The Black Swan (10 page)

“This is different,” Celeste assured me. “He’ll come back.”

“What could have happened to him?”

We read more in the papers. But, of course, it was only speculation. The mission had been unpopular, and there was some anxiety expressed concerning the whereabouts of the two missing Members of Parliament.

“There must be an explanation,” said Rebecca. “There will be news soon, I’m sure.”

“But what explanation?” I asked. “What news?”

Rebecca could not reply.

“I must go home soon,” I said.

“Oh no … not yet. You are not ready.”

“I want to be there. I want to know what’s happening. I want to see his family. They might know something.”

“I doubt they will know any more than the authorities.”

“They will be desolate. They dote on him. He’s such a wonderful person, Rebecca.”

“You’ll be better here,” she advised. “Don’t rush away. I can’t bear to think of your going back to that house.”

“I must go, Rebecca.”

“Think about it for a few days.”

I promised I would, and each day I scoured the papers for news. There was none. All I read was, “There is still no news of the missing James Hunter and Joel Greenham.”

I knew that I must go. There was no peace for me here anymore. What I could achieve by going to London I was not sure, but I felt I wanted to be there.

While I was in this state of uncertainty, letters were forwarded on from London. There was one for me and one for Celeste. They were both from Belinda.

Eagerly I slit the envelope.

“Dear Lucie,” I read,

My mother died last week. It has been terrible. I miss her so much. You know she had been ill for a long time and it had to come. I feel lost and lonely. She has always been there for me, and I don’t know what I shall do without her. It’s a great shock, though I have seen it coming for months now. She made me promise that I would come back to England. I said I would and she was so happy and relieved when she had letters from you and Celeste saying that I could come.

Well, the time is here. There are some people from England who were out here visiting their relations in Melbourne. We knew the Melbourne family and, before she died, my mother asked them that if it were possible—by which she meant that if she died before the visitors left—she would be grateful to them if they would let me go back to England with them. She had all the instructions written out and I believe she wanted to die in good time, so that I should be able to go with them. Well, it did work out that way, and I am leaving next month so … unless I hear news from you and Celeste to say you won’t have me … I shall be coming with them.

I heard what happened to your father. It was in the papers here … not much about it … just that he had been shot by a terrorist because he had obstructed some Bill. It must have been a shock for you as you saw it happen.

Lucie, I do so much want to see you. I have often thought of you and wondered about you. In all this terrible time there is one thing I look forward to and that is seeing you.

I’ll let you know dates and arrangements when I am more certain.

In the meantime, I send my love and the hope that I shall be with you before long.

Belinda

I showed the letter to Celeste who gave me hers to read. It was more brief.

Dear Aunt Celeste,

My mother is dead now and her last wish was that I should come to England. She said you had very kindly promised that I could come to you. I will try not to be a burden, but if I can stay until I know what I have to do, I shall be very grateful.

I have written to Lucie and told her about Mr. and Mrs. Wilberforce who have been visiting relations in Melbourne and are going back to England next month. They have promised to let me travel with them, which will be easier for me.

I will let you know details of our sailing soon. Your affectionate and grateful niece,

Belinda

My spirits lifted a little at the prospect of seeing Belinda. The thought kept me from wondering all the time what was happening to Joel.

Celeste was uneasy. I could understand that. She could not help thinking that Belinda had been a source of trouble in the past; but I think she too felt that the prospect of her arrival did stop us brooding all the time as to Joel’s fate.

We showed the letters to Rebecca.

I said, “We shall have to go now. I don’t know how long these letters have taken to get here, but Belinda may well be on her way by now.”

“She says that she will let us know when she is coming.”

“She will. But in view of the distance and the time letters take to get here, she may have started by now.”

It seemed that events were making up my mind for me.

“Don’t go to the London house,” advised Rebecca. “Go to Manorleigh.”

“I feel I have to be in London. I want to see Joel’s parents. And I want to be there … to get ready for Belinda.”

She sighed.

“There will be too much to remind you. …”

“I have to go back, Rebecca.”

“How I wish I could come with you. But I can’t leave Pedrek and the children again so soon.”

“Of course you can’t. Dearest Rebecca, I am very much able to stand on my own feet. I can’t rely all my life on my big sister.”

“You know I’m always there. You know this place is waiting for you if ever you found it intolerable … elsewhere …”

“It won’t be intolerable. I’ve got to grow away from it. I can’t hide in a shelter forever. Besides, I do want to find out all I can about Joel. And there will be Belinda.”

Rebecca frowned. “I wonder if she will still be the same.”

“We shall both come down to see you, of course.”

She kissed me tenderly. “Take care of yourself, Lucie,” she said. “Remember, I shall be thinking of you.”

My return to London meant that my uneasiness was increasing.

As soon as I was alone in my room, I went to the window, half-expecting to see a figure there under the street lamp, although it was broad daylight. The thought occurred to me that I ought to change rooms. That would be cowardly, I decided. No. I must fight against my fears.

I was becoming more and more convinced that Rebecca’s theory was correct. I must have imagined those pebbles at the window; a man had been down there, true, and he was in a merry mood. He had bowed to me and I had thought I saw the widow’s peak, and the scar.

I must take a firm hold on my imagination. I must make it work for me, not against me.

I was glad that Celeste was with me. She had her own sorrow to contend with. But at least there was no sense of guilt attached to hers. That was what was forever in the back of my mind. Was it possible that I had helped to send an innocent man to the gallows?

The day after my arrival in town, I went to see Sir John and Lady Greenham.

Theirs was a house of sadness and terrible apprehension. They greeted me with affection.

“My dear, dear Lucie,” said Lady Greenham. “This is a great blow to us. I was all against his going from the first. How I wish I had managed to persuade him.”

