The Black Swan (16 page)

He waved his arms toward the lawn and went on, “Tournaments used to be held here … tilting and jousting. The château was the center of life in the neighborhood at that time. You see how that staircase is supported by the vaults. Beggars and hangers-on used to congregate there. They were given the remains of food after meals. Everything is different now.”

We mounted the steps and went into the hall.

“This was the main living room in medieval days,” he continued. “Look up and you will see the hole in the roof where there was once a vent to let out the smoke. But that was changed a hundred years ago and we have our big fireplace over there, you see, and our chimney to take away the smoke. If you look closely you can see, in the center of the hall, where the fire used to be. You see those tiles? The château has indeed changed since medieval times, but we are still proud of the past and my family have always kept as much intact as possible, but when it was excessively uncomfortable then we felt it advisable to move with the times.”

So he talked and I could visualize what it had been like in the old days. I could see the beggars under the steps, the guests in their brilliant costumes sitting on those same steps on a warm summer’s evening. I wondered about the long-dead Bourdons and what their lives had been like. They seemed to linger on … even in daylight.

He showed us the
salon
and the
salle à manger
which had been introduced into the château within the last two hundred years; we saw the extra wing which had been added to make more bedrooms. It was a mingling of the ancient and … well, not exactly modern, but later periods than those when the Château Bourdon had been erected.

I could see why he was proud of it, and how great a tragedy it must have been to his family when they had felt obliged to leave it.

I wondered why they had not been lured back.

Jean Pascal said, “My parents were devoted to Napoleon and Eugenie. They spent a great deal of time at Court … far more than they did here and when the Emperor and Empress were forced into exile, they had to join them.”

There was so much to see that the tour of the castle lasted a long time.

“Years ago,” he told us, “noble families would send their sons and daughters to be brought up away from their own homes. I don’t know why this was the custom; perhaps it was thought that parents would be too lenient. Young girls and young men were brought up here. The men would learn courtly manners, how to joust and so on, to make them worthy to go to Court when the time came.”

“And what of the girls?” asked Belinda.

“Oh, they were taught how to be good wives and mothers and please their husbands.”

“Were the men taught to please their wives?” I asked.

“Ah, Miss Lucie, that was something they knew how to do without tuition. I see you are skeptical. You do not believe that is something which comes naturally to a man?”

“I am sure it does not. I just wondered whether it might not have been a good idea to give them a little tuition as it was thought necessary for the women.”

He smiled benignly at me. “I think you may be right, Lucie,” he said. “Now let me show you where the girls used to come to learn how to embroider, how to sing, how to play some musical instrument and how to charm the men. It is called the Maidens’ Room or
La Chambre des Pucelles.
We always keep it just as it was. I like to think of the girls here … so young … so pretty … so docile … all so eager to learn.”

He was regarding me with an expression I did not understand, but it made me a little uneasy.

I wished that I could cast off that sense of foreboding which the place seemed to inspire in me. It was not as intense as it had been on the previous night, but it lingered. I told myself it was the strangeness of the place—and, of course, my fanciful nature.

We had explored the château and were back in the hall when the door was suddenly opened and a woman came in. She was in a riding habit of silver-gray, and her hair, which was luxurious and golden, showed beneath her gray riding hat.

“Jean Pascal!” she cried, coming toward him, smiling. “I heard you were home.”

Jean Pascal looked distinctly annoyed. I had never seen him look like that before. He seemed really angry.

“Oh, Clotilde,” he said. “I am busy now … showing my guests round the château.”

“How amusing!” She waited expectantly.

“I’ll see you later on.”

She looked amazed. I wondered why he did not introduce us. So did she evidently, because she came forward and stood looking at us expectantly.

There was no alternative then but for Jean Pascal to act as we all expected.

“My daughter Belinda … Mademoiselle Lansdon,” he murmured. “And … er … Madame Carleon.”

In our somewhat labored French Belinda and I said we were enchanted to meet her.

