A Lamentation of Swans

by Valerie Bronwen

  “Oh, thank you, dear. Let me get a good look at you.” He stepped back, his hands still on my arms, and scrutinized my face. “Let me guess, you’ve run into Charlotte, haven’t you?”

  “You always knew me too well, Roger.” Roger was a handsome man who looked younger than he was. He had to be in his later fifties, but you’d never know it to look at him. Sure, there were some lines in his tanned face, but his brown eyes still sparkled with energy and youth. He was tall, maybe just over six feet, and he’d always been trim and fit. I suspect he colored his hair—the absence of any gray at his age couldn’t have been natural. He was unseasonably tanned, and the arm he gave me was strong and tight. “You’re so tan,” I said as we climbed the stairs to the front gallery.

  “I just got back from St. Bart’s,” he said, leading me to two wicker rocking chairs facing the pond. “Sit me with me a bit and let’s catch up.” Ever the gentleman, he waited for me to sit before sitting himself. He gestured with his head. “Still no swans out there.”

  I smiled faintly, even as his words tugged at my heart.

  The story about the pond was one of those family legends passed down through the generations—no one was sure if it was a true story or not anymore, but it was fun to think it was. Charlotte had told me the story on my first visit here.

  Apparently, so the story went, when Samuel was looking for a place to build Arabella a summer home on Long Island, he’d never been satisfied with any of the land parcels he’d been shown. Getting tired of his dickering and dithering, Arabella came with him out to Penobscot to look at the land that eventually became Sea Oats. A family of swans had been paddling about on the pond, and she’d turned to Samuel and said, “Was there ever a better sign of where Swanns belong than this?” The great irony was the family of swans disappeared, driven away by the noise of the building the house and outbuildings and gardens. Even more strangely, swans were rarely seen on the pond. They’d become such a rarity that when a swan was spotted on the pond, people thought it was a sign of good fortune.

  I’d always wondered if the swan on the pond when Charlotte had first brought me here was the real reason she’d married me. She’d been so excited to see a white swan out there on the water that day…

  The wicker chair felt a little damp through my jeans. Oh, well, too late now. “Have you and Peggy been seeing each other long, Roger? I had no idea.”

  He smiled at me kindly. “It was one of those things, I suppose.” He stared out over the lawn. “We’d known each other so long, then one morning we just realized we’d been right under each other’s noses for so long. I do love her very much, you know. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to, you know, love again, after Cathy died. This isn’t a grand passion, of course—we’re both too old for that sort of thing—but it’s nice.”

  “I imagine Peggy will be happy to move out of here,” I observed. “Your house will be a lot less for her to handle.”

  He laughed. “Did you really think Peggy would leave Sea Oats? No, my dear, we’ll be living here.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” Peggy might be getting married, but obligations to Bast and Charlotte and Sea Oats would always come first with her. Roger apparently didn’t have a problem with it.

  “Now, tell me what you’re doing here? I was surprised to hear you’d turned up. A pleasant surprise, to be sure, but still…” He rubbed his chin. He patted my leg. “I suppose I owe you an apology. I’m so sorry I didn’t—” He hesitated. “I should have stayed in touch when you went back to the city.”

  “I could have reached out, too,” I replied. “So I owe you an apology, too, Roger. I did think about you these past few years, though. It was—it just seemed…awkward, I suppose.”

  “No need to apologize to me, my dear. Let’s just call it even and move forward, shall we?” He smiled at me. “So, what brings you back to Sea Oats after all this time?”

  So Peggy hadn’t told him she’d invited me, either. Interesting. “Closure, I guess, Roger. Kind of hard to go on with my life while I haven’t dealt with my marriage.” I made a feeble gesture. “I didn’t know what I’d find when I got here, but it’s pretty clear to me Charlotte’s moved on.”

  “But what about you, Ariel? Have you moved on?”

  I looked at his kind face. “Not yet.” I shrugged. “There was a part of me that kept hoping, but…” I let my voice trail off.

