Филиппа Карр - The changeling

“Let’s leave it like this,” said my grandmother. “But think what it would be worth ... financially.”

“I’d want her home every night.”

“I don’t think that would be feasible. She has to catch the best of the light and you know how predictable the weather is. A light morning can turn to a dull one and her journey would be wasted. And it is a little far. Just think about it. In the meantime, I’ll have a word with Madame Bourdon.”

So we left it at that.

As we walked away my grandmother said: “Sometimes I think Mrs. Polhenny is a little unbalanced. It’s a pity. She’s such an excellent midwife.” And a good housewife too, it seems. There’s nothing out of Place in that cottage. It’s uncomfortably clean.”

My grandmother laughed. “It’s what is called a fetish and I on t think that is a very healthy thing to have. Then, of course, here’s Leah. She can’t have a very happy life. Poor girl, it must e difficult to live up to that perfection. And the way she guards her it’s really unnatural.”

“She seems afraid that Leah might do something ... terrible. We.” My grandmother nodded and said: “I do hope she will see sense. I tried to persuade her. I thought I detected a glimmer of interest when I talked of money.”

“Yes, so did I.”

“Well, we’ll have to wait and see. I’ll write a note to Madame Bourdon and tell her of the reluctance. Perhaps if the money were tempting enough ...” So we should have to wait and see.

A letter came from my mother. She was wonderfully happy, she wrote, and she hoped I was enjoying Cornwall. What she was looking forward to about coming home was seeing me. She hoped I would be in London when she arrived. We would stay a few days there and then go down to Manorleigh. It was going to be so exciting. “You will be able to help us in the political work. It will be great fun and I know that you will enjoy it. Oh, Becca, we’re going to be so happy together ... the three of us.”

So she wanted me there when she returned.

I showed the letter to my grandmother.

“She’s very happy,” she said smiling. “It comes out, doesn’t it? You can sense it. We must be happy for her, Rebecca. She deserves to be happy.”

“I must be there when she comes back,” I said.

“Yes, your grandfather and I will go up with you. I should like a few days in town.”

So it was arranged.

The last day arrived. I rode in the morning, Miss Brown was busy packing. In the afternoon I took a walk to the pool. I saw Jenny on the way. She was singing softly to herself happy in the certainty that she would soon have her baby. She was certainly, as my grandmother would say, unbalanced. I suppose the same description could be applied to Mrs. Polhenny because of her preoccupation with sin.

We heard that she had succumbed to the lure of money, that Leah had completed her commitments to the Plymouth custom rue was going to take a rest from such work and go up to High Tor to repair the Bourdon’s tapestries.

The next day we left for London. We went to Uncle Peter and Aunt Amaryllis as we usually did. My mother and her husband were due to arrive in London the day after we did.

I was apprehensive, realizing how peaceful it had been in Cornwall and how preoccupied I had been with the matter of ‘he Bourdon’s tapestries and Mrs. Polhenny’s addiction to viras well as with Jenny Stubbs singing happily in the lanes. That was far away and now I had to face the grim reality. I thought Uncle Peter was strangely quiet. Usually he dominated the scene. When I asked him how he was he said he was well and busy as usual and very much looking forward to the return of the married couple.

“Now we shall see something,” he said. “Benedict is not the man to stand still.” The pride and admiration in his voice annoyed me. Why must everyone have this immense respect for the man!

The day came. The cab arrived at the door. We were all waiting to greet them. And there was my mother, looking beautiful and I noticed with a pang-half regret, half pleasure-looked as radiant as she had before she left, or perhaps even more so. I flung myself into her arms.

“Oh Becca, Becca,” she said. “How I’ve missed you! Everything would have been perfect if you had been there.”

Benedict was smiling at me. He took my hands in his. My mother was watching us ... willing me to show my pleasure. So I smiled as brightly as I could. She had brought a china plaque for me to hang on my wall. ^n it had been painted a picture of a woman who bore a strong resemblance to Raphael’s Madonna della Sedia of which I had once seen a copy and had loved it. She had remembered this. It’s lovely,” I said.

We chose it together.”

And again I smiled at him.

After dinner, I was to go back with them to his London house ^d I was not looking forward to it. I felt it would indeed be tile beginning of a new life.

There was a great deal of talk at dinner. Aunt Amaryllis wanted to hear about Italy and the honeymoon; Uncle Peter was more interested in what plans Benedict had. “We shall go down to Manorleigh as soon as possible,” said Benedict. “I don’t want my constituents to think that I am an absentee Member.”

“There’ll be lots for you to do, Angelet,” said Aunt Amaryllis. “I know how it is with Helena.”

“Garden fetes to open ... bazaars ... charities for this and that,” said my mother.

“I’m prepared.”

“It will be nice to be at Manorleigh,” went on Aunt Amaryllis, “and you’ll have the town house as well. What could be more convenient?”

“It’s a blessing that Manorleigh happens to be so near London,” said Benedict. “It’ll make the journey to and fro so much easier.”

“What on earth would have happened if your constituency had been in Cornwall?”

“I can only thank Heaven that it was not.”

I wished it had been. Then I could have been with my grandparents for much of the time. But I would still visit them ... frequently. I must remember that. If ever life became too difficult with him ... I had my escape.

When the meal was over I left with my mother and her husband for his house. My grandparents were staying with Uncle Peter and Aunt Amaryllis and going back to Cornwall in a few days.

As we walked to the house, my mother linked her arm through mine. He was on the other side of her; they were arm in arm. Anyone seeing us would have thought what a happy family we were and none would have guessed at the turmoil within me. I felt lost in the big house and a desolate sense of not belonging. It was such a grand house. As soon as I entered it I felt as though every part of it was looking down its nose, demanding to know what I was doing there. Everything looked as though it had cost a great deal of money. There were heavy red curtains, their rich folds held in place by thick bands which in any other house one I’d have dismissed as brass. The walls were white and ^ked as though they had been freshly painted. The furniture elegant-of an earlier period-Georgian, I think, to fit the T use. Above the wide staircase hung an enormous chandelier, was at the top of that staircase that my mother and her new husband would receive their guests. Beyond, on the first floor, were the enormous dining and drawing rooms. I could never feel at home in such a house. My room was large and lofty with a tall window which looked down on the street. It was heavily curtained in deep blue velvet and there were lace curtains to shut out the street. My bed had a blue headpiece to match the curtains and there were hints of blue in the carpet. It was a beautiful room but not one to feel at home in.

I was glad when we left for Manorleigh.

There was a house which I could really love if it had not been his. I felt I could escape a little more in the country. There were the stables, so it was possible to ride often. Manorleigh itself was a small town but as Manor Grange was a short carriage drive outside it, it seemed to be in the country.