The Changeling (62 page)

“Do you know what he said to me, Lucie?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” I replied.

“He said, ‘I can’t have my daughter living with rich little Miss Lucie as a penniless dependent.’ Isn’t that wonderful? Isn’t it the most exciting thing to find you have a marvelous father! I have had three fathers—the first I didn’t like much; the second was all right but he was not exactly a gentleman … and now I have the perfect father.”

I said, “You are not being fair to the first two.”

“Oh shut up, Lucie. You always argue about everything. I have now found my real father and he is the best of the lot. Isn’t that something to be pleased about? I shall be able to buy some marvelous clothes. I think I shall be going to France soon.”

“Has he said so?”

“Not in so many words, but he talks about it … just as though I’m going to be there.”

“Well, I suppose you will soon be leaving us and going to your grand château. And then, of course, you’ll be joining the royal circle. I wonder what it’s like at Farnborough. How does royalty live in exile? Farnborough must be a change from Versailles.”

“I shall probably invite you.”

“That’s gracious of you. Oh, Belinda, I am so pleased, I really am … that it is working out well for you!”

I believed, as Belinda did, that her father was making some plans for her future. He was spending so much time at the house, which in the past he had rarely visited. My father had never liked him and had not been a man to assume an affability he did not feel. That may have been one of the reasons why in the past we had seen so little of Celeste’s brother. However, that was changed now.

He took us to the opera and to the theater, following with supper. They were very enjoyable and interesting evenings.

He liked to hear Belinda air her views, and he always listened intently with an amused smile on his lips.
La Traviata
was the opera we saw and I remember sitting in the restaurant with the red plush, comfortable divan-like seats, while we discussed it.

Belinda’s eyes shone. She had enjoyed the evening thoroughly.

“But I think she was rather silly to have given up her lover just because of that old father,” she said. “I didn’t like
him
at all. What business was it of his? To come and spoil it all!”

“You think she should have sent him on his way?”

“
I
would have.”

“Of course,
you
would.”

“Well, if they had not parted they would not have had long together,” I pointed out. “She was going to die soon in any case.”

“You see, Lucie has a logical mind,” said Jean Pascal. “Now that is rare in a woman. I admire it very much, Miss Lucie.”

Belinda hated his attention to be turned away from herself for a moment.

“Oh, I thought that, too,” she said.

“Then we have two logical women. Don’t you think that is something to celebrate, Celeste? Let us have some champagne.”

I watched Belinda. She never seemed tired while poor Celeste wilted. As for myself, I was still in the theater, thinking about poor Violetta, her exquisite voice still ringing in my ears. It was wonderful; even when she was on her deathbed, she sang with power and clarity.

When we arrived back at the house, Belinda came as usual to my room. It was becoming a habit for her to do so for she liked to comment on the day.

“What a wonderful evening!” she said. “I expect you were thrilled to be part of it.”

“I certainly enjoyed the opera.”

“He’s going to take us to the play. We’re going to see Ellen Terry and Henry Irving. Isn’t that exciting? I’m so glad I wrote to him. Don’t you think, Lucie, that most people don’t
make
things happen. They just go on accepting what is. I like to say
I want
that to happen and then I’m going to make it happen.”

“I think you are the sort of person who has always done that.”

“Isn’t it clever?”

“Not always, Belinda.”

I was wondering whether she remembered what she had done to Rebecca and Pedrek. That was one of the occasions when she had attempted to arrange life as she wanted it to go; and she had succeeded temporarily. She was fortunate in having to deal with forgiving people like Rebecca and Pedrek.

Now she was thinking that if she had not written to her father and implied she wanted to see him all this would not be happening now, so I supposed she had a point.

True to his promise, Jean Pascal took us to the theater. It was a wonderful experience because we saw the unique Ellen Terry as Katharine in
Henry VIII.
We were all entranced, and even Jean Pascal dropped his mood of cynical sophistication and became engrossed in the performance. There was the usual supper afterward.

