The Black Swan

She laughed joyously. “Need you ask? I accept with alacrity.” I stayed with them for some time. We laughed a great deal, and my previous conversation with Roland was forgotten.

I could see that Roland was blaming himself for bringing up the subject, and I tried to convey to him that it was not important. It was never far from my mind, in any case.

I was thinking what pleasant people they were, and I was glad our friendship was growing.

It was a comfortable feeling, when I was at the chateau, to remember that I had friends close by.

Roland and Phillida Fitzgerald visited the chateau as arranged.

I met them in the gardens where I had gone to wait for them. A groom was ready to take their horses to the stables, and I took them into the hall and introduced them to Jean Pascal, Belinda and Sir Robert Denver, who was at the chateau every day. It was accepted now that he was Belinda’s suitor.

Jean Pascal was charming to the visitors and was clearly determined to make them feel welcome.

“Miss Lansdon was so delighted to meet with you again after your brief encounter on the Channel boat. It is fortunate for us all that you met there and then again ran into each other.”

“It was certainly very pleasant for us,” said Phillida. “And so kind of you to ask us to visit your wonderful chateau.”

“I have to confess,” Jean Pascal told her, “that I am rather proud of it, and you have given me the opportunity to show it off. Dejeuner will be served almost immediately.” It was a very pleasant meal. Both Fitzgeralds obviously enjoyed the conversation, as did Jean Pascal, so it ran smoothly.

Jean Pascal discreetly set about discovering as much as he could about them, never for one moment appearing to be curious. They told him what they had already told me... about the death of their parents and how Roland was carrying on with the London branch of their business, although he paid periodic visits to Yorkshire. “So it is wool with you and wine with me,” said Jean Pascal. “Two very useful commodities.

Neither of which I believe the world could be happy without.”

“We have been most impressed by the wine we have been having here,” Phillida told him.

“We of the Medoc believe it is the best in the world. You must forgive our pride.”

“It is natural to be proud when pride is merited,” said Roland gravely. He asked a great many questions about the wine-growing industry and Jean Pascal said that, if they cared, he would take them for a tour of the vineyard. Phillida expressed her delight at this and Roland accepted the invitation with more subdued but no less enthusiasm.

Then the talk was general, in the midst of which Sir Robert said that he had had news from home and would have to be returning before the end of the week.

Belinda looked shocked, so I knew she had not been prewarned; and I noticed that Robert avoided looking at her.

“I hate to go,” he said. “I’m having such a splendid time here. But, of course, I didn’t intend to stay so long in the first place.”

“Well,” said Jean Pascal. “It’s not so very far away, and the Channel is not always in one of its ugly moods.”

I began to wonder whether the courtship was not going as well as I had thought, and whether he was seeking an excuse to end it. Knowing Belinda, I realized that she was far from pleased.

There was a brief but awkward silence which Roland broke by commenting once more on the excellence of the wine; and Jean Pascal immediately told them its vintage and said that it had been brought up from the cellars because it was a special occasion when Lucie’s friends came to the chateau.

Roland was looking at me intently. He seemed to be faintly puzzled. I had a notion that he was wondering about the relationship between Jean Pascal and myself. When lunch was over, Jean Pascal suggested that we accompany our guests on the tour and we went among the vines and watched the men and women at work, pruning and examining the plants for signs of disease, tying the vines to stakes and repairing trellises. I had rarely seen Jean Pascal so enthusiastic about anything as he was on this subject. He was clearly very knowledgeable and took great pleasure in explaining to people who knew little about the matter. He talked at great length about the dreaded pests, fungicides and all the evils which could befall the grape. I could see the Fitzgeralds were enjoying the tour. Phillida could not restrain her excitement and kept asking questions.

“I know you must think me very stupid, Monsieur Bourdon,” she said. “I am such an ignoramus. Yet it is so interesting and I do want to know.” Jean Pascal was only too happy to instruct. In fact he seemed a different person.

It was the first time I had seen him really enthusiastic. That cynical languor dropped from him. I liked him better that afternoon than I ever had before; perhaps I was grateful to him for being so charming to the Fitzgeralds, whom I looked upon as my friends. Jean Pascal showed us the wine presses which they had used before the wooden cylinders were put in.