The black swan (30 page)

"Dulcie, aren't you ever goin' to tell me what happened?"

Dulcie shook her head wildly. "No—no—it was too horrible!" In her mind's eye Dulcie saw him again. She shivered, confused that the memory of him made her feel both hot and cold at once. It was as though his strong, warm hands still rested in the small of her back. As Claudine stroked her hair, she felt his breath, stirring her hair.

Abruptly she leaned forward and covered her face. "Oh, Birdie, it was awful! Just awful! He was horrible—an' mean! An' he threatened me!"

Birdie, remembering the man she had seen riding from the stables, stared off dreamily. "Oh, Dulcie, I wish it had been me!"

Dulcie, twinged by jealousy, said, "You don't know what you're talking about! You'd have been scared to death!"

Still filled with misgivings, she went back downstairs. She looked around furtively, in case the man had come back. If she saw him again, she'd just faint.

And if she never saw him again ... it wouldn't matter. He had nothing to do with her. That man had been nothing but a rogue and a ruffian. It was her birthday party, her coming out, and the men of the county were there in her honor. There were all kinds of men, suitable men, gentle

men, waiting to court her. She would have her pick of the crop.

The Whitakers greeted her effusively, tangling her in hugs and giggles, the men doffing their hats gallantly. They were blond, all of them. She thought of thick black curls and a teasing flash of white teeth under a black moustache. . . .

Mr. Acton, master of the local hunt, sounded his horn for the tournament.

The pageant began with knights arrayed in brilliant striped satin tunics of two and three colors, mounted on gallant steeds trailing ribbons of the same colors from their bridles. Sedately, in parade formation, they rode past the spectators, sweeping off their ribbon-trimmed hats as they passed the lady of their choice. Behind the knights c'ame their personal servants. After them followed ♦ the small children from the quarters, doing handsprings and cartwheels and improvised acrobatics.

Glenn, wearing Dulcie's gold and brown insignia, rode past and bared his long pale locks in the traditional salute.

The first event was Taking the Ring. At full gallop each man sped along the seventy-five-yard course under three arches. With a tapered jousting lance he would attempt to impale a ring suspended from each arch.

Lowell Hume rode first. Cheers went up from the audience as he presented the ring to the judges for inspection. Another ring was hung in its place, and Todd Saunders galloped under the arches. He caught nothing. Then in succession, and with similar results, Conroy Biggs and three of the Whitakers passed through the arches. By now there were catcalls from participants as well as onlookers.

Next Glenn galloped down the decorated arches, looking grimly earnest. He looked surprised at the cheering, but red-faced, he dismounted and swaggered over to the judges. Grandly he bowed to Dulcie. "Miss Dulcie, will you do me the honor of holdin' this ring for me?"

It was almost an anticlimax when Leroy Biggs galloped madly down the lane and speared two rings. Leroy accepted the applause with aplomb, wrapped the rings in his handkerchief, and tucked them safely into his pocket. Lowell Hume won, by taking three rings.

After the applause had died down, Lowell made his speech selecting the tournament queen. "Who here is fair

enough to be called Sovereign, the Queen of Love and Beauty? Upon my sacred honor, friends, I cannot cast my eyes in any direction that they do not linger on a maiden bountifully fitted to wear the garland of myrtle."

"Hear, hear!" cried Granddad Whitaker, a dilapidated Englishman whose eye and hand for a pretty girl were legendary in the county.

Lowell went on, "Yet one must be chosen—that one to whom heaven has lent such grace that the veriest dolt will remark favorably on it. That one whose mortal beauty is enhanced by her sweet spirit and her tender kindness. She who will be Sovereign excels the freshest rosebud for purity, the bluebird for happy augury, and the most luminous rainbow in its rareness.

"It would be less than apropos if I did not name the maiden adored by every dauntless gallant of this mighty county, the most captivating damozel of them all—Miss Dulcie Moran, our Queen of Love and Beauty!"

Her speech of acceptance was graciously to the point This was the world she belonged to—the pageantry, the gentle manners, the honorable men—a world of light and social grace; a world safe from dark corners and the unleashed sensuality of the dark, bold raider of the loft. "I am truly flattered to be chosen your queen for this important day in my life. As for bein' all those delightful things Lowell said I was—I'm goin' to have to work mighty hard to live up to them! But now, let the runners-up select those who shall be ladies-in-waitin'!"

