The Black Swan (42 page)

“Thank you, Phillida,” I said.

“It’s our pleasure to look after you … to get you well.”

She stood smiling at me and I thought, how could you have said what you did about me … and to a stranger? But what had she said? Nothing but the truth. It was what she had implied. But then … I
had
seen visions. …

“How would you fancy an omelette? I have some very fresh eggs. Your Mrs. Hellman called this morning to bring some. A pity you weren’t up. She asked after you. What a talker she is! I suppose she doesn’t get much opportunity to talk in that farmhouse.”

“I heard her,” I said.

“Oh? So you were awake. Well, I’ll see about things. Hot water first. Kitty will bring it up at once.”

She smiled at me benignly and went out.

I was glad to be in my room for a time. I did not want to talk to Phillida. I might mention that I had heard what she said to Mrs. Hellman.

I wanted desperately to see Rebecca, and I had an impulse to ride into Bradford and get a train to London. I could go to Celeste for a night and then on to Cornwall.

How could I do anything so melodramatic? I must talk to Roland tonight. I could tell him that I had made up my mind that I must go at once to see Rebecca. He would understand. He always did.

I thought then of the letter I had written to Rebecca. I went to the drawer. There it was. I could at least send it off. I would ride into Bracken this afternoon to the little post office.

I felt better now that I had decided to take some action.

The hot water came. I washed and Kitty arrived with the omelette. I was surprised that I felt hungry and was able to eat with relish.

I put on my riding habit and went downstairs.

Phillida was in her herbary. She came out, looking surprised when she saw me dressed for riding.

“Do you feel well enough?” she asked anxiously.

“Yes. I think it will do me good.”

“Not too far then. Just a little amble round.”

I nodded as though in agreement. She came to the door and waved as I rode away.

I felt better. Why did I see these visions? It was because others could stand beside me and see nothing that I was alarmed.

I longed to see Joel. Suppose I went to him …? No, that was not the way. He would persuade me to stay and I could not hurt Roland … that way. It was Rebecca I needed to see first. I needed my half sister’s cool common sense. I touched the letter in my pocket and wondered how long it would take to reach her. But I did not have to wait for a reply. I only had to appear at High Tor. They had always made me feel as though it were my home. If only she were near now.

But I was feeling better because I was taking some action. I would speak to Roland tonight and tell him I would leave tomorrow because I must see Rebecca.

I arrived in Bracken and went straight to the post office. I tethered my horse outside while I went in.

The shop was a typical village store. It sold most things necessary to ordinary household requirements. It catered for a small community but it had to be able to supply all necessities. There were cakes, biscuits, sugar, tea … all that a grocer would sell; there were clothes, boots, shoes, fruit, cough mixtures and such remedies … and in a corner of the shop—the post office.

A thin, middle-aged woman was seated behind a kind of wire with a gap at the bottom. I bought a stamp for my letter. The shop was deserted and it was clear to me that she was inquisitive and wondering who I was. I supposed she was fully acquainted with most of the people who came in, and here was someone whom she had never seen before.

She said it was a fine day and asked if I had come far.

“Well, from Gray Stone House,” I said. “Do you know it?”

“Reckon,” she said brightly.

I was not sure what that meant, but it soon became clear that she was not only aware of it, but knew that there were new people there and that they were looking round hoping to buy a house in the neighborhood.

My thoughts immediately went to Mrs. Hellman who, having the news, would have quickly imparted it to anyone she encountered. In a community like this where very little happened, newcomers were of the greatest interest.

“Well,” she said. “It’s a mercy you’ve come this morning. You’re Mrs. Fitzgerald … or are you Miss?”

“I’m Mrs. Fitzgerald.”

“Well then, I was just on sending a message out to you. We don’t deliver. Letters come here to the post office for people in outlying districts and they call in and collect.”

“I heard that from a neighbor … and you have something for me?”

“That would be Mrs. Hellman from Hellman’s Farm. I was going to give it to her but she hasn’t been in this morning.”

