The Black Swan (43 page)

Feverishly I opened all the drawers. There was nothing. There was a chest in one corner of the room. It was locked. I hunted for a key and found one in a drawer of the desk. I had noticed it when I was searching for the papers.

It fitted. I opened the chest and looked inside. There were clothes in there … Phillida’s clothes. I turned them over and then I saw what I had been subconsciously looking for: it was an opera hat and a cloak and with it a dark wig, the hair of which came to a widow’s peak.

Phillida! I thought. Phillida!

And Roland? What did he know of this? It was mysterious and very frightening.

There had been times when Phillida had been with me when I saw the vision. Could Roland have done this? There had been another time when they were both with me … together … who then?

I could not believe this of Roland, who had always been so loving and tender.

While I stood there I heard someone arriving at the house. Phillida was coming back. She must not find me in this room. I took the garments, the wig and the suicide note, unlocked the door and ran up the stairs. I reached the top just as Phillida, with Roland, was coming into me house.

I had to get away … at once. I would take the horse and ride into Bradford and get the next train to London.

I must tell neither of them. It was imperative that I get out of this house immediately. I hid the incriminating garments with the wig in the walk-in cupboard. The suicide note I put into my pocket.

I listened for sounds from below, but I could only hear the beating of my heart.

How was I going to get away? If only they would go out again.

Then I heard their voices. I must try to behave as though nothing had happened and be ready at the earliest moment to get away.

I could not believe that Roland knew of this. Yet he had stood beside me and looked down at whoever was wearing those clothes and he had said he could see nothing.

The only other person in the house was Kitty.

Could it possibly be that Kitty was the one? It must be Kitty. Could it be that Roland and Phillida did not know? Would Kitty have written that note? Would she have put it in Phillida’s drawer? Perhaps she had been disturbed suddenly.

But the fact remained that both Roland and Phillida had declared they had seen nothing of the figure in the cloak and wig. Both had treated me as though I were a little deranged.

It was all too mysterious. Whatever I thought, one thing was clear. I must leave this place without delay.

Roland and Phillida were still downstairs. I could hear their voices.

Then … Roland came into the room.

“Lucie … my dearest … what is it?”

“I’m going to see Rebecca,” I told him.

“Not today surely?”

“I think it best.”

“What’s happened? You look shaken.”

I said, “I am shaken. Something has happened.”

“What is it? Lucie dear, please tell me.”

“I have heard from Belinda.”

“How did she know where to reach you?”

“I had mentioned the place. The letter was at the post office. It was given to me when I went in there.”

“From Belinda …” he said.

“Yes.” I blurted out, “Fergus O’Neill has a brother.”

I could not interpret the expression on his face. He said quietly, “How did you find out?”

“Joel discovered it. He would be able to, you know. In his position … he would have special means of doing so. There is something else …”I could not stop once I had started, and try as I might, I could not believe evil of Roland. I went to the cupboard and brought out the hat, cloak and wig. I laid them on the bed.

“There,” I said. “What do you think of that?”

He stared at them in horror and for some seconds was speechless. Then he stammered, “Where?”

“In Phillida’s herbary. In a chest. And I found this too. It is a note to you supposed to have been written by me. It tells why I killed myself.”

“Oh, my God!” he said. Then he turned to me, “Lucie, we’ve got to get out of this house, There’s not a moment to lose. We must go at once … quietly. We’ll take the horses … go to the station … take the first train. Let’s hope it’s to London. But we must get away … quickly.”

I have never seen such misery in any face as I saw then in his. I thought, it is Phillida … and he knows.

“Come,” he said. “Don’t waste time. Oh, my God, what can I do?”

He was looking for money. He found some in a drawer and stuffed it into his pocket. “There’s not a minute to lose,” he murmured.

He opened the door and looked out. Then he turned to me.

“Come,” he said urgently, and quietly we went down the stairs. We reached the door which he opened quietly and we were speeding to the stables.

