The Black Swan

“I am all these, but I do know something of the world and I am not in the least likely to become one of his victims.”

“And you forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive. I thank you for your kindness. You were not to know it was not necessary.”

“I am hurt, you see.”

I did understand the feeling of a discarded mistress. An unpleasant thought occurred to me. Had he dispensed with her because of his designs on me? I must get away. I could not stay longer in the chateau.

Madame Carleon said, “I will turn off here. I am content. I have spoken. My conscience is happy now. I say good-bye. Perhaps we meet again, eh?” I said I hoped we would and rode back to the chateau.

Belinda wanted to know where I had been.

“I looked everywhere. I wanted to talk to you. I’ve written to Celeste. Mon pere thinks it would be best for us to have the wedding there.”

“Good Heavens! You’re just engaged and that was all fixed in a hurry because poor Bobby had to go back. He’s the one you’ll have to consult about the wedding.”

“Oh, he’ll want to have it just as I want it.”

“I think his opinion might be asked.”

“Well, it will be ... but after we’ve made the plans.”

“Just the same old Belinda,” I said. “Everything must fit in with you.”

“Of course,” she replied.

Jean Pascal expressed displeasure, too.

“What happened to you this afternoon, Lucie?” he asked.

“I rode out and met the Fitzgeralds.”

“That seems to be becoming a habit.”

“It is pleasant to meet one’s compatriots abroad.”

“I suppose so. But I missed you.”

I could not bear that look in his eyes. I thought about Madame Carleon. What would he say if he knew I had spent the afternoon with her? Moreover what would he say if he knew that she had told me of him? It was nothing I did not already guess, of course, but it was confirmation.

I must get away.

I wondered whether to consult Belinda. No, that would be useless. In any case she was too immersed in her own affairs. She did not want to leave yet. She must wait for Bobby’s return and the plans they would make. How long, I wondered, could I endure to stay in the chateau?

Then I thought of Rebecca. I had turned to her all my life when I was in difficulties.

I should have done so before.

I would write to her. I would explain that I had to get away quickly. I knew what Rebecca would do. She would come to France-Pedrek with her-and they would take me back to safety and Cornwall. On the other hand, could I travel alone? I decided to try Rebecca first. That night I wrote to her.

Dear Rebecca,

I have to get away from here. Belinda has become engaged and will not leave just yet. I could, I suppose, travel on my own, but I feel very uncertain. I should have to get the train to Paris and then from Paris to Calais and so on. Once I was on the Channel ferry I should be all right. It is the uncertainty of the language which daunts me.

Dear Rebecca, I need to come home at once. Do help me. If you could come out ... or Pedrek... perhaps both of you ... I know I am asking a lot, but I have always known that you were there to help me, and I feel very shaken in view of everything that has happened. I have just heard the terrible news that Joel was killed. It seems too much. I feel weak and foolish, but I know you will understand. I so much want to come home ... to be with you.

Love from your sister,

Lucie

I felt better when I had written that letter. I thought of all Rebecca had been to me through my life and I knew she would not fail me now. It was a great comfort to have taken some action. I would post the letter tomorrow.

How long would it take to reach her, I wondered? But at least I had taken some action. I got into bed. I could not sleep; and suddenly I was alert, for I heard a faint noise outside my room. I sat up, startled. Someone was on the other side of the door. Silently I leaped out of bed. I went to the door. Slowly the handle turned. I stood leaning against the door. I could hear the sound of breathing on the other side. I knew who was there and I was trembling with fear. Belinda would have spoken sharply, demanding to be let in. Moreover it was late.

She would have come earlier.