The Changeling (26 page)

I kept seeing my mother walking across the garden with her hair escaping from under that becoming hat and mingling with the white fur on the edge of it.

Celeste had described it accurately.

It was not possible. If my mother returned, it would not be to show herself to poor little Celeste, but to me … or to him … and she would not do it in a frightening way.

I recalled that occasion when I had thought she was in my bedroom. I had not seen her. I had not heard her voice. It was just a conviction that she was close. I had been overwrought at the time, worried about Lucie and what would become of her.

At such times one could have hallucinations. But I had never seen her and Celeste would have it that
she
had seen her so closely that she could describe the clothes she was wearing.

She did not send for me that night but before I retired I went to her room to see how she was and found her sleeping peacefully.

I tossed and turned all night and it must have been about five in the morning when I found myself wide awake.

I sat up in bed and said in a whisper: “I don’t believe it.” The clothes were real though. My mother did possess them at some time. Was it possible that someone could have found those clothes and worn them and come to the spot to play the ghost?

I could not get the idea out of my mind.

I was up early. I had thought a great deal about what I could do. I would enlist the help of Mrs. Emery. I could take her into my confidence and I knew that she would respect it.

The first thing I did was to go along to Celeste.

She looked exhausted and drawn and I was relieved when she suggested staying in bed, for the morning at least.

She was very tired, she said.

I told her I would have a light breakfast sent up to her room and after she had partaken of it she should try to sleep. I would look in later to see how she felt.

Mrs. Emery was a woman of routine. She was a great believer in the beneficial effects of a good cup of tea and she took it at eleven in the morning as well as in the afternoon.

It was safe to go along to her room at eleven o’clock.

She was always pleased to see me. Celeste was, of course, the mistress of the house, but now that I was no longer a child, Mrs. Emery regarded me as such. She could not give foreigners the same respect she applied to her own countryfolk, therefore, I was as important—perhaps more so—in her eyes than Celeste.

“I do want to talk to you, Mrs. Emery,” I said.

She preened herself. “Well, it is always a pleasure, Miss Rebecca.”

“Thank you.”

“And you’re just in time for a cup of tea. I’ll have it ready in a jiffy.”

“Oh thank you. That would be nice.”

I did not speak until the ritual of teamaking was completed. I watched her. I had heard her tell the servants many times. Warm the pot with very hot water, dry thoroughly before putting in the tea … one teaspoonful for each person and one for the pot. Infuse, stir, and allow to stand for five minutes … not a second more … not a second less.

The tea was poured into the cups which she kept specially for honored visitors. I was flattered that I was one.

“Mrs. Emery,” I began, “I am concerned about what happened yesterday.”

“Oh … Mrs. Lansdon, yes … she was really shook up.”

“Do you know what caused it?”

“I didn’t. I just wondered. Well, it seems hardly possible. I wondered if she was expecting.”

“Oh no … nothing like that, I think. She thought she saw … something … under the oak tree.”

“Mercy on us, Miss Rebecca. Not the ghost!”

“Mrs. Lansdon believed she saw one … on the haunted seat.”

“My goodness gracious me! What next?”

“She described the clothes. I recognized them as my mother’s.”

Mrs. Emery stared at me open-mouthed.

“Yes,” I said. “She thinks it was the ghost of my mother.”

“But …”

“You see …”

“Yes, I see all right. You can’t help knowing how things are. Oh, how different it was when you dear mother was here. Then we were a happy household.”

“We should try to make it happy now, Mrs. Emery.”

“Well … what with him and that locked room … and her … well, it’s not easy, is it?”

“She must have imagined something. She is not very well.”

Mrs. Emery nodded. “She’s a sad lady. There are times when I feel sorry for her.”

“Yes, but I don’t think she imagined this. I think she really did see something under the trees and whoever it was was wearing my mother’s clothes.”

“Lord a’ mercy!”

“I may be wrong but the fact that she described the clothes so accurately makes me believe that someone in this house was playing a trick.”