“I liked her,” said Belinda. “She wasn’t going to give in.”

“But in the end she had to,” I pointed out. “He was too powerful for her.”

“That is because he was a king and a man,” replied Belinda. “They have all the power.”

“So you think that men have too much power?” asked her father.

“I think they do not have as much as they think they have … and they can be made to do things which women want as long as they don’t know they’re doing it.”

Jean Pascal laughed. “She’s a devious creature, this daughter of mine,” he said. “I am beginning to wonder whether I shall have to be on my guard against her.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t approve of,” said Belinda quickly.

“How should I know that? Would it all be part of the guile to deceive?”

“You’d know. You’re clever.”

“Still leading me on?”

Belinda was a little nonplussed. She was wondering, I guessed, whether she had betrayed too much of herself.

We went on discussing the play but she was a little restrained and uneasy.

It was during supper that Jean Pascal said, “I shall have to be going back to France very soon.”

Belinda’s expression betrayed her bitter disappointment.

He put on a doleful look and went on, “Well, you see, I have to find out what’s going on there. I have been away rather a long time.”

“When will you be coming back?” asked Belinda.

“That is something I cannot be sure of.”

Melancholy settled at the table. It was amazing how Belinda carried us along with her moods.

Then he said, “I’ve been wondering …” He paused for some seconds. “I rather think you would enjoy the chateau.”

Belinda’s eyes opened wide. Joy flooded back. He was smiling at her and I knew he found her enchanting.

“Well,” he went on, “it is the country … of course, we are not so very far from Bordeaux …”

“Do you mean … I could come with you?”

“I was wondering …”

“Oh, how marvelous! When do we go?”

“The end of the week. Is that enough notice?”

“It’s wonderful. I’d be ready to go tomorrow.”

“Then it is settled.” He paused. “There was something. …”

Belinda looked worried. Then he said, looking at me, “Perhaps Lucie would like to come, too?”

“I?” I said, surprised.

“Well, you are Lucie, are you not?”

“Oh, Lucie,” cried Belinda. “You must come. Oh, you must. I’d hate for you not to. It would do her good, wouldn’t it, Aunt Celeste?”

“I think it would be a change of scene and that would be good for her,” said Celeste.

“Go to France …” I began. “But …”

“Oh, don’t be so stodgy, Lucie,” cried Belinda. “She is a bit stodgy, you know,” she said to her father. “She dithers. She always did.”

“You must be nicer to Lucie,” admonished Jean Pascal. “She has been a very good friend to you.”

“I am nice to her. Aren’t I, Lucie? I want her to come with us. You will, won’t you, Lucie? Say yes.”

“I … I’d like to think about it.”

“What do you want to think about? It’s marvelous.
I
want you to come.”

“You’d be very welcome,” said Jean Pascal. “And it wouldn’t be the same for Belinda without you.”

“What about Celeste?”

“Let Celeste come, too.”

“No … no,” protested Celeste. “I couldn’t think of it. But, Lucie, I think it might be good for you to get away for a while.”

“I did get away to Cornwall.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t long enough.”

Jean Pascal leaned across the table and took my hand. “Think about it,” he said warmly.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I will.”

Later Belinda stormed into my room.

“Of course you’ll come,” she announced. “Why not? You are an old spoilsport. I don’t understand why you hesitate. Do you want my father to go down on his knees and
beg
you to come?”

“No, of course not. But he really doesn’t want me. He wants you. He is only asking me to be company for you.”

“But he does. He’s always talking about you. Asking questions about you. He likes you … because you’ve been so good to me.”

“I’ll think about it. It was all so sudden. I am just not sure.”

“Oh, you are an old stick-in-the-mud. You must come, Lucie. I want you to. It will be more fun if you are there.”

“What? Such an old stick-in-the-mud?”

“Of course. The contrast draws attention to my superior charms. Moreover, I shouldn’t like it half as much without you.”

“I’ve said I’ll think about it.”

