The Black Swan (24 page)

Phillida clapped her hands. “What a wonderful day that was,” she said, “when we met on the Channel ferry.”

Rebecca understood now that I should not be accompanying her to Cornwall.

“But you will come later on,” she said. “It will be something for us to look forward to.”

Belinda arrived at the house with Jean Pascal. I was not looking forward to seeing the latter but when he appeared he was so gracefully charming, and no reference was made to my unconventional departure from the château.

I was glad, however, that he did not stay at the house although I expected him to be there frequently during the coming weeks.

Belinda was in a state of bliss. She chattered endlessly and the subject was always that of the imminent wedding. She had changed the venue of the honeymoon five or six times.

First it was going to be Rome. “The catacombs and all that. The Colosseum. We shall see where the Romans sent the Christians to the lions.”

Then a few days later: “I don’t know. I don’t think I want to see all those old ruins. But I believe there is rather a nice fountain. You throw a coin in and it means you will come back. I think I’d rather like that. But perhaps … Florence.”

Then we heard of the glories of Florence for a few days until she thought of Venice.

“All those canals. Fascinating. Drifting along in a gondola with a handsome gondolier.”

“You shouldn’t be interested in handsome gondoliers … only in your new husband.”

“I shall have to make him jealous … now and then, don’t you think?”

“No, I do not.”

“Of course
you
wouldn’t … and what do you know about it?”

“Enough to know that it is not a very propitious start to a honeymoon for the bride to be planning conquests of other men.”

She put out her tongue at me as she used to do when we were children.

Finally Venice was the favorite.

“Doesn’t poor Bobby get a choice?” I asked.

“He just wants to do what I want.”

“I can see that he is determined to keep you contented.”

She loved that sort of banter and she could get it only from me. I believe she was fond of me in a way, just as I was of her. In spite of everything that had happened, there was a bond between us and it was impossible to break it.

The days began to slip by. There was so much to do and it all seemed so important that I have to admit that there were periods—quite long ones—when I stopped thinking of my father and Joel.

Celeste noticed and said it was the same for her. She said to me, “This wedding is good for us, Lucie.” And I knew what she meant.

“It’s an indication,” she went on. “It shows that … in time … we can grow away from the past.”

Jean Pascal had decided that it should be a grand occasion. I think he had become quite fond of Belinda. She amused him and he liked to be amused. She was really very attractive and that made him proud of her, I imagined. I wondered what Leah would have said to see her daughter now.

The wedding gown had arrived. It was beautiful and made of Valenciennes lace and satin; there was a wreath of orange blossom for her hair and her bouquet was to be made of gardenias.

“Everything will be white,” she said.

“A sign of purity,” I reminded her.

I was surprised at the effect my words had on her. She looked at me sharply. “Why did you say that?”

“Because it is true, isn’t it?”

“I thought you were …”

“What? What did you think?”

“Oh … nothing.”

“You looked quite fierce.”

“I thought you were making fun.”

“We’re always making fun, aren’t we?”

“Yes … but that was different.”

“Whatever has got into you?”

“Oh nothing, pre-wedding nerves.”

“You! With pre-wedding nerves? You’re joking.”

“Of course, you idiot.”

But there was something on her mind. I wondered what for a while and then I forgot it.

The wedding day dawned. There were a good many guests and of course the press was in evidence. Belinda was referred to as the niece of Benedict Lansdon. The press was interested on this account. It was recalled that Belinda was married from the very house outside which the assassination had taken place.

“Happier Days,” commented one newspaper. “The ghost of the past exorcised. Today, from the door from which Benedict Lansdon had emerged on that fatal day to meet his assassin came a charming bride. Miss Belinda Bourdon, niece of Mrs. Celeste Lansdon, was married today from the very house outside which Benedict Lansdon was shot not quite two years ago.”

It was a pity they had to bring memories back to us.

So Belinda became Lady Denver. She was a very beautiful bride. I shall never forget the sight of her standing beside Robert while they cut the cake. She looked radiantly happy and I was sure she was.

