The Changeling (33 page)

“Well, did you decide?”

“Not really. We’ll look further next week, won’t we, Pedrek?”

“Talking of houses,” said my grandfather, “I saw the people at High Tor this afternoon. They’re leaving.”

“Are they? After all this time?”

“Yes. The son is coming home from Germany. He’s been living there for some years. He says he fancies getting a place in Dorset and … I’ve forgotten what their name is.”

“Stenning,” supplied my grandmother.

“That’s right. Stenning. Well, he said they will be getting a place there to be near the son. They rented High Tor because they didn’t want to commit themselves to buying before their son came home.”

“That means High Tor will either be to let or for sale,” said my grandmother looking at me.

I glanced at Pedrek.

“High Tor,” I murmured. “It’s a nice place.”

“And ancient,” added Pedrek.

“Well,” added my grandmother. “It’s an idea. I daresay it will be some time before the Stennings are ready to leave, but … as I said … it’s an idea.”

High Tor had taken possession of my thoughts and the next Saturday Pedrek and I rode out there. It looked different from what it had before. I suppose that was because there was a possibility that it might one day be our house.

“Do you think,” said Pedrek, “that we might call on the Stennings?”

“Why not? They may not know us well but they know who we are.”

“Let’s go then,” said Pedrek.

So we rode in through the cobbled courtyard under the archway to the oak iron-studded door.

A servant came out, and Pedrek asked if Mr. or Mrs. Stenning were at home.

Mrs. Stenning came down. She was a little surprised but extremely hospitable and soon we were seated in the drawing room. We told her that we had heard that she and her husband were contemplating leaving High Tor to settle in Dorset and as we planned to marry in a year’s time we were interested in the house.

She opened her eyes wide and said: “What a good idea! I don’t know whether the owners want to sell or rent it … but I could find out. You probably know them.”

“Very well,” I said. “My stepfather is married to the lady who was Miss Celeste Bourdon.”

“Of course. Well, that
is
interesting. We shall be leaving fairly soon. We are taking a house in Dorchester and there we shall stay until we find a suitable property. This is a very interesting house, this. We shall be sorry to leave it. Most of the furniture is ours though the Bourdons did leave one or two pieces. But in any case you would want your own. Would you like to see over it?”

We spent an interesting hour being taken round. The house had been built in the late sixteenth or early seventeenth century. I liked the gables with their pediments and the casements and leaded lights.

Mr. Stenning joined us and he was quite knowledgeable about architecture. He said he thought the house was in the style of the Inigo Jones period and the architects had learned a great deal from him.

“He went to Italy and studied the buildings there. You can detect the influence of that.”

I was not interested so much in the architecture. I was just seeing it as our future home.

The Stennings insisted that we take tea with them and this we did in the drawing room with its gracious proportions and casement windows. It was indeed a beautiful house.

We talked of it incessantly and could hardly wait to get back to Cador and tell my grandparents about it.

They were as thrilled as we were.

“It would be ideal for you,” said my grandfather. “I daresay we shall soon hear what the Bourdons intend to do.”

We became obsessed by the house. We talked of nothing else.

A few days after we had been shown over it, we had a note from the Stennings saying that if at any time we wished to look at High Tor, or ask them questions about it, they would be delighted to show or tell us if they knew the answer.

We took the first opportunity of calling.

They told us there was a change of plans and they intended to leave a few weeks earlier than they had originally arranged to. In ten days they would be gone.

They could give us the Chislehurst address of the Bourdons or perhaps we would prefer to approach them through Mrs. Lansdon.

The Pencarrons came over to Cador to dine and there was a consultation between the two lots of grandparents. Mine were more romantically minded than Mr. Pencarron. “We didn’t want to find we had a ruin on our hands,” he said.

Pedrek reminded him that houses which had stood up to the weather for a few hundred years could surely do so for a few hundred more. But Mr. Pencarron thought that a good, solid modern place might be better.

