The Black Swan

Belinda

Pedrek was waiting at the station with the carriage when we arrived. The journey had seemed long and all through it I had been trying to forget what I had seen on the previous night. There were moments when I almost convinced myself that I had imagined the whole thing.

I was certainly in an unusual state. I had been terribly shocked. It was just possible that I had suffered from some hallucination. That was the happiest conclusion to which I could come, although I hated to think of myself being so mentally disturbed. I wanted to tell Rebecca. I felt sure she would have some explanation. Indeed, I had had to restrain myself during that night from going along to her bedroom to tell her all about it.

As we sped across the country past green fields and wooded hills, through villages and the outskirts of towns, I began to get a sense of normality, and the more I thought of what I had seen last night, the more reasonable it seemed to believe that I had imagined the whole thing.

Pedrek embraced us all.

He said to Rebecca, “It’s been a long time.”

Rebecca replied, “Yes, I know, but...” and he nodded, understanding, I felt, as he always would.

We got into the carriage and our luggage was put in beside us.

“The children are all agog,” said Pedrek. “Nanny Billings has made a great concession. They are going to be allowed to sit up a little later tonight because you have come home.”

“The darlings!” said Rebecca. “I’ve been away so long. I hope they haven’t forgotten me.”

“They certainly have not!” Pedrek assured her. “Every morning, Nanny Billings tells me she is asked ‘When is Mummy coming home?’ “

“That’s a relief,” said Rebecca. “I should have hated to have my children look on me as a stranger.”

“Well, High Tor waits to welcome you. I can tell you, the entire household has been in the throes of feverish preparation ever since it was known you were coming.”

“What a lovely homecoming,” I said.

“It’s true, Lucie,” said Rebecca. “I know how pleased everyone will be to see you and Celeste.”

We drove through narrow lanes where the hedges brushed against the carriage; we wound round and round and caught glimpses of sea and moorland, until we came into open country and there was the house in all its glory-the happy home of my dearest Rebecca and her family.

Even the horses seemed pleased because they were near home; and in spite of everything I was beginning to feel more at peace and more remote from the scene of sudden death. Rebecca and Pedrek had chosen this house because it was more or less halfway between Cador and Pencarron, the house of Pedrek’s grandparents. Pedrek now, of course, ran the Pencarron Mine which he had inherited from his grandfather although I think the old man still had an interest in it. It was about a mile or so from High Tor so within easy distance for Pedrek.

High Tor was a misnomer really as it stood on a slight incline which could hardly be called a tor. It was an interesting house. Celeste had once lived in it, for it had belonged to her family, the Bourdons, before they went to Chislehurst and later to Farnborough.

I remember that at one time Pedrek and Rebecca had decided against it and then afterward had fallen in love with it again.

It was an old house, having been erected in the late sixteenth or early seventeenth century. I had always been told that it was in the Inigo Jones style. It was the first time I had heard his name and I was very impressed because I could see that everyone else was. But I had always been enchanted by the leaded windows, the gables and the pediments; and I loved old houses; they set me thinking of what had happened to all the people who had lived in them over the years.

High Tor was especially interesting to me because it was in one of these rooms that Belinda had been conceived. It was here that Leah Polhenny had come to repair the tapestries which the Bourdons had brought from France, and while she was here had been seduced by Jean Pascal, Celeste’s brother, and the son of the house. So it was really in this house that our story had begun-mine and Belinda’s. No wonder it had a fascination for me.

We went through the gateway into the courtyard. A groom came running out.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Cartwright.”

“Hello, Jim,” cried Rebecca. “It’s good to be back.”

Rebecca could scarcely wait for the carriage to stop before she leaped out. She was longing fervently to see the children.

And there they were, one on either side of Nanny Billings, and when they saw Rebecca they rushed forward and threw themselves at her.

They were all talking at once. The children were squealing with joy. Alvina wanted to show her mother her new painting book, Jake his toy engine. Lucky Rebecca, I thought, to have such a family. And, indeed, as she held them to her the sorrow and drama of the last months seemed to pass away from her. “And what have you to say to your Aunt Lucie and your Aunt Celeste?” she asked the children.

They came and stood before us. I knelt and put my arms about them.

“Now,” said Nanny Billings briskly, “we mustn’t get too excited. We are going to stay up a little longer because this is a special day.”

The children laughed together and we went into the house. The hall was large, as they usually are in such houses, with a high vaulted ceiling supported by thick oak beams. The butler and housekeeper had appeared to welcome us and tell us that our rooms were ready and we could go to them right away. “We’ll have a quick wash and then something to eat,” said Rebecca. “It’s been a long journey and we’re a little tired.”

“In the small dining room in half an hour,” said Mrs. Willows, the housekeeper. “Unless that will be too soon.”

“Oh no ... that will be just right,” said Rebecca.

The children came with us up the stairs. My room was next to that of Celeste. It was the one I always occupied on my visits to High Tor. Rebecca was looking at me anxiously. She had been aware of my preoccupation on the train. I was thinking of the number of times I had stayed in this room. Everything will be different now, I reminded myself. We can never go back. “Come along, children,” said Nanny Billings.

Alvina looked as though she were about to protest. Rebecca knelt down to kiss her and whispered that she would come along to tuck her in ... and perhaps tell her a story, and that seemed to satisfy her.

When Rebecca and I were alone in my room, she said, “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

I looked at her in surprise and she hurried on, “I mean yesterday... last night.

I felt there was something....”

I nodded.

She said quickly, “Tell me later. I’ll come along tonight for a chat.” I felt suddenly relieved. I had been wondering whether to share my misgivings with Rebecca, and now I knew that I would.

“I’ll have to leave you now,” she went on. “See you downstairs in half an hour.”

When I had dressed I tapped on Celeste’s door. She was ready and waiting.

“How does it feel to be in your old home?” I asked.

“A little strange,” she replied.

“It must be very different now.”

“Very different.”

“I suppose it was rather grand when your parents had it ... all that Gobelin tapestry which Leah came to repair....”

“There were some fine pieces, but here... there is ... love.” I was silent as I went downstairs with her. Lucky Rebecca! I was wondering whether Joel and I would be able to build ourselves a life like this. Joel was my hope now. It was a sad quirk of fate that he should happen to be out of the country at the time when I needed him so much. But he would soon be home, and it would be different then. We would start at once to build a new life together. I fancied the conversation at dinner was a little labored. I guessed that Pedrek had made up his mind not to talk of my father’s murder and, as all that had followed as a result of it must be uppermost in our minds, a restraint was put upon us. I think we were all relieved when the meal was over.

“It has been a long day,” said Rebecca. “We shall all feel better after a good night’s sleep.”

I had not been in my room more than five minutes when there was a tap on the door.

I knew it was Rebecca who had come for our talk.

I was at the dressing table brushing my hair and she came and sat in the armchair facing me.

“What’s happened, Lucie?” she asked.

I told her and she was clearly shocked.

“But... who could it have been?”

“I don’t know, but I have a terrible feeling that they have hanged the wrong man.”

“But you recognized him. You picked him out. He had the sort of appearance which could be easily recognized. The way his hair grew was enough and then there was the scar. All that is not very usual. And he was known to the police as a terrorist. He had been involved in that sort of thing before.”

“I know. It seemed certain. But if he were dead and buried, how could he have been down there in the street?”

“Let’s try and look at this clearly. I think you may have imagined you saw this man.”

“But, Rebecca, he threw pebbles at my window. He was down there. He took off his hat and bowed to me ... as though he were mocking me.” She was silent for a few moments, then she said: “You were... still are ... in a highly emotional state, Lucie. Most people would be. That sort of shock has its effect. You were actually there. You saw the whole thing... and you and your father were very close. You were closer to him than anyone else. It’s bound to have a deep effect.”

“Rebecca, if you think I imagined I saw that, you must also think that I am unbalanced... mentally.”

“Of course I don’t. It could happen to anyone.”

“Do you mean to tell me I imagined I heard pebbles at the window?”

“I think you might have been dreaming. You went to the window and there was a man.

He may have seen you... and bowed ...”

“He took off his hat. He was standing under the lamp. I saw his widow’s peak quite clearly. It was what he wanted me to see.”

“You must have imagined it.”

“I tell you I saw it clearly. Rebecca, there are only two explanations. One is that what I saw was his ghost and he has come back to haunt me, or they have hanged the wrong man... and I am responsible.”

“I don’t believe either.”

“You believe that your mother came back after death and made you look after me.”

She was silent.

I went on, “So you do believe that the dead can return ... if there is something which is very important to them. Our mother did when I was left with Jenny Stubbs. She wanted me in the house where I belonged and she came to you and put all that into your mind. That’s what you’ve always believed, Rebecca. Well, if she could come back, why shouldn’t he? Our mother came back to do good, but she was a good woman. Fergus O’Neill was a man who killed people because they did not believe what he believed, because they did what he did not want them to. He killed for what he could call a cause. He would come back for revenge.”

“Lucie, you must put the whole thing out of your head. You’re overwrought. You have been through a greater ordeal than you realize. You’ve got to get back to normality. I’m so glad you’re here. You’ll be better quickly here ... I shall look after you.”

“As you always have, Rebecca. I can’t think what my life would have been like without you.”