  “So you’ve heard the rumors about her and Lindsay, then?”

  “Rumors?”

  “They’ve had dinner a few times, Ariel. It’s nothing to worry about. They’re old friends. Anything romantic died between them years ago.”

  Tell that to Lindsay, I thought, but aloud said, “It doesn’t matter, Roger.”

  “If you still love her, then fight for her,” Roger replied, grasping my hand. “I know she still has feelings for you, Ariel.” He squeezed my hand tightly. “You know Charlotte is trying to fight a takeover of Swann’s, right? Lindsay controls about two percent of the Swann’s stock.”

  “So, you think—”

  “I think you should stay and fight.”

  Chapter Six

  I wanted desperately to believe him, even as I knew how pathetic my hopes were.

  “I never believed that stupid story about you and Bast,” he went on. “No one did.” He made a face, and laughed. “Peggy did, of course. As you know, Bast can do no wrong in her eyes, and of course he’s so good looking and wonderful and charming he can convert a lesbian.”

  I laughed. “Well, Peggy wasn’t the only one who believed him. Charlotte believed it, too. I wouldn’t have left if—if my wife hadn’t believed I would not only cheat, but with a man, and her brother, no less.” I shook my head, as the old feelings of bitterness and anger and hurt threatened to roil their way back up to the surface. I pushed them down and closed the door behind them, locking it for good measure. “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have run away. Maybe I should have stayed and fought, let the anger and hurt run their course and dealt with it. But Roger, I honestly didn’t see another option back then, I didn’t. Maybe I should have ridden out the storm. But”—I paused—“there’s no point in rehashing it all. What’s done is done. My marriage is over, and I know that now. So I guess the trip here wasn’t in vain, at any rate.”

  “You’re giving up,” Roger said softly. “Don’t give up so easily, Ariel. I know you still love her—I can see it in your face. Don’t give up without a fight. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Isn’t it awful about old Angus?” He changed the subject, probably because of the look on my face. “Peggy said you were the last person to see him before—before it happened.”

  That was a jolt back into the present. “I know. So terrible. I mean, who would want to kill poor Angus? Have you heard anything from the police?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I don’t know any more than anyone else. You didn’t see anything or anyone, did you?”

  “No.” I shivered. “It kind of gives me the creeps knowing how close I was to the killer. But I didn’t see anything.”

  He patted my leg. “I can’t blame you for wanting to leave as soon as you can. But I really do think you should give things with Charlotte another chance. Don’t leave without sitting down and having a good talk with her. Promise me that?”

  “Yes, well.” I got up and brushed his cheek with my lips. “I know you’re coming from a good place, Roger, and it means a lot to me.” I smiled at him. “You were always so nice to me, and I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. But if you’ll excuse me, I didn’t sleep very well last night and I think I’m going to go lie down for a bit.”

  “Of course.” He smiled back at me. “It’s really good to see you again, Ariel.”

  I walked around the corner of the house to the front. I managed to slip inside the front door before my eyes filled with tears again and I felt overwhelmed. Of course, it was easy for Roger to think it was possible for C
harlotte and me to reconcile—he was happily engaged, had found love again at a time of his life when he probably thought it would never happen again for him. I was happy for him, and Peggy, but that didn’t mean everything was going to work out okay for everyone else.

  Hell, when Charlotte and I were happy, I’d wanted everyone else to be as happy as we were. But that was a long time ago. The reality now was different. I didn’t belong here at Sea Oats anymore.

  No, the sooner I could pack and get back to the city, the better off I would be.

  I leaned back against the door, getting a hold of myself. The entryway was deserted, but I could hear a vacuum running somewhere on the first floor. I stood there for a moment, letting my façade slip a bit while I took a few deep breaths, his words still echoing inside my head.