“It’s due to being brought up at Cador,” said my grandmother. “There is something romantic about living in houses where lots of people have lived before.”

“Nevertheless,” insisted Mr. Pencarron, “we want to have a good look at the place.”

“That can be easily done,” said my grandfather.

Pedrek and I knew that we wanted it. We did go round it once more and our rides always took us past it. We would sit in a field where we could look up at the grey gables and dream of the days when it would be ours.

Pedrek had written to the Bourdons and received a reply.

They were not entirely certain what they intended to do but would decide quickly. We sighed with impatience and continued to regard it as our house.

We had just had luncheon. It was one of those week days which I lived through, longing for the week-end to come. The children had gone for a ride, one of the grooms accompanying them. I was with my grandmother who wanted to show me something in the garden. As we came out of the house one of the maids announced a visitor.

I was amazed and excited to see Jean Pascal Bourdon. He took my grandmother’s hand and kissed it; then did the same to me.

“What a pleasure!” he said. “I have descended on you charming ladies to pay my respects. I am to be in Cornwall for a little while. How good it is to see you! And Mademoiselle Rebecca is looking so well …”

“Have you had luncheon?” asked my grandmother.

“I have indeed.”

“Then come in. Would you like some wine … or a little coffee?”

“Some coffee please. That would be nice.”

When we were in the drawing room I went to the bell pull and very soon Madge appeared. I noticed Jean Pascal’s eyes on her, assessing her; and I remembered that old habit of his. Girls like Madge were always aware of masculine attention. She bridled a little and said demurely: “Yes, Ma’am?”

“Will you bring some coffee please, Madge?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” With a little bob she disappeared.

Jean Pascal said: “I expect you have guessed why I am here? It concerns High Tor, of course.”

“You know we are interested.”

“Yes. May I say that
I
was most … interested to hear that you were interested.”

“It’s no secret. Rebecca and Pedrek Cartwright are thinking of buying a house.”

He raised his eyebrows and my grandmother went on: “They will be married in a year or so.”

“May I offer my congratulations?” He looked at me as though the prospect of my marriage was a mild source of amusement.

“You may,” I said, “and thank you for them.”

“It is unexpected news.”

“It was not all that unexpected to us,” said my grandmother. “Pedrek and Rebecca have been good friends for years.”

He nodded. “The Stennings will be leaving shortly,” he said.

“Are you staying there … at High Tor?”

He smiled. “Yes. There is plenty of room. It is not a small house, you know. And we have business to discuss. Some furniture belongs to my family … but most of it in the house is theirs.”

The coffee had come. I noticed his renewed interest in Madge and I thought to myself: It is a habit with him. He assesses all females. How different he was from Pedrek. When Jean Pascal married, his wife would be wondering all the time if he was unfaithful.

Over coffee we discussed the house.

He said: “My family are a little uncertain at the moment. They are leaving Chislehurst.”

“Oh,” I said blankly. “Did they plan to come back to Cornwall?”

He paused. I had betrayed my eagerness to possess the house. Mr. Pencarron would say that was a foolish thing to do before a prospective seller.

He smiled at me and went on: “No. They will not come back here. The Empress kept a little court at Chislehurst of which my family were a part as they were of the Imperial Court before the
débâcle.
She has suffered much in exile … the loss of her husband and now after the death of her son in the Zulu war she finds it difficult to be happy there and wants to move. She is to go to Farnborough and my parents will give up their place in Chislehurst and go with her.”

“So … not to Cornwall,” I murmured.

“No … no. That would be too far away. They will go to Farnborough.”

“The point is,” said my grandmother, “what of High Tor?”

He smiled at us blandly. “Yes … I am sure they will sell.”

My grandmother and I exchanged glances of triumph.

“When will it be on the market?”

“If you are interested, you shall have the opportunity to buy before we put it there.”

“Thank you,” said my grandmother. “That’s what we hoped.”

“Well, are we not friends?”

“I am sure my husband and the Pencarrons will want to look at the place.”