“We’re sisters, aren’t we? I suffered terribly when our mother died. I hated your father for marrying her and taking her away from me. That was bad for me. Then it began to be better between us and that made me a lot happier. Lucie, we have to remember that we go through a great drama when we suffer a terrible loss. We are not quite ourselves. Yes, we can become a little unbalanced. We see things out of proportion. We don’t always see clearly ...”

“You think I saw nothing last night, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I think you may have had a nightmare... that you awoke startled and were half-dreaming when you went to the window and you saw the man in the street. He was dressed for the opera. That’s not surprising. He was probably returning from the opera. He looked up at the window. He saw you and took off his hat and bowed. Well, he’d probably had a little too much to drink. He was in a merry mood ... he saw a young woman at the window... and, well, he bowed.”

“But his face ...”

“My dear Lucie, you saw the hat and the cloak. There was just the light from the street lamp. You imagined the rest.”

“Do you really think that could be so?”

“I think it is the most likely answer.”

I closed my eyes. It was what I hoped. Rebecca’s calm common sense was beginning to have its effect.

Of course she must be right. It had been no ghost I saw. It was not Fergus O’Neill who had been down there. Fergus O’Neill was dead. He had paid the penalty demanded by the law. He was a murderer.

Rebecca saw that she was convincing me and she was pleased.

“Now,” she said, “I am going to bring you something to drink.”

“The inevitable hot milk?” I asked.

“It’s the best thing. Trust Rebecca.”

I flung myself into her arms. “Oh, I do,” I assured her. “I always have. You have always been there when I needed you.”

“And always will be. You know that.”

I did. I was feeling a great deal better; and when she appeared with the hot milk, I drank it and was soon fast asleep.

Rebecca had been right. Cornwall had a healing effect. We had crossed the bridge between tragedy and the new life which we had to make for ourselves. I was thinking more and more of Joel. Soon he must be home and then our engagement would be announced. We would plan our future. We would have a house in London and, I supposed, live at Marchlands. He would have to be in both places... convenient for Parliament and for his constituency. I should wait up for him when the House was sitting late; I should have a supper waiting for him. It would be the familiar pattern, with Joel instead of my father.

I must stop thinking of the past. I had to plan for the future. It would be wonderful.

It was just the present that was so hard to live through.

But the bridge was here and we were crossing it.

I had always been fascinated by Cornwall. It was, I supposed, natural that I should be, since it was in the Duchy that I had been born. Rebecca saw that my days were full. I was glad I had told her about my experience. She understood now my preoccupation, my nervous tension; and she had done her best to wipe it away with her sound common sense ... which she had done... almost.

It was not difficult to fill our days. There was so much to do. The gardens at High Tor were a delight. There were no orderly flower beds; shrubs and trees grew naturally; and in a way it resembled the gardens of Manor Grange at Manorleigh. The children loved to play in the gardens and I was with them a great deal. There was the paddock round which they rode their ponies on lead reins. Both Celeste and I were expected to watch their performance and applaud. We also rode. Of course, we had to visit Pencarron, the home of Pedrek’s grandparents who made a great fuss of us. Then there were trips to Cador to my own grandparents. Cador I loved especially, for it was in that grand house that I had spent the greater part of my childhood. I did not remember very much of those early days in Jenny Stubbs’s cottage; but to be in Cador again with its battlemented tower and its view of the sea always affected me deeply.

There seemed to be an understanding between my grandparents and Pedrek’s that the subject of my father’s death should not be referred to. But there were often times when it seemed to be there, and it put such a restraint on us that sometimes I felt that it would have been better to say what was in our minds. He was always in my thoughts though... and in theirs too, I imagined.

I had to make a pilgrimage to Branok Pool. Rebecca and I went there together. She understood. It meant a great deal to us both. For her it held terrible memories, for it was there that Belinda had said that Pedrek had attempted to molest her and that had almost ruined Rebecca’s life.

So the Pool had a special significance for her; as for me-it had been close to my first home-that cottage in which I had lived with Jenny Stubbs.

We rode the horses close to the Pool. It was grim as ever with the willows trailing into the muddy water which had been churned up by the recent rains. An eerie spot, full of secrets and memories, the place where legends would be born.

“The cottage is still there,” I said.

“Yes. It is occupied sometimes. It’s useful when it is needed. There are emergencies.

The Blakeys are in it now. They have been there for a year or more.”

I nodded.

She must be thinking of the people who had been there at the time when Belinda had set the Pool for the scene of her cruel melodrama, which fortunately had been revealed in time for what it was. And I was thinking of poor, mad Jenny Stubbs, a vague and shadowy figure to me ... a soft singing voice, tender hands... Jenny, who had taken me so happily as her own when I was a sickly baby and had nursed me back to health.

With such events to remind us, both Rebecca and I had plenty to think about when we came to the Pool. Perhaps it was not very wise of us to come here. Mrs. Blakey came out of the cottage while we were standing by the pool.

She called, “Good day to ‘ee, Mrs. Cartwright. I see you’ve got Miss Lucie with ‘ee.

Good day to you, Miss Lucie.”

“We must go and speak to her,” whispered Rebecca and we walked over.

“Miss Lucie is here for a little holiday,” Rebecca explained.

“Oh, my dear, I did hear ...”

Rebecca said quickly, “Yes, it was all very sad. You seem to have settled into your cottage very well now.”

“It will be a year or more since we came here, Mrs. Cartwright. Now you must come and take a glass of my cider. My Tom do say that it be better than anything they do serve up at the Fisherman’s Rest.” She assumed a touch of modesty. “Well, maybe that’s for other folks to say.”

Rebecca was always tactful with the local people. She had learned that from my grandmother.

“Well, that would be nice, wouldn’t it, Lucie?” she said.

Mrs. Blakey was all smiles. She was clearly proud of her home, and it certainly was a picture of shining neatness. The warming pan hanging by the fireplace gleamed and shone like gold; the fire irons were the same; the linoleum gleamed and the furniture was highly polished.

“You have certainly made it comfortable,” said Rebecca. Flashes of memory came back to me. In the first years of my life this had been my home. It was familiar and yet strange. It must have been very different when Jenny Stubbs lived here.

The cider was brought and placed on the table.

“Now, if you’d care for a little pasty ... I be right down proud of my pasties. My Tom do take one with him every day... when he be working. He says it do keep him going until he do come home.”

“I’m afraid we can’t manage the pasty,” said Rebecca, “much as we should like to. They’ll have a meal waiting for us when we get back and we shall be expected to eat that. This cider is delicious.”

“Delicious,” I echoed.

Mrs. Blakey was a garrulous woman and I sensed at once that she was grateful to Pedrek, and wanted Rebecca to know that she had not forgotten what he had done for them. “It was a terrible blow to Tom,” she confided to me more than to Rebecca, who must have heard the story many times before, “when this here rheumatics struck. Sudden-like it came... just a little pain here and ache there... and there came the time when he could hardly get up again if he knelt down. The doctor, he said, ‘It’s this ‘ere rheumatics, Tom. It seems your mining days are over.’ We were in a rare old trouble, I can tell ‘ee. Tom had been in the mines all his life and his father before him... and his grandfather before that. Doctor said a little light work is all he’d be able to do. It broke Tom’s heart. He’s always been a good workman, always brought his pay packet home regular ... a proud man, my Tom. ‘What be I going to do, Janet?’ he said. ‘Where’ll we be to?’ ‘Well, I be a good hand with the needle,’ I said. ‘We’ll pull through.’ Well, there was our home. The cottage near the mine... that goes with the job. That would be wanted for him as took Tom’s place. Then Mr. Cartwright says, ‘I’m sure I can arrange that you have that place at Branok. It belongs to Mrs. Cartwright’s family. It’s empty now and I’ll have a word with them.’ And so he did and we come here... thanks to Mr. Cartwright and them up at Cador.”

“Our grandparents,” said Rebecca with a little smile at me. “Well, they did say, ‘You just have the cottage, Tom, and never mind about rent and such. It’s there for them as needs a roof over their head. You take it ... while you do want it.’ And there’s little jobs Tom can do ... on the farms and at Cador. They’ve kept him busy ever since, and my bit of sewing brings in a tidy bit. So there, you see... we’re better off than we was when Tom was in the mines.”

“And how is the rheumatism?” I asked.

“On and off, Miss Lucie. You can tell the weather by it. ‘Going to have a bit of rain tomorrow,’ Tom will say. ‘My leg’s giving me gippo.’ It’s a sure sign. And do you know, he’ll be right. He’s a real weathercock, our Tom, since he got his rheumatics. And now let me top you up, Mrs. Cartwright.”

“Oh, no thanks, Mrs. Blakey,” cried Rebecca in alarm. “It’s strong, your cider.” Mrs. Blakey laughed happily. Then she looked at me solemnly and said, “Oh, we be happy here. There’s some as say it be a gloomy old place and there’s ghosts and such like on the prowl. Tom and me ... we don’t mind the ghosts.”

“Do you ever hear the bells?” I asked. “You know ... the ones which are supposed to ring from the monastery at the bottom of the pool.”

“That old tale! How could monks live down there for hundreds of years? It’s just a lot of nonsense, I say. So does Tom. No, we don’t hear no bells. We’re settled here and I don’t mind telling ‘ee that, if it wasn’t for them old rheumatics giving Tom gip now and then, I’d be glad. Mines are dangerous things. Terrible things can happen to miners. I used to worry about Tom down the mine. But we were lucky. Tom happened to work for a good owner. I’ll never forget Mr. Cartwright and your grandfather, Mrs. Cartwright. Mr. Cartwright, he be a good master.”