“Well, go on thinking and tomorrow we’ll talk about what we’ll take with us.”

I did think about it. I kept waking up and asking myself why not? Poor Celeste would be lonely; but she did seem to want to be alone. I should miss Belinda. I had felt more alive since she came. I could ask the Greenhams to let me know at once if there was any news, and if Joel came home I could come back immediately.

By the morning I had convinced myself that it would be a good idea to go to France with Belinda and her father.

B
ELINDA GREETED MY DECISION
with delight. Then she said scornfully, “I knew you’d come to your senses. It will be such fun. Oh, how glad I am I came to England.”

Then she started to talk about the clothes she would take. She planned to go shopping that afternoon and she wanted me to go with her.

Celeste thought it would be a good thing for me to go to France.

She said, “It has been different, hasn’t it, since Belinda came? She’s good for us, Lucie. She does stop our brooding a little. I am sure you will feel better in France. You see, you’ll get right away from this place and that must be good for you. You know I told you you should get down to Manorleigh for a time, but I suppose there are too many memories there. This will be a complete change. I’ll send Amy up to help you pack.”

“I’m not ready yet.”

“Well … when you need her.”

In spite of myself, during the next few days I was caught up in the excitement. Belinda talked constantly about our trip to France. She was so happy, it was a joy to watch her. I thought how much better she managed her life than I did mine. She had lost her mother not long ago and the man whom she had regarded as a father and of whom she had been fond, yet she was able to cast off the unhappy past and look forward to the future. Perhaps it was a wonderful experience to find a long-lost father—after all, in a way I had known what that meant myself, for I, too, had discovered
my
father and we had become important to each other. So perhaps it was not so surprising after all.

Preparation for the visit took my mind off constantly wondering what was happening to Joel. I had told myself that there was nothing I could do by staying in London.

Belinda’s arrival had caused a great deal of excitement among the servants and I knew she was the main topic of conversation in their quarters. Amy—the girl who was to help me with my packing—was taking the place of one of the parlor maids who was leaving in a month’s time to get married.

She was about sixteen years of age, fresh-faced and pretty; she came from the country, she told me. She was rather loquacious and, I suppose, excited about coming to London.

She was getting on very well, she told me. She found the people very friendly. She had been told it would not be like that in London, but she had nothing to complain of.

She had brought in some cases from one of the attics and had set one on the bed. I noticed that she kept glancing toward the window, and I asked if she was expecting to see someone down there.

She blushed faintly. “It … it’s a friend,” she told me.

“Oh. You’ve quickly made friends.”

“This is a special friend, miss. I’ve known him for about three weeks.”

“A young man?”

She blushed deeper and giggled.

“Jack is his name,” she said.

“How did you meet him?”

“It was my afternoon off and I was just going for a walk in the park. He said he was walking that way. So … we got talking.”

“And you found you had a lot in common, did you?”

“You might say that, miss. He was ever so interesting. I told him where I came from … and he was very pleasant-like.”

“I suppose you’ve been told to be careful of strange men?”

“Oh yes, miss, but he wasn’t like that. He was ever so nice. He said we’d meet again and we did. He’s round this way quite a lot. He delivers things, you see … papers in envelopes … documents, I think he said … from some solicitor. He said people don’t like to trust them to the post.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Do you want to take this skirt, miss? If you’re going to, you’ll want the jacket that goes with it. Oh, here it is. I’ll fold it in tissue, then it won’t get creased.”

I went to the window and looked down. A young man was standing on the opposite side of the road in almost exactly the same spot as that other had stood.

“There is a young man down there, Amy,” I said.

“I wonder if …” She was beside me. “Oh, that’s him. That’s Jack.”

“Do you want to go down and have a word with him?”

“Oh, could I, miss?”

“Go on,” I said; and she went.

I thought I could easily do the packing myself. It had been Celeste’s idea that I needed help.

I smiled to myself, contemplating Amy and her young man. I expected there would be more; she was an attractive girl.

The day arrived for our departure. