Philippa Carr: The Changeling

“She kept me locked up in the cottage. She said I had gone to stay with an aunt in St. Ives. There was no aunt in St. Ives.”

“I thought I saw you once at the window,” I said. “Just a shadow … you were there … and gone.”

“Yes,” she said. “I saw you. I was terrified. I did not know what I should have done if I had been seen and my condition discovered. Then she had this plan. “She said she could never hold up her head in the towns again if it were known that her own daughter was a slut. She would do anything … anything … to stop it’s being known. So she had this idea. Jenny Stubbs had gone about believing she was pregnant for a long time. She longed for a child. Being a midwife, my mother would be able to put her plan into action. Jenny had had a child once before. My mother would examine her and tell everyone that Jenny was indeed pregnant. She would attend her and let it be known that Jenny had her child. That child would be mine. The more she thought of it the better it seemed. She could get rid of my child, and my virtue, at least outwardly, would be retained.”

“So …” I cried, “Lucie is your child.”

“It didn’t turn out like that. Your mother had her child at this time. She died and not much attention was given to the child at first. She was a sickly little girl. My mother believed she could not live more than a few days … weeks at most. She was always fond of children and it was only when they began to grow up that she saw them as imps of mischief. Then she did this thing. She took Mrs. Lansdon’s sickly baby and gave her to Jenny and my child she put in the nurseries here. Mine was a strong and healthy child and it seemed the best thing to do. My child would have the advantages Jenny Stubbs could not give her … and my mother was, after all, her grandmother. She thought she had settled everything in the best way. We did not know that Lucie would grow stronger and live.”

I looked at Benedict. He was as shocked as I was.

Tom Marner said: “So you see … Belinda is Leah’s own child.”

“And that means,” said Benedict, “that Lucie is mine.”

There was a long silence. I believe everyone was too bewildered by what we had heard to say anything just yet.

It was Tom Marner who spoke first. “Leah told me all this and I persuaded her that she must tell you. We are all concerned and we have to work out what is to be done. You can understand how Leah feels.”

“You are right,” said Benedict. “But this is a great shock to us all.”

“I’ll tell you what we want,” went on Tom. “Leah and I want to take Belinda with us to Australia.”

That evening we sat together in the drawing room—Benedict, Tom Marner, Celeste and I. After her confession, Leah was too upset to join us.

“I still find it hard to credit this story,” said Benedict. “Who would have believed that the midwife had such a devious mind?”

“I would,” I said. “But she did have it on her conscience at the end. I know now why she was so anxious to see my grandmother when she was dying. She was going to confess to her. If she had we should have known of this long ago.”

“Leah can’t be parted from her child,” said Celeste.

“That’s for sure,” added Tom.

“I always felt drawn towards Lucie,” put in Benedict, as though talking to himself. “Perhaps there is something in this relationship between a parent and child even when they are unaware of that relationship.”

“I am very fond of Lucie too,” said Celeste.

We talked for a long time … well into the night. Tom Marner was passionately persuasive. He wanted to take Leah back with him and he wanted Belinda too. “She’s a strange one,” he said. “She needs special handling.” He was smiling to himself. He would know how to do the handling and, having seen the comradeship between him and Belinda, I believed him. Moreover Belinda would never be happy if they left without her. I had thought she showed signs of fondness for me. I believed she did care for me … a little. But Leah was first with her and I guessed that place could be shared with Tom before long.

I think we were all beginning to realize that when Leah and Tom went to Australia, Belinda, that strange changeling child, would go with her mother and the stepfather she would have chosen for herself.

The wedding followed very soon. There was no point—nor time—for delay, Tom said. Belinda and Lucie were bridesmaids.

Belinda was brimming over with excitement. She talked continually of Australia and the perfections of her new father.

It was a little churlish perhaps to those of us who had cared for her all these years, but she was genuinely happy and so excited that she could not hide her feelings. We all understood.

After the church ceremony we went to Manor Grange for the reception.

As I came into the hall one of the maids called to me. Her eyes were shining and she said in a high-pitched voice, “There’s someone called to see you, Miss Rebecca. He’s in the little room.”

I went into that room where Benedict listened to the complaints and suggestions of his constituents. A man was standing there, his back to the window. He looked different. The sun had tanned his skin to a light bronze and he seemed older.

“Pedrek!” I cried.

And then we ran to each other.

The embrace was breathtaking. I managed to say, “You have come home then. I have been so longing for news.”

“I thought it better to come myself.”

“At last! It’s been so long.”

“Never mind. It’s now that counts. I’ve loved you through it all, Rebecca.”

“And I you.”

“Never doubt again.”

“Never … never … never,” I said.

There was so much to be told … so much to plan for.

Leah, Tom and Belinda were to leave soon after the wedding and there came that moment when we had to say goodbye.

Belinda was like a wild-eyed sprite. She could not stand still.

“We’ll come back to see you,” she said. “And you can come out to see us. My father says so …”

She jumped up and put her arms round my neck.

“I do love you, Rebecca,” she said a little ruefully, as though apologizing for her enthusiasm. “I will come back and see you.” She hugged me more tightly. “And now you can marry that boring old Pedrek.”

“Thank you. I shall,” I told her.