wondering …”

“Oh, how marvelous! When do we go?”

“The end of the week. Is that enough notice?”

“It’s wonderful. I’d be ready to go tomorrow.”

“Then it is settled.” He paused. “There was something. …”

Belinda looked worried. Then he said, looking at me, “Perhaps Lucie would like to come, too?”

“I?” I said, surprised.

“Well, you are Lucie, are you not?”

“Oh, Lucie,” cried Belinda. “You must come. Oh, you must. I’d hate for you not to. It would do her good, wouldn’t it, Aunt Celeste?”

“I think it would be a change of scene and that would be good for her,” said Celeste.

“Go to France …” I began. “But …”

“Oh, don’t be so stodgy, Lucie,” cried Belinda. “She is a bit stodgy, you know,” she said to her father. “She dithers. She always did.”

“You must be nicer to Lucie,” admonished Jean Pascal. “She has been a very good friend to you.”

“I am nice to her. Aren’t I, Lucie? I want her to come with us. You will, won’t you, Lucie? Say yes.”

“I … I’d like to think about it.”

“What do you want to think about? It’s marvelous.
I
want you to come.”

“You’d be very welcome,” said Jean Pascal. “And it wouldn’t be the same for Belinda without you.”

“What about Celeste?”

“Let Celeste come, too.”

“No … no,” protested Celeste. “I couldn’t think of it. But, Lucie, I think it might be good for you to get away for a while.”

“I did get away to Cornwall.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t long enough.”

Jean Pascal leaned across the table and took my hand. “Think about it,” he said warmly.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I will.”

Later Belinda stormed into my room.

“Of course you’ll come,” she announced. “Why not? You are an old spoilsport. I don’t understand why you hesitate. Do you want my father to go down on his knees and
beg
you to come?”

“No, of course not. But he really doesn’t want me. He wants you. He is only asking me to be company for you.”

“But he does. He’s always talking about you. Asking questions about you. He likes you … because you’ve been so good to me.”

“I’ll think about it. It was all so sudden. I am just not sure.”

“Oh, you are an old stick-in-the-mud. You must come, Lucie. I want you to. It will be more fun if you are there.”

“What? Such an old stick-in-the-mud?”

“Of course. The contrast draws attention to my superior charms. Moreover, I shouldn’t like it half as much without you.”

“I’ve said I’ll think about it.”

“Well, go on thinking and tomorrow we’ll talk about what we’ll take with us.”

I did think about it. I kept waking up and asking myself why not? Poor Celeste would be lonely; but she did seem to want to be alone. I should miss Belinda. I had felt more alive since she came. I could ask the Greenhams to let me know at once if there was any news, and if Joel came home I could come back immediately.

By the morning I had convinced myself that it would be a good idea to go to France with Belinda and her father.

B
ELINDA GREETED MY DECISION
with delight. Then she said scornfully, “I knew you’d come to your senses. It will be such fun. Oh, how glad I am I came to England.”

Then she started to talk about the clothes she would take. She planned to go shopping that afternoon and she wanted me to go with her.

Celeste thought it would be a good thing for me to go to France.

She said, “It has been different, hasn’t it, since Belinda came? She’s good for us, Lucie. She does stop our brooding a little. I am sure you will feel better in France. You see, you’ll get right away from this place and that must be good for you. You know I told you you should get down to Manorleigh for a time, but I suppose there are too many memories there. This will be a complete change. I’ll send Amy up to help you pack.”

“I’m not ready yet.”

“Well … when you need her.”

In spite of myself, during the next few days I was caught up in the excitement. Belinda talked constantly about our trip to France. She was so happy, it was a joy to watch her. I thought how much better she managed her life than I did mine. She had lost her mother not long ago and the man whom she had regarded as a father and of whom she had been fond, yet she was able to cast off the unhappy past and look forward to the future. Perhaps it was a wonderful experience to find a long-lost father—after all, in a way I had known what that meant myself, for I, too, had discovered
my
father and we had become important to each other. So perhaps it was not so surprising after all.

Preparation for the visit took my mind off constantly wondering what was happening to Joel. I had told myself that there was nothing I could do by staying in London.

Belinda’s arrival had caused a great deal of excitement among the servants and I knew she was the main topic of conversation in their quarters. Amy—the girl who was to help me with my packing—was taking the place of one of the parlor maids who was leaving in a month’s time to get married.

She was about sixteen years of age, fresh-faced and pretty; she came from the country, she told me. She was rather loquacious and, I suppose, excited about coming to London.

She was getting on very well, she told me. She found the people very friendly. She had been told it would not be like that in London, but she had nothing to complain of.

She had brought in some cases from one of the attics and had set one on the bed. I noticed that she kept glancing toward the window, and I asked if she was expecting to see someone down there.

She blushed faintly. “It … it’s a friend,” she told me.

“Oh. You’ve quickly made friends.”

“This is a special friend, miss. I’ve known him for about three weeks.”

“A young man?”

She blushed deeper and giggled.

“Jack is his name,” she said.

“How did you meet him?”

“It was my afternoon off and I was just going for a walk in the park. He said he was walking that way. So … we got talking.”

“And you found you had a lot in common, did you?”

“You might say that, miss. He was ever so interesting. I told him where I came from … and he was very pleasant-like.”

“I suppose you’ve been told to be careful of strange men?”

“Oh yes, miss, but he wasn’t like that. He was ever so nice. He said we’d meet again and we did. He’s round this way quite a lot. He delivers things, you see … papers in envelopes … documents, I think he said … from some solicitor. He said people don’t like to trust them to the post.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Do you want to take this skirt, miss? If you’re going to, you’ll want the jacket that goes with it. Oh, here it is. I’ll fold it in tissue, then it won’t get creased.”

