Free The Black Swan by Philippa Carr

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.”
    “Hell, 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