The Black Swan (12 page)

Belinda wanted to see London, she said. She had missed it and so often thought of it. She loved the parks and the shops—particularly the latter, I discovered. I went with her one day. We looked at fashionable clothes but we bought nothing.

We went into a tea shop, and over tea and cakes Belinda grew a little mournful and began to confide in me.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have come home,” she said.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I thought you were so happy to be back.”

“Oh … I am … it’s where I have longed to be. But …” She bit her lip and, shaking her head, went on, “No … I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand. You’re so rich.”

I looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Well, I know how rich your father was, and most of it is left to you. Just think of that. Anything you want, you can buy. Whereas I … Lucie, I am poor … terribly poor. …”

She stirred her tea thoughtfully. Her expression was one of abject misery. I remembered I had always been amazed at how quickly her moods could change.

“You see,” she went on, “I only have the tiniest income. One of the reasons for Tom’s heart attacks I always felt was the tension. He was dreadfully worried about the mine. Mines are gambles. They can make men’s fortunes and break them. It did very well just after Tom bought it and then it began to decline. Trust your father to have got out in time. Poor Tom was so worried he got ill and died. He left everything to my mother, of course … and she got rid of the mine. It was the only thing she could do. Henry Farrell took it over. That was one of the reasons why she was so anxious for me to come to England. She thought Celeste—who, after all, is my aunt—would look after me, I’d make a grand marriage and live in luxury for the rest of my life.”

“Well, perhaps that will come to pass.”

“Look at me!” she said. “How do I strike you?”

“Well, I suppose you would be reckoned quite good-looking.”

“Don’t mock! I look like a provincial. How can I get into London society?”

“Who said you were going to get into London society?”

“I shall be living in the house. After all, we’ll get back to normal in time … and there’ll be entertaining, won’t there?”

“I don’t know. There was a great deal of entertaining when my father was alive.”

“Well, there will be again.”

“Celeste is not a very social person.”

“I suppose you’ll be having a season.”

“Really, Belinda … with everything that has happened … I haven’t thought about that.”

“No. I suppose not. But in the meantime … oh, I feel so wretched! I don’t want to be here … not as some shabby poor relation. I shouldn’t be living in that house with you and Celeste.”

“What nonsense! As you are short of money, I can let you have some. I have enough.”

“I know you’re rich. Lucky old Lucie. Isn’t life ironical? We thought you were the waif and I was the daughter of the house. Not that he would have left all that money to me … even if he had gone on believing I was his daughter.”

“Stop talking about money. Look, I’m going to give you some.”

“How could I take it?”

“Well, make it a loan and then you can pay me back if you must.”

“How?”

“You’ll find a way, I am sure. Didn’t you always? And now I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

She looked at me with the utmost tenderness. “Oh, Lucie,” she said, “I do love you. I always did, you know. In spite of the fact that I was such a beast to you.”

“Well, that’s settled then.”

“Lucie, do you really mean you’ll give me the money?”

I looked at her in exasperation, but her face expressed such joy that I smiled.

“Do you remember that dress with the little pleats … in that lavender shade … ?”

I nodded, smiling at her enthusiasm.

“If we could go back to that shop … if I could have that, and that cape and that costume with the severe-looking blouse and the frilly one as well … if I had those, I could get by for a little while.”

“You shall have them.”

“Oh, Lucie … you … angel! It’s only a loan though. I insist.”

“Only a loan,” I agreed.

So we went back to the shop and bought the clothes which were charged to me; and I felt happier than I had for a long time. It was good to see Belinda so delighted.

When we returned to the house we were met by one of the maids.

“Oh, Miss Lansdon,” she said. “A Mr. Gerald Greenham has called. He wanted to see you specifically.”

My heart began to beat faster. My one thought was, can there be news of Joel?

Belinda, still gloating over her new acquisitions, took them upstairs; and I went into the drawing room.

“Gerald,” I cried. “How nice to see you.”

He came forward and took both my hands. I saw at once that he was excited.