We were breathless as we saddled the horses but as we did so I heard a sound. The stable door opened and Phillida stood there. She glanced toward us; I saw the venom in her face. She was a different person from the Phillida I had hitherto known. A fleeting image of the black swan which I had encountered on Jean Pascal’s estate flashed into my mind. So elegant … so graceful … and then the sudden change to hatred.

Jean Pascal had said, “There are people like that. You must beware of them.”

I saw with horror that she held a gun. Roland had seen it too. I heard his gasp of fear and horror.

She was looking at him. “You coward!” she cried. “You traitor! You should have done it months ago.” The invective flowed from her; she could not contain her contempt. I listened in dismay. “Your fancy ideas. They were going to be the best way. It is just because you wanted to keep her alive. Roland, how could you! You have betrayed us all.”

Roland did not speak. He put an arm round me … protectively.

“Well, the plans have changed, brother,” Phillida went on. “We’ll do it differently. We have to think of another solution. She did it here … in the stables … that’ll do. In the stables. Why not?”

She came closer.

I knew she was going to kill me. She was going to leave the note in my bedroom. I had it in the pocket of my coat jacket. Perhaps she would not think to look there. She would think it was still in the drawer in her room. That would not matter. She would write another. The note would explain my growing fear of insanity. I had had visions. I had told Rebecca of this. Joel, Rebecca … you will believe it. It sounds so plausible. They will destroy the wig and the clothes; they will produce the note. The people in that house and Mrs. Hellman … they will say they were warned of my obsessions. Phillida had planned every detail. I wondered why. And Roland … he was my husband whatever else he was.

I would never know because I was going to die.

She was coming closer, holding the gun. It had to be near, as my death must pass as suicide. I believed there were means of testing these things.

Now … at any moment. Her finger was on the trigger. Then Roland made a sudden movement and thrust himself in front of me. I heard the two shots. Roland and I fell to the ground. I was aware of warm blood on my face … and then of nothing more.

I seemed to be emerging from waves of mist. I heard a voice say, “The lady’s not seriously hurt. It’s in the shoulder, I think.”

I was in the stable. I saw the light from lanterns.

“Better get them to the hospital … both of them.”

“I heard the shots and came straight over … me and my cowman,” said a man’s voice. “Hellman’s Farm … that’s me. Thought it was thieves or something.”

I did not remember any more until I woke up in the hospital and learned that it was next morning.

A nurse came into my room. I said, “Roland … Mr. Fitzgerald?”

“He’s here. He’s having attention.”

“He’s not …?”

She hesitated. “He’s having great care.”

What did it all mean? Why did Phillida want to kill him? I was beginning to realize that I had been in the center of a conspiracy … completely unaware of all the dangers around me. And Roland had been involved.

During the morning a doctor came to see me.

“You were lucky,” he said, looking at me benignly. “The bullet glanced off. It’s just grazed you really. You’ll be all right in a week or so.”

I said, “And Mr. Fitzgerald?”

He said, “We’re looking after him.”

“You think …?”

“We’ll do our best,” he added vaguely yet meaningfully. Then I knew that Roland was very badly hurt. He had taken the bullet which had been meant for me.

They came in later and asked me whom they could notify.

I gave them Celeste’s address, Rebecca’s and Belinda’s … then I added Joel’s.

I thought, they will come to me. And I felt a certain peace.

In the late afternoon the sister came and sat by my bedside.

She said, “It’s your husband. He’s asking for you.”

I tried to get out of bed, but she restrained me. “No … no. Don’t try to stand. We’ll take you to him. He … er … is very ill.”

“Is he dying?” I asked.

“He’s not really in a state to see you. But he is very agitated and the doctor thinks that in the circumstances … it might be best.”

“Then please take me to him at once.”

They wheeled me into the small room where he lay. He looked quite unlike himself.

“Roland …” I said.

He opened his eyes and I saw the joy in them.

I looked appealingly at the nurse and she said, “I’ll leave you. Only for a few minutes, mind.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Lucie …” Roland was smiling at me. “Dear Lucie … you came.”

