The Black Swan (31 page)

“Well, anyway,” I said. “It happened and we have to thank you, Mr. Emery, for getting it under control before much damage was done.”

“The curtains are ruined,” said Phillida, somewhat ruefully. “And imagine what the bed will be like after all that water!” She laughed a little hysterically. “What does that matter as long as you are safe? I keep thinking what might have happened. How could I have told Roland!”

“Oh, Phillida!” I cried. “It didn’t happen. It was just … an accident. Thank goodness it was nothing more.” A sudden thought struck me. “I haven’t seen Belinda. …”

Phillida cried out: “Oh … yes. I’d forgotten she was here. All this happening …”

“Surely she couldn’t have slept all through this?” I said. “I’m going to see if she’s all right.”

I ran out of the room, Phillida close behind me … up the stairs, past the ruined bedroom to that of Belinda.

I opened the door, calling softly, “Belinda.”

There was no answer.

Belinda was lying on her back, fast asleep. There was a faint smile about her lips, as though her dreams were pleasant.

Phillida was beside me. I glanced at her and put my finger to my lips. We tiptoed out.

“She must have slept through it all,” said Phillida.

“It seems incredible.”

The Emerys were just behind us.

“Is she all right?” asked Mrs. Emery.

“She’s fast asleep. Let’s go back to the library and finish our drink.”

“She must be a deep sleeper,” said Mrs. Emery. “Some are.”

“I think she was rather exhausted,” I said. “She mentioned having had a bad night previously.”

“If I’d known, I would have given her one of my nightcaps,” said Phillida.

“Obviously she didn’t need it,” I said. “Although, I remember now … she drank the one Kitty brought up for me. Perhaps that is why she slept through it all and I didn’t.”

Phillida laughed. “Thank God,” she murmured. Then, “It’s not meant to send you off like that. It’s just to bring about a peaceful natural sleep.”

“She’s a heavy sleeper, that’s what,” said Mrs. Emery. “Some people are like that.”

I yawned and said, “I do think we ought to try and get some sleep now.”

“Your room will be ready,” said Mrs. Emery.

“Thank you, Mrs. Emery. Then I think I’ll go up.”

So there I was, in my old room. I could not help going to the window and looking out at the oak tree and the haunted seat.

It had been a wild night and, as I expected, I slept little.

Belinda and I did not leave next morning. After what had happened it was not possible. The household was obsessed by the topic of the fire. Everyone had to inspect the damage. Phillida was really upset. She kept looking at me with a mingling of horror and affection.

“Oh, Phillida,” I said, “it didn’t happen.”

“No … but it might have. If you hadn’t wakened … I keep thinking of it. I just could not have borne it, Lucie. I keep thinking of Roland. What could I have said to him?”

“But it did not happen.”

“Thank God.”

Belinda expressed amazement when she heard what had happened.

“A fire! In your room! Good Heavens! And there was I, fast asleep.”

She inspected the damage.

“Those curtains! And you lying there! You might have been burned to death … or badly scarred. Oh, Lucie, and there was I, fast asleep all through it!”

I wondered whether she was thinking, as I was, of that occasion when she had taken a candle from the Christmas tree and touched my dress … a dress which Rebecca had given to the poor little cottage child so that she might come to the party. Did Belinda remember? She must, for her actions had cost Jenny Stubbs her life and was the reason why I had been taken into Cador to be brought up with her.

But now I was sure that what was uppermost in her mind was the fact that our journey to London had been delayed.

Phillida said, “How strange that you did not hear the commotion.”

“I was so tired,” replied Belinda. “I was asleep almost as soon as I got into bed.”

Phillida looked at her intently. I had a notion that Phillida did not greatly care for Belinda.

Phillida then said that, if I would give her permission, she would have the bed taken away and a new one supplied.

“It just upsets me to look at it,” she said. “I can’t stop thinking of what might have been.”

“You’ve got to stop thinking about that, Phillida.”

“I wish I could. So … shall I get it taken away? Actually, I wouldn’t want Roland to see it in that state. I know how upset he’d be.”

“Then do it, if you can, while I’m in London.”

“Oh, I will, Lucie. Of course, you’ll be going with Belinda.”

