The Black Swan

“Yes... for a time.”

“Beautiful country.”

“You know it well?”

“Not really. But I have visited it several times. This time we are going farther south than usual. Near Bordeaux.”

“Oh ... so are we!”

“On holiday?”

“Yes ... I suppose so. Visiting.”

“I’m convalescing.”

“Oh! You’ve been ill?”

“My brother says I need a rest away from the damp of home. He thinks this is the place. He says the climate is good for the vines so it will be for me. That’s why he’s taking me.”

“How nice of him.”

“He’s a very good brother, but he fusses a little. I’m not complaining. It’s comforting.

Well, there are just the two of us now, you see. Oh... here he is.” A man was coming toward us. He was tall and had the same pleasant smile which I had thought attractive in his sister. He was a few years older than she was, I imagined. “Oh... there you are, Phillida,” he said, not noticing me for a few seconds. “There’s a chill in the air. Button up your coat.”

She looked at me and smiled as though to say, there, I told you so.

I was about to move away when she said: “This is my brother Roland... Roland Fitzgerald.”

“How do you do?” I said.

He took my hand and shook it. He was looking at me questioningly. “I’m Lucie Lansdon,” I said.

“We were just chatting as we looked at the sea and congratulated ourselves on its calmness,” said Phillida.

He looked at her with mock exasperation which told me that it was a habit of hers to chat to strangers and one of which he did not entirely approve. “She’s going to stay near Bordeaux,” announced Phillida. “Oh, not exactly Bordeaux,” I said. “It’s a place near, I think. A little place called Bourdon. I imagine it’s a sort of hamlet.”

“I believe I’ve heard of it,” he said. “We shall be a few miles further south. Isn’t there a chateau there? Chateau Bourdon, I believe.”

“Yes, that’s right. I suppose I ought to be going. It won’t be long before we are disembarking.”

“It was very nice to have a chat,” said Phillida.

Her brother put his arm through hers and, smiling, I turned away and went back to Belinda and Jean Pascal.

I wondered during the long journey down to Bourdon whether I should see the Fitzgeralds again as they were traveling in the same direction; but I did not. There were so many hours in the train... first to Paris, where we had to change, then to Bordeaux where a carriage was waiting for us, to take us the several miles to Bourdon.

It was late at night when we arrived, so I could not see the full glory of the chateau at that time. We turned into a long avenue with big trees on either side and we seemed to drive for at least a mile before we came to the chateau.

As we pulled up several people came running toward us and there appeared to be a great deal of bustle from within. I was aware of a dark imposing building. We mounted several stone steps to reach the door. Belinda was awestruck and for once silent. Two men appeared with lanterns to guide us into an enormous hall. A sudden feeling of dread came over me, and a ridiculous impulse to turn and run back home, down to Cornwall and Rebecca. It was an absurd feeling which I dismissed at once. I was overwrought. Too much that was tragic had happened to me in too short a time. My father... Joel ... I felt an almost unbearable longing for them both... my father’s shrewd common sense... Joel’s gentleness. If only I could enjoy them again. I glanced at Belinda. She clearly felt no such misgivings: her mood was one of sheer enchantment. People were scurrying about in all directions; and Jean Pascal was giving orders in rapid French. Therese... Marie... Jeanne... Jacques... Georges ... there seemed to be so many of them. I gathered that first we were to be shown our rooms where we could wash and change before eating.

I was given in the care of Therese who was middle-aged and brisk. She took me up a wide staircase to a corridor which was long and dark. She set down a candelabrum which she was carrying and lighted its three candles, then she held it high and I followed her to the room which had been chosen for me. I shivered a little. I thought, it will be different in daylight. I was trying to shake off that sense of foreboding.

Therese indicated the hot water and towels which had been set up in a little alcove, and which I later learned was called a ruelle. I managed to understand what she was saying, which was that she would return for me in fifteen minutes and take me to the dining room.

There was a basin and ewer, so I washed and combed my hair. My face in candlelight looked back at me from an antique mirror; it seemed mottled and unlike me... almost a stranger.

Why had I come here? I was asking myself. I might now be at High Tor with Rebecca. I had hesitated, it was true, but Belinda had been persuasive and I was as easily influenced by her as I had ever been.

I told myself that I was being foolish. It had been a long and exhausting journey; I was in a strange land; I had suffered a great shock from which I had not yet recovered.

I would feel differently in the morning.