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Changeling

But I could not do it. I knew that I would always be watching him for signs. I thought of the weakness of men. It was no use setting them up on pedestals and thinking of them as perfect gentle knights. They were not like that. Oddly enough memories of Benedict Lansdon kept coming into my mind. I remembered the love I had witnessed between him and my mother, and yet he had married his first wife for the goldmine she brought him. My mother had known this and forgiven him.

That was different. My image of Pedrek had been changed and when I thought of him I would see the lust I had witnessed in Jean Pascal’s eyes, and the two seemed to merge into one.

I was not ready at this time to make a decision.

So I left Cador with Belinda, Lucie, Leah and Miss Stringer, for London.

As the train took us nearer to London I wished that I had not left. I felt a yearning to be back there. I think if I could have seen Pedrek then I should have told him that I believed there had been some hideous mistake. Now that I was away from him I seemed to see more clearly that he could not have been guilty of such an act.

I looked at Belinda. She was pale and sat back in her seat with her eyes closed. Lucie looked a little bewildered. We had told her that Belinda was not well and we must be careful not to upset her.

Miss Stringer was unaware of what had happened. I feared she would have insisted on an open accusation of Pedrek. I could imagine what her verdict would have been.

As for Leah, her attitude had become more protective. She hardly took her eyes from Belinda. I wondered whether she blamed herself for not noticing that the child had left the house to go to Mary Kellaway.

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.”