The Black Swan (50 page)

I turned to look at my roommates. They were all fast asleep.

Anna B would have to come up to her dormitory. I would surprise her. I would tell her what a dangerous thing she was doing. It could result in her expulsion.

I crept out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind me. I went swiftly along the corridor and waited in the shadows.

She came. She did not look like the girl who had recently climbed through the window. She was wearing a veil over her face.

The ghost, of course!

She came silently up the stairs. I saw her clearly in the light from the window. She would never have deceived me into thinking she was the ghost. I would have known her anywhere.

She opened the door of her dormitory. I followed her in. Lucia lifted herself from her bed and said, “You’re late.”

Then both she and Anna B were staring at me.

“What are you doing?” demanded Anna B.

“Where have you been?” I countered.

She just continued to stare at me, puzzled and furious.

“You should be more careful,” I said. “I heard you below. I looked out and saw you come in through the window. I waited for you.”

“You…you spy!”

“Be quiet!” said Lucia. “Do you want to wake the school?”

“You’ll be in trouble, young Lucinda,” said Anna B. “Walking about the dormitories at night.”

“Not as much as you will be, going out and climbing through a window.”

“Listen to me,” said Lucia. “Go back to your dorm. Talk in the morning.”

I could see that was good sense.

I nodded. “All right. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Anna B sat on her bed glowering at me. She was still holding the veil in her hand. Lucia had begun to giggle.

I crept back to my room. The three girls were still fast asleep and unaware that I had been away.

I got into bed and lay there shivering. What could she have been doing? And this was not the first time. I guessed Anna B was the “ghost” whom Janet Carew had seen.

But where did she go? One thing was certain: Lucia was in on the secret.

I had to wait until the following afternoon before I could encounter Anna B, for we attended different classes and our paths did not often cross.

When I saw her, she said, “Come into the garden.”

I followed her there.

“What do you mean by spying on me?” she demanded in a bellicose manner. She was clearly on the defensive and distinctly rattled.

“I was not spying!” I retorted. “I heard you and I looked out as anyone would. It could have been someone else who saw you…Mademoiselle Artois for instance.”

“That old fool!”

“She’s not an old fool. She’s probably a good deal wiser than you are. Tell me, where did you go? Why did you go? It’s not the first time, is it?”

“Who are you—the Grand Inquisitor?”

“No. Just someone to whom you owe an explanation.”

“I owe you nothing.”

“I could go along and tell Mademoiselle Artois what I saw last night…creeping into the house…pretending to be a ghost. So you are the ghost Janet Carew saw!”

She began to laugh. “So you are a sneak as well as a spy! It was a jolly good idea. It scared them. I got the idea when Marie Christine went walking. I thought if they heard me, they’d think she was sleepwalking again and wouldn’t bother. I thought the veil would be a good idea if anyone should see. They wouldn’t recognize me under it.”

“I recognized you.”

“Oh, well, you’re my dear old friend Lucinda, aren’t you?”

“Annabelinda,” I said, reverting to her proper name. “What were you doing?”

“That’s better,” she said. “I hate ‘Anna B.’ Never call me that again once we are away from here.”

“You’re changing the subject. What were you doing?”

“I felt like a walk.”

“Where to?”

“Just round the grounds. Perhaps I liked playing the ghost.”

“It was very dangerous. Do you want to be expelled?”

“I wouldn’t be.”

“I guess you would.”

“Of course not. Grandpère Bourdon is a great friend of Madame Rochère’s. They would work something out. He would plead for me.”

“You were taking a risk.”

“Haven’t you yet learned that I
like
taking risks?”

“Tell me what all this is about. I don’t believe you did all that just because you felt like a midnight stroll in the grounds.”

“You’re getting too clever, little Lucinda.”

“Which means you are not going to tell me. But Lucia knows.”

“Lucia’s a good sort.”

“She’s another such as you are.”

“Well, that may be so.”

“Where did you go, Annabelinda?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re eighteen.”

“Don’t be absurd!”

“You’ll understand then. And perhaps you will have done the same thing yourself.”