Celeste and I helped her change into what she called her going-away costume. It was peacock blue trimmed with miniver. She looked enchanting in the close-fitting hat made of matching blue feathers.

She kissed us fervently and told us how much she loved us, which was rather touching coming from Belinda. Then we were all waving them off on their way to Venice.

I was with Roland and Phillida afterward.

“It was a wonderful wedding,” said Phillida. She looked a little wistful. “It is marvelous to be as happy as that.”

Roland agreed with her.

“It’s always something of an anticlimax at this moment,” I said. “The bride and bridegroom have departed. And here we are left …”

“With friends,” said Roland looking at me steadily.

“Yes, of course,” I replied. “With friends.”

There was indeed a feeling of anticlimax after the wedding. I missed my verbal battles with Belinda. They had somehow brightened the days. Jean Pascal was in London which made me feel I wanted to get away.

Rebecca was preparing to go back to Cornwall and urged me to go with her. I hesitated. Much as I liked to be with her and her family, I did not think it was what I needed just then. I told myself that Celeste needed me here. There was another thought which occurred to me. I should not see the Fitzgeralds and it brought home to me how much their friendship meant to me.

Then I thought of Manorleigh. I had loved that house in my childhood. It had seemed full of mystery, and life had been exciting there. Belinda and I used to ride round the paddock on our ponies. There was the haunted garden with the oak tree and the seat on which Belinda had once played the ghost. It was
my
house now; and that gave it an added attraction.

I told Rebecca that I should like to stay there for a week or so.

“A good idea,” she agreed. “It will get you out of London, and you are not so far away.”

“I shall ask Celeste to come and stay for a few days when she wants to. I think she would be rather lonely if I went far away.”

Rebecca understood.

Celeste said she would love to come to Manorleigh.

“Any time you feel like it, Celeste. It is your home … just as I think of this house as mine.”

I saw Rebecca off to Cornwall and I should have felt very melancholy at her departure if I had not been making plans to go to Manorleigh.

When the Fitzgeralds called I told them that I was going away for a while and could not help being pleased by the blank dismay on their faces.

“Actually it is only a little way out of London,” I told them. “Manorleigh was my father’s constituency. He bought Manor Grange because of that. And now it is mine. It’s a lovely old place and it is quite a long time since I’ve seen it. I am going down there for a while.”

“We might be able to visit you perhaps,” suggested Roland.

“But of course. I shall expect that. I am going on Monday. Why don’t you come down at the weekend? That will give me time to settle in and prepare the servants. You could come on Friday if that is convenient.”

Roland looked at Phillida whose eyes were shining with delight.

“We shall be there, shan’t we, Roland?” she cried.

He looked at me steadily. “That is one thing of which you can be sure.”

So I left for Manorleigh. Celeste came with me. She said she would go back on the Wednesday. She just wanted to see me settle in.

We had a good welcome when we arrived. Mr. and Mrs. Emery, who had been with us for years, were waiting in the hall with the parlor maid, two housemaids and Mrs. Grant, the cook.

It was rather formal at first. They had known me as a child and as the outsider at that, the child their beloved Miss Rebecca had unconventionally brought into the household; they had not known then, of course, that I was Benedict Lansdon’s daughter; and I don’t think they ever really got used to this fact.

Mrs. Emery had adored Rebecca. I was sure she would have been delighted if my half sister had inherited the house. However, here I was.

As head of the staff, Mr. and Mrs. Emery were very much aware of their position in the house and constantly afraid that it would be assailed in some way. I imagined they were wondering why I had suddenly decided to come.

We were installed in our rooms. Mine was the one which used to be next to Rebecca’s. It looked down on the oak with the wooden seat under it. It was the spot where the ghosts were said to gather.

I stood looking out of the window for some time, remembering so much of the past. I had known memories would come flooding back in this house.

I slept well and was awake early. I was reminding myself that it would not be long before the Fitzgeralds came. What fun it would be showing them the house!

After breakfast Mrs. Emery asked me if I would come to her room for a little chat.

