The Changeling (37 page)

I wanted to tell her that no blame attached to her. We all knew how strong-willed Belinda could be, and if she wanted to go and visit Mary she would have found some way of doing so.

And so we reached London.

Benedict was at home. He had not been told of the reason for our arrival. I said to my grandmother: “There is no need to worry about that. He will not notice whether we are there or not.”

The carriage was waiting for us and in a short time we drew up before the house which had never seemed like a home to me. I felt so miserable. There was nothing I wanted to do so much as to take the next train down to Cornwall.

Belinda seemed a little happier as we went into the house. They had been right. It was necessary for her to get away.

There was a great deal to do … unpacking, which I wanted to do myself … and getting the children fed and settled in.

I noticed that Belinda ate what was put before her. She seemed very tired and I left Leah to put them to bed.

Celeste was pleased to see me; but even she brought up memories of Jean Pascal, although the horror I had felt in that bedroom at High Tor was sunk in insignificance by my greater tragedy.

I wondered—as people do at such times, about matters which seemed of small importance beside the great tragedy—what would happen to the house.

That set me thinking of those happy times when we had talked of living there.

I dined with Benedict and Celeste. The talk was mainly about Cornwall and my grandparents. Benedict was always interested In Cornwall which made him melancholy for he would be reminded of my mother. It was in Cornwall they had first known each other when she was a child. He always looked sad and nostalgic when he spoke of it and I was sure Celeste was aware of this.

As soon as the meal was over I wanted to escape to my room. I think Celeste would have liked to talk to me but I could not endure this on that night. I kept thinking of Jean Pascal—after all, he was her brother—and I wanted to put that out of my mind if possible. I was reminded that there would be occasions when he came to this house and I should have to avoid him.

There were so many unpleasant dilemmas ahead of me and I just wanted to be alone to think.

Celeste said: “Of course you are tired. We will talk in the morning,” and I was grateful for that.

As I was making my way upstairs I passed the door of Benedict’s study and as I did so the door opened and he came out.

He said: “Rebecca … I’d like a word. Do you mind?”

I followed him into the study, and he shut the door.

He looked at me quizzically and said: “Something is wrong, isn’t it?”

I hesitated. “Well, Belinda has not been very well.”

“No, so I gather. And you? You don’t look well yourself.”

“Don’t I?”

“You seem surprised about something.”

“Oh … I am surprised that you noticed.”

“I do notice.” He smiled. “I want everything to be … all right for you.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“I know I haven’t been very demonstrative, but that doesn’t mean I’m indifferent.”

“Oh, doesn’t it?”

“No. I wish …” He shrugged his shoulders. “I want you to know that if there is anything …”

“Anything?”

“Any way in which I could help …”

“I don’t need help, thanks. I’m all right.”

“Well, don’t forget. Your mother would have wanted us to be friends. She always did.”

I was astonished. He was looking at me almost pleadingly.

He went on: “I’m here, you know … I just want you to realize that if I can be of any use … well, I’m here.”

For a moment I forgot my misery. What on Earth had happened to the man? Of course, there had been an election in March and Mr. Gladstone, his hero, was now Prime Minister. Perhaps that would mean a post in the Cabinet for him. It must be that which made him feel on good terms with the whole world. He had even noticed me … and Belinda.

A week passed and the tragedy seemed as close as ever. I brooded for hours when I was alone in my bedroom. I should have stayed in Cornwall. But Belinda had had to get away and how could she have gone without Lucie and me, for Lucie was my responsibility. She had no claims on Benedict. I could not have let her go without me. And yet my heart was back in Cornwall with Pedrek. I wanted to write to him to tell him that whatever he had done made no difference. Anything else would not have been the same. If he had been a thief … even if he had killed someone … but to me
this
was so revolting that I could not bear to think of it.

I had a talk with Celeste who had her own problem to face.

She said: “You are unhappy but you do not want to talk about it.”

I shook my head.

“Is it a love affair?”

I nodded.

“Someone in Cornwall. It must be Pedrek Cartwright. I always thought what a delightful young man he is. Has it gone wrong then?”

“Yes,” I said. “It has gone wrong.”

“My poor Rebecca. And you love him?”

“Yes.”

“It is so sad. Life is cruel, is it not? To love and to be rejected … that is a terrible thing.”