“I am so glad you feel like that,” said Rebecca. “I shall tell Mr. Cartwright. He will be very pleased. He always wants to do what is right for the miners.”

“The Lord will bless him,” said Mrs. Blakey, “for what he had done for us.”

On that happy note we left.

As we made our way back Rebecca said, “She has transformed that place. I always used to think it was rather eerie. It looks so warm and cozy. I wonder how many hours she spends polishing the furniture and the brass.”

“It makes her happy,” I said.

“Oh yes. And talking of mines reminds me. We shall have to go to Pencarron. It’s a week since we were there. We must take the children. The Pencarrons get a little hurt if they don’t see them frequently.”

“Could we go tomorrow?”

“I’m sure we could,” said Rebecca.

The next day Rebecca and I with the children went over to Pencarron Manor. Celeste had said she wanted to go into the Poldoreys to shop. She was anxious not to intrude. The children were excited. They always enjoyed visiting their grandparents for at Pencarron they were apt to be spoiled.

Pencarron Manor lacked the antiquity of Cador and High Tor. It was a solid Victorian edifice, as Josiah said, “Built for use.” And what it lacked in fancy battlemented towers it made up for in modern improvements. “A bit of comfort’s worth a houseful of ghosts,” was his favorite comment.

He was bluff, kindly and somewhat contemptuous of the fanciful Cornish folk, with their piskies and what he called fancy tales about this and that happening to folk who didn’t look out. Mining had been his life; and he had come to Pencarron after his marriage, built the house and turned a failing old mine into a prosperous one. He and his wife had longed for a child and had had to wait some time for Morwenna.

When she came she had been the center of their lives and now Pedrek and the children made up for the fact that she lived chiefly in London where her husband managed the transport of tin and matters which could not be so easily dealt with in Cornwall.

We were all welcomed warmly but I noticed the Pencarrons could not take their eyes from the children.

They wanted to know how Pedrek was, although they must have seen him a few days before. We all had a lavish meal which was typical of Pencarron hospitality. The children had to be at the table with us, for their grandparents could not bear to be deprived of their company even for a short while; and there was a great deal of laughter. When this was over the children wanted to play in the garden and were allowed to do so; and we sat before the French windows so that we could watch them while we talked.

Coffee was served and Mrs. Pencarron was saying that we should come more often, and weren’t the little ones growing, and Jake was going to be the image of Pedrek. You could see it already, and Alvina was a little madam, wasn’t she? “The country air is so good for them,” said Josiah.

“I can’t tell you how relieved we were when Pedrek decided he wanted to take over the mine,” added his wife.

“We thought he might have wanted to join his father in London, but he had the good sense to choose this.”

“It wouldn’t have been any good for the children up there.”

“We do have our parks, you know,” I said.

“Parks,” snorted Josiah. “You can’t compare them with the moors and the sea.”

“They are very pleasant,” said Rebecca.

“I reckon the country air is better,” insisted Josiah. “Life’s safer here, I reckon.”

“Well, there is the occasional accident in the mines and then the fishermen have a bad time when the storms arise.”

“You get disasters everywhere. What about those Members of Parliament?”

“On the whole they’re safe enough.”

“I was talking about those two. It was in the papers this morning. Have you seen the morning paper?”

“No... not yet. We thought we’d better get here early. We didn’t stop for very much.”

“You wouldn’t have seen it then. Apparently they were in Africa ... or somewhere.

Two of them... they’re missing.”

I said quickly, “Where were they?”

“They were visiting there with some others ...”

“Was it Buganda?”

“Now you come to mention it, I think it was. Gone out for the government or something... some fact-finding mission, they called it. Well, two of them have disappeared. The rest of them are coming home... quick. It seems they were not well received by the natives.”

“I ... I know the mission you are talking about,” I said. “In fact, I know very well one of the members who went out. He was a friend of ... my father ... of the family. Who are the two who are missing?”

“It did say their names, but I don’t remember.”

He could see that I was uneasy.

Rebecca was looking at me anxiously.

“Perhaps we could see the paper?” she suggested.

“I’m sure you can find it, can’t you, Mother?” said Josiah.

“Of course. Have some more coffee, Rebecca... Lucie?” I could not concentrate on what they were saying. I kept thinking of Joel and the conversation we had had before he left, when we had declared our feelings for each other and our intentions. Two of them missing, I thought. Oh, not Joel! It seemed a long time before the paper was found; and when I saw it I almost wished I had not.

I read,

The government mission to Buganda has not been an unqualified success. Some of the natives objected to what they call interference, and there was not always a warm welcome for the delegation. In fact they were often met with some hostility and will be returning home within the next day or so ... unfortunately without two members of the party. They are Mr. James Hunter and Mr. Joel Greenham....

My heart beat faster as I read and the paper trembled in my hands. It appears that the whole party were at a meeting and, when it was over, prepared to return to their hotel. There was not room on the carriage for them all, and Mr. Hunter and Mr. Greenham, being the youngest members of the party, decided to walk to the hotel. They have not been seen since. Inquiries are being made. I kept staring at his name. I kept seeing him as he had been when we had planned our future together. “When I come back we will announce our engagement....” But he would not come back with the others. What could be happening to him?

Rebecca was saying quietly, “Are you all right, Lucie?”

“It... it’s a shock. This ... er ...”

“Well, it’s what I was saying,” said Josiah. “Life’s better in the country. You know where you are.”

I don’t know how I got through the time before we left. Rebecca came to my aid and did what she could.

As we drove home she said, “Of course, we know very little yet. It’s probably very exaggerated. We must hear more news later on.”

But I felt bewildered and lost. I was beginning to ask myself what dire tragedy could happen next.

It was indeed hard to imagine that this had happened, following so soon after that other tragedy.

Celeste, who had guessed what the relationship between Joel and me was blossoming into, was most upset. She had had so many troubles of her own that she was always ready to sympathize with others.

“I can’t believe it,” I said. “It’s so soon after. Didn’t Shakespeare say that when troubles came they came not singly but in battalions?”

“This is different,” Celeste assured me. “He’ll come back.”

“What could have happened to him?”

We read more in the papers. But, of course, it was only speculation. The mission had been unpopular, and there was some anxiety expressed concerning the whereabouts of the two missing Members of Parliament.

“There must be an explanation,” said Rebecca. “There will be news soon, I’m sure.”

“But what explanation?” I asked. “What news?”

Rebecca could not reply.

“I must go home soon,” I said.

“Oh no ... not yet. You are not ready.”

“I want to be there. I want to know what’s happening. I want to see his family. They might know something.”

“I doubt they will know any more than the authorities.”

“They will be desolate. They dote on him. He’s such a wonderful person, Rebecca.”

“You’ll be better here,” she advised. “Don’t rush away. I can’t bear to think of your going back to that house.”

“I must go, Rebecca.”

“Think about it for a few days.”

I promised I would, and each day I scoured the papers for news. There was none. All I read was, “There is still no news of the missing James Hunter and Joel Greenham.” I knew that I must go. There was no peace for me here anymore. What I could achieve by going to London I was not sure, but I felt I wanted to be there. While I was in this state of uncertainty, letters were forwarded on from London.

There was one for me and one for Celeste. They were both from Belinda.

Eagerly I slit the envelope.

“Dear Lucie,” I read,

My mother died last week. It has been terrible. I miss her so much. You know she had been ill for a long time and it had to come. I feel lost and lonely. She has always been there for me, and I don’t know what I shall do without her. It’s a great shock, though I have seen it coming for months now. She made me promise that I would come back to England. I said I would and she was so happy and relieved when she had letters from you and Celeste saying that I could come.

Well, the time is here. There are some people from England who were out here visiting their relations in Melbourne. We knew the Melbourne family and, before she died, my mother asked them that if it were possible-by which she meant that if she died before the visitors left-she would be grateful to them if they would let me go back to England with them. She had all the instructions written out and I believe she wanted to die in good time, so that I should be able to go with them. Well, it did work out that way, and I am leaving next month so ... unless I hear news from you and Celeste to say you won’t have me ... I shall be coming with them. I heard what happened to your father. It was in the papers here... not much about it ... just that he had been shot by a terrorist because he had obstructed some Bill. It must have been a shock for you as you saw it happen.

Lucie, I do so much want to see you. I have often thought of you and wondered about you. In all this terrible time there is one thing I look forward to and that is seeing you.

I’ll let you know dates and arrangements when I am more certain.

In the meantime, I send my love and the hope that I shall be with you before long.

Belinda

I showed the letter to Celeste who gave me hers to read. It was more brief.

Dear Aunt Celeste,

My mother is dead now and her last wish was that I should come to England. She said you had very kindly promised that I could come to you. I will try not to be a burden, but if I can stay until I know what I have to do, I shall be very grateful.

I have written to Lucie and told her about Mr. and Mrs. Wilberforce who have been visiting relations in Melbourne and are going back to England next month. They have promised to let me travel with them, which will be easier for me. I will let you know details of our sailing soon.

