Philippa Carr: The Changeling

I talked to him when we were alone and said I should go back to Manorleigh before them. I wanted to have that room unlocked. I wanted to take out my mother’s things and to change it some way. Mrs. Emery would help me.

I was surprised and delighted when he agreed. He and Celeste would stay in London for a few more days. He was devoting himself to her as he never had before, talking of politics, drawing her into his life; and she responded like a flower opening to the sun and her happiness brought back her beauty and a certain gaiety of which until now I had been unaware.

Then I returned to Manorleigh.

There was great rejoicing there because of Celeste’s return. The children asked excited questions about her. I told them she had been lost because she could not remember where she was, and they listened round-eyed.

“Then she was in the street and saw the house and she remembered,” I told them.

“How could you forget who you were?” demanded Belinda.

“People do … sometimes.”

“Does she remember it all now?” asked Lucie.

“She is beginning to … and soon she will be here.”

Belinda was thoughtful; I wondered what was in her mind.

I was soon in Mrs. Emery’s room drinking a cup of tea.

“I think there will be a change, Mrs. Emery,” I said. “Mr. Lansdon was very upset, you know.”

“You can say that again,” said Mrs. Emery.

“It has made him realize that he didn’t know how much he cared for her.”

Mrs. Emery nodded.

“It took a lot to do it,” she said severely.

“Mrs. Emery, there is the locked room. It’s not going to be locked any more. I want you to help me deal with it. We’ll get to work on it right away. I am going to take out all my mother’s clothes … everything that’s personal … everything that was there when she was alive.”

Mrs. Emery sighed with relief. “Does he know?” she asked.

“Yes. I suggested it to him. He sees the point. I said by the time they arrived there would be no locked room.”

“That’s good, that is. I never liked the idea myself.”

“I thought if we could turn the furniture round a little. Perhaps take some things away. The bureau there which contains his papers must stay for him to deal with. But let us take all the clothes away. Perhaps there is something in the attics with which we could replace one or two pieces of furniture. Not much … just enough to make a difference … to make it an impersonal sort of room.”

“I know just what you mean, Miss Rebecca. You just say when you’re ready to start.”

By the next day we had changed the room considerably. I had packed up my mother’s clothes and they had been taken up to the attics. I took her initialled brush to my room; and by the time we had finished there was nothing there to remind people that it had once been her room.

Everything was now ready for the return.

There had been no reply from Pedrek. I told myself there had not been time but there was a niggling fear in my mind as to whether he would come back. Perhaps I had wounded him too deeply when I had doubted him.

I refused to allow myself to harbor such thoughts. It is too soon, I told myself. He will come back. He must. Benedict and Celeste had another chance and there must be one for Pedrek and me.

I noticed that Tom Marner was a little subdued. I wondered why and made a point of being alone with him while the children were with Miss Stringer at their lessons.

I asked him if anything was wrong.

He paused for a moment. Then he said: “I’ve had such a wonderful time here and received such warm hospitality. I didn’t want to go when all that upset was on but now it’s over and everything’s all right … I’ll have to be thinking of making my way back.”

“I suppose you have managers to look after the mine.”

“Oh yes … surely … but I can’t stay forever. And now the lady’s back where she belongs … well, it seems to me that I ought to begin to make tracks for home … and I don’t like it … much.”

“We shall be very sorry to see you go. I can’t imagine what Belinda is going to say.”

He smiled. “Ha. I’ll be sad to go. Reckon I’ve stayed too long already. But I just had to wait and see what happened. Now it’s all in the clear … well, I should be off.”

“You sound very reluctant to go.”

“It’s been good here. Don’t know when I enjoyed myself so much.”

“It’s always sad when visits like this come to an end, and we have to say goodbye. But I daresay you’ll be coming over again.”

“I reckon,” he said.

So that was it. He was going and although he wanted to get home he did not want to leave England. It was gratifying and we should all be sorry, for we had grown fond of him.

I did wonder about Belinda. Oliver Gerson first, then Tom Marner. She was going to be very upset.

Celeste and Benedict returned. All the servants were in the hall when they came in. It was quite an emotional scene.

Celeste looked radiant. I had never seen her look so beautiful. I knew the reason, of course. It was Benedict. I hoped he was not merely playing a part, expiating his sins: I hoped he really was beginning to care for her deeply.

There was great rejoicing. I had arranged for Emery to bring champagne from the cellar and everyone in the house drank to the joyous return of Mrs. Lansdon. Celeste replied charmingly, thanking them all for their kind welcome. “I think I am almost well now,” she told them.

They clapped with pleasure.

There would be a dinner party to which the agent and many of the important people in the neighborhood who worked for the party, would be invited.

Normally Celeste would have been apprehensive at the prospect, but she was changing. She had more confidence now. Benedict said he loved her and she was proud to work with him in his career.

I would never have believed they could have changed so quickly. It was like a miracle.

And the evening was a success.

It was not only Celeste who was so happy; Benedict was too. At least I believed so, though I did now and then wonder if he were playing a part.

Sometimes his eyes would meet mine and some understanding flashed between us. He really was finding consolation; he was shutting out the past. I knew my mother would be there always in his heart; she was the one he would always yearn for, but Celeste was there, warm, loving and living … and she would comfort him; she was helping him and he would love her more as time passed.

It was now known throughout the household that Tom Marner would soon be leaving us. Everyone was sorry. He was such a jolly person, treating all as though they were important to him. “Such a pleasant gentleman,” commented Mrs. Emery, “even if he is not quite out of the top drawer.”

I laughed and said I never thought of people being in drawers.

“… as the saying goes,” added Mrs. Emery, somewhat reprovingly.

Miss Stringer said: “The children are very upset … both of them … but particularly Belinda. She keeps asking about ships and how far Australia is. I heard her telling Lucie that they have stowaways on ships and I have the idea that she fancies herself as one of them. That child’s imagination is phenomenal.”

Belinda was certainly intense in her feelings. Hadn’t she tried to ruin my life and Pedrek’s because of her infatuation for Oliver Gerson?

I tried to find out how deeply her emotions were engaged with Tom Marner. She was always asking questions about the goldfields.

“Fancy you being born there, Rebecca,” she said. “Lucky you!”

“I don’t think it was considered to be very lucky. It was not the best of places to be born, I assure you.”

“I wish I’d been born in a goldfield. Is it a long way to Australia?”