“Of course I came.”

“There’s not long for me,” he murmured.

I did not answer. I took his hand which was lying limply on the coverlet and pressed it.

He smiled. “You see … I love you,” he said. “I … I couldn’t do it.”

“Don’t talk if it’s painful, Roland.”

“I have to. You must know. I’m the brother of Fergus O’Neill.”

“You! Then Phillida is his sister.”

“It was for the cause … freedom for our country. We all believed it was right. We’d all worked for it … my father … the whole family.”

“Your father was dead. You told me so. He and your mother died together in the accident.”

“No … no. He is one of the leaders of our cause. We … his children, have always been brought up to work for it. We intended to kill you when Fergus was hanged. Revenge, you see, and to show the world that our heroes are not to be treated as common criminals. They are the martyrs and must be avenged. Then we thought of this other plan. You were rich. I would marry you and then stage your suicide. The money which I would inherit would come to us … to the cause. It seemed amusing to them that the money of our enemies should be used to support our cause. It would be used to bring about the extermination of other enemies.”

“It can’t be …”

“You don’t understand, Lucie. We are dedicated … all of us. And I was until … and it will not be the last time … except for me. We wanted the money. “He smiled wryly. “It’s an expensive operation to run. Trips to France … houses in the country. When we found that the money could not come to us … it was tied up in some trust … we had to change the plan. We were going to kill you at once. You remember the fire. Phillida was good with her herbs. Her nightcaps were used so that, if she wanted to send you into a deep sleep at any time, she could do so and it would all seem quite natural. At other times they were quite harmless.”

My thoughts went back to that night when Belinda had drunk the draught prepared for me. If she had not, of course, I should not have awakened in time to save myself. I murmured, “Belinda saved my life.”

“Yes. If she had not taken the nightcap you would have been in a deep sleep and would not have awakened until it was too late to save yourself … perhaps not at all. I was not to be in the house. We had arranged that. I think it was then that I began to realize how much I loved you. When I saw you in London … expecting you to be dead … I was so happy, so overjoyed. I realized then what you meant to me.”

I was living it all again … seeing Belinda … sleeping deeply throughout that night.

I said slowly, “So there was never any connection with the wool trade in Bradford?”

“It was the background we had set up. I was to marry you, make sure that I would be in possession of your fortune … and then we were going to kill you. It could not be a straightforward execution. That would have been too dangerous for us. We had to stage a suicide. With a victim so close it was taking a great risk. We had to plan very carefully. We knew you were going to France through the maid with whom one of our workers had become friendly. It was easy to get the information out of her.”

I remembered then. Amy, I believe was her name. And there was the man who had “delivered documents.” How meticulously they had laid their plans!

Roland went on, his voice becoming a little slurred, “The police in England are aware of our family … the O’Neills … not the Fitzgeralds. Phillida did most of the ghosting. She was very good at it. I did it once, Lucie. I am ashamed to tell you. Kitty did the last one. She is one of us, of course. I hated doing it, Lucie. But I had to do it. It was the plan. …”

“It is all becoming clear to me, now,” I said.

“We could not have done it that way if it had not been for Joel Greenham’s disappearance and reported death. If you had refused to marry me we should have had to make other plans … but the thought of getting our hands on all the money seemed an opportunity not to be missed.”

“It seems incredible.”

“If you knew more of our organization you would realize that things which seem incredible are a matter of course. Phillida has always been more dedicated than I, and she was very close to Fergus. He was our father’s favorite, too. He was the adventurous one. He loved what he was doing for its own sake as well as the cause. He brought a touch of melodrama into it. Phillida is like that, too. I was different. In a way they despised me. They will more than ever now.”

“You did this,” I said. “You made all these plans … and yet at the end you saved my life.”

He said simply, “Yes … but you see, I grew to love you, and that was more important to me than anything else.”

I sat very still. My throat was constricted so that for a moment I could not speak. At length I said, “Roland … what will happen now?”