Mrs. Emery nodded thoughtfully.

“You go to that room regularly and everyone knows you do that. I think someone got into your room, found the key and took the clothes from my mother’s wardrobe.”

“The door is always locked and I have the key.”

“You always keep it in the same place?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Possibly someone discovered where you kept it.”

“I can’t see how.”

“I can. The door of your room … this room … is never locked, is it?”

She shook her head.

“Someone could come in when you are busy and there was no chance of being disturbed. Whoever it was could have taken the key, gone to the locked room, taken the clothes, locked the door and returned the key back to this room. That’s possible.”

“No one would dare.”

“There are some daring people around, Mrs. Emery.”

“But what for? What’s the good of it?”

“Mischief. That is very attractive to some.”

“You mean someone did it to frighten the wits out of that poor lady?”

“It’s possible, and I intend to find out. You have the key here now?”

She rose and went to a drawer. She opened it and triumphantly held up the key.

“I want you to take me up to that room now, Mrs. Emery,” I said. “I want to see if those clothes are there. If they are, and I think they should be because my mother was wearing them right to the time she left here, then we shall know that whatever Mrs. Lansdon saw under the oak tree was not a figment of her imagination. But because this happened only yesterday, whoever took the clothes might not have had time yet to return them.”

“Well, the key was there, and if anyone took it they’d have had to return it pretty prompt like. They wouldn’t know when I was going to pop in … and it would be dangerous to bring it back when I might come in and catch them at it.”

“So it is fair to say that if the clothes are still there what Mrs. Lansdon saw was something very likely to be supernatural. And if it was someone playing a trick … well then, the one who played the trick could still have them.”

“I can’t believe anyone would go to all that trouble just to frighten her. And run the risk of getting caught into the bargain.”

“Some people like mischief. They like to take risks, too. In any case, let us take the first step towards solving the mystery. Let’s go and see if the clothes are still there.”

Mrs. Emery rose immediately and we went to the room.

Even at such a time I was deeply moved as I stepped over the threshold. It was exactly as it had been in the old days and I could imagine myself a young girl again … secure in the love of my mother, though that resentment I felt towards my stepfather was already with me.

The sight of her things unnerved me; but I had come here for a purpose.

I went to the wardrobe. Her clothes were hanging there but there was no sign of the blue coat. I reached up and in between a tweed costume and a riding habit was an empty coat hanger.

I turned to look at Mrs. Emery.

I said: “I think someone has been in here and taken the clothes.”

“I can’t believe that,” cried Mrs. Emery. “I kept that key in my room. Nobody comes in but him and me. We are the only two with keys.”

“Could anyone have stolen his key?”

“I’d hardly think so. He keeps it on his watch chain and it is always with him … and he hasn’t been here this past week or more.”

She locked the door and we went back to her sitting room.

When we were seated she said: “Of course, there is no knowing that this coat and hat was in the wardrobe.”

“Not for certain,” I agreed. “But I know my mother liked it particularly and she did have it right to the time she went down to Cornwall. You always keep the key in that drawer, I suppose. Could you put it in a different place?”

“Well, perhaps I could …”

“Then if someone came in to steal it again they wouldn’t be able to find it. I am presuming that whoever took the clothes might want to return them. Or perhaps they are keeping her clothes and intend to be a series of hauntings.”

“You’re giving me the shivers, Miss Rebecca. I’m not sure I wouldn’t it were rather the real thing than all this plotting.”

“I am going to see if I can find the clothes, Mrs. Emery. I feel they are somewhere in this house and if I did find them I should discover who played this wicked trick on Mrs. Lansdon.”

“It could have been really serious … if she’s been carrying …”

“Mrs. Emery, will you guard the key … absolutely? Put it in a different place and make sure that none but yourself knows where. I do not want anyone to be able to get into that room until I have solved this mystery.”