Your affectionate and grateful niece,

Belinda

My spirits lifted a little at the prospect of seeing Belinda. The thought kept me from wondering all the time what was happening to Joel. Celeste was uneasy. I could understand that. She could not help thinking that Belinda had been a source of trouble in the past; but I think she too felt that the prospect of her arrival did stop us brooding all the time as to Joel’s fate. We showed the letters to Rebecca.

I said, “We shall have to go now. I don’t know how long these letters have taken to get here, but Belinda may well be on her way by now.”

“She says that she will let us know when she is coming.”

“She will. But in view of the distance and the time letters take to get here, she may have started by now.”

It seemed that events were making up my mind for me.

“Don’t go to the London house,” advised Rebecca. “Go to Manorleigh.”

“I feel I have to be London. I want to see Joel’s parents. And I want to be there ... to get ready for Belinda.”

She sighed.

“There will be too much to remind you....”

“I have to go back, Rebecca.”

“How I wish I could come with you. But I can’t leave Pedrek and the children again so soon.”

“Of course you can’t. Dearest Rebecca, I am very much able to stand on my own feet.

I can’t rely all my life on my big sister.”

“You know I’m always there. You know this place is waiting for you if ever you found it intolerable... elsewhere ...”

“It won’t be intolerable. I’ve got to grow away from it. I can’t hide in a shelter forever. Besides, I do want to find out all I can about Joel. And there will be Belinda.” Rebecca frowned. “I wonder if she will still be the same.”

“We shall both come down to see you, of course.” She kissed me tenderly. “Take care of yourself, Lucie,” she said. “Remember, I shall be thinking of you.”

My return to London meant that my uneasiness was increasing. As soon as I was alone in my room, I went to the window, half-expecting to see a figure there under the street lamp, although it was broad daylight. The thought occurred to me that I ought to change rooms. That would be cowardly, I decided. No. I must fight against my fears.

I was becoming more and more convinced that Rebecca’s theory was correct. I must have imagined those pebbles at the window; a man had been down there, true, and he was in a merry mood. He had bowed to me and I had thought I saw the widow’s peak, and the scar.

I must take a firm hold on my imagination. I must make it work for me, not against me.

I was glad that Celeste was with me. She had her own sorrow to contend with. But at least there was no sense of guilt attached to hers. That was what was forever in the back of my mind. Was it possible that I had helped to send an innocent man to the gallows?

The day after my arrival in town, I went to see Sir John and Lady Greenham.

Theirs was a house of sadness and terrible apprehension. They greeted me with affection. “My dear, dear Lucie,” said Lady Greenham. “This is a great blow to us. I was all against his going from the first. How I wish I had managed to persuade him.”

“Is there any news? All I know is what I saw in the Cornish paper.”

“There is very little known,” said Sir John. “He just vanished into thin air. He left this meeting with the others... when he and James Hunter decided to walk.”

“They should never have done that,” said Lady Greenham, “in those foreign places.”

“But what is being done about it?”

“All sorts of things are in motion,” said Sir John. “You see, it is a political matter. The government wants to get at the truth... diplomatically. It is, after all, a government matter. At the same time they don’t want to put a strain on our relations with Buganda.”

“So they think it is entirely because of the business on which he is engaged?”

“That seems to be the official view. I shouldn’t think it is just an ordinary case of robbery... and ... er ... disposing of the victims.”

“Oh, John!” cried Lady Greenham. “For Heaven’s sake, don’t talk like that.”

“We have to face facts, my dear. In some of these places it’s not safe to walk out at night.”

“Joel should have known better,” said Lady Greenham.

“You can see how it happened,” went on Sir John. “The carriage took as many as it could, and the two youngest members of the party naturally agreed to walk.”

“And during that walk... they disappeared,” I said.

“That’s about it.”

“But you say the authorities are doing something about it. They are not just letting it pass.”

Sir John nodded. “You can be sure that all that can be done is being done.”

“It is good of you to come and see us,” said Lady Greenham. “There has been too much horror lately. I think you did right to go to Cornwall.”

“My sister wanted me to stay, but in view of this ...”

Sir John leaned over and patted my hand.

“We always knew you were fond of him,” he said.

“As a matter of fact ... we talked together before he went. We were going to announce our engagement on his return.”

They were both smiling at me.

“He’ll come back,” said Sir John, “and then we shall have wedding bells. Alas ...” I knew what he was thinking. It would be so different from what we had all had in mind. My father, one of the architects of the plan for us, would not be there. He had been done to death by an assassin’s hand; and the bridegroom was missing in a foreign country.

I asked myself how much more disaster could strike.

While I was talking to Sir John and Lady Greenham, Gerald Greenham arrived. There was only about a year’s difference in his and Joel’s ages and I knew there was a strong friendship between the two brothers. Gerald was likable and full of vitality, though he lacked that inner gentleness which I found so appealing in Joel. He talked about his brother’s disappearance. Naturally it was the chief topic of conversation in that house. He was of the opinion that not enough was being done to find out what had happened.

Sir John said that naturally plans of action would not be blazoned from the rooftops and in such cases there was bound to be a certain amount of secrecy. Gerald stuck to his view. He asked me how I was getting on, remembering suddenly it seemed that I had endured an even greater tragedy for, while they could retain hope, I could have none.

When I rose to go, Sir John suggested that Gerald should take me home, to which Gerald responded with enthusiasm.

When we came out of the house he hailed a cab and, as we jogged along together, he said: “This is a great blow to the parents. They hide it ... but I know what it is doing to them.”

“I understand.”

“I get impatient. I want to do something.”

“What could you do?”

“That’s the important question. What I can’t endure is sitting at home here waiting for something to happen. I get impatient.”

“Understandably.”

“You must feel the same. I know how you felt about Joel.”

“I do wish he would come back.”

“I’d like to go out there... make a few investigations, in secret... you understand.

Not letting on that I was his brother.”

“I suppose the government could achieve more than a private detective.”

“That depends. I’d like to have a good go anyway.”

I glanced sideways at him. He had a very firm jaw; and there was speculation in his eyes.

I liked him very much. He really cared about his brother. When I said good-bye I felt a little better... because of him.

The weeks began to pass. There were letters from Belinda, one for me, one for Celeste.

By the time they reached us she was on her way.

I visited Manorleigh briefly, but I felt I wanted to be in London. I no longer looked fearfully out of the window at night. I had done so during the first weeks and been confronted always by the empty street.

I had one or two sessions with the solicitors who talked at great length about the trust and what should be done about that money that was now virtually mine. I could not give my thoughts entirely to such matters; they seemed of little importance when compared with my fears for Joel.

It had been more than a month since his disappearance and a melancholy possibility had occurred to me that I might never see him again.

I visited the Greenhams from time to time. They continued to be hopeful, but I sometimes wondered whether that was a pretense. I saw Gerald once and he was still obsessed by his brother’s disappearance.

Time was going on.

Celeste said that we should bestir ourselves. She looked upon me as her responsibility. She said on one occasion that girls in my position had a season and she was sure it was what my father had been planning for me.

“Though I believe,” she added, “that he wanted to shelve the matter for a while.

He was afraid someone would marry you and take you away from him.”

I put my hand over hers and we were both too emotional to speak. She recovered herself and said, “Well, with all this hanging over us, we couldn’t possibly do it. We’ll have to wait.”

“I don’t need a season, Celeste,” I said. “I should hate it. If... when... Joel comes back, we shall marry ... he and I ... and seasons are not for married women.”

“He must come back,” said Celeste.

And we looked at each other sadly.

“And”, went on Celeste, “soon there will be Belinda”.

“A season for Belinda,” I murmured.

“The two of us together”.

It was surprising how often Belinda cropped up in our conversation.

And then one spring day, the African Star sailed into Tilbury with Belinda on it. Celeste and I went to Tilbury to meet her. I knew her at once. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, with something of Leah’s beauty, and an indefinable touch of the exotic which perhaps came from her French ancestors. Her main characteristic was that immense vitality which had always been apparent when she was a child. She sparkled with a love of life. She had not changed and she was very attractive. We were introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Wilberforce, who seemed rather relieved to hand over their charge. Not that Belinda would regard herself as such. For her they had not been guardians but traveling companions. She rushed at me in the old exuberant way.

“Lucie... Lucie... the same old Lucie! I should have picked you out anywhere.

Oh, it is wonderful to see you.”

Celeste regarded her rather shyly.

“Welcome home, Belinda,” she said.

“Well, thank you,” replied Belinda, and kissed her. “I’m so glad to be here.”

Celeste turned to the Wilberforces and thanked them for looking after Belinda. “Actually,” Belinda informed us, “it was I who looked after them, wasn’t it?” She smiled archly at Mr. Wilberforce who returned the smile indulgently. Already I had had a glimpse of her power to charm. “We had some rough water,” she went on to explain. “Poor Mrs. Wilberforce. She wasn’t the only one. Half the ship was prostrate. Mr. Wilberforce and I were almost the only ones who were not.”

“The Bay,” murmured Mrs. Wilberforce. “Well, we must be getting along, I suppose.”

“You must come and visit us,” said Celeste. “We want to thank you properly.”

“Belinda has our address.”

Good-byes were said and arrangements made for Belinda’s luggage to be collected and brought to the house; then with Belinda seated between Celeste and me, we rode along to the house.

Belinda kept pointing out landmarks that she remembered. She was clearly delighted to be back.