“But naturally. Perhaps when the Stennings have left we can start to talk business.”

“Excellent,” said my grandmother. “More coffee?”

“Please, yes. It is delicious.”

I went over and took his cup. He smiled up at me and there was something secretive in his eyes.

“And when is the wedding to be?”

“Oh, not yet … not for some time yet. Mr. Cartwright is at college and will be there for another year or so.”

“And when he emerges … that will be the happy day?”

“Oh yes …”

“It is a pleasure for me to think that my old home will be yours.”

When he had taken his leave my grandmother looked at me with shining eyes.

“I don’t think there will be any difficulty,” she said. “Your grandfather and I want to give you the house as a wedding present, but there will be some argument for I happen to know the Pencarrons want to do the same.”

“How lucky we are! We do realize it, Granny. How many people about to get married have such lovely generous grandparents arguing over who is going to give them the most wonderful house in the world?”

“We are all so happy,” she said. “Because we are going to have you close to us for the rest of our lives.”

There was no talk of anything but the house. On the following Saturday Jean Pascal was invited to lunch. The Stennings were also invited. They talked a great deal about their imminent departure. Pedrek, with his grandparents, was present.

“I hope you will find the perfect place in Dorchester,” said my grandmother to the Stennings. “I hear it is a beautiful town.”

“We shall not be far from the sea, as we have been here. And we have been so happy in Cornwall, haven’t we, Philip?”

Mr. Stenning agreed that they had.

Pedrek and I exchanged glances throughout the meal. Marriage seemed so much closer now that we had a home in view.

After luncheon, when we were taking coffee in the drawing room, Jean Pascal talked to Pedrek and me.

“It’s not easy to assess a house when people are living in it. As soon as the Stennings leave you must come over.”

“Which pieces of furniture belong to your family?” I asked.

“Some rather heavy stuff. There is a fine old four poster bed which my parents would have liked to move, but it is rather ancient and they were not sure how it would stand up to the journey, so they left it. There are one or two heavy cabinets. Not a great deal. You must come over and see it. When they have gone we’ll make an appointment;”

“That will be wonderful.”

When our guests had gone we were still discussing the house. It had been agreed that the grandparents would buy it between them and it should be a joint present from the four of them.

I said: “We are so lucky.”

“Nothing but what you deserve, my dear,” said Mr. Pencarron. “Mind you … it’s got to be right. I’m still suspicious of these old places. There are some who think that a ghost or two make up for a leaking roof and crumbling walls. That’s not my idea.”

“There may be some repairs needed,” said my grandfather.

“We’ll get someone down to look at it.”

“As soon as the Stennings have left we can give the place a real overhaul,” said my grandmother.

In the middle of the following week, I left the house in the afternoon to take a short ride. As I rode out of the stables I met Jean Pascal.

“Hello,” he said. “I know you often take a solitary ride at this time and I hoped I’d meet you.”

“Why … has something happened?” I asked in alarm.

“Only this pleasant encounter.”

“I thought perhaps you had come over with some news.”

“Actually I came over in the hope of seeing you.”

“Because …”

“Because it seemed a good idea. Look. You are going for a ride. Why don’t I accompany you? We could talk as we go.”

“Then there is something. Is it about the house?”

“There is a lot to talk about on the subject, is there not? But there are other things.”

“Such as …?”

“General conversation. I always think it is amusing to let that take its own course.”

“How do you mean?”

“Let it flow … let it come naturally.”

“Where shall we go?”

“Not to High Tor. I believe you go there frequently. I mean you ride close by. Mrs. Stenning says she sees you.”

I felt a little uncomfortable that my naïve excitement about the house had been noticed.

“I am hoping, of course, that everything will go through satisfactorily,” I said.

“I should feel the same myself. It will be your new home.”

“Mr. Pencarron wants to have a surveyor to look at it. I hope you won’t mind.”

“No … no. I admire him. It is a wise thing to do. Who knows: the old mansion might be ready to crumble about your ears?”

“Oh, I don’t think that.”