“Well, we must go,” said Jean Pascal. “I’ll see you at some other time, Clotilde.”

She stared at him for a second or two and then, turning, walked out of the hall. I listened to her footsteps on the marble steps.

Jean Pascal quickly recovered from what seemed to have been for him an unpleasant experience.

“You haven’t seen it all yet,” he was saying. “We have some magnificent stables and plenty of horses. So you will be able to ride round and explore.”

I heard the sound of horse’s hoofs and I guessed that Madame Carleon was departing in anger.

I wondered what that was all about.

A few days passed. Jean Pascal seemed determined that we should enjoy our stay. I wondered whether he had it in his mind that Belinda should live here permanently. I had an idea that he was interested in her … and perhaps asking himself whether he wanted a grown-up daughter in his household. He might find it amusing for a while, certainly, but would he grow tired? I was sure that Belinda wanted to be with him. His mode of living would suit her, I was sure. It would be more exciting residing in the château, visiting royalty at Farnborough and traveling with her father. Quite different from the comparatively dull lives we lived in London.

But he did include me in everything. He would ask my opinion and always considered it carefully. He really did seem as though he were trying to please me. In fact there were times when I think Belinda grew a little impatient because he bestowed so much attention on me.

He told me that he had a few friends and acquaintances in the neighborhood and that we should have a dinner party; and he had no doubt that there would be invitations for us to visit.

Belinda was much looking forward to that. She had already been to Bordeaux and bought some clothes. She regretted that we were so far from Paris. How she would have loved to see the shops in that city!

I still kept to my plan to escape from them from time to time. I found a need to be alone. Every day I hoped there would be news of Joel. Celeste had assured me that she would let me know at once if she heard anything; and the Greenhams would of course keep her informed, knowing I was as anxious as they were.

The grounds about the château provided me with great pleasure. They were extensive; there was a small pine wood to which one could retreat and feel as though one were a long way from any habitation; it was always a pleasure to emerge from the trees and see the central tower of the château and the two round ones at either end of the building. Standing some distance from it, the symmetrical beauty of the place struck one forcibly.

I liked to wander along the banks of the lake and to watch the swans; both remained aloof and rarely came to the water’s edge. The big one, the cob, was always followed by his smaller mate. He looked very dignified with her always following in his wake. The little ducks were more friendly. They would come close, always hoping for some little tidbit to eat, I imagined.

On this particular day I was unusually deep in thought, telling myself that there must be news of Joel soon. Time was passing. Surely if anything was to be discovered it must be in the near future. It had been so long that I was beginning to despair and feel I might never see him again.

I had wandered to the edge of the lake as I watched the swans. The large one was coming purposefully toward me, the little one docilely swimming behind him. I thought how beautiful they were, so exquisitely graceful and serene. They were coming nearer and nearer. I was surprised. Previously they had seemed somewhat disdainfully aloof.

Then I heard the sound of horse’s hoofs. I turned. Jean Pascal was galloping toward me. He was alone.

I did not know why I had that sudden feeling of uneasiness. I was subject to strange moods in the château. Often I felt this sense of foreboding which I found impossible to shake off. It seemed to me that the servants watched us … Belinda and myself … closely—as though they were speculating. Once or twice I caught the whispered words
les anglaises
so I knew we were the subject of their conversation.

“Lucie!” Jean Pascal was calling my name and there was an urgent note in his voice. “Come here. Come to me … quickly!”

I did not move … and then I heard the sound of flapping wings. I turned sharply. The big black swan was flying straight at me. Jean Pascal had leaped from his horse. He pushed me roughly to one side. The swan turned its attention to him. Fortunately there was a fairly stout branch of a tree lying on the ground and with great presence of mind Jean Pascal picked it up. He was just in time to be able to protect his head by striking out at the swan. He took a few paces backward and hit out.