We came into the square. I glanced about quickly, as I always did, at the railings of the gardens and the lamp post, even at this time half-expecting to see the man standing there.

“The old house!” cried Belinda. “I remember it so well. And there’s the house at Manorleigh... Manor Grange. Do you go there often?”

“Yes, now and then.”

“I loved it. All that antiquity and the ghost ... the ghosts. You remember the ghosts, Lucie.”

Indeed I remembered. So did Celeste, I saw from her expression. She was remembering Belinda’s playing the ghost of my mother, which had given her such a fright. I wondered that Belinda, who could not have forgotten the incident, should have had the insensitivity to mention it. I thought then, she hasn’t changed at all. We alighted from the carriage.

Belinda looked at me and suddenly said, “This must be where it happened.”

I nodded.

“It must have been terrible for you.”

“Please,” I whispered, “not now ...”

“No, of course not. This is a homecoming ... the return of the prodigal. But I am not that, am I? My departure was all quite natural and seemed so right at the time.”

“Come along in,” I said. “The servants are all agog to see you.”

She smiled, well pleased, and, with Celeste, we went into the house. Celeste had decided that she should have a room close to mine. Hers also had a balcony which looked down on the street.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” she cried. “I shall be able to look down and see what is going on. And I shall love knowing that you are close, Lucie.”

There were just the three of us for dinner that night. Belinda talked more than Celeste and I did. She told us about the goldfields and what a strange life it was. She spoke sadly of Leah. I do believe she had really loved her mother; and she was affectionate about Tom Marner.

“He was wonderful to us both,” she told us. “And at first it was very exciting. Then I began to get homesick. We weren’t so far from Melbourne. Tom used to take us there and we would stay for a few days. That was the highlight. We entertained now and then in the house we had there. It was quiet by goldfield standards. What about Rebecca? She’d remember it, of course.”

“She will be coming up to London some time.”

“How is she? She has children, hasn’t she?”

“Two... Alvina and Jake. They are darlings.”

I fancied she felt a little uneasy about Rebecca, as well she might. I supposed Rebecca had forgiven her. I wondered if Pedrek would ever be able to forget. There would almost certainly be a little embarrassment between them when they met. “Does... my father ever come here?” she asked suddenly.

Celeste looked a little flustered.

Belinda noticed this and went on, “Well, he is my father, isn’t he? He doesn’t deny it, does he? My mother told me all about it-how young and innocent she was, and how it never occurred to her that he would not marry her. Do you think he will want to see me?”

“I ... I don’t know,” said Celeste.

“I want to see him.”

“Perhaps... one day...” murmured Celeste.

“It was all so dramatic, and it all happened so quickly. One day I was the daughter of the house and the next Leah was my mother and Monsieur Bourdon my father. Then I was whisked away. I often thought how strange it all was and wondered how he and I would get on if ever we met.”

“We shall have to see how things turn out,” said Celeste vaguely. It was an uncomfortable meal. Belinda had always been outspoken and had never shown any respect for conventional modes of behavior.

I was glad when it was over and I was sure Celeste was, too. She suggested we retire as we must all be tired after the excitement of the day.

I had not been in my room long before there was a tap on the door. I knew at once that it was Belinda.

“A bit stilted, wasn’t it?” she said. “Dear old Celeste! I don’t think she wants me here.”

“She does. You are her niece. You’re related to her as you are not to me.”

“Oh, but you and I were always special, weren’t we? We didn’t need family ties. We were brought up together. Then we swapped families. That never ceases to make me marvel. Tell me about everything. What a lot of deaths! First ... I always think of him as our father, for I believed he was mine for so long. Well, he’s dead now. I always hated him and he hated me too. He thought I killed your mother by getting born. And I was not the one after all. It was you.”

“He never held it against me.”

“No. I was the one he hated. He couldn’t believe that his sainted Angelet had given birth to such a monster.”

“You were indeed a little monster at times, you know.”

She laughed. “I know. I was a monster by nature. No wonder he was relieved when he found out I wasn’t his.”

I was silent. I knew that was true.

“Then he got his dear little Lucie; and he seemed to be rather pleased about that.”

“He was,” I said defiantly. “We were very good friends.”

“The Wilberforces knew all about the way he died. They brought newspapers with them when they came and I was able to read about those little suppers and everything and how you were with him when it happened. What an awful thing!”

“It was awful.”

“Somebody didn’t like him... besides me.”

“Please don’t be flippant about it, Belinda. I just can’t endure that.”

“Sorry. I’m really sorry, Lucie. But as I was saying ... all those deaths. Dear Leah ... I couldn’t bear that. Not to have her there anymore. She had always been there. I loved Leah. I loved her for all she went through for me. It was bad enough when Tom died... but Leah ...”

“I understand, Belinda. Only it’s hard to talk about it now. It seems too soon.”

“Everything is different now, is it not? Little Lucie... you were always so meek ...just asking people to put on you... always the little waif.”

“I thought I was. And you took pains to remind me of it if I were inclined to forget.”

“That was the little monster again. I’m sorry, Lucie. I’m going to be different now.”

“I hope you will be. We have suffered a great shock... Celeste and I. He meant a great deal to us both. We are having to readjust ourselves. Please don’t make trouble.”

“Trouble! My dear Lucie. I am going to help you ... to take your minds off it.”

“Our minds are so much on it that it will be very difficult to take them off.”

“Leah used to say that I’d be better in London. I’d meet people. She wanted a good future for me.”

“Of course. She was your mother.”

“I suppose he wanted the same for you.”

“I don’t think he thought about it much. We were very important to each other.”

“He wanted to keep you with him, I expect. The devoted daughter and all that. He wouldn’t want to share you with a husband.”

“I don’t know. But he has gone now ...”

“And in a most horrible fashion. Everything that happened to him had to be dramatic.

He was, as they say, larger than life, so spectacular things had to happen to him.

And his going was the most spectacular of them all.”

“Belinda ...”

“All right. I won’t talk of it. You and I, Lucie, are growing up. If all this hadn’t happened, people would be saying it was time we thought about getting married. Has anyone asked you?”

I was silent for a while, then she cried out, “Someone has! Oh, Lucie! Just fancy... you! Tell me about it.”

I hesitated, but I guessed that she would hear sooner or later, so I told her about Joel.

She was intrigued. “Disappeared! My dear Lucie, you do attract disaster. Disappeared in Buganda! On a mission! It’s so thrilling. Oh, he’ll come back, then you can be married. It will be a wonderful wedding. All the press will be there. He ... a Member of Parliament... and all this happening to him. He must come back. It’s hard to think of you... you, Lucie ... in the midst of all this.”

“And what of you?” I asked.

“Well, I haven’t lived in such exciting surroundings, have I? There are no Members of Parliament, terrorists and expeditions to Africa. Just imagine the goldfields.

...”

“My mother used to tell Rebecca about them and Rebecca told me. The campfires and the celebrations when someone found gold. I heard about the songs they used to sing and the shacks the miners and their families used to live in....” I paused and she went on, “Yes, it was like that. I expect it has improved a bit. I was in the big house, of course, and it wasn’t so bad, but I used to long to come home... except when we went to Melbourne. That’s a fine city. I used to look forward to our trips there. But then Tom became ill.”

“He always seemed so hale and hearty when he was here.”

“It was his heart. He had to have a manager. That was when Henry Farrell came.”

I waited eagerly, for clearly she wanted to talk about Henry Farrell. “He was good-looking... one of those men made to command. Very sunburned, as most of them are over there. He took over from Tom. He knew how to deal with men.”

“You sound as though you were attracted by him.”

“I was.”

“And he?”

“He was besotted about me.”

“I guessed that was coming.”

“He wanted to marry me. You see, you are not the only one who has had a proposal.”

“And you declined?”

“I knew in time that I did not want to spend all my life in the goldfields. I had already made up my mind that I wanted to come home. I would have persuaded them to pay a visit to England. I thought Tom ought to have treatment in London. But then he died and we found out that the mine wasn’t doing as much as it should... but Henry Farrell stayed on ... and then he asked me.”

“He probably had his eye on the mine.”

“Well, you might expect that. But I wasn’t Tom’s daughter ... only his stepdaughter. But there was no one else and he’d always looked on Leah’s daughter as his. I liked Henry. He was a fine man. If things had been different ...”

“What did he think about your leaving?”

“He was devastated, poor man. Tell me... what do you think about my father?”

“I don’t know very much about him. He’s in the wine business, I think. He goes to France now and then. I believe he has a house in London. We don’t see much of him. I believe he goes to the family in Farnborough quite a lot. They moved from Chislehurst when the Empress Eugenie did. I believe there is a sort of court there.”

“How exciting! I’d love to go there.”

“It’s only a court in exile. Don’t expect Versailles in the time of the Sun King.”

“I wonder if he ever thinks of me. Where does the family live in Farnborough?”

“In a house called The Red House, I believe. I’ve heard Celeste mention it. That would be their parents’ home. I don’t know if he has his own house there. I daresay he moves around too much to want a place of his own.”

“A man ought to be aware of his daughter’s existence. I must get his address and write to him. I wonder if Celeste will give it to me. I fancy she does not want to bring us together.”

“Well, he knows of your existence. If he wants to see you I daresay he will.”

“Some people need a bit of prodding. Give me his address.”

“I don’t have it.”

