The Black Swan

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. 1 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 chateau in the Medoc. “That,” I said, “I believe, is the greatest wine-growing country in France ... or one of them. I believe the place is called Chateau 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.