The Swindler

THREE

As we pulled up in front of the embassy, dread pooled in my stomach. I had no desire to walk in there and face my reckoning. My cowardice nearly won out, but I steeled myself and exited the car. I walked up to the front door, shivering, and rang the intercom.

"Hello, yes, I'd like to speak with Mrs Rousseau."

"Name, Ma'am?"

"Jocelyn Pritchard."

A few moments later, the buzzer beeped, and I opened the door. Inside, I was led over to the same reception room as before. My mother, father, brother, and sister-in-law were already seated, talking amongst themselves in rapid-fire French. I actually struggled to understand them.

It's been so long since I've spoken my native tongue.

I sighed quietly and glided over to them.

"Good evening."

They looked up. Mother and Father both looked shocked to see me. Étienne and a woman I assumed to be his wife stared at me, quite confused.

"I don't understand," my mother said. "You said you were in Bath just a while ago."

"I was, yes. But plans change, and I'm flexible."

"Désolée, I don't think we've met," my brother said as he stood and politely extended a hand to me. "I'm Étienne Rousseau, and this is my wife, Raquelle."

I smiled politely. "Hello, I'm Jocelyn Pritchard."

"Nice to meet you, Mademoiselle Pritchard."

Nodding, I turned and sat down on the sofa, holding my purse in my lap. Étienne sat as well.

"Congratulations," I said and nodded towards Raquelle's baby bump.

She smiled at me. "Merci."

"Is it a girl or boy?"

"A girl. We're going to name her Vivienne."

I froze. Guilt began to eat away at me, and I wrung my hands nervously. Thankfully, my brother changed subjects.

"So, Mademoiselle Pritchard, what is it that you do?"

"I usually help people out with interior designing. My clients are usually more well to do though, but I sometimes do have uh, pro bono cases. Goodwill towards the people, you know. But they're more rare. There's also certain occasions when I help newcomers to London... adjust to the city. Another act of goodwill, I'd like to believe, but I do charge for it."

"Interesting. I never would've guessed that."

I raised an eyebrow, curious. "What did you think I did?"

"I figured you were part of the nobility. You dress like one and the way you walked in, you have the presence of one."

I laughed, "No, I'm not part of the nobility. Though, I do admit, I was raised well-to-do."

He nodded. "Ahh, yes. And I'm sure you went to Cambridge or Oxford then?"

My mood darkened instantly. I replied coldly, "I actually never went to university."

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really, why not?"

I swallowed my fears and looked down at my hands still folded in my lap. Then, I quickly summarised my reasons.

"Oh, that must've been a hard decision."

"It wasn't though," I admitted. "I was only eighteen, but I made my choice and later changed my name to Jocelyn Pritchard. It sounded nice and posh to me at the time, so I went with it."