I went to the window and looked down. A young man was standing on the opposite side of the road in almost exactly the same spot as that other had stood.

“There is a young man down there, Amy,” I said.

“I wonder if …” She was beside me. “Oh, that’s him. That’s Jack.”

“Do you want to go down and have a word with him?”

“Oh, could I, miss?”

“Go on,” I said; and she went.

I thought I could easily do the packing myself. It had been Celeste’s idea that I needed help.

I smiled to myself, contemplating Amy and her young man. I expected there would be more; she was an attractive girl.

The day arrived for our departure. Jean Pascal came to the house with the carriage which was to take us to the station.

“I feel honored to escort two beautiful young ladies,” he said gallantly.

As we settled into the train Belinda said: “This is an adventure. Not for you, mon père. You have had too many adventures to get excited about one … if it is an adventure for you which this is not, of course.”

She had decided to call him “mon père.” “Father” seemed wrong somehow. She said, you could not suddenly start calling someone father. She thought mon père more suitable and he seemed to like it. So that was what he had become.

He said now, “I can still get excited about adventures and I do admit that this one is filling me with elation.”

We all leaned forward to wave to Celeste who was standing at the door. As we did so, I caught a glimpse of Amy’s Jack, the deliverer of documents. He was standing on the other side of the road.

“Did you see the young man?” I asked Belinda. “He’s waiting for a glimpse of Amy.” As the carriage moved off I told them about my conversation with Amy. “He delivers documents,” I added.

“An odd occupation,” said Jean Pascal. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“It may be that Amy didn’t get it right or he is trying to impress her.”

“I daresay that was it. What of your sister, Rebecca? What does she think about your coming to France?”

“It was all arranged so quickly. I have written to her, but I am wondering whether she will have received my letter by now.”

“I always had such a great respect for Rebecca. A wonderful lady. And now she is living in my old home. I find that rather amusing.”

“Oh, they love High Tor. It’s a fine old house.”

“I agree.”

“It’s a very special place for me, I believe,” said Belinda somewhat roguishly.

Her father chose to ignore that remark and, always alert for his reaction, Belinda did not pursue it.

“Everything looks different this morning,” she said. “That’s because we are leaving London.”

In a very short time we had reached the station. We were in good time but the boat train was already waiting. A porter took our luggage and we were conducted along the platform to a first class carriage.

“I expect you two young ladies would like corner seats,” said Jean Pascal.

“Oh yes, please,” cried Belinda.

She got into the train and I was about to follow her when some instinct made me turn my head. I looked along the platform and, to my astonishment, I was sure a young man I saw not far from us was Amy’s friend, Jack.

No, I thought. We left him near the house. It couldn’t possibly be. What would he be doing here at the boat train?

“Come on,” said Belinda. “What are you waiting for?”

I got into the train.

“Here is your window seat,” said Jean Pascal. He took my arm and as I sat down his hand lingered on mine.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

I could not stop thinking of Amy’s Jack. It must have been someone who bore a resemblance to him. He was really quite an ordinary young man and the mistake was understandable.

Belinda sat back in her seat and closed her eyes.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” she said.

It was during the Channel crossing that I met the Fitzgeralds.

The sea was smooth and Belinda and I were sitting on the deck with Jean Pascal. Belinda was talking animatedly with her father. I sometimes felt I was a little
de trop.
It was easy for me to understand that. Belinda wanted to be alone with the father whom she had recently discovered. She had wanted me to come along with them, true, and she had been very insistent that I should but there were moments when they wished to be alone together and this was one of them.

I stood up and said, “I am going to take a little walk.”

“Don’t go too far away,” cautioned Jean Pascal.

“No, I won’t. I’ll keep you in sight.”

I walked a little way and paused to lean on the rail and look at the sea. There was no sight of land, and the faintest breeze ruffled the waves a little. I stood, filling my lungs with the fresh air. Where was Joel now? I wondered, as I did constantly. How was Gerald faring with his what-could-be-called a wild goose chase? How could he discover what others had failed to do?

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” said a voice beside me.

I turned. A young woman was standing beside me. She was taller than I, fair-haired and had a pleasant smile.

“Very,” I replied.

“We’re lucky to have it so smooth. It can be quite rough really.”

“I’m sure it can. You cross often, do you?”

“Not often, but I have done it before … when it wasn’t so pleasant. Is this your first crossing?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, then I’m glad it is a good one.”

There was silence while we both looked out to sea. Then she said, “Are you staying in France?”

“Yes … for a time.”

“Beautiful country.”

“You know it well?”

“Not really. But I have visited it several times. This time we are going farther south than usual. Near Bordeaux.”

“Oh … so are we!”

“On holiday?”

“Yes … I suppose so. Visiting.”

“I’m convalescing.”

“Oh! You’ve been ill?”

“My brother says I need a rest away from the damp of home. He thinks this is the place. He says the climate is good for the vines so it will be for me. That’s why he’s taking me.”

“How nice of him.”

“He’s a very good brother, but he fusses a little. I’m not complaining. It’s comforting. Well, there are just the two of us now, you see. Oh … here he is.”

A man was coming toward us. He was tall and had the same pleasant smile which I had thought attractive in his sister. He was a few years older than she was, I imagined.

“Oh … there you are, Phillida,” he said, not noticing me for a few seconds. “There’s a chill in the air. Button up your coat.”

She looked at me and smiled as though to say, there, I told you so.

I was about to move away when she said: “This is my brother Roland … Roland Fitzgerald.”

“How do you do?” I said.

He took my hand and shook it. He was looking at me questioningly. “I’m Lucie Lansdon,” I said.

“We were just chatting as we looked at the sea and congratulated ourselves on its calmness,” said Phillida.