“Is there any news? All I know is what I saw in the Cornish paper.”

“There is very little known,” said Sir John. “He just vanished into thin air. He left this meeting with the others … when he and James Hunter decided to walk.”

“They should never have done that,” said Lady Greenham, “in those foreign places.”

“But what is being
done
about it?”

“All sorts of things are in motion,” said Sir John. “You see, it is a political matter. The government wants to get at the truth … diplomatically. It is, after all, a government matter. At the same time they don’t want to put a strain on our relations with Buganda.”

“So they think it is entirely because of the business on which he is engaged?”

“That seems to be the official view. I shouldn’t think it is just an ordinary case of robbery … and … er … disposing of the victims.”

“Oh, John!” cried Lady Greenham. “For Heaven’s sake, don’t talk like that.”

“We have to face facts, my dear. In some of these places it’s not safe to walk out at night.”

“Joel should have known better,” said Lady Greenham.

“You can see how it happened,” went on Sir John. “The carriage took as many as it could, and the two youngest members of the party naturally agreed to walk.”

“And during that walk … they disappeared,” I said.

“That’s about it.”

“But you say the authorities are doing something about it. They are not just letting it pass.”

Sir John nodded. “You can be sure that all that can be done is being done.”

“It is good of you to come and see us,” said Lady Greenham. “There has been too much horror lately. I think you did right to go to Cornwall.”

“My sister wanted me to stay, but in view of this …”

Sir John leaned over and patted my head.

“We always knew you were fond of him,” he said.

“As a matter of fact … we talked together before he went. We were going to announce our engagement on his return.”

They were both smiling at me.

“He’ll come back,” said Sir John, “and then we shall have wedding bells. Alas …”

I knew what he was thinking. It would be so different from what we had all had in mind. My father, one of the architects of the plan for us, would not be there. He had been done to death by an assassin’s hand; and the bridegroom was missing in a foreign country.

I asked myself how much more disaster could strike.

While I was talking to Sir John and Lady Greenham, Gerald Greenham arrived. There was only about a year’s difference in his and Joel’s ages and I knew there was a strong friendship between the two brothers. Gerald was likable and full of vitality, though he lacked that inner gentleness which I found so appealing in Joel.

He talked about his brother’s disappearance. Naturally it was the chief topic of conversation in that house. He was of the opinion that not enough was being done to find out what had happened.

Sir John said that naturally plans of action would not be blazoned from the rooftops and in such cases there was bound to be a certain amount of secrecy.

Gerald stuck to his view. He asked me how I was getting on, remembering suddenly it seemed that I had endured an even greater tragedy for, while they could retain hope, I could have none.

When I rose to go, Sir John suggested that Gerald should take me home, to which Gerald responded with enthusiasm.

When we came out of the house he hailed a cab and, as we jogged along together, he said: “This is a great blow to the parents. They hide it … but I know what it is doing to them.”

“I understand.”

“I get impatient.
I
want to do something.”

“What could you do?”

“That’s the important question. What I can’t endure is sitting at home here waiting for something to happen. I get impatient.”

“Understandably.”

“You must feel the same. I know how you felt about Joel.”

“I do wish he would come back.”

“I’d like to go out there … make a few investigations, in secret … you understand. Not letting on that I was his brother.”

“I suppose the government could achieve more than a private detective.”

“That depends. I’d like to have a good go anyway.”

I glanced sideways at him. He had a very firm jaw; and there was speculation in his eyes.

I liked him very much. He really cared about his brother. When I said good-bye I felt a little better … because of him.

The weeks began to pass. There were letters from Belinda, one for me, one for Celeste. By the time they reached us she was on her way.

I visited Manorleigh briefly, but I felt I wanted to be in London. I no longer looked fearfully out of the window at night. I had done so during the first weeks and been confronted always by the empty street.

I had one or two sessions with the solicitors who talked at great length about the trust and what should be done about that money that was now virtually mine. I could not give my thoughts entirely to such matters; they seemed of little importance when compared with my fears for Joel.

It had been more than a month since his disappearance and a melancholy possibility had occurred to me that I might never see him again.

I visited the Greenhams from time to time. They continued to be hopeful, but I sometimes wondered whether that was a pretense. I saw Gerald once and he was still obsessed by his brother’s disappearance.

Time was going on.

Celeste said that we should bestir ourselves. She looked upon me as her responsibility. She said on one occasion that girls in my position had a season and she was sure it was what my father had been planning for me.

“Though I believe,” she added, “that he wanted to shelve the matter for a while. He was afraid someone would marry you and take you away from him.”

I put my hand over hers and we were both too emotional to speak.

She recovered herself and said, “Well, with all this hanging over us, we couldn’t possibly do it. We’ll have to wait.”

“I don’t need a season, Celeste,” I said. “I should hate it. If … when … Joel comes back, we shall marry … he and I … and seasons are not for married women.”

“He must come back,” said Celeste.

And we looked at each other sadly.

“And,” went on Celeste, “soon there will be Belinda.”

“A season for Belinda,” I murmured. “The two of us together.”

It was surprising how often Belinda cropped up in our conversation.

And then one spring day, the
African Star
sailed into Tilbury with Belinda on it.

Celeste and I went to Tilbury to meet her. I knew her at once. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, with something of Leah’s beauty, and an indefinable touch of the exotic which perhaps came from her French ancestors. Her main characteristic was that immense vitality which had always been apparent when she was a child. She sparkled with a love of life. She had not changed and she was very attractive.

We were introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Wilberforce, who seemed rather relieved to hand over their charge. Not that Belinda would regard herself as such. For her they had not been guardians but traveling companions.