“Yes, that’s so.”

“I hope you’ll be all right.”

“All right? Of course. What do you mean?”

“I don’t know … exactly. I’m just fanciful after what happened.”

“Fanciful … about Belinda?”

“Well … there is something about her. She’s a strange person. She’s rather wild. I have a feeling that one would never really know what she was about.”

“Yes, Belinda is a little … unexpected. But I know her well. We are the best of friends really.”

Phillida nodded but she continued to look a little anxious.

T
HE NEXT DAY BELINDA
and I went up to London.

We went first to Celeste who was delighted to see us.

“Lucie as well,” she said. “This is nice. I do hope you are going to stay a little while.”

“Well, Celeste,” I replied, “I thought I’d go to Roland. He is in London now.”

“She couldn’t do without him,” added Belinda. “She has to come up to be with him.”

How could she diverge from the truth unnecessarily? I had come up at her request to see Henry Farrell, and she knew it. Why had she deliberately twisted the truth?

“So Roland will be expecting you?” said Celeste.

“No. He doesn’t know I’m coming. It was arranged on the spur of the moment. I thought I’d just come to see you and then go along to him. He’ll be busy during the day and Belinda and I have one or two things to do in London.”

It sounded reasonable enough.

We had luncheon with Celeste and by that time it was three in the afternoon.

Belinda was all impatience but I said I would go and see Henry Farrell on the following day, because I wanted to prepare what I would say to him. And first I must see Roland.

Belinda accepted my decision rather ungraciously, but she did not want to offend me for fear I would abandon the entire exercise.

I left her with Celeste and took a cab to Welling Gardens where Roland and Phillida had their
pied-à-terre.

It was a street of tall narrow houses. I had been there only once before and then only briefly. Neither Roland nor Phillida had suggested that I should go again and it had not seemed necessary that I should. It was a rented house—a temporary residence—and when they had entertained us it had been in hotels and restaurants. We had always heard the place referred to vaguely as the
pied-à-terre
.

At number seventy I alighted and paid the cab driver. I mounted the steps to the front door and, looking down, I saw the shadowy figure of a woman in the basement. She would be the wife in the couple who took charge of the domestic arrangements and lived down there. Roland had told me that the man and wife team went with the house to those who rented it.

I knocked on the front door and after a while the woman opened it. She was middle-aged, rather plump with reddish hair.

“I’m Mrs. Fitzgerald,” I said.

The woman stared at me for a few seconds and then smiled rather expansively.

“Oh, come in,” she said. “I’ll tell Mr. Fitzgerald …”

“Oh, he’s home, is he? I wondered whether he would be at this time. My plan had been to be here and surprise him when he came in.”

Then I saw him. He was coming down the stairs and he paused to stare blankly at me for a moment. Then he said, “Lucie!”

“I’ve surprised you, I know,” I explained. “But I came to London and here I am.”

His surprise turned to warmth.

“Oh … Lucie …”

He had taken me into his arms. I was aware of the woman watching us, smiling.

“Thank you, Mrs. Gordon,” he said, noticing her. “This is my wife. We’d like some tea … or something.”

He put his arm round me. “Come upstairs. It’s wonderful to see you. I can’t tell you how pleased I am.”

“I thought you would be at your office.”

“Well, the fact is I’ve been hard at it … until today. Then I brought some work home. It was a change of scene and I thought I might get on quicker without interruptions. I was so anxious to get back to Manorleigh.” He opened a door. “Come into the sitting room. Not much compared with Manor Grange, I’m afraid.”

“Well, it is just the …
pied-à-terre.
”

“It suffices. It’s not a home really … but the Gordons are good. They really take care of everything.”

“I think it’s rather nice. Homely. You could make something out of it.”

“That’s what Phillida used to say. But it isn’t ours … just rented. We did talk about getting a house of our own, but we never got round to it. However … the great thing is, you are here. Tell me, what made you come? Did you want to see me?”

“Of course I did. But I don’t think I should have disturbed your work if it had not been for Belinda. She came down to Manorleigh … and more or less prized a promise from me to come to town for a few days.”

“Belinda, the wild one,” he said.

