The Black Swan

I knew who was there. It was Jean Pascal, and he was trying to surprise me in my sleep.

I waited. I heard the frustrated sigh... and then the sound of retreating footsteps.

He had gone.

I leaned against the door, still shaking. I thought of him, angry and frustrated, beating the swan.

Had I not locked the door he would have been in the room. The thought of that filled me with horror.

I must get away. I could not stay here another night.

Tomorrow I must take action.

I had a sleepless night, but I grew calmer in the morning. If necessary I must make my way home. I could find out about trains. Anything was better than spending another night in this chateau. I had been lucky. He had not knocked and asked to come in. He had known what my response would have been. He had planned to come into my bedroom, catch me asleep, surprise me... and then what?

I was limp with horror at the images which my tortured mind conjured up.

I rose and unlocked the door, and in due course Therese came in with my petit dejeuner. I forced myself to eat it. I washed and dressed and put on my riding habit for an idea had come to me.

I was going to leave, and I could find out about the journey from the Fitzgeralds.

They traveled a great deal and would be the ones to advise me. I made my way down to the stables. The household was not yet awake. I saddled a horse and rode over to them.

They were just finishing breakfast when I arrived.

“Lucie!” cried Phillida. “This is a surprise!”

Roland stood up to greet me.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you ...”I began.

“Nonsense. We’re delighted to see you at any time.”

“Perhaps I am making too much of this ...” I stammered. “But ... er ... I want to get away from the chateau. I have to go at once.”

“What’s happened?” asked Phillida.

Roland held up a hand to silence her. “You will take the train to Paris,” he said.

“It’s a long journey. Then you will have to change trains... from Paris to Calais.

There you get to the docks for the Channel ferry. Did you say you wanted to go today?

I don’t think that would be possible. The train leaves for Paris at ten o’clock.

No... you couldn’t possibly do that.”

“I’ll go tomorrow then. I’ll have to have one night more ...”

“Something has happened, hasn’t it?” said Phillida.

“Let us get you some coffee,” said Roland, “and then you can tell us what you want to.”

“I don’t want any coffee, thanks.”

I looked at them steadily. They were good friends, I was sure. I decided to trust them.

I said, “Jean Pascal Bourdon has asked me to marry him.” Phillida could not hide her dismay and I guessed that Madame Carleon had been talking to them about Jean Pascal.

“You have not accepted him!” she cried in dismay.”

“No. I could never do that.”

I noticed they exchanged a glance and I fancied it was one of relief. I warmed toward them. They were my good friend seven though I had known them such a short time I could confide in them.

“In fact,” I went on, “he alarms me. I know the sort of man he is. I have known for a long time. He ruined Leah’s life so that she was persuaded to take part in something which was really wicked. She was Belinda’s mother. She was a good woman and would never have acted as she did if she had not been desperate... made so by him. But... this doesn’t concern us now. Leah is dead and things have worked out well for Belinda.”

I realized I was talking thus because I found it difficult to speak of Jean Pascal.

They seemed to understand.

“Well, you have refused him,” said Roland, “and I think you were very wise to do that. And now you feel that you do not want to stay under the same roof with him. That is clear enough.”

“Yes... but last night ... I locked my door, you see. I always have... right from the first. It seemed like some premonition. I had to do it. But ... he tried to get into my room last night and then I made up my mind that I had to get away. I have written to my sister... my best friend in the world now... and I have asked her to come here ... so that I could go back with her. But after last night I felt I couldn’t stay... and I haven’t even posted the letter yet.”

“So you are leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’ll manage somehow. I want you to tell me exactly how to do it. My French is not very adequate and... being on my own ...”

They exchanged glances.

“It’s just a suggestion,” said Roland.

“Go on, Roly!” cried Phillida. “I know what you’re going to say. And I don’t see why not. We were going anyway... next week.”

Roland said, “If we left tomorrow, you could travel with us.”

I could not restrain my joy and relief. I wanted to hug them both.

“You... you really would do that?” I murmured. “But... you were not going tomorrow.”

“Why should we not?”

“Oh, it’s so wonderfully good of you.”

“No it’s not,” said Phillida. “We’d enjoy the company. It will be great fun, won’t it, Roland? I’m ready to go home anyway.”

“There’ll have to be one more night in the chateau, I’m afraid,” said Roland.

“I’ll manage that. I’ll keep my door locked, and I shall tell them I am leaving tomorrow.

I’m sure there won’t be any trouble.”