I went riding now and then with Belinda and Jean Pascal, but I looked forward to those times when I could be alone. I was becoming increasingly uneasy because of Jean Pascal’s attitude toward me. I might be innocent but I was not ignorant. I had already discerned that he was the sort of man who would be interested in any woman who crossed his path. I did not think that I was particularly attractive, but I was there... actually living under his roof. I began to think that it was time I went away.
The truth was he alarmed me. I admonished myself. I only had to convey to him that I was not one of those people who indulged in the light love affairs of which I was sure he had had great experience. He was Belinda’s father and that meant that he was old enough to be mine. Not that age would be so important, I supposed, if one truly loved. Love Jean Pascal? The thought appalled me. Of course, he was good-looking, suave, a man of the world. Some people might have fallen in love with him. As for myself, I felt only revulsion when he came near me.
And here I was, a guest under his roof! No wonder I felt uneasy. I did suggest to Belinda that we could not stay here indefinitely. Perhaps we should think about making a date for our return.
She looked at me in amazement. “We haven’t been here two weeks yet.”
“That’s quite a long time to stay in people’s houses.”
“People’s houses. This is my father’s.”
“Yes... your father... but not mine. I was just wondering, I was thinking it was about time I ...”
“What do you want to go back for? You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself. You are putting the past behind you and where could you do that better than here?”
“I was just thinking ...”
“You’re an idiot, Lucie. Stop thinking! Just enjoy all this. I think it’s wonderful.
Don’t grudge me my father.”
“As if I would.”
“He’s been very nice to you. He always brings you into everything.”
“Yes, I know. But I think I ought to go and leave you two together.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” she said; and as usual, when she had decided something, she assumed that settled the matter. So I knew it was useless to talk to her about going home.
I cherished those days when I could get away on my own. On this particular one I had gone into the grounds and into the little wood. I knew that Jean Pascal and Belinda were going to the vineyards that morning. The implication had been that I should go with them, but it had not been absolutely arranged. So I went off and was not to be found when they were ready to go.
After they left I experienced a wonderful sense of freedom.
I went to the stables where a groom saddled a horse for me at my request; and I had the pleasure of riding out alone.
It was a lovely morning. It would probably be too hot later in the day but at that time it was perfect.
I told myself I must remember which way I came for the country was unfamiliar to me. I must not get lost or there would be a ban on my riding alone which was my chief pleasure.
I left the chateau grounds and after about ten minutes, I came to a little wood of pine trees. A rider was coming toward me. There was something familiar about her. She drew level and we looked at each other, both a little puzzled, trying to remember, I supposed, where we had met before.
The woman smiled suddenly. “I know,” she cried. “Of course, it was on the Channel steamer. I’m Phillida Fitzgerald. Do you remember? We talked for a few minutes.” It was coming back. The pleasant-faced woman who was going with her brother to recuperate near Bordeaux.
“I remember well ...”
“And you were ...?”
“Lucie Lansdon.”
“That’s right. What a coincidence! Well, perhaps not so ... as we are in the neighborhood.
Isn’t it lovely country?”
“It is. Are you better?”
“Yes. Did I tell you I was convalescing? I really am much better. Even my brother is pleased.”
“Is he here?”
“He’s at our place.”
“Are you staying near here?” I asked.
“Yes, quite near. We’ve rented a house. We didn’t greatly care for the hotel. So we looked round and found this place. A good deal of letting goes on nowadays in these parts. Some people prefer it to staying in a hotel.”
“I suppose they do.”
“My brother likes it much better. It’s a nice little house... lovely setting.
Not far from here. There is a couple who live in a sort of cabin in the grounds.
They look after us. They go with the house. They’re quite good. We like it.”
“How long are you staying?”
“For a few more weeks, I suppose. Nothing definite. We’ve taken the house for a month and if we want to renew at any time I don’t think there would be much difficulty.”
“It has worked out well then.”
She nodded. “What of you?”
“I’m staying at the Chateau Bourdon.”
“With friends ... I think you said. That must be wonderful really. Look. Why don’t you come back with me and have a cup of coffee. Angelique... the female side of the couple ... makes excellent coffee.”
“It sounds like a good idea.”
“Come on then. Roland will be amused. He says I pick up people. Well, I like meeting people. I like talking to people. And after all, we’re not strangers, are we? We met on the boat.”
“I certainly don’t feel we are.”
She laughed and turned her horse back the way she had obviously come. I followed.
We rode for about a mile until we came to the village of Lengore. “It’s charming,” she told me, “particularly on market days. I love shopping. They all laugh at my atrocious accent. But I can laugh with them. I know how awful it is. The house is just on the outskirts of the village.”
We came to it. It was small and of gray stone, surrounded by a pleasant garden. She pointed out to me what she called the cabin where Angelique and her spouse lived. There was a stretch of grass on which a few chickens scratched while a rooster perched proudly on a low stone wall watching over his hens.
“It’s a little primitive in some ways,” said Phillida. “But my brother says that this is what we have come here for. There are two or three barns... good for storage... and a field, too, so we have plenty of space. We hire the horses for the time we are here... and Pierre-that’s Angelique’s husband-looks after them as he does the chickens and a couple of geese. So you see, it really is the country life.”
She pushed open a door and we were in a room with stone walls and tiled floor. There was an enormous fireplace and a kettle hanging on a chain. Leading from this was another room into which she led me. It was fitted with two armchairs and a sofa. Her brother stood up and laid aside the book he had been reading. He looked puzzled at first until Phillida explained. “Look whom I have found,” she cried. “It’s Miss Lucie Lansdon. Come on, Roland, you remember. On the boat coming over.” She turned to me. “Roland doesn’t remember people like I do. But then, of course, we had a long chat. He only saw you briefly.”
“But I do remember,” he said. He held out his hand. “How do you do, Miss Lansdon.
How nice to see you.”
“Wasn’t it a coincidence?” said Phillida. “We just happened to come face-to-face near that pine copse. Then it all came back to me ... how we’d met and talked.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure,” said her brother.
“What about some coffee?” said Phillida. “I’ve lured her here with a promise of Angelique’s special brew.”
“Come and sit down,” he said.
“Yes, that’s right, and I’ll go and see about the coffee.”
She went and I was left alone with Roland.
I said, “You seem to be comfortable here.”
“Oh yes. It’s more pleasant than a hotel.”