“What is it?” I asked urgently.

“Half a minute.” She opened a drawer. “Here is it. Came yesterday. A letter for you.”

“Oh … thank you.” I glanced at me envelope. It was Belinda’s handwriting. “I … I’m so pleased.”

“Come in once or twice a week. We keep the mail for you. Happen you ought to have a number. Box they call it. Box 22. That could be yours. Tell them to send to Box 22, Post Office, Bracken, near Bradford. Got it? Then you come in as often as you like to collect.”

“I am so pleased I called.”

She smiled. I was longing to read Belinda’s letter, but she went on, “You see that one’s sent to Mrs. Fitzgerald, Gray Stone House, Bracken, Bradford. Well, that’s all right because we know who you are. I knew you had come to Gray Stone … but if you remember Box 22 it’s best … though it wouldn’t matter all that much.”

“You’ve been very helpful.”

“How are you getting on at Gray Stone?”

“Very well.”

“That’s the ticket. It’s a bit lonely up there.”

“Well, we don’t expect to be there long. Thank you so much. I am so glad I called in.”

She was reluctant to let me go and I am sure she would have made a greater attempt to detain me if someone else had not come in at that moment.

“Oh, Mrs. Copland,” she cried. “There you are … and how’s that daughter-in-law of yours getting on?”

I did not stay to hear the condition of Mrs. Copland’s daughter-in-law but came out onto the street clutching Belinda’s letter.

Desperately I wanted to read it, but I could not do so there. I mounted my horse and rode out of Bracken. I found a field bordered by a few trees, so I alighted, tethered my horse to a fence and sat down under one of the trees to read.

Dear Lucie,

I am sending this in the hope that it will reach you. I hope I’ve got the address right. You did mention Gray Stone was the name of the house … remember? And I’m sure it was near a place called Bracken. So here goes.

Things are working out very well here. All is going smoothly, and as Henry is not raising any objection and it is a clear case of my being the sinner … we’re hoping all will go well.

We are a bit afraid of the press, but Bobby’s family has influence and they are working hard for us. It is this dear little infant who is making them all so eager … Bobby’s family, I mean. They are all desperately anxious that he shall be born in wedlock. Then of course if we do just miss, it will all be suitably covered up, and Bobby and I will go through the ceremony—very quietly—as soon as it is over. So I am not worrying. I wish you could come here and stay. It would be great fun. It’s really rather pleasant. I quite like being the lady of the manor. None of the people on the estate know that I have no right to the title and we are hoping to keep that little matter dark.

However, it is all rather thrilling … and quite amusing … or it will be when it is all over.

Why do these people have to take so long?

Well, that’s all about me. What of you? How are you getting on in Gray Stone? It sounds dreary. And how is dear Roland and his sister?

By the way, Joel came down to see us. He stayed a night. He wanted to talk to me … about you, of course. He asked if I knew where you were? I gave him the address I’m putting on this letter. He asked if I was writing to you and he wanted me to tell you something specially. That’s why I’m writing to you now.

He said, “Could you write and tell Lucie that I’m working on things?” He said something about it’s being wrapped up in mystery and he was going to get to the bottom of it. One thing I have to make sure to tell you is the message: Fergus O’Neill had a brother …

I stopped reading. A brother! Did that mean that the brother was pretending to be him? Were they alike? Did they both have that widow’s peak? Then could it possibly be that the brother had decided to haunt me? How could that be? Both Roland and Phillida had been standing beside me and had not seen him.

And Joel had discovered this. I felt suddenly much happier. He was working for me. It was a wonderful feeling of relief.

If I could only see Joel!

I turned back to the letter.

Joel said that the brother was as deeply involved as Fergus. He said they were all working for what they called “the cause.” Joel is delving into things and there are one or two points he can’t be quite clear about as yet. As soon as he has found what he wants he is coming to you. In the meantime he said—and he stressed this—you must take the utmost care. He would like you to get back to London. He was very serious. He is a most attractive man. If I weren’t so devoted to Bobby …

Well, enough of that.