“Yes, that’s Belinda. We should have come yesterday but for the fire.”

“Fire?”

“Oh yes. I must tell you about it. It was in our room. The bed is ruined … all those lovely curtains are a mess. We don’t know how it started. Emery thinks it was a candle which fell over and caught the curtains which smoldered for some time before bursting into flames. Anyway we think that is what happened.”

“But when … when was this?”

“The night before last.”

“In the night … while you were … in bed!”

“It’s all right, Roland. I woke up in time.”

“Oh, my God,” he murmured.

“The fire had only just started. I rushed out and woke the household. Emery was marvelous.

He held me tightly against him. “Lucie …”

“It’s over, Roland. Phillida was in a terrible state about it.”

“Oh yes … Phillida.”

“She keeps talking about what might have happened to me. But it hasn’t … and it’s a lesson to me to be more careful in the future.”

“I … I can’t understand how it could have happened.”

“Emery is sure it was the candle … and I suppose he’s right. However, it was all over very quickly.”

He released me, sat down and covered his face with his hands.

I went to him and drew them away. His face was tortured with anguish. I felt a tremendous tenderness toward him. How he loved me, I thought. I must try to love him always. I must care for him. I felt suddenly very protective.

I said, “Forget it, Roland. It’s over. Phillida is getting rid of the bed. There’ll be a new one when we get back.”

He did not seem to be listening. He was staring straight ahead and I knew he was seeing that room with the flames creeping up the curtains, and me … lying there, unaware.

He could not stop talking of it.

There was a tap on the door and Mrs. Gordon came in with some tea.

As we drank it I told him that Belinda had come down to see me.

He did not pay much attention. I guessed that his thoughts were far away in that bedroom in Manor Grange.

“I am going out with her tomorrow,” I said. I wondered whether to tell him of her troubles and decided that they had been given to me in confidence and that I was not expected to divulge them even to my husband.

“I see,” he said.

“You’ll be busy, of course. Do you think you will be finished by Friday?”

“Oh yes. We’ll go back together.”

Then we talked of ourselves and he told me how much he had missed me.

“I should have come with you,” I said.

He smiled in agreement. Then he said, “Phillida would have hated to be alone at Manor Grange. She has some notions that the servants resent her and think she is trying to usurp your place as mistress.”

I did not answer. I knew there was some truth in this.

Then I said, “You know what servants are. The Emerys were there when my mother was alive. I never saw my mother. She died when I was born, but my half sister Rebecca has talked to me of her so much that she is a real person to me. Before the Emerys came here they were my mother’s servants in her small London house and she took them to Manor Grange with her. So you realize how long they have been in charge of things?”

“Oh yes. Phillida understands that. I think she would like to have a place of our own … start afresh …”

“She has said nothing to me.”

“No. She wouldn’t. Sometimes she has a feeling that she is in the way … the third party … if you know what I mean. It’s on her mind quite a lot. She is always wondering whether, now we’re married, she ought to leave us.”

“Oh no. Where would she go? I’m so fond of her, and I know you’d hate it if she went away.”

“We’ve always been together. It would be a terrible wrench for us both.”

“For me too. I love her dearly. I always think of her as my sister.”

“I know she feels the same about you.”

“She was so terribly upset about the fire.”

“I can imagine that. Well, what do you think of the idea? Say somewhere in Yorkshire? It would be near Bradford and convenient. It’s beautiful countryside.”

I was silent. I should hate to be away from London and Manorleigh.

“We would, of course, keep on this place.”

I looked round it. I could not imagine it as a home. A tall narrow house … in a street of such houses, it seemed dark after the big airy rooms of the London house which was now Celeste’s and Manor Grange. The latter, with its spacious rooms and inescapable air of mystery, meant a great deal to me.

“You couldn’t sell Manor Grange,” said Roland tentatively.

“No, I don’t think I could. Even if I wanted to. I was so shocked when my father died that I am afraid I didn’t take in everything about the will and the practical details. I’ve realized since that, although everything was left to me, it was left in trust. I can’t touch the capital and I suppose the house would come into that category. In any case, the solicitors would have to be consulted before I made any move. I think my father thought I might be prey to fortune hunters.”