  I wished he was right, that I should stay and fight for Charlotte, but the simple truth I had to face and accept was that there was nothing left to fight for, even if I wanted to, even if I believed there was the slightest chance for me, for us. Charlotte had made it very clear she didn’t love me anymore. Maybe he was right and she wasn’t interested in Lindsay again, maybe the dinners were business related and Charlotte was just trying to make sure she had Lindsay’s support in the stock fight at Swann’s. Lindsay was the type to hold that over Charlotte’s head, too.

  That wasn’t fair. I’d never liked Lindsay—she certainly had never given me any reason to like her—but was she the kind of woman who would blackmail Charlotte? Charlotte would never put up with anything like that, and would certainly never forgive her for it. She might need Lindsay’s votes now, but once she didn’t…Lindsay might be many things, but she wasn’t a fool. She’d known Charlotte her entire life, and had made plenty of mistakes along the way. If she was smart—and she was—she would be supportive of Charlotte now for the dividends it would pay later.

  It was hard for me to accept that Charlotte and Lindsay might get back together.

  When we were happy together, Charlotte had told me that she’d stopped having deeper feelings for Lindsay years ago, that I had no reason to be jealous. Lindsay wasn’t a threat. She’d told me about how deeply she’d been hurt when Lindsay had gotten married the first time. “I knew then she didn’t love me,” Charlotte had said, and I could hear the pain in her voice. “Besides, I never felt for her the way I do about you.” She’d kissed me on the top of my head then, and we’d gone to bed.

  No one had ever made me feel the way Charlotte could, either. She was an amazing lover, passionate yet patient, urgent but gentle. I’d tried not to remember that, tried not to think about the passionate nights in her arms, the feel of her lips against my body, the feel of her fingertips brushing my nipples, the way she could use her fingers and mouth to take me to heights I’d never dreamed were even possible, the way her skin felt against mine, the strong muscles in her arms and back…How I’d longed just to lie beside her in bed again, the warmth from her body comforting.

  And now, being back here, I could admit to myself what I’d been in denial about for so long. The reason I hadn’t dated, the reason I’d focused so much on work, was because I believed—knew—I’d never feel about another woman the way I did about Charlotte.

  And no other woman could make me feel the way she did.

  Why she hadn’t filed for divorce remained a mystery to me. No matter how she felt for Lindsay now, it was clear she wasn’t in love with me anymore. Maybe she’d just been waiting for me to file, I wasn’t sure. More likely it was a pesky detail she didn’t want to be bothered with and kept putting off. Divorce would be admitting failure, and if I knew anything about my wife, it was that she hated to fail at anything.

  Even if she failed at this stock fight, she wouldn’t give up. If she lost control of Swann’s, she wouldn’t rest until she was back in charge.

  Peggy had told me once that Charlotte had always been obstinate.

  I laughed to myself. Yes, that’s a great reason to stay married! Not wanting to admit you’d failed at something.

  I made up my mind. As soon as I was back in the city I was going to hire a lawyer and start the long, arduous process of untangling myself from the Swann family legally.

  I put my hand against the door to keep my balance. That surge of emotion was unexpected. Where had that come from?

  You always held out hope, that’s where it came from, and now you know there isn’t any. It’s over. And it’s okay to finally mourn for your marriage. You’ve been in denial for a long time, Ariel.

  I took a deep breath.

  If I was going to have a good cry, I wasn’t going to do it down here.

  The vacuum stopped, and I could hear idle chitchat among the female cleaning crew. The house was too much for Maeve to keep clean by herself, so three times a week a team of cleaners from town came out to clean the house thoroughly, from top to bottom. I walked over to the foot of the stairs, ready to head up to my room when I heard one of them say Angus’s name.

  One of the others shushed the speaker, and I crept down the hallway. The cleaning women were in the ladies’ drawing room, and the door was open.

  “Do you want Maeve to hear you?” one of them said in a thick Long Island accent, her voice hushed. “I don’t know about you, but I need this job.”