“I daresay The Red House, Farnborough, would be enough.”

“Why don’t you ask Celeste?”

“I think she might warn him and put him on his guard.”

“Well, if you think it would have that effect, wouldn’t it be better to leave it alone?”

“But I don’t want to leave it alone. I want him to be aware of me. I want to visit the court at Farnborough.”

“Why?”

“I rather fancy moving in royal circles. I am sure everyone must know The Red House, Farnborough. After all, in a way it would be connected with the resident royalty.” Her eyes were dancing with excitement and she brought back many memories of the past.

I knew then that her life in the Australian goldfields had not changed her one bit. She said, “You are looking sleepy, Lucie. I am going now so I will leave you to your slumbers.”

I knew she wanted to get away. In the past, I remembered, when she had made up her mind to do something she would have no delay. It had to be done immediately. I knew she was going off to write a letter to her father.

A few days had passed. There was still no news of Joel. I had to admit that having Belinda in the house did ease the tension to some degree, and that certain melancholy was less apparent. Belinda refused to be sad; and somehow she carried us along with her.

She was delighted with London and I could not help being caught up, to some extent, in her enthusiasm. There were only occasional moments when she slipped into solemnity, thinking of Leah; but it was only a passing sadness and she seemed determined to throw it off quickly.

There was no doubt that she was overjoyed to be back. Even Celeste cheered up a little. She could not help smiling at Belinda’s exuberance. I think she felt mildly intrigued because Belinda was her niece. She had always craved affection which she had never received from her rather formal parents, and as for her brother, I imagined he was far too immersed in his own affairs to think much about his sister. Celeste would have liked to bestow her affections on Belinda; I was a little dubious as to whether that would bring her satisfaction. I knew too much of the old Belinda not to know that she could not give Celeste the affection she craved.

Belinda wanted to see London, she said. She had missed it and so often thought of it. She loved the parks and the shops particularly the latter, I discovered. I went with her one day. We looked at fashionable clothes but we bought nothing.

We went into a tea shop, and over tea and cakes Belinda grew a little mournful and began to confide in me.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have come home,” she said.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I thought you were so happy to be back.”

“Oh ... I am ... it’s where I have longed to be. But ...” She bit her lip and, shaking her head, went on, “No ... I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand. You’re so rich.” I looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Well, I know how rich your father was, and most of it is left to you. Just think of that. Anything you want, you can buy. Whereas I ... Lucie, I am poor... terribly poor....”

She stirred her tea thoughtfully. Her expression was one of abject misery. I remembered I had always been amazed at how quickly her moods could change. “You see,” she went on, “I only have the tiniest income. One of the reasons for Tom’s heart attacks I always felt was the tension. He was dreadfully worried about the mine. Mines are gambles. They can make men’s fortunes and break them. It did very well just after Tom bought it and then it began to decline. Trust your father to have got out in time. Poor Tom was so worried he got ill and died. He left everything to my mother, of course... and she got rid of the mine. It was the only thing she could do. Henry Farrell took it over. That was one of the reasons why she was so anxious for me to come to England. She thought Celeste-who, after all, is my aunt would look after me, I’d make a grand marriage and live in luxury for the rest of my life.”

“Well, perhaps that will come to pass.”

“Look at me!” she said. “How do I strike you?”

“Well, I suppose you would be reckoned quite good-looking.”

“Don’t mock! I look like a provincial. How can I get into London society?”

“Who said you were going to get into London society?”

“I shall be living in the house. After all, we’ll get back to normal in time ... and there’ll be entertaining, won’t there?”

“I don’t know. There was a great deal of entertaining when my father was alive.”

“Well, there will be again.”

“Celeste is not a very social person.”

“I suppose you’ll be having a season.”

“Really, Belinda... with everything that has happened... I haven’t thought about that.”

“No. I suppose not. But in the meantime... oh, I feel so wretched! I don’t want to be here... not as some shabby poor relation. I shouldn’t be living in that house with you and Celeste.”

“What nonsense! As you are short of money, I can let you have some. I have enough.”

“I know you’re rich. Lucky old Lucie. Isn’t life ironical? We thought you were the waif and I was the daughter of the house. Not that he would have left all that money to me ... even if he had gone on believing I was his daughter.”

“Stop talking about money. Look, I’m going to give you some.”

“How could I take it?”

“Well, make it a loan and then you can pay me back if you must.”

“How?”

“You’ll find a way, I am sure. Didn’t you always? And now I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

She looked at me with the utmost tenderness. “Oh, Lucie,” she said, “I do love you.

I always did, you know. In spite of the fact that I was such a beast to you.”

“Well, that’s settled then.”

“Lucie, do you really mean you’ll give me the money?”

I looked at her in exasperation, but her face expressed such joy that I smiled.

“Do you remember that dress with the little pleats ... in that lavender shade ... ?”

I nodded, smiling at her enthusiasm.

“If we could go back to that shop ... if I could have that, and that cape and that costume with the severe-looking blouse and the frilly one as well ... if I had those, I could get by for a little while.”

“You shall have them.”

“Oh, Lucie... you... angel! It’s only a loan though. I insist.”

“Only a loan,” I agreed.

So we went back to the shop and bought the clothes which were charged to me; and I felt happier than I had for a long time. It was good to see Belinda so delighted. When we returned to the house we were met by one of the maids. “Oh, Miss Lansdon,” she said. “A Mr. Gerald Greenham has called. He wanted to see you specifically.”

My heart began to beat faster. My one thought was, can there be news of Joel? Belinda, still gloating over her new acquisitions, took them upstairs; and I went into the drawing room.

“Gerald,” I cried. “How nice to see you.”

He came forward and took both my hands. I saw at once that he was excited.

“Is there news?” I asked eagerly.

“Yes... but nothing of Joel yet. The fact is I am going away. I’ve got special leave. I’m going out there, Lucie.”

“You really are! How have you managed it? I should have thought the regiment ...” He smiled at me and grinned. “I’ve got leave. It’s a special case. After all, he is my brother. Anyway, I’m leaving tomorrow. I had to come and tell you.”

“What are you going to do ... when you get there?”

“I’m going to find him, Lucie.”

“Oh, Gerald ... do you really think... ?”

“I’m full of hope, and I had to come and let you know.”

“Thank you. It was kind of you to think of me. And your parents?”

“They think I’m going to find him... and I shall, Lucie.”

“Oh ... I do hope so.”

He told me of his plans. It was a pity the journey would take so long. But he would have plenty to think about on the way. “I am determined to find him ... or at least what has happened.”

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he came back!”

He nodded. “Well, wish me luck, Lucie.”

“With all my heart.”

He was so certain that he was going to succeed that he made me feel more hopeful than I had since I had heard of Joel’s disappearance.

Just as he was leaving Belinda came into the room. She was wearing the lavender dress with the pleats. It fitted her somewhat voluptuous figure perfectly and she looked very attractive.

“Oh, hello,” she said, “I didn’t realize your visitor was still here. I had to try it on, Lucie. I was so thrilled.”

“This is Mr. Gerald Greenham,” I said, “and this is Celeste’s niece, Miss Belinda... Marner.” I hesitated over her name. She had been called Lansdon while she was with us, but of course that had not been her real name. She was, I supposed, in fact Belinda Polhenny for that was her mother’s name; it did not fit her at all and she had taken Tom Marner’s name when Leah had married him, which seemed a sensible thing to do.

She was smiling at him in a way with which I was to become familiar-provocative, inviting admiration.

Gerald certainly gave it.

“I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Marner,” he said.

“I’m delighted, too,” she replied, and they stood smiling at each other with mutual approval.

“Mr. Greenham and his family were great friends of my father,” I said.

“So are you in politics?” said Belinda. “How exciting!”

“Sorry,” said Gerald. “Army. But politics runs in the family. My father... my elder brother ...”

“And you escaped that fate,” said Belinda. “Are you leaving now?” She gave a little pout as though she objected to that.

“I have to,” he told her regretfully.

“Mr. Greenham is leaving the country tomorrow,” I told her.

“How exciting! Is it permitted to ask where you are going?”

“To Africa.”

“How thrilling! Of course, people in the army do travel about ...” She had certainly impressed him. 1 could see that he was very reluctant to go; he seemed temporarily even to have forgotten the project about which he had been so excited on his arrival.

When he had gone Belinda stood before me smoothing down the pleats of the dress.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked.

“That you made a great effort to attract his interest,” I said. “And you managed to do it very effectively.”

She looked at me mischievously. “Oh... I was talking about the dress.”

“It suits you,” I told her.

And I thought, she hasn’t changed one little bit. She has come home not so much to see us as to find a husband who will keep her in luxury for the rest of her life.

A few days later there was another visitor to the house. This was Jean Pascal Bourdon. He had written to Celeste to say that he would be in London for a brief spell and would like to come and see his sister.

When she told me this I immediately thought that this sudden interest might have something to do with the letter I was sure Belinda had written to him. When she heard that he was coming, Belinda was very excited. She became pensive. She asked me a great deal of questions about him and brought the subject up with Celeste, who was somewhat noncommittal, so she turned back to me.

I told her that he was interested in wine and that the family owned a chateau in the Medoc. “That,” I said, “I believe, is the greatest wine-growing country in France ... or one of them. I believe the place is called Chateau Bourdon and has been in the family for years. I think he has a small pied-à-terre in London, for he does not stay here in this house which might be expected, Celeste being his sister. It would be quite convenient for him. I believe he spends some time in Farnborough where his parents have their home.”