“It was Miss Rebecca’s way to do that,” she said. “She and I got on like a house afire. What a lovely young lady! I trust she and Mr. Cartwright are well.”

“They are very well, Mrs. Emery. My sister would have liked to come and stay here for a few days before going back to Cornwall after the wedding, but she felt she had left her family too long.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Neither Mr. Cartwright nor the children like her to stay away too long.”

“No. I am sure he doesn’t and as for the little ones … God bless them. As long as she is well and happy …”

“She is, Mrs. Emery.”

She was looking at me anxiously. “You have had a terrible time, Miss Lucie.”

I nodded. “I have to put that behind me, Mrs. Emery.”

“I was wondering … Miss Lucie … if you have any plans. …”

“Plans?”

“About the house. I mean, Emery and me … well, we’ve been wondering. …”

“Oh, I see what you mean. I’d always want you here, Mrs. Emery … you and Mr. Emery. No, I haven’t any plans. I’ve been so shocked by everything. Then I went to France … and almost immediately there was Belinda’s wedding.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Emery, “that was something, that was. And Lady Denver she is now. I remember her well, though it’s years since I’ve seen her. She must have changed a bit.”

“She’s grownup. But … she is still … Belinda.”

“I see what you mean,” said Mrs. Emery nodding sagely. “Will you be living here now, Miss Lucie?”

“I’m very unsure at the moment. It is my home now, I suppose. I think Mrs. Lansdon would like me to be with her. I expect I shall be between here and London and go now and then to Cornwall. It will be like the old days.”

“I see. I reckon it will all work out. You were always so fond of Manorleigh … and now it’s yours! It’s a wonderful house. Emery and me … well, we’ve come to feel rather … settled here, if you know what I mean.”

“I do, Mrs. Emery. Don’t think for a moment that I want to change anything. I have a feeling that this will be my home really. By the way, I have some guests coming for the weekend.”

She brightened considerably. “Oh, that’s good. How many, if I may ask?”

“There are two … a brother and a sister. I met them in France.”

“Are they French, Miss Lucie?”

“No. They’re English. They were staying in France near where I was. I had met them on the Channel crossing. It was quite exciting when they turned out to be staying near. Well, the fact is they visited us in London and I want them to see this place.”

“Brother and sister. The Blue Room, I think, for the lady and I’ll talk to Emery about where we’ll put the gentleman. So Friday … and that will be for luncheon, will it?”

“Yes, it will.”

“It’s nice to have things going on in the house,” she said. “I can’t tell you how glad I am you’ve come. So is Emery.”

Celeste went back to London and I waited for the arrival of the Fitzgeralds with an impatience which amazed me.

They came in the morning. It was wonderful to see them and my spirits immediately rose. I took them up to their rooms where everything had been made ready for them; and then I showed them the house which delighted them.

Phillida wanted to hear the story of the haunted garden and listened intently when I told her of the young wife who had died when her daughter was born and came back to comfort her; and how the daughter grew into a strange woman who used to sit on the haunted seat under the oak tree and talk to her dead mother.

Phillida said it was a delightful story. “You believe it?” she asked.

I replied, “I don’t know. Would you?”

“Yes, I think I would,” she replied. “I think people might come back … in special circumstances. If they suddenly left the earth … like the woman who left her child. That would be love, wouldn’t it? Some might come back for hate.”

“Phillida,” chided Roland.

“Well, suppose someone had been murdered … mightn’t that person feel that he … or she … had to come back and haunt the one who had sent him to the grave?”

“Or her,” said Roland lightly.

“Well, of course. You’re laughing at me. He does laugh at me now and then, as you know, Lucie. I suppose I’m full of fancies. That is what my dear brother thinks. But I am not sure about such things.
You
see what I mean, Lucie, don’t you? I believe you have an open mind, too.”

“Yes, I believe I have.”

“What a morbid conversation,” said Roland. “And in this beautiful house!”

“Well, it was this beautiful house which started it,” pointed out his sister. “Those people under the tree and all that.”