I was silent thinking of Pedrek. It was I who had rejected him. We had said our love would last forever and at the first ill wind it had blown away.

“At least,” she went on, “you find out in time … not like …”

I was drawn away from my own tragedy to hers.

She said: “It hurts too much to talk, I know. But it is too soon. As time passes the hurt does not go away … but it is easier to talk. And you suffer, too …”

I put out my hand and took hers.

She went on: “Sometimes I wonder how I will endure it. It is better when he is away. Then I can deceive myself … a little. But when he is here and shows so clearly … Why did he marry me? I ask myself.”

“He must have loved you or he would never have done that.”

“It was done … how you say? … without thought.”

“On the spur of the moment. Oh, but I do not believe he would act rashly in such matters. He must have thought you would be happy together.”

“Perhaps. At first … I thought we might … but he is obsessed by a dead love. He cannot forget.”

“Does he still go to the locked room?”

She nodded. “And I am sad and lonely waiting for a husband who does not want me.”

“My poor Celeste.”

“I need to be loved. I am not one to live alone.”

“Perhaps in time …”

“In time? It is years since she died … but she is still with him. It is as though she is in this house. I do not know how long I can endure …” She stared into space. “I could take a lover … or take my life … he would not care …”

“Oh, Celeste, please don’t talk like that.”

“You see … I love him. I want him as he … wants his dead wife. We are in a maze … both of us … searching for the impossible.”

“Perhaps it will come right in the end.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “That is a word which does not fill me with hope.”

“It may be it is wrong to care for people too much. One gets hurt.”

She nodded.

“He must have been fond of you to marry you,” I insisted.

“He needed a wife. I could entertain his guests. It is a help in his career. I am like the first wife. He married her for the goldmine.”

“I think he cares for you, but you see … there was this special feeling for my mother … and he just cannot forget her.”

“She is there all the time.”

“Yes, I know … a shadowy third!”

And between Pedrek and me was the memory of a small girl running to me … her eyes wild, her clothes torn … as certainly as Benedict’s obsession with my mother was between him and Celeste.

It might well be that I had been right to get away. We should never have been happy with that shadow between us. It would have flashed into my memory at odd moments throughout my life.

I was glad when we left London for Manorleigh.

Mrs. Emery was shocked at the sight of me. “My goodness me, Miss Rebecca,” she said. “You do look pale … and I believe you’ve lost some weight. Yes, I’m sure of it … and you were like a beanpole before. That’s Cornwall for you. Well, we’ll have to see what we can do. We’ll get some color back into those cheeks and a little more flesh on the bones.”

I would sit at my window and look down at the winged-footed Hermes, at the pond and the haunted seat under the oak tree. If only my mother were here, she would tell me what to do.

Oliver Gerson called. The children and I were pleased to see him. He was one of those people who only have to appear to dispel melancholy. He expressed his great delight in our reunion. He kissed hands all round. Belinda seemed to step right away from her tragedy on his first visit. She jumped about him. Lucie was almost equally delighted.

“This is a joyous reunion, I see,” he said. “I am deeply aware of my own delight but it is gratifying to see that it is shared.”

“Why didn’t you come to Cornwall?” demanded Belinda.

“I had my duties here. I am not a man of leisure.”

“I know,” said Belinda. “You work for my father.”

“Which is very fortunate because it gives me an opportunity to be with his charming family now and then.”

His eyes met mine and he smiled warmly. “I wondered when you were going to return from Cornwall,” he said.

“It was a long time,” said Lucie. “And then Belinda got ill.”

“Oh dear me.” He was all concern, turning to Belinda.

“I’m all right now,” she said. “What are we going to do?”

“Well, first I shall have a conference with your father. After that I shall be free for an hour or so. Could we ride … as we did in the days before you deserted me?”

“We didn’t desert
you,
” said Belinda firmly. “It was just that we had to go to Cornwall.”

“And now you are glad to be back.”

Belinda did one of her joyous leaps and nodded.

“Well, as they say, all’s well that ends well. Now, if Your Majesty will excuse me …” He made an elegant bow in Belinda’s direction which delighted her. “… I will get to my duty and later we will ride together … all of us, the Misses Rebecca, Belinda and Lucie … and I shall be their guide.”

“Hurry,” commanded Belinda.

He bowed more deeply. “Your wishes shall be granted, my Queen.”