Her eyes were dancing. I felt it was so mysterious, but I knew she was not going to tell me.

“I’m going in now,” she said. “Mustn’t be late for conversazione, must we? So let’s be good little girls. Come on.”

Later, when I saw her giggling with Lucia as though they were sharing secrets, I felt bitterly hurt.

C
HRISTMAS WAS NOW ALMOST
upon us. Bustle and preparation permeated the house.

A party of students went into Mons in the company of Miss Carruthers and Mademoiselle du Pont, who taught French, to buy presents for friends at home.

It was only a short journey by train and Miss Carruthers was very eager that we should see some of what she called “the points of interest” before we spent our time in the frivolous pleasure of gift selecting.

She lectured us as we chuffed along.

“Now, girls, you must know that Mons is situated between the Trouille and Haine rivers at the junction of two canals. One of these was built by Napoleon. Mons was at one time a Roman camp and it is the capital of the province of Hainaut.”

None of us was paying full attention to this; we were all consulting our gift lists. Anna B was looking a little preoccupied. She was sitting with Lucia and talking to her now and then, but I thought she was somewhat bored with the whole proceedings.

After arriving in the town, Miss Carruthers insisted we do a little sightseeing. We were all afraid that there would be too little time left for shopping. We went to see the Church of St. Waudru and the belfry famous for its forty-seven-bell carillon.

“And, girls,” said Miss Carruthers, “the Battle of Malplaquet was fought and won by our own great Duke of Marlborough not far from here.”

At last we were allowed our freedom, and I have to admit that the large store to which we were taken was of greater interest to me than the exploits of the great Duke. I bought some sugar almonds in a beautiful blue and silver box for my mother, a model of the church for my father and a penknife for Charles.

When we went back I sat with Annabelinda. I asked what she had bought.

“Nothing,” she replied briefly.

“You look bored,” I said.

“Who wouldn’t be?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Oh, you’d like anything.”

She seemed genuinely disgruntled, and when I asked if she was annoyed about something she snapped at me, “Of course not. Why should I be? But old Carruthers did go on about that church and the bells.”

In due course we left for home for the holidays.

Aunt Celeste came for us and we spent a night at Valenciennes. Neither the
Princesse
nor Jean Pascal was there, and soon we were on our way to England.

My parents were at Dover to meet us. We kept hugging each other and they wanted to hear all about school. Annabelinda was staying the night with us, and Aunt Belinda was coming to London on the following day.

It was a wonderful homecoming. I told them all about school life and described Madame Rochère and the only slightly less formidable Mademoiselle Artois, Miss Carruthers, the whole lot. They wanted to hear about the midnight feasts and Marie Christine’s sleepwalking.

I was on the point of mentioning the ghost, but I held back. Somehow I felt that Annabelinda, in her present mood, would want that.

“It is quite clear to me,” said my mother, “that you enjoy that school.”

I assured her I did, although I wished it were not so far away. The
Princesse
had been wonderful, I went on, and her title did much to enhance our prestige with Madame Rochère.

“What of Jean Pascal Bourdon?” she said. “I have not heard you mention him.”

“We haven’t seen him,” I replied.

“He is busy at Château Bourdon, I suppose,” my mother said. “The wine and all that.”

“Yes, and Aunt Celeste just took us to their house at Valenciennes, didn’t she, Anna B? That’s what the girls at school call her. They say ‘Annabelinda’ is too long.”

“I don’t like it,” said Annabelinda. “I forbid you to call me by anything but my proper name.”

When we were alone, my mother said, “What’s wrong with Annabelinda? She doesn’t seem so enamored of the school as you are.”

“Oh, she likes it. She would have liked to stay on and not come home for the holidays, I believe.”

“Oh, dear, we must try to make her change her mind.”

There was so much to do during those holidays, so many things to talk about, that I forgot Annabelinda’s mood.

The Denvers spent Christmas week with us, and after that I went down to Cornwall to be with Aunt Rebecca, which was always enjoyable. Aunt Rebecca was as eager to hear about the school as my mother had been.

