The Black Swan

Celeste noticed and said it was the same for her. She said to me, “This wedding is good for us, Lucie.” And I knew what she meant.

“It’s an indication,” she went on. “It shows that ... in time ... we can grow away from the past.”

Jean Pascal had decided that it should be a grand occasion. I think he had become quite fond of Belinda. She amused him and he liked to be amused. She was really very attractive and that made him proud of her, I imagined. I wondered what Leah would have said to see her daughter now.

The wedding gown had arrived. It was beautiful and made of Valenciennes lace and satin; there was a wreath of orange blossom for her hair and her bouquet was to be made of gardenias.

“Everything will be white,” she said.

“A sign of purity,” I reminded her.

I was surprised at the effect my words had on her. She looked at me sharply. “Why did you say that?”

“Because it is true, isn’t it?”

“I thought you were ...”

“What? What did you think?”

“Oh... nothing.”

“You looked quite fierce.”

“I thought you were making fun.”

“We’re always making fun, aren’t we?”

“Yes... but that was different.”

“Whatever has got into you?”

“Oh nothing, pre-wedding nerves.”

“You! With pre-wedding nerves? You’re joking.”

“Of course, you idiot.”

But there was something on her mind. I wondered what for a while and then I forgot it.

The wedding day dawned. There were a good many guests and of course the press was in evidence. Belinda was referred to as the niece of Benedict Lansdon. The press was interested on this account. It was recalled that Belinda was married from the very house outside which the assassination had taken place.

“Happier Days,” commented one newspaper. “The ghost of the past exorcised. Today, from the door from which Benedict Lansdon had emerged on that fatal day to meet his assassin came a charming bride. Miss Belinda Bourdon, niece of Mrs. Celeste Lansdon, was married today from the very house outside which Benedict Lansdon was shot not quite two years ago.”

It was a pity they had to bring memories back to us.

So Belinda became Lady Denver. She was a very beautiful bride. I shall never forget the sight of her standing beside Robert while they cut the cake. She looked radiantly happy and I was sure she was.

Celeste and I helped her change into what she called her going-away costume. It was peacock blue trimmed with miniver. She looked enchanting in the close-fitting hat made of matching blue feathers.

She kissed us fervently and told us how much she loved us, which was rather touching coming from Belinda. Then we were all waving them off on their way to Venice. I was with Roland and Phillida afterward.

“It was a wonderful wedding,” said Phillida. She looked a little wistful. “It is marvelous to be as happy as that.”

Roland agreed with her.

“It’s always something of an anticlimax at this moment,” I said. “The bride and bridegroom have departed. And here we are left ...”

“With friends,” said Roland looking at me steadily.

“Yes, of course,” I replied. “With friends.”

There was indeed a feeling of anticlimax after the wedding. I missed my verbal battles with Belinda. They had somehow brightened the days. Jean Pascal was in London which made me feel I wanted to get away.

Rebecca was preparing to go back to Cornwall and urged me to go with her. I hesitated. Much as I liked to be with her and her family, I did not think it was what I needed just then. I told myself that Celeste needed me here. There was another thought which occurred to me. I should not see the Fitzgeralds and it brought home to me how much their friendship meant to me.

Then I thought of Manorleigh. I had loved that house in my childhood. It had seemed full of mystery, and life had been exciting there. Belinda and I used to ride round the paddock on our ponies. There was the haunted garden with the oak tree and the seat on which Belinda had once played the ghost. It was my house now; and that gave it an added attraction.

I told Rebecca that I should like to stay there for a week or so. “A good idea,” she agreed. “It will get you out of London, and you are not so far away.”

“I shall ask Celeste to come and stay for a few days when she wants to. I think she would be rather lonely if I went far away.”

Rebecca understood.

Celeste said she would love to come to Manorleigh.

“Any time you feel like it, Celeste. It is your home ...just as I think of this house as mine.”

I saw Rebecca off to Cornwall and I should have felt very melancholy at her departure if I had not been making plans to go to Manorleigh.

When the Fitzgeralds called I told them that I was going away for a while and could not help being pleased by the blank dismay on their faces. “Actually it is only a little way out of London,” I told them. “Manorleigh was my father’s constituency. He bought Manor Grange because of that. And now it is mine. It’s a lovely old place and it is quite a long time since I’ve seen it. I am going down there for a while.”

“We might be able to visit you perhaps,” suggested Roland.