“I’ll do just as you say, Miss Rebecca, and I would like to know who played such a nasty trick … I would that … and if it’s any of my maids … well, they won’t be on my staff much longer, I can tell you.”

As soon as I left her I went to the schoolroom. Belinda and Lucie were seated at the table with Miss Stringer.

“Good morning, Miss Mandeville,” said Miss Stringer. “Did you want me?”

I said: “No … no. How are the lessons going?”

“Oh!” She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “As well as can be expected.”

“We’re doing history,” said Lucie.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“About William the Conqueror who came over here and killed King Harold.”

“That must be very interesting. Belinda is quiet this morning. Are you all right, Belinda?”

She nodded curtly.

“Thank Miss Rebecca for her enquiry and answer graciously,” said Miss Stringer.

“I’m all right, thank you,” mumbled Belinda.

“I thought you might have been anxious about your stepmother,” I said.

She did not look up.

“How is Mrs. Lansdon today?” asked Miss Stringer.

“She’s resting. It was quite a bad turn she had yesterday.”

“I heard she had fainted in the garden. I hope she did not hurt herself when she fell.”

“She could have done so, of course,” I said. “Fortunately she fell on soft earth. But it was a shock to her.”

I was looking at the cupboards. They would be full of books and schoolroom accessories. No clothes could be hidden there. Miss Stringer would soon discover them if they were.

“Well, I’ll leave you to William the Conqueror,” I said and came out.

However, I did not want to confront Belinda without evidence. I did not want to speak to Lucie who might well be in the conspiracy. I hoped she was not but I understood from Miss Stringer and what I had observed that Belinda often required her to join in games in which she took the leading role.

Just above the schoolroom was an attic. The children used it as a playroom. There were trunks up there as it was also a good storeroom. If one wanted to hide something it could be the ideal spot.

It was approached by a short spiral staircase. I went to it.

The roof sloped and at either end it was impossible to stand upright. Old pictures were stacked against the wall and there were certain pieces of furniture there. At one end of the room were three large trunks. I noticed at once that one of them was not properly shut. I opened it.

It was simpler than I had anticipated. There, on the top of other garments, lay the blue coat and hat. My suspicions had been confirmed.

There was an armchair close by. I sat down on this and thought about what had happened. Belinda, of course, had been in my mind and I wondered what went on in hers. She alarmed me. How would my mother have dealt with such a child? She would have loved her as she loved me; but sometimes I thought there was more than a hint of mischief in Belinda. I thought of the scheme she had made Lucie play with her. It was calculated to hurt. It seemed unnatural that she—my own sister—could behave so.

I tried to make excuses for her. That brought me back to him … to Benedict Lansdon. He had been an unnatural father to her. He seemed to forget that she was his child. My mother would have wanted him to care for her. The fact that she herself was not there to do so would have made her doubly anxious that he should. Yet he was so aloof. Perhaps he did not try very hard. He was unable to forget the fact that she was the one responsible for my mother’s death—although she knew nothing of this.

I had heard of such cases and I had always thought such an attitude was unforgivable in a parent.

And because of being unwanted by her father … relying on Leah for that love and care which all children need, she was forever trying to show how clever she was, how she could score over other people.

I must try not to be angry with her. I must try to understand. After all, she was a child … a lost child.

I knew that sooner or later she would come up to the attic, for she would have to make sure that the clothes had not been discovered. She may have guessed my suspicions for she was sharp beyond her years. She was shrewd and cunning by nature.

I sat for an hour in the attic waiting, for I guessed that as soon as lessons were over she would come up.

I was right.

I braced myself when I heard light footsteps on the spiral staircase.

“Come in, Belinda,” I said. “I want to talk to you.”

She stared at me in amazement. I was glad that I had waited for I had feared that after our encounter in the schoolroom she would have guessed my suspicions and stayed away.

“What are you doing up here?” she demanded.

“That’s not very polite, is it?”

I saw the fear in her face. “What do you want?” she asked.