“Is there news?” I asked eagerly.

“Yes … but nothing of Joel yet. The fact is I am going away. I’ve got special leave. I’m going out there, Lucie.”

“You really are! How have you managed it? I should have thought the regiment …”

He smiled at me and grinned. “I’ve got leave. It’s a special case. After all, he is my brother. Anyway, I’m leaving tomorrow. I had to come and tell you.”

“What are you going to do … when you get there?”

“I’m going to find him, Lucie.”

“Oh, Gerald … do you really think …?”

“I’m full of hope, and I had to come and let you know.”

“Thank you. It was kind of you to think of me. And your parents?”

“They think I’m going to find him … and I shall, Lucie.”

“Oh … I do hope so.”

He told me of his plans. It was a pity the journey would take so long. But he would have plenty to think about on the way. “I am determined to find him … or at least what has happened.”

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he came back!”

He nodded. “Well, wish me luck, Lucie.”

“With all my heart.”

He was so certain that he was going to succeed that he made me feel more hopeful than I had since I had heard of Joel’s disappearance.

Just as he was leaving Belinda came into the room. She was wearing the lavender dress with the pleats. It fitted her somewhat voluptuous figure perfectly and she looked very attractive.

“Oh, hello,” she said, “I didn’t realize your visitor was still here. I had to try it on, Lucie. I was so thrilled.”

“This is Mr. Gerald Greenham,” I said, “and this is Celeste’s niece, Miss Belinda … Marner.” I hesitated over her name. She had been called Lansdon while she was with us, but of course that had not been her real name. She was, I supposed, in fact Belinda Polhenny for that was her mother’s name; it did not fit her at all and she had taken Tom Marner’s name when Leah had married him, which seemed a sensible thing to do.

She was smiling at him in a way with which I was to become familiar—provocative, inviting admiration.

Gerald certainly gave it.

“I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Marner,” he said.

“I’m delighted, too,” she replied, and they stood smiling at each other with mutual approval.

“Mr. Greenham and his family were great friends of my father,” I said.

“So are you in politics?” said Belinda. “How exciting!”

“Sorry,” said Gerald. “Army. But politics runs in the family. My father … my elder brother…”

“And you escaped that fate,” said Belinda. “Are you leaving now?” She gave a little pout as though she objected to that.

“I have to,” he told her regretfully.

“Mr. Greenham is leaving the country tomorrow,” I told her.

“How exciting! Is it permitted to ask where you are going?”

“To Africa.”

“How thrilling! Of course, people in the army do travel about …”

She had certainly impressed him. I could see that he was very reluctant to go; he seemed temporarily even to have forgotten the project about which he had been so excited on his arrival.

When he had gone Belinda stood before me smoothing down the pleats of the dress. “Well, what do you think?” she asked.

“That you made a great effort to attract his interest,” I said. “And you managed to do it very effectively.”

She looked at me mischievously. “Oh … I was talking about the dress.”

“It suits you,” I told her.

And I thought, she hasn’t changed one little bit. She has come home not so much to see us as to find a husband who will keep her in luxury for the rest of her life.

A few days later there was another visitor to the house. This was Jean Pascal Bourdon. He had written to Celeste to say that he would be in London for a brief spell and would like to come and see his sister.

When she told me this I immediately thought that this sudden interest might have something to do with the letter I was sure Belinda had written to him.

When she heard that he was coming, Belinda was very excited. She became pensive. She asked me a great deal of questions about him and brought the subject up with Celeste, who was somewhat noncommittal, so she turned back to me.

I told her that he was interested in wine and that the family owned a château in the Médoc. “That,” I said, “I believe, is the greatest wine-growing country in France … or one of them. I believe the place is called Château Bourdon and has been in the family for years. I think he has a small
pied-à-terre
in London, for he does not stay here in this house which might be expected, Celeste being his sister. It would be quite convenient for him. I believe he spends some time in Farnborough where his parents have their home.”

