The Black Swan (15 page)

He looked at her with mock exasperation which told me that it was a habit of hers to chat to strangers and one of which he did not entirely approve.

“She’s going to stay near Bordeaux,” announced Phillida.

“Oh, not exactly Bordeaux,” I said. “It’s a place near, I think. A little place called Bourdon. I imagine it’s a sort of hamlet.”

“I believe I’ve heard of it,” he said. “We shall be a few miles further south. Isn’t there a château there? Château Bourdon, I believe.”

“Yes, that’s right. I suppose I ought to be going. It won’t be long before we are disembarking.”

“It was very nice to have a chat,” said Phillida.

Her brother put his arm through hers and, smiling, I turned away and went back to Belinda and Jean Pascal.

I wondered during the long journey down to Bourdon whether I should see the Fitzgeralds again as they were traveling in the same direction; but I did not.

There were so many hours in the train … first to Paris, where we had to change, then to Bordeaux where a carriage was waiting for us, to take us the several miles to Bourdon.

It was late at night when we arrived, so I could not see the full glory of the château at that time. We turned into a long avenue with big trees on either side and we seemed to drive for at least a mile before we came to the château.

As we pulled up several people came running toward us and there appeared to be a great deal of bustle from within. I was aware of a dark imposing building. We mounted several stone steps to reach the door. Belinda was awestruck and for once silent.

Two men appeared with lanterns to guide us into an enormous hall. A sudden feeling of dread came over me, and a ridiculous impulse to turn and run back home, down to Cornwall and Rebecca. It was an absurd feeling which I dismissed at once. I was overwrought. Too much that was tragic had happened to me in too short a time. My father … Joel … I felt an almost unbearable longing for them both … my father’s shrewd common sense … Joel’s gentleness. If only I could enjoy them again.

I glanced at Belinda. She clearly felt no such misgivings: her mood was one of sheer enchantment.

People were scurrying about in all directions; and Jean Pascal was giving orders in rapid French. Thérèse … Marie … Jeanne … Jacques … Georges … there seemed to be so many of them. I gathered that first we were to be shown our rooms where we could wash and change before eating.

I was given in the care of Thérèse who was middle-aged and brisk. She took me up a wide staircase to a corridor which was long and dark. She set down a candelabrum which she was carrying and lighted its three candles, then she held it high and I followed her to the room which had been chosen for me.

I shivered a little. I thought, it will be different in daylight. I was trying to shake off that sense of foreboding.

Thérèse indicated the hot water and towels which had been set up in a little alcove, and which I later learned was called a
ruelle.
I managed to understand what she was saying, which was that she would return for me in fifteen minutes and take me to the dining room.

There was a basin and ewer, so I washed and combed my hair. My face in candlelight looked back at me from an antique mirror; it seemed mottled and unlike me … almost a stranger.

Why had I come here? I was asking myself. I might now be at High Tor with Rebecca. I had hesitated, it was true, but Belinda had been persuasive and I was as easily influenced by her as I had ever been.

I told myself that I was being foolish. It had been a long and exhausting journey; I was in a strange land; I had suffered a great shock from which I had not yet recovered. I would feel differently in the morning.

Thérèse came and took me down to the dining room where Jean Pascal was waiting. He took my hands and held them firmly.

“It is my earnest desire that you should be happy here, Lucie,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“I shall do my best to make you like this place.”

“It is kind of you.”

Belinda had arrived.

“What an exciting place!” she cried. “I long to explore.”

“Which you shall do in the morning,” her father assured her. “I myself will take you on a tour of inspection … and Lucie as well, of course.”

“I long to see it all,” enthused Belinda.

“For tonight you must content yourself with what my servants have prepared for you. I will not have you see too much of my château for the first time in the dark.”

Belinda laughed with pleasure.

The meal seemed to go on for a long time. I felt a little better. I had just had an attack of nerves … something which I had thought could not happen to me. I was just tired and could not feel that exuberance that Belinda did.

