The Black Swan

“It was the first thought that occurred to you. However, I escaped and lived to see Mr. Henry Farrell.”

She hugged me fiercely.

I thought, how different from Phillida! How different from Roland! They really care for me. But, as I had said many times before, this was Belinda. I really was amazed at my success. It was because at heart Henry Farrell was really a very good young man.

I think it was the matter of the child which really swayed him. He was hurt and angry but he was shrewd enough to see that there could be no real happiness with Belinda. When I met him the next day in the lounge of the Bayswater hotel, he was waiting for me and he looked quite pleased to see me.

He did not tell me immediately what he intended to do, but I think I knew it from the start. He wanted to tease me a little at first; and I think he wanted to listen to further advocacy on my part.

I pleaded as I had before, bringing out the same arguments. He listened patiently and after a while he said, “How should we go about the divorce?” I told him I did not know, but I would find out.

“Everything would be taken good care of,” I said.

“Then I suppose she’d marry this lordship again.”

“She will marry Sir Robert Denver.”

“Does he agree to this?” *

“I don’t think he knows about it yet.”

“What?”

“She has to tell him.”

“What if he says no?”

“I can’t believe he will.”

“Mad about her, is he?”

“I think so.”

I had a moment of uneasiness then. I could see the memories in his eyes. Belinda had a powerful effect on men. There was Bobby who adored her and this young man had come from the other side of the world to pursue her.

I realized how fortunate I had been to be able to plead with him, for he was still hankering after her.

But he was no fool. He saw the point. The best way for everyone concerned was to end the marriage so that they could get on with their own lives. When we parted I had his promise that he would begin divorce proceedings against Belinda. The case would be undefended and with luck might not find its way into the newspapers.

Belinda was waiting for me when I returned triumphant.

“He’s going to do it,” I told her.

“You’re marvelous. I knew you could do it. Oh, Lucie, you were always my best friend.”

“Don’t forget this is only the beginning. The first thing you have to do is talk to Bobby.”

“I know,” she said gloomily.

“Then I think you should go back to him. If he lets you stay there that will make a blatant case of adultery. Let’s hope it can be kept quiet. It could be rather awkward for you, but you have to be prepared for that. After all, it is a small price to pay for all your misdemeanors.”

“I’ll do it, Lucie. I’ll go back right away. I’ll tell Bobby everything.”

“Let’s hope he will be as forgiving and indulgent as you think he will be.”

“Of course he will be. He adores me.”

Her gloom had completely vanished. Once again she was on the point of manipulating the lives of others to suit her purpose.

She left that day; and I spent another day and night in Welling Gardens.

Then Roland and I went back to Manorleigh.

Phillida vociferously expressed her pleasure at seeing us.

“Anyone would think we had been away for at least a month,” said Roland.

 “I missed you so much. Both away at the same time! It’s wonderful to have you back. I want you to see your room. It looks quite different.

Roland... Lucie has told you ...” Her mood changed from joy to horror.

“Yes,” I said. “I told him about the fire.”

She turned to him, anguish in her eyes. “I think I should have died ... if anything had happened....”

“But it didn’t,” I said.

“It might have. Imagine it, Roland....”

“I am imagining it,” said Roland. “It doesn’t bear thinking of. But you must not be upset. It’s over. It didn’t happen. We were so lucky. Now let us have a look at the room.”

It did look different without the four-poster bed. It had been replaced by one in the Regency style and was plain in comparison with its predecessor; but it was very attractive and elegant.

“It makes the room look quite different,” I said.

“Less cluttered,” added Roland. “Well done, Phillida, it was a good choice.”

“I never want to see another bed curtain,” announced Phillida. She shivered. “They will always remind me.”

Roland put his arm through hers. “Stop brooding,” he commanded.

“I’m trying to, Roland.”

It was good to be home, and I was rather proud of the manner in which I had managed Belinda’s affairs.

I dismissed her from my mind. I need not think of her for a while and could devote myself to an existence which had become very pleasant to me. The peaceful atmosphere was disturbed when, the following morning, Mrs. Emery invited me to her room. I guessed there was trouble ahead when she brought out the canister of Darjeeling tea.

I soon heard what it was.