“In the court of the Empress Eugenie,” said Belinda, her eyes sparkling. “Celeste does not go there.”

“No, she never did... and they did not come here. In any case his father died a little while ago and his mother is too feeble to travel.”

“My grandparents,” murmured Belinda.

“I believe they are very formal. In any case you will see Monsieur Jean Pascal Bourdon when he comes here. He’ll be dining with us on Tuesday.” I could see that she was already making plans. She was deciding what she would wear. She bought a book on wines and spent some time studying it. She was determined to impress him.

She wore the lavender dress with the pleats and piled her dark hair high on her head.

She looked very arresting.

“I wish I had some piece of jewelry,” she sighed. “Pearls would look just right with this.”

“You don’t need any further adornment,” I told her.

“Lucie, you haven’t any idea.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Then I won’t interfere. I was going to say I have a pearl brooch which my father gave me.”

“Oh, Lucie... really! Show me!”

I brought it out and she pinned it on her dress. “It’s lovely,” she cried. “It’s perfect. Elegant simplicity, is it not? You’re going to lend it to me, I know.” I nodded and she threw her arms about my neck, perfunctorily kissing me. Her thoughts were far away, thinking of the effect she would have on her father. We went down to the drawing room together.

He was there with Celeste and rose as we entered. He was of medium height, with dark hair and lively dark eyes; he was handsome in a way, with well-defined features in a somewhat classic mold; he spoke English well with only the faintest trace of accent. He was elegant and suave, and there was something about him which slightly repelled me. I was not sure what, but I did know that whenever he was mentioned Rebecca’s attitude showed me clearly that she did not like him, and I think that this attitude of hers had sown seeds of mistrust within me.

“Here are Lucie and Belinda,” said Celeste.

He turned to us.

“Lucie!” He took my hand and kissed it. “Enchanted,” he murmured. And then, “Belinda.” He took both her hands. “Why... you are beautiful. I think we should get to know each other, don’t you?”

Belinda sparkled. Her eyes danced. I, who understood her well, knew she was thinking that it was going to be easy to make a conquest of this man. I was not so sure. I felt I knew a little of him-not much, but enough to tell me that one could not take him entirely for what he appeared to be. He could not be easily understood. He was Belinda’s father and I imagined they might have similar characteristics in some respects. That might draw them together.

“Dinner will be served very soon,” said Celeste.

He looked at his sister. “Will there be guests?”

“No, I thought we might just be ... the family.”

“Excellent idea. It is what I hoped.”

“Well, in a few minutes, I should think, we should go in. It will be the small room tonight.”

“Delightfully intimate,” he said.

His eyes were on Belinda-admiring, I thought, though one could not be sure with such a man.

“I am so pleased you have come home,” he said to Belinda.

“So am I,” she answered.

“You don’t look as though you have come from... what is it they call it? ... the outback?”

“Yes,” said Belinda, “they do call it that.”

“Rather you look like a young lady of fashion.”

“What one is depends upon oneself,” responded Belinda.

“How right you are.”

“Belinda has told us a great deal about her life on the goldfields,” said Celeste.

“It was very interesting.”

“You must tell me ... sometime,” he said to Belinda.

It was an indication that they would meet again and that he was not particularly interested in goldfields. Belinda got the message. She was beaming. I fancied she was deciding that it was all going according to her plans. At dinner there was an animated conversation, generally between Belinda and Jean Pascal. It was clear to both Celeste and me that he was delighted with her and amused and rather pleased to be presented with a grown-up daughter. Belinda had always been without reticence. She talked animatedly, showing a lively interest in the chateau in France and the wine industry.

“It’s not far from Bordeaux,” he said. “Wine-growing country. Everything there is suitable for it.”

“It produces the best wine in the world,” said Belinda.

“We think so, naturally.”

“So does the whole world. I think it must be fascinating watching over the grapes... making sure that everything is all right. How wonderful!”

“It can be far from pleasant sometimes,” he told her. “There are forces to contend with... weather and disease.”

“But that makes it all the more exciting.”

“I am not sure that my work people would agree with that.”

“Well, if everything runs smoothly, it must be less rewarding when it all conies right in the end.”

“A philosopher, I see.”

“Well, it’s just plain common sense.”

“There are things you do not know of, Belinda. Why, some ten years ago the vine louse destroyed most of the grapes in France. That was a far from exhilarating experience, I can tell you. Just imagine the wretched creatures getting to the vines underground and sucking the sap at the roots. There is only one way of getting rid of them, and that is to flood the grounds.”

“How terrible!” said Belinda. “But how fascinating! Do tell us about Chateau Bourdon.

Is it really a castle?”

“Not on the scale of Blois or Chambord-much, much smaller. There were many castles in France and they were not all destroyed during the Revolution. Bourdon is a medium-sized chateau. It is rather pleasant. It is set in attractive country and our own vineyards are quite extensive.” She clasped her hands and gazed at him ecstatically.

I thought he was rather attracted by his daughter, but I was not sure, for he was the sort of man who would hide his true feelings under a cloak of sophistication. No doubt he was seeing all sorts of traits in her similar to his own.

He did bestow some attention on me.

He asked me what I intended to do, and I told him that as yet I was unsure.

“Lucie has suffered a great shock,” said Celeste. “She needs time to recover.”

He nodded sympathetically.

“My dear Lucie,” he said. “I feel for you. Celeste has told me how brave you have been. I must apologize for bringing up this subject on a happy occasion, but when it is so much in our thoughts it seems unnatural to make a studied effort not to mention it. I feel deeply for you... and my sister. I do indeed. But you have to grow away from it.”

I nodded in agreement.

“Belinda will help you, I’m sure.” He turned to her. “I am so glad you came home, my dear.”

“We are glad too,” said Celeste.

“Now we are going to make you put the past behind you,” he went on to me. “Are we not, Belinda?”

“Of course we are,” said Belinda. “Lucie and I are very special friends.”

“I’m glad to hear it, and I am sorry to have introduced such a sombre note to our happy evening. However, I just did not want you and Celeste to think me hard-hearted.”

“I understand,” I said.

“Tell us more about the chateau,” pleaded Belinda.

He did so cheerfully. It had been in the possession of the Bourdons since the days of Charles the Wise and that was in the fourteenth century. It was a typical French chateau. “There are hundreds of them throughout France,” he went on. “Most have the rounded towers at each end which come to a point at the top.”

“They have been described as pepper pot towers,” I said. “A good description. Gray stone... with that medieval look. It has been restored in places, of course, so you will find touches of later centuries here and there, but nothing has been done to it for the last hundred years. Such places are built to stand forever. We even survived the Revolution. I hope you will see it one day.” Belinda exuded satisfied excitement. It was better than she had expected, I was sure. There was a similarity between them and I felt they would understand each other-a fact which made communication between them easy.

She was delighted with her father, and I had the impression that he was not displeased to discover he had such an exhilarating daughter.

It was late when he left the house. Belinda came to my room and sat on my bed.

“What an evening! I have never known one like it.”

“Well, it is very rare for a young woman of your age to come face-to-face with a father whom she has never seen before.”

“Do you think he liked me?”

“Like might be too strong a word. I think he found you... interesting.”

“I thought he liked me. He kept talking to me and watching me.”

“You kept talking to him and watching him.”

“Do you think he’ll take me to Chateau Bourdon?”

“I don’t know.”

“And to the court at Farnborough?”

“It might be rather difficult to explain an illegitimate daughter in formal society.”

“You beast, Lucie.”

“I’m only stating a fact. The French are very formal and I should imagine particularly so in royal circles... though in exile; but I should not think that detracted from the formality.”

She looked momentarily downcast and I went on, “Yes, Belinda, I think he was impressed. I feel absolutely sure that he will want to see you again... soon.”

She put her arms round my neck and kissed me.

“You’re an angel,” she said.

“I’m glad of the remarkable transformation. All this for just stating the obvious.”

“Yes,” she said musingly, “I think he liked me, too. He also likes you, Lucie.”

“He likes all young women, providing they are not outstandingly unattractive. But daughters would come into a different category. Yes, I am absolutely certain that he was not displeased with his daughter and I have a feeling that he will want to see her again... very soon.”

On that note she said good night and went to her own room. He did come again. In fact he allowed only one day to pass, during which Belinda’s mood changed from despair to hope, and then he arrived. It was obvious to me that he was rather amused to discover a grown-up daughter, and Belinda was just the type of whom he could be proud. She was vivacious and, if not exactly conventionally beautiful, very attractive. She had something more than beauty. Leah’s charm had been her gentleness which had given her the look of a madonna-particularly in the days when we were young and I had often seen the tenderness in her eyes when they rested on her daughter. But there was nothing of the madonna about Belinda. Hers was a flamboyant charm; she was a little mysterious, promising all sorts of excitement to those who went along with her. As soon as she entered a room one was aware of her; the atmosphere changed; she had some special quality. Even here, to this house of mourning, she had brought some relief from gloom.