Jean Pascal was eager for us to taste the wine. It was one of the finest vintages, he told us, and he had ordered it to be served tonight because this was a special occasion.

“And this is your own wine?” cried Belinda.

“My dear child, did you think I would allow anything else to be served in my château?”

Belinda laughed. I liked to see her happy. She had an effect on me, for she helped to lift my spirits.

When the meal was over Jean Pascal suggested we retire.

“We are all feeling the effects of the long journey,” he said. “All those hours on the train … they are a trial of endurance.”

So we said good night and Jean Pascal summoned the servants to conduct us to our rooms. Thérèse took me to mine. I could see why this was necessary. I should not have been able to find mine by myself.

Candles throw shadows over a room and somehow they disturb the imagination. The drapes had been drawn across the windows. I undressed but before getting into bed I went to the window and drew back the curtains. I could just see a green expanse in the middle of which was a fountain. There was no moon, but the stars were bright; and I felt happier with the light from them in my room.

I wondered if Belinda’s room was close to mine. She seemed to have gone in another direction when we had been escorted up after dinner.

The place seemed very quiet.

I looked at my door which was heavy, with intricate carving. It seemed to me that some of the flowers seemed to have human faces. It was beautiful, I supposed, but in a way menacing—as I saw it that night.

That was the mood I was in.

Then I noticed the key in the lock. I turned it. Now I had locked myself in.

It was amazing how much better that made me feel.

I got into bed, but it was a long time before I slept.

When I awoke the sun was shining.

The room looked quite different. I unlocked my door and went back to bed. I saw that it was seven o’clock. I lay there wondering what life would be like here. I started thinking of how much everything had changed since my father’s death. I was longing for the old days … the familiar house, the conversations we had had. I wanted to wait up for him on his late nights at the House, to enjoy once more those evenings when I sat opposite him watching him eat while he told me about the day’s proceedings; I wanted to think of a settled future with Joel, marrying with the approval of both families … settling into a way of life which was already familiar to me.

I had believed it was there … waiting for me, but with two blows, fate had decided otherwise; and there I was in an ancient château which echoed with memories of the past; it seemed to me that there were ghosts here, ready to emerge. Many stirring events must have happened here … death … unhappiness … dark secrets. Pleasures too … joys … happiness. Why, in such places, did one always think of the unpleasant things? Perhaps because they were more obtrusive.

What was I expected to do? I presumed a maid would come in with hot water. In the last few days I had tried to improve the French I had learned with Miss Jarrett; speaking it … particularly with the natives … was quite different from reading and speaking it with Miss Jarrett.

At about eight o’clock there was a tap at my door. I called for whoever was there to come in.

It was Thérèse with a tray on which was a brioche and pieces of hot crusty bread, a little pot of butter, a cup and saucer and two jugs, one containing coffee, the other hot milk, both covered with woolen cozies to keep them warm.

“
Petit déjeuner,
Mademoiselle,” she told me.

With her was another maid who carried a big metal jug full of hot water which she placed in the
ruelle.

I thanked them and, smiling, they departed.

The coffee was delicious, so were the hot bread and brioche.

While we were at dinner on the previous night our luggage had been brought to our rooms. I had been too tired to unpack last night and had just taken out things I needed for my immediate use.

I put on a dark blue dress and hung up the rest of my clothes in the wardrobe. While I was doing this, there was a knock on my door and before I could answer Belinda walked in.

“Aren’t you ready yet?” she demanded. “Isn’t it fun? Do you like your room? It’s very like mine.”

“I suppose most of the rooms are rather alike.”

“I’m longing to explore. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“It’s all so fascinating. You are very lucky, Lucie.”

“Am I?”

“Oh, poor Lucie.” She rushed at me and put her arms round me in a protective gesture. “I do put my foot in it, don’t I? But you’ve got to stop thinking of all that. Life goes on. Mon père says we’ve got to make you see that. We’re going to make you happy here. He says so.”

