The Changeling (19 page)

The lessons took place in the Cartwright home as Morwenna was sponsoring me.

When Pedrek arrived there was great rejoicing. Both his parents thought him wonderful—and so did I! There was something so dependable about Pedrek. He always seemed to me in command of his own life. He was practical and not given to flights of fancy; he was kind and considerate to everyone.

Dancing lessons became great fun because he was called in to partner me. Madame Perrotte would sit at (he pianoforte and rattle out the tunes to which we danced round and round the drawing room, most of the furniture having been pushed to the sides of the room. Madame Perrotte, one eye on the keyboard and the other on us, would cry out: “
Non
…
non,
more
esprit … s’il vous plaît.
This is good, good … ah, too slow … too quick … oh … oh,
ma foi.
” Pedrek and I would be overcome with mirth and the excitement of the dance, feeling almost hysterical with suppressed laughter.

There was my court dress to be tried on; there was department and the correct manner to curtsy. It was hard to believe so much had to go into one small gesture. But it had to be right, Madame Perrotte insisted, one false step, one little slip and a girl could be disgraced for ever.

Pedrek and I used to laugh about it and I would go into the nursery and show the children how one had to curtsy before the Queen, and how we danced and sang; they listened intently and used to clap their hands when I showed them how I danced in the Cartwright drawing room with Pedrek. They were both practicing curtsies and playing at presentation. Belinda always wanted to be the Queen and she amused us all by her regal manner.

As for my stepfather, if he were looking for a duke or earl to enhance his political career, I did not feel in duty bound to provide it … even if I could. I had not asked to be presented and if I failed, I simply did not care.

There were three weeks to the great day and Benedict thought it was time for the children to go to Manorleigh. He said that I should go down with them to stay for a week or so, then return. I should feel fresh for my ordeal after the respite and I should have a week or so to prepare myself.

Both Morwenna and Helena agreed that it was a good idea. And so it was arranged.

The children were excited. They were going to a big house in the country.

“But it’s not as big as Cador,” Belinda announced.

“No, perhaps not,” I replied. “But it
is
a big house, and you will be able to ride in the paddock and enjoy it very much.”

“You are coming,” stated Lucie.

“Yes … just at first. Then I shall come back to London. But I shall not be far away and I shall be coming to see you. It is going to be great fun.”

Arriving at the house was an emotional experience. I was prepared for that. Mr. and Mrs. Emery greeted us in the dignified manner of butler and housekeeper in the establishment of a very important gentleman. Here at least were two who did not resent Benedict.

After the first encounter Mrs. Emery unbent a little. A sentimental heart beat under the black bombazine and jet ornaments.

“It’s nice to see you here, Miss Rebecca,” she told me, after everyone was settled in and we had a few words alone. “I hope we see you often. Mr. Emery and I often talk of you.”

“You are happy here, Mrs. Emery?”

“Oh yes, Miss Rebecca. The master … he’s very kind. Not one of the interfering sort. Them sort I can’t abide. He knows we can manage best on our own … and he gives us a free hand. It’s a fine old house, as you know.”

She was pleased the children had come.

“There’s one thing an old house like this wants and that’s children,” she went on. “All them nurseries going to waste up there. That Leah is a quiet one. She’ll be in the nursery most of the time. Miss Stringer … well, governesses are always a problem.”

“I think she would like her meals in her room.”

“That’s how it should be.”

Mrs. Emery was well versed in the protocol of houses like this and she was one who would like everything to be as it should be.

I heard the children laughing in the nursery and I went in. Leah was with them. She seemed less tense than she had in London.

I said: “You like it here, Leah?”

“Yes, Miss Rebecca,” she answered. “I be one for the country. ’Tis better for the children. It’s put some color in their cheeks.”

“They didn’t look exactly wan when they arrived.”

“Oh, you know what I mean, Miss.”

Yes, I thought. It means you will be happier here. Well, I was pleased for her.

Miss Stringer was slightly less delighted. She was sorry to leave London but at least Manorleigh was not so far from the metropolis as Cornwall and I imagined she would be making little trips to town every now and then.

So everyone seemed satisfied.