Dear Lucie, do come and see me. I don’t like to think of you all those miles away.

I do hope this reaches you. Anyway why haven’t you written to me? Then you could give me the proper address. When you do, I shall pass it on to Joel! I can’t understand why you haven’t written.

Love from Belinda … and Bobby and that one who will soon be making his august entry into the world.

I smiled and read the letter again. Joel was thinking of me. Probing, he said. How I longed to be with him!

I was glad I had posted my letter. I was feeling considerably better. What a good impulse it was that had led me into Bracken this afternoon. The letter would of course have come into my hands eventually; but it was just what I needed this day.

I
SETTLED MY HORSE
in the stable and went into the house. I called to tell Phillida that I was back, but there was no answer. Apparently she had gone out, and I thought I would ask Kitty to make me a cup of tea.

I went into the kitchen. Kitty was sitting on a chair dozing. I did not wake her.

I was not sure that I wanted to tell Roland and Phillida that I had received a letter from Belinda and discovered that Fergus O’Neill had a brother. It would bring up the subject of the vision. Nor did I want to mention that the information had come through Joel by way of Belinda. But I usually had a cup of tea with Phillida at this time, and the thought suddenly occurred to me that she might be in the herbary, for she spent a lot of time there preparing her herbs.

I went to it and knocked at the door. There was no answer so I opened it and looked in.

I had been in this room very rarely. Roland referred to it as Phillida’s sanctum.

I was immediately aware of the overpowering aroma of herbs. I advanced a few paces. Bunches of herbs were hanging from a hook on the wall. She was dedicated to the study of them. I suppose it was an interesting subject. There was a desk with a blotter on it and lying close to the blotter was a bunch of what looked like dried sunflowers. My attention was immediately caught by the markings on the blotter because they reminded me of my own name … but looking rather odd because it was backwards. I looked closer. Of course that was how it would come out if blotted. It was as though someone had written my name and blotted it while it was very wet.

Could Phillida have been writing something about me?

My curiosity was aroused. I examined the blotter more closely. There was other writing which I could not decipher, and my own name was below this as it would be had I signed a letter. I was amazed really because what I was looking at was remarkably like my own handwriting.

I felt an urgency to discover what this meant. My senses were suddenly alert. Was it due to the fact that I had heard this afternoon that Fergus O’Neill had a brother and there was a possibility that he might look rather like him and it was he who was playing tricks on me? I had had to abandon that theory because neither Roland nor Phillida had seen him when I had thought he stood below.

But what was Phillida writing about me? I had felt afraid since I had heard her speaking to Mrs. Hellman about me. It had shocked me deeply. I knew that she and Roland thought I was hysterical and I understood why, but I had been disagreeably surprised that she should betray this to Mrs. Hellman who was a stranger.

I had an irresistible curiosity to discover more, and that forced me to act in a way which I should previously have hesitated to do.

I opened a drawer and looked in it. There were some papers, a pen and a bottle of ink. I looked at the papers on top. They were all blank. I opened another drawer and saw a book about good health and the cultivation of herbs.

Underneath the book were other papers with some wording on them. They were written in that handwriting rather similar to my own. The dreadful thought occurred to me that Phillida had copied my handwriting. There it was … the manner in which I made a sort of curly start to a capital letter and left the tail of my g’s unfinished.

I seized on one piece of paper. Horrified I read:

Dear Roland,

Forgive me. I know I am going mad. I have tried to fight against it, but it is no use. Thank you for everything. You have been a good husband to me and Phillida a good friend. But I cannot bear it anymore. You know, as I do, that it is getting worse. I am sure this is the best way out for us all.

Lucie

It was the note of someone contemplating suicide. It was growing alarmingly clear what was happening. Phillida was planning to kill me and make it appear that I had taken my own life.

Terrible suspicions were crowding into my mind. I looked about me. What other secrets were in this room?

I went to the door and locked it from the inside. I was going to find out. It was imperative that I did.