Филиппа Карр: The changeling

I did weep a little but she pretended not to notice.

“It’s the best time of the year for Cornwall,” she said.

So they were married. My mother looked beautiful in a dress of pale lavender and a hat of the same color with an ostrich feather to shade her face. Benedict looked very distinguished; everyone said what a handsome pair they made. There were many important people there and they all came back to the house where Uncle Peter and Aunt Amaryllis played their accustomed role of host and hostess. Uncle Peter was obviously pleased by the way in which everything had gone. As for myself, my depression had deepened. All my hopes for the miracle which was going to stop the marriage had come to nothing. Heaven had turned from me and my prayers had fallen on deaf ears. My mother, Mrs. Angelet Mandeville, was now Mrs. Benedict Lansdon.

And he was my stepfather.

Everyone was assembled in the drawing room; the cake had been cut, the champagne drunk, the speeches made. It was time for the departure on the honeymoon. My mother had gone to her room to change. As she passed me she said: “Rebecca, come with me. I want to talk.”

Willingly I followed her.

When we were in her bedroom she turned to me, concern showing on her face.

“Oh Becca,” she said, “I wish I hadn’t got to leave you.”

I felt a rush of happiness and, fearing to show my true feelings, I said: “I could hardly expect to go with you on your honeymoon.”

“I’ll miss you.”

*ate thioSeWd’tdSpreiended that, I was content. I had to. I U the harness which I knew was hers Day.

I was with them on our way to Cornwall.

My grandmother was right. Spring is undoubtedly the best time in Cornwall. I felt better when I smelt the sea. I stood at the carriage window as we chuffed through red-soiled Devon where the train ran close to the sea for a few miles ... then leaving lush Devon behind and crossing the Tamar into Cornwall which had its own special fey quality to be found nowhere else.

And in time we had arrived. The station master greeted us and one of the grooms was waiting with the carriage to take us to Cador. I felt more emotional than usual when I saw the grey stone walls and those towers facing the sea; and I knew I had been right to come.

My familiar room was ready for me and soon I was at the window watching the gulls swooping and screeching and the white frothy waves slightly ruffled by the breeze blowing in from the southwest.

My grandmother looked in and said: “I’m glad you came. Your grandfather was afraid you might not.”

I turned and smiled at her. “Of course I came,” I said, and we laughed together. Miss Brown was pleased to be in Cornwall although I think she was looking forward to being in her new grand quarters at Manorleigh and in London. “The change will be good/’ she said. “A bridge between the old and new way of life.” I slept more deeply that night than I had for some time and undisturbed by the vague dreams which had haunted my room lately. Benedict Lansdon was usually somewhere in those dreams… a rather sinister figure. I told no one of them. I knew people would say I was building up feelings against him for no other reason than that I resented a stepfather. And perhaps they would be right. The next day at breakfast, my grandmother said: “What shall you do today?”

“Well, Miss Brown thinks we should waste no more time. Lessons have been a little interrupted lately and she thinks we should get down to normal work without delay.” My grandmother grimaced. “What does that mean ... lessons in the morning?”

“Yes. I’m afraid so.”

”Is that the law?” asked my grandfather.

“As unalterable as that of the Medes and the Persians,” replied my grandmother. “I was hoping we’d have a ride together today,” he went on. “Perhaps this afternoon, as this morning seems to be devoted to work.”

“You ought to go and see Jack and Marian,” said my grandmother. “They’ll be put out if you don’t take Rebecca along.” Jack was my mother’s brother. One day he would inherit Cador and he had been brought up to manage the estate. This he did with the same single-mindedness which his father had always shown. He did not live at Cador now although I supposed in due course he would come back to the ancestral home. He, with his wife and five-year-old twins, lived at Dorey Manor-a lovely Elizabethan manor-house. They were often at Cador. On his marriage he had expressed a desire for a separate household, which I think was due to his wife who, although she was very fond of my grandmother, was the sort of woman who would want to be absolute mistress in her own household. It seemed an excellent arrangement. Dorey Manor had been the home of my grandfather before s marriage, so it was all part of the Cador estate.

“We’ll look in on them this afternoon,” said my grandfather. Agreed, Rebecca?”

Of course. I am longing to see them.”

“Then that’s settled.”

“I’ll tell them to get Dandy ready for you.”

“Oh yes, please.”

It felt like coming home. This was my own family. My likes and dislikes were remembered. My dear Dandy, whom I always rode in Cornwall, was waiting for me. He was so called because there was an elegance about him. He was beautiful and seemed fully aware of the fact. He was graceful in all his movements and seemed fond of me in a certain rather disdainful way. “He’s a regular dandy,” one of the grooms had said of him, and that was the name he became to be known by.

Galloping along the beach, cantering across the meadows, I would forget for a while that Benedict Lansdon had taken my mother from me.

My grandmother said suddenly: “Do you remember High Tor?”

“That lovely old house?” I asked. “Weren’t there new people there?”

“The Westcotts, yes. But they were only renting. When Sir John Persing died there was no family left. The trustees of the estate wanted to sell ... and they let it in the meantime. That was how the Westcotts came. Well, there are some new people there now ... French.”

“A kind of refugee,” said my grandfather.

“How interesting. Do you know them?”

“We are on nodding terms. They’ve come over from France after the trouble there ... or before perhaps ... seeing it coming.”

“The trouble?”

“Now don’t tell your grandfather you don’t know what’s been happening in France.

He’ll be horrified at your ignorance.”

“Wasn’t there a war, or something?”

“A war indeed-and a mighty defeat of the French by the Prussians. And it is because of this defeat that the Bourdons are here.”

“You mean they have left their own country?”

“Yes.”

“And are they going to live here?”

My grandmother shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. they High Tor. I think they have ut at the moment ken the place on approval as it were with a view to buying. I expect a great deal will depend on what happens in France.”

“What are they like?

“There are the parents and a son and daughter,”

“How interesting. Do people here like them?”

“Well, there is always prejudice against foreigners,” said my grandfather. “The girl is rather sweet,” said my grandmother. “She’s Celeste. I’d say she was about sixteen, wouldn’t you, Rolf?”

“I imagine so,” replied my grandfather.

“And the young man ... he’s very dashing ... what would you say ... twenty ... twenty-one ... ?”

“Very likely. We might ask them over some time. Would you like that, Rebecca?”

“Oh yes ... of course. I suppose most things are just the same here as they always were.”

“Oh, we have our changes. As we’ve told you, we’ve had the French invasion. Apart from that, much remains the same. The October gales were a little more fierce last year and there was even more rain than usual, which did not please the farmers. Mrs. Polhenny is still sorting out the sheep from the goats, preaching the gospel of eternal damnation awaiting the sinners, which include most of us, herself being the only exception. And Jenny Stubbs is as bemused as ever.”