Mrs. Emery informed me that she had given me my old room and she looked at me a little questioningly. “I thought that was what you’d want, Miss Rebecca. If not, I can have another made ready on the other side of the house.”

I knew what she meant. This was the room I had occupied when my mother was here. Would there be too many memories?

It was natural, of course, that I should remember, but as it was six years since my mother had died, I should have thought that, for people like Mrs. Emery, she had now become a figure of the past. But that was not so, I could see.

I told her I preferred to stay in my old room.

That first night at Manorleigh was an emotional one for me. Perhaps, I thought coward-like, I should have had another room. I sat at the window for a long time, looking down on the pond where Hermes was still poised for flight, now touched by moonlight. And there was the seat under the tree where I had sat with my mother; I remembered how at the pool she had asked me to care for the unborn child … almost as though she had known what was going to happen to her.

I spent a restless night. I was haunted by dreams of my mother. I thought I was seated there in the garden and that she came to me.

I should expect this, coming back to the house, but as my grandmother had wisely told me, I had to put the past behind me and live for the present.

So much had happened since her death. I kept saying to myself, it is six years.

But there was a great deal to remind me of her in this house that at times it almost seemed as though she were there.

There was no doubt that the children loved Manorleigh. They quickly settled in which was a great relief. Leah was happier. The place suited her.

There was great excitement about the children’s ponies and each day one of the grooms took them riding in the paddock … a treat they had missed in London.

They were both doing well, Thomas, the groom, reported. I was glad. Lucie had changed. She had ceased to cling quite so much to me although I knew I was more important to her than anyone else. But she was more self-reliant now and able to stand up to Belinda. They were quite fond of each other in a way and although they quarrelled occasionally when Belinda exerted her superiority as the daughter of the great man, they were happy in each other’s company.

One thing that worried me a little was Belinda’s resentment against her father. I understood how he felt towards the child. He was not the sort of man who would understand children in any way, but he could not forget that it was Belinda’s coming which had resulted in her mother’s departure; and the more I saw of him the more I realized what a deep void her death had made in his life.

I should have been sorry for him. It was a shared emotion. But I could not forget how happy I had been before he came to change everything.

My mother and he had shared a suite of rooms on the second floor. I had not gone there very much in the past for they were his rooms as well as hers. They were two of the best rooms in the house really—a bedroom with a dressing room adjoining and a sitting room. They had been furnished in blue and white, I remembered.

I felt an urge to see them and on the day after my arrival I went along to them, but when I turned the handle of the door which led to the suite, I found it was locked.

I went straight to Mrs. Emery’s sitting room. I knew this was the time when she would be making herself a cup of tea and she would be sitting by the fire reading either
Lorna Doone
or
East Lynne
—that was unless she had changed an old habit. In the past she read only those two books and when she had finished one she would start on the other. It was enough for her, she said. There was nothing that could touch them for interest and she liked to know what was coming next.

I knocked at her door and was immediately greeted by an imperious “Come in.” Clearly she thought it was one of the servants about to intrude on the exploits of Jan Rodd or Lady Isabel.

Her expression changed when she saw me.

“Well, come in, Miss Rebecca. I was just waiting for the kettle to boil.”

She put
Lorna Doone
aside and looked at me through her spectacles.

“I am interrupting your rest time, Mrs. Emery,” I began.

“Oh no … think nothing of it. Is it something you wanted, Miss Rebecca?”

“Well, those rooms on the second floor … I tried the door and they were locked.”

“Oh yes, Miss Rebecca. Did you want to go in?”

“Yes … I did rather.”

She rose and, going to a drawer, took out a bunch of keys.

“I’ll take you along,” she said.

“Is there any reason why they’re locked?”

“Oh, yes, there’s a reason. I wouldn’t take it on myself, you know.”

I thought it was rather mysterious and by that time we had reached the door of the suite. She unlocked it and I stepped into the room.

It was a shock because it looked exactly the same as it had when my mother was alive. Her things were spread around … the enameled mirror on the dressing table with her initials embossed on the back … the brushes to match. I looked at the big double bed which she had shared with him, the big white wardrobe with the gilt handles. I went to it and opened it, knowing that I should find her clothes there … just as she had left them.