Glenn, looking dour, chose Katherine, his cousin. Leroy said, "Miss Enid Whitaker as the queen's lady!" The ladies-in-waiting were installed with" suitable ceremony. The trumpet was sounded for the Indian wrestling.

Leroy came out winner in that event. Todd won the footraces. Only five participants entered the hand races. Cedric and Andrew Whitaker, Lowell, Glenn, and Leroy stood on their hands to follow a course that finished at the feet of the Sovereign. Leroy, so red he was nearly purple, did a somersault to celebrate winning.

The gander pull would be the last event. This was so popular a sport that Jem allowed his servants to watch it. It was as much a treat for the guests as it was for the slaves, for Fellie had his own little band of musicians he had trained from among the adolescent blacks. They led the procession of slaves out to the area, playing and sing-

ing as they came. Dulcie glanced oyer to see Claudine among them. On either side of her were two large young black men. Claudine held the hand of each of them. Dulcie grinned. She knew Claudine had a young man but had no idea who it was; and Claudine wasn't one to talk, fearing Jem would find out and send her away. At least now the field was narrowed to two men. Dulcie would find out soon which it was.

Her attention was wrested from Claudine as the gander was taken out of his pen, his big black feet tied securely. Then, flapping his long wings, nipping desperately at his captors with his heavy black beak, he was dipped into a tub of grease. As a final indignity, he was hung by his feet high over the racecourse, honking and hissing in distress.

The object of the sport was to ride one's horse under the goose at full speed, trying to seize the squirming fowl by its neck. Whoever made off with the goose's head was declared winner.

Dulcie, looking at the big dark body with the black neck undulating like a snake, whispered to her nearest lady-in-waiting. "Oh, Enid, tell me when it's over! I don't think I can watch this."

Enid eyed her curiously. "You always enjoyed it before. What's the matter with you today? Was it your pet?"

"No, no—it's just—I'd forgotten how gruesome the poor bird looks all slimy with grease and—an' waitin' to die."

"Dulcie!" Enid's whisper was shocked. "The boys are only havin' fun!"

Dulcie watched with apparent interest as rider after rider passed under the high-hanging gander. Andrew Whit-aker got his hand severely bitten as the gander struck a lucky blow. But the gander was doomed. His strikes became fewer as he tired. Then suddenly it was over. Leroy Biggs let out an ear-splitting yell as the gander's head came off in his hand.

Dulcie's heart was hardly in the presentation of the engraved silver loving cup, though she was glad that Leroy, with his outrageously suggestive eyes, had won.

"Miss Dulcie, as champion, I'm claimin' you now for all the reels."

She gave him her sweetest smile. Leroy excelled at any-thmg physical, including dancing. "Of course, Leroy. I can hardly wait."

"And will you sit by me at dinner?'*

Dulcie put her hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry, Fve promised Glenn."

"Now that's a shame, Miss Dulcie, a real shame." His gaze slid to Enid.

Glenn appeared quietly beside Dulcie, looking downcast, as she had expected.

"Glenn, I loved your ridin' today!" she gushed. "You went through those arches like a thunderbolt, your lance shinin' like a knight of old! I was so proud of you when you just snatched that ring!"

Glenn attempted to look humble. "It was just luck. I'm not really good at things, Dulcie."

"Not good! How can you say such a silly thing! Here you are, part of the Queen's Court! You don't see everybody up here, do you?"

"Well . . ."

"Hasn't all that glorious exercise whetted your appetite? Now you just come along with me, an' I'll see that Violet heaps your plate with the best of everythin'!" Dulcie's voice soothed and encouraged and led. // is all wrong, she thought. Here I am comforting Glenn, and he's supposed to be the strong one. If I marry someone like him, it will always be like this: I'll have to tell him he's wonderful; it will be my duty. No one would ever have to tell that stranger he was wonderful.

Lowell Hume, seated on Dulcie's left, leaned over boldly and kissed her on the neck. Dulcie squealed girlishly. Glenn got up from his seat, scowling fiercely at the intruder. "Suh, I must ask you to remove yourself to another chair. You are annoyin' Miss Dulcie."

"My apologies, suh," Lowell answered. "I'd-a never suspected Miss Dulcie was promised to you." Still, he made no move to rise.

Glenn was left standing there speechless. He tried once more. "As a gentleman, you must be familiar with the code of duelin'? You have offended me, and I wish to call you out, suh."