How he charmed her! He came frequently to the house and every day she looked for him. She seemed to have completely forgotten her unhappy experience in Cornwall and reverted to her old self.

He was right when he said he would be a frequent visitor and on those days when he did not come Belinda would be sulky and very difficult to handle. Leah was wonderfully patient. How devoted she was to that child! To Lucie too, I supposed, but Lucie was more docile and she was always making excuses for Belinda.

We often rode at Manorleigh and Oliver Gerson’s company was a help even to me. He was constantly devising competitions for the children, tests in riding and observation so that each ride was full of interest for them. They were always on the alert for what he had decreed they must watch for and he instilled in them a competitive spirit which Miss Stringer said was good for them. She too had fallen under the spell of the Gerson charm.

One day we found an inn with a creaking sign over the door: The Hanging Judge. Belinda was immediately intrigued.

“What does it mean? Is it because he’s hanging up there?”

“Oh no, no,” said Oliver. He’s the hanging judge because he hanged people by the neck.”

Belinda’s eyes were sparkling.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ll go in and have a little refreshment.”

I was uneasy about taking the children into such a place, but he took my arm reassuringly. “They’ll love it,” he whispered. “It will be something new for them. I’ll make sure it is all right.”

He exerted his charm wherever he went. He talked to the landlord’s wife; she nodded conspiratorially and we were all seated in the parlor with its oak beams and air of adventure.

Watered-down cider was brought for the children and we all sat there drinking. Neither Belinda nor Lucie had been in an inn before. Their eyes were round with wonder and it was clear that they thought it a great adventure.

Belinda demanded to know about the hanging judge and he told them that the Duke of Monmouth, the son of Charles the Second, thought he had more right to the throne than the King’s brother James, and how there was a battle and Monmouth was defeated and his men captured and brought before the cruel hanging judge.

“There are gibbets all over the West Country,” he told them; and they listened spellbound.

I thought: How they love horror! I could only think it was because they did not fully understand it.

“You think of the most lovely things,” Belinda told Oliver Gerson.

When they reached home they chattered to Miss Stringer about the hanging judge and the Monmouth rebellion. She was delighted.

“So instructive,” she said. “So good for them. What a delightful man!”

My dreams were haunted by Pedrek. I kept recalling that look of dawning horror on his face when we had confronted him with our suspicions. My first thoughts were of him each morning when I awoke, and he seemed to be beside me all through the day.

I said to myself: I must see him. I must tell him that I believe in him. That whatever he has done, I love him.

I knew there had been a mistake.

I would write to him. I would ask him to forgive me for distrusting him. But I did not write. Between me and that letter was the face of Belinda … distorted with fear … her wide innocent eyes showing so clearly that she could not entirely understand what had happened to her.

In the midst of my uncertainty there came a letter from my grandmother.

My dear Rebecca,

I hope you are feeling a little better. I think you did right to get away—and in any case it was necessary for Belinda. It has been sad for us here. Pedrek is leaving Cornwall. I think it is best really. I think we all need to get away from that terrible time … to try to see things in proportion.

He is going to Australia. There have been discoveries of tin in New South Wales and they are asking for mining engineers to go out there. Of course, Pedrek has not finished his course at the college but he has attained a degree of knowledge and there are of course his grandfather’s connections in the mining field and that will stand for a good deal. He needs to get away. We simply could not go on as we have been after all that has happened. He will be leaving almost immediately and I don’t know how long he will be away.

The Pencarrons are very upset. They don’t know what it is all about. They think there has been some big quarrel between you and Pedrek and they are very sad.

Your grandfather and I have felt very uncertain. We could not bring ourselves to tell them. I think it would have killed his grandmother … and what Josiah would have done, I cannot imagine. They worship Pedrek. Then we wondered whether we should have done something about it … whether it was our duty to. It is such a terrible thing … What if some other child …? On the other hand we could not really believe it somehow. As I said to your grandfather even suppose he lost control for a moment he would have learned his lesson.

He looks so unhappy … so terribly sad and bewildered in a way. It is such a wretched business and I know, my darling, how you must be suffering. It is best for you to be right away from it.

We can only wait and see. Try not to grieve too much. Perhaps there will be some explanation some day. However it was best that you should leave here and I think that he should get away, too.

I only wonder whether we have done the right thing …