I turned to look at Mrs. Emery, who stood beside me, her eyes misty, nodding her head.

“It’s his orders,” she said. “No one’s to come here except me … to keep the place dusted like. I do the cleaning myself. He doesn’t want anyone else here. When he’s at Manorleigh he comes in here and sits for hours. I tell you I don’t like it, Miss Rebecca. There’s something not right about it.”

I sensed that she wanted to get out of the room.

“He wouldn’t like anyone in here,” she said. “He don’t like me in here … but someone’s got to clean the rooms and he’d rather me than any of the others.”

We went out and she locked the door. I returned with her to her sitting room where she carefully put the key into the drawer from which she had taken it. “I’ll make a cup of tea and I’d be honored if you’d take one with me, Miss Rebecca.”

I said I should be pleased to.

She waited for the kettle to boil, then took it from the hob and infused the tea.

“Let it stand a bit,” she said.

She sat down.

“It’s been like that ever since …” she began. “You see, she meant so much to him.”

“She did to me, too,” I reminded her.

“I know that. She was a lovely lady, your mother. She had so much love in her … and she was so missed … that it seems people can’t let her go. For a long time it was her he wanted. That was clear enough. It was a tragedy that when they got together it was for such a short time.”

“She was happily married to my father.”

Mrs. Emery nodded. “I reckon he’d do better to change that room. Send her clothes away. It don’t do no good to keep mourning. It’s not as though he can bring her back, although …”

“Although what, Mrs. Emery?”

“Well, in a house of this sort that’s been here for hundreds of years, people get fanciful about bygone days. There’s dark shadows in these big rooms and the boards creak something shocking at times. Empty-headed servant girls … well, they get thinking things, if you know what I mean.”

“Hauntings?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean. You see, there was this story about Lady Flamstead and that Miss Martha who lived here all them years ago … and this Lady Flamstead was said to do a bit of haunting.”

“I did hear the story. She died … having a baby.”

Mrs. Emery looked at me mournfully. “You see, it’s the same story. Your mother died having that Belinda.”

“My mother could not have been in the least like Lady Flamstead and Belinda is not like what I have heard of Miss Martha. She was devoted to her mother. So far it seems that Belinda is devoted only to herself.”

“It’s the way of children … but as I’m telling you, I’d like to see them rooms cleared out. Her clothes could be sent away. But he won’t have it. Maybe he gets some comfort from going in there. Who’s to say? It’s as though he can’t face his loss and he’s trying to pretend she’s not gone after all.”

“Oh, Mrs. Emery, it’s so sad.”

“It’s life, Miss Rebecca. It’s what the good Lord has ordained for us … and we needs must accept it.”

I nodded.

“But it’s not right … particularly now he’s wed again.”

“If he cared so much for her … why …?”

“Well, a man needs a woman, I reckon. His sort as much as any. And if you can’t have the one you want you’ll sometimes take second best. I’m sorry for the new Mrs. Lansdon. She’s a strange lady. I never did take to foreigners. All that funny talk and throwing their hands about. It’s not natural. But she thinks a lot of him. There’s no doubt of that. Well, he married her, didn’t he? What does he want to marry her for if he’s going to spend all his time in that room moping over what’s past and done with?”

“Does she … know?”

“Poor young lady, I reckon she does. When he’s here, as he is some of every week, she’ll come with him. Well, he’s in that room. She must know. I think she gets rather cut up about it.”

“But he must care for her …”

“He’s not an easy man to know. There was no question of how he felt about your mother … and she about him. But the present Mrs. Lansdon … well, she’s young—a lot younger than he is—and she’s good looking if you like that foreign sort of way which I don’t much. And the time she spends on her clothes and her hair and all that … and it wouldn’t surprise me if some of that nice complexion of hers didn’t come out of a box. Then she’s got this French maid. Yvette or some such outlandish name … well, some of the servants say she must have thrown herself at him … helping him with the constituency … and of course, as Jim Fedder down in the stables says … forgive the expression, Miss Rebecca, but you know what he means … he said she was a tasty piece … the sort a man would find it hard to say no to if you know what I mean.”