It had gone too far. Dulcie stood up, her plate slithering across the grass. "Glenn! Lowell! I beg you to recollect this is my birthday party! I'm askin' you, as gentlemen, not to spoil it. Glenn, do I have your word?" She riveted him with her amber eyes, and his hot gaze fell.

He mumbled, "I only thought to defend your honor."

"Miss Dulcie, I'm not lackin* in personal courage, but I see no purpose to be served by woundin' or—" Lowell added with evident relish—"killing a human bein' of such negligible value as Mr. Saunders."

Glenn would have sprung on him, but Dulcie put her arm between them. "Glenn, you gave your word. LoweU?'*

"Miss Dulcie, it's my pleasure to promise anythin' you might ask." He bowed low, flicked a crumb from his handsome waistcoat, and sauntered off toward Camille Whitaker. Glenn glared after him.

Everyone was watching. Dulcie, smiling flirtatiously, tucked her hand under Glenn's arm. "I think a short walk would do us both good."

Once they had strolled out of sight and hearing of the others, she turned on him. "I hope you're satisfied, Glenn Saunders! All by yourself, you've ruined my birthday party for me!"

"But Dulcie, I"—^he stopped, his mouth still working.

"You may call me Miss Dulcie! You've forgotten I'm not yet promised to any man! Your possessiveness has become extremely tedious. If I want to talk, dance, or walk in the moonlight with other men, I will!"

He nodded miserably. "I'm sorry. I only—^"

Her mood changed, lightninglike. "I believe I would like a little more of that punch, wouldn't you, Glenn?"

He looked at her, bewildered. "Well, ah, I guess I— "

"We'd better go back to the party."

"You're not angry with me anymore?"

"Oh! You are a fool! Yes, I'm angry! But I have guests, and I want them to have a good time even if I don't!'*

"Dulcie—^Miss Dulcie—^I only did it because I lo-lo—^" he seemed on the verge of expiring, then gulped and said, "love you."

At any other time Dulcie would have answered in the accepted manner, never revealing her own feelings at all. Instead, irritated beyond measure, she said, "Well, that's your misfortune!" and kept on walking, with Glenn scurrying to keep pace with her.

He evidently thrived on such treatment, for early that evening he was at her elbow, reminding her that he had the first waltz.*Dulcie looked up into his honest, loving, and hopelessly commonplace face. "I'm sorry I got so huffy this afternoon. I know you were only doin' what you thought was right. I was so rude to yoit! Can you forgive

me, Glenn?" She drew out his name lingeringly, so that it was almost like a gentle touch of her hand. She knew he would think her words far more meaningful than a simple apology and that later she would once again have to extricate herself from what he read into them.

She danced with him, smiling until her cheeks ached. Then she was whirled away by first one then another to whom she had promised dances. Leroy's turn came during the reels. He led her through them with such tireless vigor that even Dulcie was winded and, as she had feared, sweating.

"It surely has been fun dancin* with you, Leroy," she said, still smiling. "You're very light on my feet."

Leroy laughed and laughed. "Oh, that's funny. Miss Dulcie! Light on your feet!" He seemed to enjoy himself so much that Dulcie laughed too. Eventually Leroy got himself under control. "Care for some of your birthday potion? It's mighty agreeable and refreshin'. I'll get it for you."

"Please. I'll just go sit on the veranda a moment."

"I'll find you, don't you worry. You jes' get comfortable now, an' we can have a nice little chat.'*

By the time he had made his painstaking way across the ballroom with two cups, Dulcie was surrounded by Todd and Roberta, Enid, Camille, and Lowell. To her relief Glenn was not in sight.

Leroy jostled his way jovially through the laughing group. "Here y'are, Miss Dulcie! A cup o' cool punch, jes' the thing to quench your thirst after dancin' so light-footed—so light—now, what was it you said that made me have that fit?"

"I—I forget," she said, not wishing to start him up again.

"Miss Dulcie has a marvelous wit," Leroy explained to Todd. "After we (Janced the reels, she said to me, um, well, what she said was—'*

Dulcie took pity on him and repeated the thin joke. Then the others laughed, as much at Leroy as at her remark. He might not know it or care, but Dulcie did. When the music began again, Lowell asked her to dance. *Thank you, Lowell, but I'm goin' to rest a little longer."