He paused on the landing while we studied it.
“It’s rather fine, is it not?” he said.
“Yes, it is lovely and something would be needed at that spot.”
We went through to the gallery. “You will have to start a picture gallery,” he said.
“I daresay my grandparents will have some of the family portraits to pass on. They have plenty, I think.”
“You will start a dynasty.”
I laughed as he led the way up some stairs and threw open a door of a room. The curtains were still at the windows and in the center of the room was a large four poster bed.
“Bourdon family heirloom,” he said.
“It’s very grand.”
“The velvet of the curtains is a little worn. The pile has rubbed away over the years.”
“You will be taking that away, I suppose.”
“I daresay my mother will not want to let it go.”
He sat down on it and took my hand so suddenly and firmly that before I realized what was happening I was sitting beside him.
I must have looked alarmed for he said: “Are you just a little uneasy?”
“No,” I lied. “Should I be?”
“Well … perhaps. Here you are in a house alone with a man whom you know to be a bit of a sinner. After all, he has not really made a secret of the fact, has he?”
I attempted to rise, but he held me back.
“You are a little idiot in some ways, Rebecca,” he said. “But I adore you.”
“Mr. Pencarron will be here at any moment. Don’t you think this is a strange way to behave? You apologized for your impertinence before and I accepted your apology.”
“I do not like apologizing very much.”
“No one does but there are times when it is necessary. So please do stop behaving in this foolish manner.”
His reply was to grip me hard and hold me against him. He bent his head and kissed me on the lips.
I was really frightened then. I tried to free myself but he was stronger than I.
“It’s time you stopped being a little innocent, Rebecca,” he said.
“You … you monster!”
“Yes, I am, am I not? I meant what I said the other day when you were so outraged. It is time someone taught you a lesson.”
“I do not want lessons from you.”
“That is where you are wrong. You need lessons … from someone as charming, practiced and understanding as Jean Pascal Bourdon.”
“I think you are behaving in a ridiculous manner.”
“You would. You are so conventional. Don’t hang on to your conventions, Rebecca. For once do what you want to … what your instincts tell you to.”
“My instincts tell me to slap your face.”
“You might try,” he said, imprisoning my hands.
“What do you think you are doing?”
“You know very well what I am doing.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Then you are not thinking very clearly. I told you what you need. You must know the world. You need to live a little before you tie yourself down to a dull existence.”
“I think you are mad.”
“I am rather … at the moment. You are so deliciously innocent. I am fond of you. I’ve wanted you for a long time. I was just waiting for the opportunity to show you what fun life can be if you will stop being prim. Let yourself go. Throw away your principles. It will be worth it. It will be an experience you need. Have … what do you say? … a little adventure, a fling? … and then you will settle down with your memories … to a dull existence in the country.”
“Do you really think I would dally with you? You must be out of your senses. A lecherous man who contemplates seducing every woman he sets eyes on and is so conceited that he imagines he only has to offer himself and she will fall swooning at his feet.”
“I think if you and I became friends … really friends … you would find it a pleasurable experience.”
“Take your hands off me.”
“I can’t. The temptation is too great.”
“I never want to see you again.”
“Don’t be so prim. I assure you it will be most enjoyable … irresistible …”
“When Mr. Pencarron comes …” I began.
He laughed. “So you are naïve enough to think that Mr. Pencarron will come?”
I was struck speechless at the implication of his words.
“That has shaken you,” he said with a grin. “Of course, he won’t come. He doesn’t know about the little rendezvous. No one need know. Come on, my sweet Rebecca, be a sensible girl.”
My fear must have given me strength. I got to my feet but he still held me. I brought up my knee sharply; he gave a cry of fury and recoiled. I was at the door. I ran through the gallery … but he was close behind me. I was at the top of the stairs. I stood still, gasping, for someone was in the hall. It was Belinda.
I heard myself stammer “Belinda …”
“Oh hello, Rebecca.” She stood staring at me. I realized I had lost my riding hat, that my hair was falling about my face and the buttons on my blouse were undone.
She said: “Rebecca … you look …”
She saw Jean Pascal and there was a silence which seemed to go on for some time. Jean Pascal recovered himself first.
“Hello, Miss Belinda,” he said. “Have you come visiting me in an empty house?”
“Yes,” she replied. “We went riding. Lucie’s here too, out there with Stubbs. I said, ‘We’ll go to High Tor because I know Rebecca is there. Let’s surprise her,’ I said.”
I walked slowly down the stairs.
“I’m glad you came, Belinda,” I said.
“Your hair’s untidy.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, and where’s your hat?”
“Oh … I’ve put it down somewhere.”
“We’ve been looking round the house,” Jean Pascal explained, “deciding about the furniture.”
“Oh,” said Belinda, looking intently from me to Jean Pascal. “It’s made Rebecca very untidy.”
At that moment Lucie came into the hall.
“Hello, Rebecca,” she said. “We’ve come to see you.”
I said to myself: Thank God you did. I never want to see this monster again and I never will.
Jean Pascal was looking at me with a somewhat cynical smile. He said: “I think I ought to tell you where you left your hat. It was in that bedroom leading off the gallery. I’d go and get it.”
I went slowly down the stairs. Belinda’s eyes never left my face. I wondered what she was thinking.
“You didn’t mind our coming, did you?” she said.
“No … no, I’m glad you did.”
“Can we see round the house?” asked Lucie.
“I think it is time we should be going home.”
“Just a quick look,” pleaded Belinda.
Jean Pascal was coming down the stairs, carrying my hat. He handed it to me with a little bow. He seemed completely undisturbed.
“We want to see round the house,” said Belinda. “It is funny without furniture … well, only a bit anyway.” She called, “Cooee” suddenly. “Listen,” she went on. “It echoes. It reminds you of ghosts and that sort of thing.”
“But you know it is only because there is hardly any furniture here,” said Lucie.
“Come on,” said Jean Pascal, “I’d show you round. Will you come with us, Miss Rebecca?”
I wanted to shout: “No, I long to get away from here. I never want to see you again. You have spoiled this house for me.” But what could I do? I had to behave as though nothing unusual had happened.
My thoughts were in a turmoil as I went round the house with them. I was asking myself what I should do. I thought of telling my grandmother. What would be her reaction? I could not say. She would tell my grandfather perhaps. Could I tell Pedrek? What would he do?
I was in a quandary.
I thought: I must do nothing at once. I must think about it. I must never be alone with him again. I would never speak to him unless I was forced to. It could be very embarrassing in the future, his being the brother of my stepfather’s wife. Moreover his family owned the house which we were proposing to buy.