I was glad for her sake that Jean Pascal Bourdon was ready to recognize her as his daughter. He was the sort of man who, if she had been unappealing, would have gone away and forgotten all about her. But he was intrigued by this dazzling girl who had suddenly presented herself to him. I guessed he was thinking the situation rather piquant. He had never married. I wondered why. I had heard that he had intended to marry someone connected with the royal house of France, some relation of the Emperor Napoleon In and the Empress Eugenie, but of course the ‘70s debacle had put a stop to that. Jean Pascal was not the man to attach himself to a falling star. At least that was the impression I had and which I realized had been given to me by my sister Rebecca. She had clearly not wanted to talk much of him. She disliked him intensely.

During the next weeks we saw a great deal of him, for he came frequently to the house.

Belinda was radiant. Her plans were working out-even better than she had hoped. I think he rather liked to be seen with her. He bought clothes for her. He was delighted with her choice. She had French elegance, he said, which she had inherited from the paternal side of the family. She was learning French, and when Belinda applied herself to anything she did it with such enthusiasm that she was certain to succeed. Now her great aim in life was to please her father, to bind him to her; she was determined to be part of the chateau life in France and finally to be received at Farnborough. She lived in a whirl of excitement during those weeks and, I must say, to a certain extent carried me along with her; and Celeste was not far behind. She was delighted by her brother’s interest in Belinda.

Belinda’s joy was overwhelming when he suggested that she should have an allowance.

“Do you know what he said to me, Lucie?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” I replied.

“He said, ‘I can’t have my daughter living with rich little Miss Lucie as a penniless dependent.’ Isn’t that wonderful? Isn’t it the most exciting thing to find you have a marvelous father! I have had three fathers-the first I didn’t like much; the second was all right but he was not exactly a gentleman... and now I have the perfect father.”

I said, “You are not being fair to the first two.”

“Oh shut up, Lucie. You always argue about everything. I have now found my real father and he is the best of the lot. Isn’t that something to be pleased about? I shall be able to buy some marvelous clothes. I think I shall be going to France soon.”

“Has he said so?”

“Not in so many words, but he talks about it ... just as though I’m going to be there.”

“Well, I suppose you will soon be leaving us and going to your grand chateau. And then, of course, you’ll be joining the royal circle. I wonder what it’s like at Farnborough. How does royalty live in exile? Farnborough must be a change from Versailles.”

“I shall probably invite you.”

“That’s gracious of you. Oh, Belinda, I am so pleased, I really am ... that it is working out well for you.”

I believed, as Belinda did, that her father was making some plans for her future.

He was spending so much time at the house, which in the past he had rarely visited. My father had never liked him and had not been a man to assume an affability he did not feel. That may have been one of the reasons why in the past we had seen so little of Celeste’s brother. However, that was changed now.

He took us to the opera and to the theater, following with supper. They were very enjoyable and interesting evenings.

He liked to hear Belinda air her views, and he always listened intently with an amused smile on his lips. La Traviata was the opera we saw and I remember sitting in the restaurant with the red plush, comfortable divan-like seats, while we discussed it. Belinda’s eyes shone. She had enjoyed the evening thoroughly. “But I think she was rather silly to have given up her lover just because of that old father,” she said. “I didn’t like him at all. What business was it of his? To come and spoil it all!”

“You think she should have sent him on his way?”

“I would have.”

“Of course, you would.”

“Well, if they had not parted they would not have had long together,” I pointed out. “She was going to die soon in any case.”

“You see, Lucie has a logical mind,” said Jean Pascal. “Now that is rare in a woman.

I admire it very much, Miss Lucie.”

Belinda hated his attention to be turned away from herself for a moment.

“Oh, I thought that, too,” she said.

“Then we have two logical women. Don’t you think that is something to celebrate, Celeste? Let us have some champagne.”

I watched Belinda. She never seemed tired while poor Celeste wilted. As for myself, I was still in the theater, thinking about poor Violetta, her exquisite voice still ringing in my ears. It was wonderful; even when she was on her deathbed, she sang with power and clarity.

When we arrived back at the house, Belinda came as usual to my room. It was becoming a habit for her to do so for she liked to comment on the day. “What a wonderful evening!” she said. “I expect you were thrilled to be part of it.”

“I certainly enjoyed the opera.”

“He’s going to take us to the play. We’re going to see Ellen Terry and Henry Irving. Isn’t that exciting? I’m so glad I wrote to him. Don’t you think, Lucie, that most people don’t make things happen. They just go on accepting what is. I like to say I want that to happen and then I’m going to make it happen.”

“I think you are the sort of person who has always done that.”

“Isn’t it clever?”

“Not always, Belinda.”

I was wondering whether she remembered what she had done to Rebecca and Pedrek. That was one of the occasions when she had attempted to arrange life as she wanted it to go; and she had succeeded temporarily. She was fortunate in having to deal with forgiving people like Rebecca and Pedrek.

Now she was thinking that if she had not written to her father and implied she wanted to see him all this would not be happening now, so I supposed she had a point.

True to his promise, Jean Pascal took us to the theater. It was a wonderful experience because we saw the unique Ellen Terry as Katharine in Henry VIII. We were all entranced, and even Jean Pascal dropped his mood of cynical sophistication and became engrossed in the performance. There was the usual supper afterward. “I liked her,” said Belinda. “She wasn’t going to give in.”

“But in the end she had to,” I pointed out. “He was too powerful for her.”

“That is because he was a king and a man,” replied Belinda. “They have all the power.”

“So you think that men have too much power?” asked her father. “I think they do not have as much as they think they have... and they can be made to do things which women want as long as they don’t know they’re doing it.” Jean Pascal laughed. “She’s a devious creature, this daughter of mine,” he said.

“I am beginning to wonder whether I shall have to be on my guard against her.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t approve of,” said Belinda quickly.

“How should I know that? Would it all be part of the guile to deceive?”

“You’d know. You’re clever.”

“Still leading me on?”

Belinda was a little nonplussed. She was wondering, I guessed, whether she had betrayed too much of herself.

We went on discussing the play but she was a little restrained and uneasy. It was during supper that Jean Pascal said, “I shall have to be going back to France very soon.”

Belinda’s expression betrayed her bitter disappointment.

He put on a doleful look and went on, “Well, you see, I have to find out what’s going on there. I have been away rather a long time.”

“When will you be coming back?” asked Belinda.

“That is something I cannot be sure of.”

Melancholy settled at the table. It was amazing how Belinda carried us along with her moods.

Then he said, “I’ve been wondering ...”He paused for some seconds. “I rather think you would enjoy the chateau.”

Belinda’s eyes opened wide. Joy flooded back. He was smiling at her and I knew he found her enchanting.

“Well,” he went on, “it is the country ... of course, we are not so very far from Bordeaux ...”

“Do you mean ... I could come with you?”

“I was wondering ...”

“Oh, how marvelous! When do we go?”

“The end of the week. Is that enough notice?”

“It’s wonderful. I’d be ready to go tomorrow.”

“Then it is settled.” He paused. “There was something....” Belinda looked worried. Then he said, looking at me, “Perhaps Lucie would like to come, too?”

“I?” I said, surprised.

“Well, you are Lucie, are you not?”

“Oh, Lucie,” cried Belinda. “You must come. Oh, you must. I’d hate for you not to.

It would do her good, wouldn’t it, Aunt Celeste?”

“I think it would be a change of scene and that would be good for her,” said Celeste.

“Go to France ...” I began. “But ...”

“Oh, don’t be so stodgy, Lucie,” cried Belinda. “She is a bit stodgy, you know,” she said to her father. “She dithers. She always did.”

“You must be nicer to Lucie,” admonished Jean Pascal. “She has been a very good friend to you.”

“I am nice to her. Aren’t I, Lucie? I want her to come with us. You will, won’t you, Lucie? Say yes.”

“I ... I’d like to think about it.”

“What do you want to think about? It’s marvelous. I want you to come.”

“You’d be very welcome,” said Jean Pascal. “And it wouldn’t be the same for Belinda without you.”

“What about Celeste?”

“Let Celeste come, too.”

“No... no,” protested Celeste. “I couldn’t think of it. But, Lucie, I think it might be good for you to get away for a while.”

“I did get away to Cornwall.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t long enough.”

Jean Pascal leaned across the table and took my hand. “Think about it,” he said warmly.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I will.”

Later Belinda stormed into my room.

“Of course you’ll come,” she announced. “Why not? You are an old spoilsport. I don’t understand why you hesitate. Do you want my father to go down on his knees and beg you to come?”

“No, of course not. But he really doesn’t want me. He wants you. He is only asking me to be company for you.”

“But he does. He’s always talking about you. Asking questions about you. He likes you... because you’ve been so good to me.”

“I’ll think about it. It was all so sudden. I am just not sure.”

“Oh, you are an old stick-in-the-mud. You must come, Lucie. I want you to. It will be more fun if you are there.”

“What? Such an old stick-in-the-mud?”

“Of course. The contrast draws attention to my superior charms. Moreover, I shouldn’t like it half as much without you.”

“I’ve said I’ll think about it.”

“Well, go on thinking and tomorrow we’ll talk about what we’ll take with us.” I did think about it. I kept waking up and asking myself why not? Poor Celeste would be lonely; but she did seem to want to be alone. I should miss Belinda. I had felt more alive since she came. I could ask the Greenhams to let me know at once if there was any news, and if Joel came home I could come back immediately. By the morning I had convinced myself that it would be a good idea to go to France with Belinda and her father.