For a few seconds the black swan continued to attack him; and then suddenly it turned and flew back to the lake. I stood still, shocked, while it swam back to the middle of the lake, his meek mate following in her usual fashion, just as though nothing untoward had happened.

Jean Pascal put his hand on my shoulder. He whistled. “That was rather uncomfortable,” he said.

He took both my hands. “You’re trembling,” he said.

“It happened so quickly … I didn’t realize what it was all about.”

He dropped my hands and put an arm around me.

“Dear little Lucie, it is all over now.” He held me tightly against him and I wanted to cry out in panic, for he alarmed me as much as the swan had.

I tried to break free but he held me firmly. “You see,” he said. “I was there. I hope always to be at hand when you need me.”

I managed to free myself. “It was good of you,” I said. “Why did the swan try to attack first me … and then you?”

“You should have been warned. He’s a wicked old fellow, that swan, for all his good looks. We call him Diable. His little mate is so charming. She would never indulge in tantrums. She wouldn’t dare to with old Diable around. As a matter of fact her name is Ange. So you see, we have a devil and an angel. You went too near the lake, which Diable regards as his property. He doesn’t like people intruding. We have to be careful not to offend him. You should have been warned.”

“He’s quite dangerous, and he was ready to attack
you.
”

“Oh, he is no respecter of persons. He is quite ungrateful to those who provide for him. There’s a certain arrogance about him. Heaven knows what would have happened to you if I hadn’t come along just in time. He would have attacked your face … pecked at your nose or your eyes. His wings are strong. He’s a magnificent creature.
Mon Dieu,
the thought of your being hurt … I am so annoyed with myself. We’re so used to Diable here that we forget to tell people how vicious he can be. He’s a menace to the unaware. Never go near the edge of the lake again, and when you are out walking, find a stout stick just in case you encounter Diable.”

“Why do you have such a dangerous creature on your lake?”

“He keeps it clean … and you must admit he is rather majestic.”

“I admit that … but so dangerous!”

“Well, we accept him. The servants all know Diable, and now … so do you. You are becoming one of us, Lucie.”

“You have been most hospitable.”

Belinda was coming toward us. She frowned to see us together. I wanted to tell her how pleased I was to see her as I did not feel happy when I was alone with her father.

We told her about the adventure.

“Trust you, Lucie, to provoke him,” said Belinda.

“It could have happened to anyone … even to you.”

“I knew swans could be like that … male ones anyway.”

Jean Pascal laughed. “You see, Belinda knows the ways of the world. She recognizes the dangerous male who is so different from the gentle, charming female.”

“It’s not always like that,” said Belinda.

“That’s one thing you have to learn in life, isn’t it—not to generalize,” he said. “There will always be exceptions.”

And so we came to the château. I went to my room. I was still shaken … not only by the swan’s attack but by the manner in which Jean Pascal had held me to him and the look in his eyes when he spoke to me.

W
HEN WE WERE AT
Manorleigh both Belinda and I had ridden frequently, in London less so. It was necessary, as my father said, to “nurse” the constituency and I, with Celeste later, used to ride around to the various villages which were part of it; so I had become a quite skillful horsewoman.

I went riding now and then with Belinda and Jean Pascal, but I looked forward to those times when I could be alone. I was becoming increasingly uneasy because of Jean Pascal’s attitude toward me. I might be innocent but I was not ignorant. I had already discerned that he was the sort of man who would be interested in any woman who crossed his path. I did not think that I was particularly attractive, but I was there … actually living under his roof. I began to think it was time I went away.

The truth was he alarmed me. I admonished myself. I only had to convey to him that I was not one of those people who indulged in the light love affairs of which I was sure he had had great experience. He was Belinda’s father and that meant that he was old enough to be mine. Not that age would be so important, I supposed, if one truly loved. Love Jean Pascal? The thought appalled me. Of course, he was good-looking, suave, a man of the world. Some people might have fallen in love with him. As for myself, I felt only revulsion when he came near me.