I felt a desire to run away ... up those marble steps into the chateau, to my room, to pack my bag and get right away.
The idea of marrying him filled me with dismay.
“I am sorry,” I said. “But I could not think of marrying.”
“Perhaps I have spoken too soon.”
“No. It is not that. I do not want to marry. I appreciate your kindness, but I could not marry you.”
“Give it a little thought.”
“That is not necessary. No amount of thought would make me change my mind.”
His face darkened. I felt a twinge of that foreboding which came to me now and then.
I was sure that his anger would be something to fear.
He sat back in the seat, glaring out at the lake.
Diable began to swim toward the shore. It occurred to me that the swan sensed Jean Pascal’s anger and believed it was directed at him.
I said, “Look! The swan is coming.”
I stood up and was preparing to move away, for I knew that as soon as we showed that we were not approaching, the swan would turn back to the middle of the lake. Jean Pascal had risen also; but he showed no sign of retreating. He was looking about him for a weapon. With a quick movement he broke a branch from one of the trees and strode toward the water’s edge. The swan flew toward us suddenly and attempted to attack Jean Pascal, who beat at it viciously.
For a few seconds it was not clear who would win, but Jean Pascal was in command. The swan realized this perhaps, for suddenly he flew back and settled on the lake where his mate was patiently waiting for him.
I felt frightened. The attack had been deliberately provoked and I fancied there was some meaning in it. Jean Pascal was angry... furiously angry... and with me, of course, for refusing his proposal. He had had to vent his anger on someone and he had done it on the swan.
I was shaking with fear. There was something maniacal about the manner in which he had attacked the beautiful creature. Was he imagining that he was beating me?
I started to walk back to the chateau. He was beside me very soon, smiling, suave as ever.
“It is time someone taught Diable a lesson,” he said.
I did not answer and he went on, “Lucie, I don’t take no for an answer. Think about it, will you? Just give me that promise. Give it thought. Just consider what it would mean to you. We could be happy, Lucie, I know it. Promise me you will think about it.”
I was a coward, I knew. But I was in his house. I was his guest and I was terribly shaken by what I had seen. I could not tell him of the revulsion I felt, so I nodded my assent.
I wanted to get away and I was unsure how to act. I had traveled with Belinda. Could I undertake the journey back alone? Could I try to explain to Belinda? She would never understand.
I rehearsed what I might say. Something like: “Your father has asked me to marry him. I can’t, so I cannot stay in his chateau.” No. That would not do. Belinda would never understand. She would think I was a fool to refuse her father. I could imagine her comment. “It would be wonderful for you. My father is rich and important. As for you, Lucie, you’re hardly Helen of Troy or Cleopatra. You ought to marry an older man. You’re a bit of an old sober-sided yourself. Young men don’t like that. I reckon it’s the best thing that could happen to you.”
How could I explain to her: he frightens me. My flesh creeps when he comes near me.
I had no idea that he had marriage in mind. I must go quickly. The best thing to do was to get away by myself to think. If I walked in the grounds there was a good chance that I would come face-to-face with Jean Pascal. I went down to the stables and managed to ride off ... unseen.
I found myself riding toward the Fitzgeralds’ house. I could not confide in them, of course, but I did feel the need for company. I experienced a great sense of relief when I met them. They were on horseback and obviously on their way somewhere.
They hailed me with pleasure.
“Were you coming to visit us?” asked Phillida.
“Well... not exactly. I thought it would be nice if I saw you ...”
“It certainly is. Unfortunately we are just going visiting. What a pity!”
“Come tomorrow afternoon,” said Roland. “We shall be at home then.”
“I should love that. What time?”
“Two... no, two thirty?”
“Thanks. I’ll see you then.”
They waved and rode off. I was rather relieved in a way. I wanted to think of the position. I did not want to do anything rash. I could perhaps ask their advice about returning home. Jean Pascal had looked after us on the journey out. I must remember that I should have to get myself across the country and my knowledge of the language was far from perfect. I was not sure of trains and so on. I would need help. I was not sure that I could ask Jean Pascal. I had a feeling that he might try to hinder me.
I wondered whether I could put the matter of my departure to the Fitzgeralds. I needed time to think ... to ponder, so it was just as well that our meeting had been postponed until the next day.
I got through that day somehow. I was on tenterhooks wondering whether I should be able to escape without Belinda and Jean Pascal knowing what was going on. The next day, immediately after luncheon, I was on my way to the Fitzgeralds. I was surprised on my arrival to find that they had a visitor. It was a young woman who was vaguely familiar to me; and as soon as I heard her name, I remembered. “This is Madame Carleon,” said Roland. “She is a neighbor of ours.”
“I picked her up,” explained Phillida, “which was really very clever of me.”
“Phillida is very good at that, as you know yourself,” added Roland. I knew now where I had seen her before. She was the young woman who had come into the hall of the chateau and displeased Jean Pascal by her presence. “This is Miss Lucie Lansdon,” went on Roland.
“I am very pleased that we meet,” said Madame Carleon in very accented English.
“I, too,” I replied.
“We met before at the Chateau Bourdon,” she went on.
“Very briefly,” I said.
“This will not be so brief,” said Roland. “Do sit down. Madame Carleon has told us so much about the countryside. We have been so fortunate in the friends we have made here.”
Madame Carleon was very attractive. She had abundant blond hair which was beautifully dressed and she wore a riding habit of light navy which accentuated her fairness; her eyes were deep blue and she had a short nose and a rather long upper lip; this gave her a kittenish look, which was appealing. She was animated in conversation, now and then breaking into French, but making a great effort to speak our language. She asked me how I liked the chateau.
“It’s a wonderful place,” she said. “I know it well. And you are a friend of Mademoiselle Bourdon... the new daughter, I believe.”
“Yes. We were brought up together... until we were about ten years old. Then Belinda went to Australia and she has been back only a short time.”
“Very interessante. And she is a very attractive girl, this Miss Belinda.”
“Oh yes. She has become engaged ...”
“Here?”
“Well. He was not exactly a friend of Monsieur Bourdon. He is English and was visiting friends here. They brought him along to dine... and it was love at first sight.”
“But that is charming,” said Madame Carleon.
“And there is family approval on both sides?” asked Roland.
“Well, certainly on this side. I think Sir Robert does not have much family.”
“How very exciting,” put in Phillida.
And we went on to talk about the various places of interest in the neighborhood. Madame Carleon lived in Bordeaux and had already taught the Fitzgeralds a great deal about the town.
“I was always interested in Bordeaux,” said Roland, “because it belonged to England once. It came to us with the marriage of Eleanor of Aquitaine to Henry II, and Richard II was born there.”