We came back to London and preparations for the return to school began in earnest. A few days before we were due to leave, Annabelinda and her mother came to London.

Annabelinda looked no better than she had when the holidays began. She did not seem to want to talk to me, but the night before we left I was feeling so anxious about her that I went along to her room, determined to talk.

I knocked and without waiting for an answer went in.

She was in bed but not asleep.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said ungraciously.

“Annabelinda,” I said. “I’m worried about you. Are you ill or something? Why don’t you tell me? There might be something I could do.”

“You can’t do anything,” she replied. “I shall never see him again.”

“Who?”

“Carl.”

“Carl…You mean the gardener?”

“He wasn’t really a gardener. That was only a bet. He just left without saying. I didn’t know he was going. He didn’t tell me.”

“Was there any reason why he should tell you?”

“Every reason,” she said. “We were friends.”

“Friends,” I repeated. “You only saw him in the gardens…apart from that night in this house.”

“That’s nothing to do with it,” she retorted. “We were friends…special friends. You know what I mean…well, lovers.”

“Lovers!” I gasped.

“Don’t keep repeating what I say. You don’t understand anything.”

“I would if you told me.”

“Well, Carl and I were special friends. It was great fun. I used to see him often…sometimes in the days and…”

Memories of her creeping into the house, coming up the stairs, playing the ghost, came to me. “And at night,” I added.

She smiled and looked a little like her old self at the recollection.

“It was great fun. Lucia knew. She was a real sport. Well, she’d had adventures herself. She helped me a lot. She used to put a bundle in my bed so that it looked as though I were there, asleep…just in case old Arty came in.”

“Is this why you are so upset? He was your friend and he didn’t even tell you that he was going?”

She nodded, miserable again.

“He couldn’t have been much of a friend.”

“It must have been a sudden call from somewhere.”

“He could have left a message.”

“Well, not easily. He wasn’t supposed to have anything to do with the girls.”

I felt shocked and bewildered. All I could say was, “Well, fancy…you and Carl.”

“He is very handsome.”

“I suppose so.”

“And rather unusual. I mean…doing all that for a bet.”

“There is certainly something unusual about him. Perhaps he’ll appear again somewhere.”

“That will be too late. Oh, we did have some fun together! He was ever so interested in the school. He used to ask me a lot of questions about it. He made me draw a plan of it. One night I let him in.”

“Let him in!”

She nodded. “We climbed through the window.”

“As I saw
you
do.”

“Yes. It was easy. I just unbolted it and left it unbolted so that I could get back. I had an arrangement with Lucia that if I did not get back by two in the morning she would come down and make sure someone hadn’t bolted the window. Lucia was a great help.”

“And you brought him into the school!”

“Only once. There was something he wanted to see about the building. It was so exciting…creeping round in the dark…with a torch, of course.”

“You might have been caught!”

“Disaster!” she said, raising her eyes to the ceiling.

“You would have been expelled.”

“I don’t think so. Grandpère Bourdon would have stopped that. Madame Rochère is very fond of him. I think he must have been her lover years ago when she was young and beautiful. I believe my grandfather has been the lover of half the women in France. He wouldn’t let me be expelled.”

“You are very daring…and now you are wretched because of this Carl.”

She was silent.

“Well,” I said. “I’m glad I know. You are just a deserted maiden, pining for her lover.”

“Don’t tell anyone. I don’t know why I’ve told you.”

“Because, in spite of everything, we are still friends.”

“I suppose so…”

“I was getting quite worried about you. You’ll get over this. There will be others.”

She smiled at me faintly.

“Thanks for coming, Lucinda.”

She was more gracious than she had been for a long time.

“I’m glad I did,” I answered. “Good night.”

The next day we made the journey back to school. My parents came with us as far as Dover, as they had before, and Aunt Belinda with them. Then they went back to London and we spent the night with Aunt Celeste at Valenciennes. Jean Pascal Bourdon and the
Princesse
were still at the Château Bourdon in the Médoc.