  “You know as well as I do, Connie, there’s been some strange things going on around this place, and there has been for a while,” the original speaker replied, her voice lower but still audible to me in the hallway. I glanced down the hall at the closed kitchen door. “I heard that old Angus had a lot of dirt on the Swann family, stuff they wouldn’t want anyone to know, you know. And now that Miss Charlotte’s wife”—the contempt positively dripped from the word—“is back, there’s no telling what other kinds of perversions they’re going to get up to around here.”

  “You think Charlotte Swann killed Angus?”

  I didn’t wait to hear the reply. I walked as quickly as I could to the stairs and then ran up them, taking them two at a time.

  Charlotte? Was it possible that Charlotte could have—

  She couldn’t have. Charlotte would never—

  You never thought she would believe you could have an affair with her brother, either.

  How well do you really know your wife? How far would she go to keep control of Swann’s?

  I was being overdramatic. Sure, Charlotte had a temper—who didn’t? But she would never kill anyone.

  The fact that I was still alive was proof of that.

  By the time I reached the third floor I was nearly out of breath and my leg muscles ached. I needed to lie down, get some more rest, stop thinking about murder and marriage and everything else that had my heart thumping.

  I’d just managed to lie down on my bed and reach for my laptop when someone rapped on the door.

  “May I come in?” Peggy asked, poking her head inside. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

  “Of course, Peggy.” I sat up better, propping the pillows behind me, gesturing for her to come in with a smile.

  She sat down on the foot of the bed. “I wanted to thank you,” she said, glancing back at the open door and lowering her voice, “for not telling Charlotte I’d asked you to come. I was terrified you’d tell her.”

  Terrified? I assumed she was exaggerating. I gave her a wan smile. “Yes, well, why get you in trouble?”

  “Charlotte hates when I”—she made a face—“interfere in her life.” She made air quotes when she said interfere. “She’s made me swear I wouldn’t do it again.”

  “You meant well,” I replied.

  “Yes, well, the path to hell and all that.”

  “How serious do you think the police were about me having to stay?”

  “You want to leave?” She seemed surprised.

  I reached for her hand and took it in both of mine. “Peggy, I appreciate you bringing me out here, don’t get me wrong, and everything you thought you were doing came from a place of good, I know. But being back here”—I gestured arou
nd the room—“seeing Charlotte again…well, I don’t know what you were hoping for, but it hasn’t happened, nor will it. Charlotte and I—well, we are over. We have been for a long time.” As I said the words I worried my eyes would get teary again, that my voice would crack with emotion.

  Neither thing happened.

  Maybe it was acceptance?

  “Don’t go, please. Stay another few days.” Peggy got up and walked over to the window, opened the curtains and looked out. “There are some other things going on right now, distracting Charlotte. I know she still loves you, Ariel.” She sighed. “I wish you would have called or emailed me before coming out here.”

  “But I—” I stopped. Time to get to the bottom of this once and for all. “I did, Peggy, I told you yesterday. You never replied. That’s why I did come now. You made it seem so urgent, so important. Was it not?”

  “No, you and Charlotte need to get things settled, and I do still believe that needs to happen sooner than later.” She turned back to me. “But when I emailed you, I didn’t realize…I didn’t know how bad things were going to get.” She sighed. “Right now, well, Charlotte doesn’t need this kind of distraction with everything else that’s going on. And now with poor Angus…” Her voice broke.

  “Do you think Angus’s death has something to do with the takeover attempt?”

  “I don’t know. But Charlotte needs to focus on saving Swann’s right now, and she doesn’t need the distraction.”

  “Then I should go,” I replied.

  “No, no, don’t.” She wrung her hands. “That would just make it worse. It just never even crossed my mind you’d just come here. I thought, you know, we’d correspond or talk, and then, when the time was right, you’d come.”

  “As usual, I screwed up everything.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry, Peggy, but you have to understand—Charlotte is done with me. I appreciate your trying, though. It means a lot to me.”

  “I emailed you because Charlotte really seemed to need you. But things have changed, even in just the few days since I sent that email on impulse. But even so, please, don’t go.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now. You’re here, so I’m asking you to be patient with her, okay? Can you wait a few more days before going back to the city?”