The Black Swan Read Online Free PDF

him. He had made his daughter’s husband into a politician because he himself had failed to achieve his ambition—through scandal again. I had heard it said that Benedict was very like his grandfather.
    When I heard my father speaking and holding an audience, I felt contented and happy. He would always be there to look after us—Joel and me. Joel already admired him almost to idolatry, and he was my beloved father.
    So we went to Marchlands and stayed one night only before we went back to Manorleigh. I always enjoyed being at Marchlands, and since my conversation with Joel it had become even more exciting to me, for when I married Joel this would be my home.
    It was a wonderful old house with a battlemented tower which gave it the appearance of a castle. Its gray stone and the fact that it was built on a slight incline gave it a proud and dominating look. The countryside around it was beautiful—wooded hills and meadows and a delightful little village close by with a Norman church and a pond on a green.
    It had been the Greenham home for centuries.
    We sat in the village hall and listened to my father using all his persuasive and dynamic powers. They seemed overwhelming in such a setting and the applause was vociferous. Joel spoke well—less flamboyantly than my father but he had a quiet confidence which was convincing.
    It was a successful evening and walking back to the house I thought how romantic it looked by starlight.
    I felt very happy and contented.
    When the election was over it was almost certain that Joel would go to Buganda … perhaps for a few months; and when he came back we should announce our engagement.
    Afterward I often remembered that night and I never ceased to marvel how speedily—in the space of a few seconds—change could come:
    I remember sitting in the cozy little room which led off from the great hall and how delicious the hot soup and sandwiches, which had been prepared for us, tasted.
    “This reminds me of Lucie’s little suppers,” said my father. “Do you know, this daughter of mine waits up for me with a delicious supper when I’m late at the House.”
    “Shades of that excellent lady, Mrs. Disraeli,” said Sir John. “You’re a lucky fellow, Benedict.”
    “I know.” He was smiling at Joel. “Lucie knows how to treat a jaded politician. One never wants to go straight to bed after an exciting debate. One wants to talk. So … I talk to Lucie.”
    “Lucie is wonderful,” said Joel.
    Our elders exchanged conspiratorial smiles which betrayed the fact that they were making plans together for us.
    “Buganda is almost certain,” said Sir John.
    “If I get in,” added Joel.
    “My dear boy,” said my father, “you don’t think you are going to break the tradition, do you? There’s been a Greenham in Parliament for the last hundred years.”
    “Well, it doesn’t do to count one’s chickens before they’re hatched.”
    “No need to worry about those chickens, son,” said Sir John.
    “I think we’re safe enough,” put in my father. “Of course, there’s a feeling for change in the air. A lot of foolish people talk of change. They like it for its own sake … never mind if that change is for the better. It’s just a matter of change for the sake of change.”
    “Well, we shall have to wait and see,” said Lady Greenham. “Some people might want a change but I cannot believe our tenants and the people here would be so foolish.”
    Nor could any of us visualize Joel’s not holding his seat.
    There came the thrill of Election Day. We were all gathered in the town hall at Manorleigh to hear the result. It was as we had expected—a decisive victory for my father.
    That night a messenger came over from Manorleigh with the news that Joel had sailed safely through, his majority intact.
    Alas, the party did not fare so well. Gladstone had his majority but it was a small one and that meant that the future did not look so promising.
    He went down to Osborne in the Isle