“That’s very good of him.”

“He is good … really. Oh, I know he sounds a little cynical sometimes, but he has
lived,
Lucie, really
lived.
That doesn’t mean he isn’t kind. He talks a lot about you. He says you ought to be enjoying life because you’ve got so much to make you.”

“It is certainly good of him to give so much attention to my affairs.”

“He likes you. He wouldn’t have asked you to come here if he hadn’t.”

“Oh, that was to please you.”

“Oh no it wasn’t … although it does please me. He was the first one to suggest it.”

“Oh well, here I am.”

“And we’re going to have a lovely time. I’m going to make you enjoy it.”

“Thank you, Belinda.”

“Well, hurry up and finish and we’ll go down. I wonder if mon père is already up?”

“Where is your room, Belinda?”

“On the other side of the château.” She went to the window. “I’ve got a different view. I look out on the lake. Well, it’s like a lake. There’s a stream, too … part of the river, I think … and it flows into the lake. There are swans on the lake. Two black ones. I haven’t seen black ones before. It’s lovely.”

“So, we are quite away from each other.”

“Well, it is a big château.”

“Your father said it was of medium size.”

“He was comparing it with the royal ones … chateaux of the Loire … Blois and places like that. This is a nobleman’s château, not a king’s.”

“I see.”

“Well, hurry up. I’ll be down in the hall. You’ll find your way down.”

“I hope so.”

“And don’t be long.”

The morning was spent exploring the castle.

“It is essential that you do so, otherwise you will be hopelessly lost,” explained Jean Pascal. “I am going to take you outside and bring you in as though you are just arriving.”

“It was too dark for us to see properly last night,” said Belinda.

“I want you both to like the château. It’s very important to our family.”

“And yet,” I said, “you left it.”

“Ah, Lucie, it was a wrench. But our country was in turmoil. We did not know which way we were going. Memories are still with us of the great Revolution, which took place only about a hundred years ago. The Emperor and Empress went into exile. You cannot imagine what that did to our country. We thought it was coming again. Fortunately, tragic though this was … it was not of the same magnitude as that which our country had suffered before.”

“But you were able to keep the château,” I said, “and it is still yours.”

“Yes … and I am a frequent visitor here. In fact I believe I am here more than anywhere else. The wine … well, shall we say it is a kind of hobby. I wish I could persuade my mother to return … but she is there with the Empress. Perhaps one day it will change.”

“Celeste never comes here,” I said.

“Celeste … oh, poor Celeste! Her marriage took her away and she became a politician’s wife.”

“Perhaps now she would like to come back?”

“She does not say she would.” He lifted his shoulders. “She knows it is her home … the family home … if she wants to come, she can do so.”

“It may be that she will. She is not very happy in London.”

“No. But we are not here to talk of sad things. This has to be a happy time. I insist. So does Belinda, do you not?”

“Yes, I insist. So stop being morbid, Lucie. You’ve got to enjoy all this.”

“You see,” said Jean Pascal, “it is an order. Now we are outside we will approach the château as though we are entering it for the first time.”

We ascended the imposing marble steps at the bottom of which stood two huge marble containers, full of green shrubs which trailed their leaves over the pedestals on which they stood.

Looking back, we could see that the tree-lined drive opened onto the lawn which was immediately in front of the house.

Jean Pascal made us turn our faces to the château.

“You see, the building is dominated by the tower,” he said. “In the old days it was called the watch tower; and in times of trouble a man would be posted up there, his sole duty being to watch and give warning of any suspicious person or persons approaching. He used to while away the time by singing songs or playing the flute. A musician always had to be chosen for the job because he could practice his art while watching. I remember its being done when I was here in the ‘70s, at the time when we were expecting trouble. People would hear the singing or the flute playing and know that all was well. We had our watcher. The songs were called Watchman’s Songs and they were often his own compositions. In French we called them
chansons de guettes.
You see, the tower is right in the center … just below is what is called the palace. That is the part where the family live.”