The Black Swan

While I was talking to Sir John and Lady Greenham, Gerald Greenham arrived. There was only about a year’s difference in his and Joel’s ages and I knew there was a strong friendship between the two brothers. Gerald was likable and full of vitality, though he lacked that inner gentleness which I found so appealing in Joel. He talked about his brother’s disappearance. Naturally it was the chief topic of conversation in that house. He was of the opinion that not enough was being done to find out what had happened.

Sir John said that naturally plans of action would not be blazoned from the rooftops and in such cases there was bound to be a certain amount of secrecy. Gerald stuck to his view. He asked me how I was getting on, remembering suddenly it seemed that I had endured an even greater tragedy for, while they could retain hope, I could have none.

When I rose to go, Sir John suggested that Gerald should take me home, to which Gerald responded with enthusiasm.

When we came out of the house he hailed a cab and, as we jogged along together, he said: “This is a great blow to the parents. They hide it ... but I know what it is doing to them.”

“I understand.”

“I get impatient. / want to do something.”

“What could you do?”

“That’s the important question. What I can’t endure is sitting at home here waiting for something to happen. I get impatient.”

“Understandably.”

“You must feel the same. I know how you felt about Joel.”

“I do wish he would come back.”

“I’d like to go out there... make a few investigations, in secret... you understand.

Not letting on that I was his brother.”

“I suppose the government could achieve more than a private detective.”

“That depends. I’d like to have a good go anyway.”

I glanced sideways at him. He had a very firm jaw; and there was speculation in his eyes.

I liked him very much. He really cared about his brother. When I said good-bye I felt a little better... because of him.

The weeks began to pass. There were letters from Belinda, one for me, one for Celeste.

By the time they reached us she was on her way.

I visited Manorleigh briefly, but I felt I wanted to be in London. I no longer looked fearfully out of the window at night. I had done so during the first weeks and been confronted always by the empty street.

I had one or two sessions with the solicitors who talked at great length about the trust and what should be done about that money that was now virtually mine. I could not give my thoughts entirely to such matters; they seemed of little importance when compared with my fears for Joel.

It had been more than a month since his disappearance and a melancholy possibility had occurred to me that I might never see him again.

I visited the Greenhams from time to time. They continued to be hopeful, but I sometimes wondered whether that was a pretense. I saw Gerald once and he was still obsessed by his brother’s disappearance.

Time was going on.

Celeste said that we should bestir ourselves. She looked upon me as her responsibility. She said on one occasion that girls in my position had a season and she was sure it was what my father had been planning for me.

“Though I believe,” she added, “that he wanted to shelve the matter for a while.

He was afraid someone would marry you and take you away from him.”

I put my hand over hers and we were both too emotional to speak. She recovered herself and said, “Well, with all this hanging over us, we couldn’t possibly do it. We’ll have to wait.”

“I don’t need a season, Celeste,” I said. “I should hate it. If... when... Joel comes back, we shall marry ... he and I ... and seasons are not for married women.”

“He must come back,” said Celeste.

And we looked at each other sadly.

“And”, went on Celeste, “soon there will be Belinda”.

“A season for Belinda,” I murmured.

 “The two of us together”.

It was surprising how often Belinda cropped up in our conversation.

And then one spring day, the African Star sailed into Tilbury with Belinda on it. Celeste and I went to Tilbury to meet her. I knew her at once. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, with something of Leah’s beauty, and an indefinable touch of the exotic which perhaps came from her French ancestors. Her main characteristic was that immense vitality which had always been apparent when she was a child. She sparkled with a love of life. She had not changed and she was very attractive. We were introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Wilberforce, who seemed rather relieved to hand over their charge. Not that Belinda would regard herself as such. For her they had not been guardians but traveling companions. She rushed at me in the old exuberant way.

 “Lucie... Lucie... the same old Lucie! I should have picked you out anywhere.

Oh, it is wonderful to see you.”

Celeste regarded her rather shyly.

“Welcome home, Belinda,” she said.

“Well, thank you,” replied Belinda, and kissed her. “I’m so glad to be here.”