The Black Swan

I would go to it by day and sit there, thinking. The past was back with him. I could not stop thinking of the night when I had waited for my father to come home from the House, when he had stayed the night with the Greenhams, so giving himself a few more hours of life. I thought of the following day, when I had looked straight at that man after he had fired the shot which killed my father. I was back in the past. It would never be completely gone... not until I knew the truth-whether there were two men with widow’s peaks and scarred cheeks, whether the figure which haunted me was indeed a man or an image conjured up out of my tortured imagination.

But if I had condemned an innocent man and the real murderer still lived to taunt me, how could he have come to Manor Grange? How could he have sat there on the haunted seat?

The most likely explanation was, of course, that I had imagined what I saw. I had been far more shocked than I had realized at the time it happened; and the episode of the fire must have affected me more than I imagined.

These thoughts obsessed me during the next few days; and then another shock awaited me.

The local newspaper was always available during the morning; and I took my copy and went into the garden to glance through it. Boldly I went to the haunted seat and, sitting down, began to read. There were the usual local matters ... an account of a wedding and two funerals. People were more interested in their immediate circle than in the whole wide world.

Then a paragraph caught my eye, and my heart began to hammer as I read. It was brief and to the point:

The Members of Parliament, Mr. James Hunter and Mr. Joel Greenham, are on their way back to England. It will be remembered that they were taking part in a mission to Buganda. When returning to their hotel one night the two gentlemen disappeared and were thought to have been robbed and murdered by thieves. In fact, they were kidnapped and have spent several months in captivity. Their release has now been secured and they are on their way back to England to be reunited with their families. I read the paragraph through several times. Was I dreaming? Was this another hallucination?

Could Joel really be alive? I went up to the bedroom. I was thankful that I did not Meet anyone. I could only say to myself: Joel has come home. He is really alive. Memories of him kept flashing into my mind. I had loved him for so long ... all my life, it seemed. News of his death, following so close on that of my father, had completely stunned me. I had been lonely and lost.

I could not believe this. Joel alive! Coming home!

What would that mean to me? I was married now. I felt a terrible anguish; and it seemed as though a burden of sadness and despair was settling upon me. Joel coming home... and I was married to Roland Fitzgerald! I loved Roland, I told myself. He was a good husband to me. When had he ever been anything but kind and considerate?

But... Joel was coming home. We had promised that we would love each other forever... and I had married Roland.

I was numbed by the shock. Roland and Phillida noticed. They noticed everything, I thought, a little resentfully. They believed that what they called my hallucination had shocked me more than they had first thought. Phillida was busy with her remedies. In addition to the nightcap she was bringing me some herbal drink.

She said, “When we are next in London together, I’ll take you to the health shop.

They have just about everything to promote good health.”

They were talking a great deal about the house Roland was proposing to buy in Yorkshire. Phillida knew exactly how many rooms we should need. She chattered constantly about it. I let her run on. I did not wish her to guess at my indifference. I was wondering where Joel was now. Coming home, they said. There would be more about it in the London papers. I wished that I were there.

What was he thinking? He would be remembering me, believing that I was waiting for him ... as we had promised we would. That seemed years ago. So much had happened since.

The trip to Yorkshire dominated Roland’s and Phillida’s conversation. I was only half listening to what they said.

I did hear Roland say, “I thought we might rent a house for a month or so to give you a chance to look round. We don’t want to commit ourselves until we’re sure.”

“What an excellent idea!” cried Phillida.

“Does that appeal to you, Lucie?”

“Oh, yes... yes ... I suppose it’s a good idea.”

“You do think so?” pressed Roland.

“Of course she does,” Phillida answered for me.

“I think we should go next week. I really need to go, and it would be an excellent opportunity.”

“I’m so looking forward to it,” added Phillida. “House-hunting is such fun, isn’t it, Lucie?”

“Oh, yes.”