“In the court of the Empress Eugenie,” said Belinda, her eyes sparkling. “Celeste does not go there.”

“No, she never did … and they did not come here. In any case his father died a little while ago and his mother is too feeble to travel.”

“My grandparents,” murmured Belinda.

“I believe they are very formal. In any case you will see Monsieur Jean Pascal Bourdon when he comes here. He’ll be dining with us on Tuesday.”

I could see that she was already making plans. She was deciding what she would wear. She bought a book on wines and spent some time studying it. She was determined to impress him.

She wore the lavender dress with the pleats and piled her dark hair high on her head. She looked very arresting.

“I wish I had some piece of jewelry,” she sighed. “Pearls would look just right with this.”

“You don’t need any further adornment,” I told her.

“Lucie,
you
haven’t any idea.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Then I won’t interfere. I was going to say I have a pearl brooch which my father gave me.”

“Oh, Lucie … really! Show me!”

I brought it out and she pinned it on her dress. “It’s lovely,” she cried. “It’s perfect. Elegant simplicity, is it not? You’re going to lend it to me, I know.”

I nodded and she threw her arms about my neck, perfunctorily kissing me. Her thoughts were far away, thinking of the effect she would have on her father.

We went down to the drawing room together.

He was there with Celeste and rose as we entered. He was of medium height, with dark hair and lively dark eyes; he was handsome in a way, with well-defined features in a somewhat classic mold; he spoke English well with only the faintest trace of accent. He was elegant and suave, and there was something about him which slightly repelled me. I was not sure what, but I did know that whenever he was mentioned Rebecca’s attitude showed me clearly that she did not like him, and I think that this attitude of hers had sown seeds of mistrust within me.

“Here are Lucie and Belinda,” said Celeste.

He turned to us. “Lucie!” He took my hand and kissed it. “Enchanted,” he murmured. And then, “Belinda.” He took both her hands. “Why … you are beautiful. I think we should get to know each other, don’t you?”

Belinda sparkled. Her eyes danced. I, who understood her well, knew she was thinking that it was going to be easy to make a conquest of this man. I was not so sure. I felt I knew a little of him—not much, but enough to tell me that one could not take him entirely for what he appeared to be. He could not be easily understood. He was Belinda’s father and I imagined they might have similar characteristics in some respects. That might draw them together.

“Dinner will be served very soon,” said Celeste.

He looked at his sister. “Will there be guests?”

“No, I thought we might just be … the family.”

“Excellent idea. It is what I hoped.”

“Well, in a few minutes, I should think, we should go in. It will be the small room tonight.”

“Delightfully intimate,” he said.

His eyes were on Belinda—admiring, I thought, though one could not be sure with such a man.

“I am so pleased you have come home,” he said to Belinda.

“So am I,” she answered.

“You don’t look as though you have come from … what is it they call it? … the outback?”

“Yes,” said Belinda, “they do call it that.”

“Rather you look like a young lady of fashion.”

“What one is depends upon oneself,” responded Belinda.

“How right you are.”

“Belinda has told us a great deal about her life on the goldfields,” said Celeste. “It was very interesting.”

“You must tell me … sometime,” he said to Belinda.

It was an indication that they would meet again and that he was not particularly interested in goldfields. Belinda got the message. She was beaming. I fancied she was deciding that it was all going according to her plans.

At dinner there was an animated conversation, generally between Belinda and Jean Pascal. It was clear to both Celeste and me that he was delighted with her and amused and rather pleased to be presented with a grown-up daughter.

Belinda had always been without reticence. She talked animatedly, showing a lively interest in the château in France and the wine industry.

“It’s not far from Bordeaux,” he said. “Wine-growing country. Everything there is suitable for it.”

“It produces the best wine in the world,” said Belinda.

“We think so, naturally.”

“So does the whole world. I think it must be fascinating watching over the grapes … making sure that everything is all right. How wonderful!”

“It can be far from pleasant sometimes,” he told her. “There are forces to contend with … weather and disease.”