The Black Swan

When we arrived back at the house, Belinda came as usual to my room. It was becoming a habit for her to do so for she liked to comment on the day. “What a wonderful evening!” she said. “I expect you were thrilled to be part of it.”

“I certainly enjoyed the opera.”

“He’s going to take us to the play. We’re going to see Ellen Terry and Henry Irving. Isn’t that exciting? I’m so glad I wrote to him. Don’t you think, Lucie, that most people don’t make things happen. They just go on accepting what is. I like to say / want that to happen and then I’m going to make it happen.”

“I think you are the sort of person who has always done that.”

“Isn’t it clever?”

“Not always, Belinda.”

I was wondering whether she remembered what she had done to Rebecca and Pedrek. That was one of the occasions when she had attempted to arrange life as she wanted it to go; and she had succeeded temporarily. She was fortunate in having to deal with forgiving people like Rebecca and Pedrek.

Now she was thinking that if she had not written to her father and implied she wanted to see him all this would not be happening now, so I supposed she had a point.

True to his promise, Jean Pascal took us to the theater. It was a wonderful experience because we saw the unique Ellen Terry as Katharine in Henry VIII. We were all entranced, and even Jean Pascal dropped his mood of cynical sophistication and became engrossed in the performance. There was the usual supper afterward. “I liked her,” said Belinda. “She wasn’t going to give in.”

“But in the end she had to,” I pointed out. “He was too powerful for her.”

“That is because he was a king and a man,” replied Belinda. “They have all the power.”

“So you think that men have too much power?” asked her father. “I think they do not have as much as they think they have... and they can be made to do things which women want as long as they don’t know they’re doing it.” Jean Pascal laughed. “She’s a devious creature, this daughter of mine,” he said.

“I am beginning to wonder whether I shall have to be on my guard against her.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t approve of,” said Belinda quickly.

“How should I know that? Would it all be part of the guile to deceive?”

“You’d know. You’re clever.”

“Still leading me on?”

Belinda was a little nonplussed. She was wondering, I guessed, whether she had betrayed too much of herself.

We went on discussing the play but she was a little restrained and uneasy. It was during supper that Jean Pascal said, “I shall have to be going back to France very soon.”

Belinda’s expression betrayed her bitter disappointment.

He put on a doleful look and went on, “Well, you see, I have to find out what’s going on there. I have been away rather a long time.”

“When will you be coming back?” asked Belinda.

“That is something I cannot be sure of.”

Melancholy settled at the table. It was amazing how Belinda carried us along with her moods.

Then he said, “I’ve been wondering ...”He paused for some seconds. “I rather think you would enjoy the chateau.”

Belinda’s eyes opened wide. Joy flooded back. He was smiling at her and I knew he found her enchanting.

“Well,” he went on, “it is the country ... of course, we are not so very far from Bordeaux ...”

“Do you mean ... I could come with you?”

“I was wondering ...”

“Oh, how marvelous! When do we go?”

“The end of the week. Is that enough notice?”

“It’s wonderful. I’d be ready to go tomorrow.”

“Then it is settled.” He paused. “There was something....” Belinda looked worried. Then he said, looking at me, “Perhaps Lucie would like to come, too?”

“I?” I said, surprised.

“Well, you are Lucie, are you not?”

“Oh, Lucie,” cried Belinda. “You must come. Oh, you must. I’d hate for you not to.

It would do her good, wouldn’t it, Aunt Celeste?”

“I think it would be a change of scene and that would be good for her,” said Celeste.

“Go to France ...” I began. “But ...”

“Oh, don’t be so stodgy, Lucie,” cried Belinda. “She is a bit stodgy, you know,” she said to her father. “She dithers. She always did.”

“You must be nicer to Lucie,” admonished Jean Pascal. “She has been a very good friend to you.”

“I am nice to her. Aren’t I, Lucie? I want her to come with us. You will, won’t you, Lucie? Say yes.”

“I ... I’d like to think about it.”

“What do you want to think about? It’s marvelous. / want you to come.”

“You’d be very welcome,” said Jean Pascal. “And it wouldn’t be the same for Belinda without you.”

“What about Celeste?”

“Let Celeste come, too.”

“No... no,” protested Celeste. “I couldn’t think of it. But, Lucie, I think it might be good for you to get away for a while.”

“I did get away to Cornwall.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t long enough.”

Jean Pascal leaned across the table and took my hand. “Think about it,” he said warmly.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I will.”

Later Belinda stormed into my room.

“Of course you’ll come,” she announced. “Why not? You are an old spoilsport. I don’t understand why you hesitate. Do you want my father to go down on his knees and beg you to come?”