The Black Swan

They made me feel that it was a special pleasure to have a visitor from home.

“Isn’t it wonderful to be able to talk naturally, Roland? Rather than to have to stumble over your words and when you do get a comprehensible sentence they come back at you with such a rush-thinking mistakenly that you have mastered their language. And then you are completely lost.” Phillida laughed.

They wanted to know about me. I could see that they remembered the tragedy by the pains they took to avoid mentioning it.

At last, I said, “My father was shot outside our house. You probably read about it.”

“Yes,” said Roland quietly. “It must have been a terrible shock for you.”

I nodded. “But ... I have so many kind friends. There is my sister particularly.

She lives in Cornwall though and that is quite a long way from London.”

“I suppose you visit her often,” said Roland.

“Yes, and I expect I shall more and more. I think she would like me to go and live with her and her family.”

“But you are as yet undecided?” asked Phillida.

“Well, I feel a little ...”

They exchanged glances and I knew a message passed between them. It was to drop the subject.

“The rural life is very amusing and interesting for a time,” said Roland, “but I wonder how long one could find that sort of thing amusing.”

“Where is your home?” I asked.

“Well, we really come from Yorkshire. We are in wool, actually. But I am in London a good deal. We have a small pied-à-terre there. Everyone has to be in London sooner or later. It was my father who decided that we must have an office there to deal with the business-most of which is conducted in Yorkshire, of course. He died just as he had set up the office... and I was to be in charge of it.”

“Have some more coffee,” said Phillida. “Angelique gets quite cross if people don’t show they appreciate what she produces.”

“It’s a failing with good cooks,” added Roland.

“How long do you intend to stay in France?” asked Phillida, filling my cup.

“I am unsure. So much depends on Belinda.”

“She is traveling with you, I suppose.”

“Yes.” I felt the need of a little explanation. “She is my stepmother’s niece. It is her father who owns the chateau.”

“I see,” said Roland.

“I hope you don’t go too soon,” added Phillida. “It’s great fun to meet one’s compatriots in a foreign land.”

Roland smiled indulgently at his sister.

“Well, you agree with me, don’t you, Roland?” she insisted.

“I do on this occasion,” he replied.

“You must come and see us again,” said Phillida.

“I’d like to,” I told them. “But this reminds me ... I ought to be going.” I looked at the clock on the wall. “Dejeuner will be served in an hour. They will be wondering what has become of me if I am late.”

“We’ll take you back,” said Roland. “It’s about half an hour, I reckon, wouldn’t you, Phillida?”

“I should think so. We are really quite close neighbors.”

“Well, there is not much time.”

“I can see Miss Lansdon is getting anxious,” said Roland, “so we’ll leave now.” I thought how kind and gentle he was. He reminded me of Joel. He was a complete contrast to Jean Pascal.

Within five minutes we were leaving the house. We chatted ?about the countryside as we rode along. It had been a very interesting morning. They left me within sight of the chateau. It was Roland’s suggestion that they should do so. Phillida would have liked to come closer, I was sure, with a hope of meeting Belinda or Jean Pascal. But, firmly and quietly, Roland insisted. He was so tactful. He thought it was better for me to arrive alone and not have to give an immediate explanation of our meeting.

So I was back in good time. I felt better than I had for a long time. It gave me a comfortable feeling to remind myself that I had friends in the neighborhood. When I went down to dejeuner Belinda and Jean Pascal were already there.

“What happened to you this morning, Lucie?” asked Jean Pascal.

“Oh ... I went for a ride.”

“We couldn’t find you,” scolded Belinda. “Mon pere was most put out.”

“I knew you were going to the vineyard. I didn’t think you would want me with you.”

“Of course we expected you to be with us,” said Jean Pascal.

“It was very interesting,” added Belinda. “You missed something very good.”

“I had an interesting morning, too.”

“Doing what?” asked Belinda.

“I met some people.”

There was silence for a few seconds. Then Jean Pascal said, “People? What people?”

“There was a young woman whom I met on the Channel boat. We had chatted for a while.

Didn’t I tell you?”

“I didn’t know you’d met anyone,” said Belinda.

“It was when we were on deck and I wandered off on my own. I was leaning over the rail and so was she. We talked. She said they were staying near Bordeaux.”

“And you just met by chance?” said Jean Pascal.

“Yes. They are actually staying quite nearby.”

“They?”

“She and her brother. They’ve rented a house for a month or so. She took me back with her and they gave me coffee.”

“Wasn’t that rather rash of you?” He was looking at me with concern.

“Rash? I don’t see anything rash about it.”

“But... people you don’t know!”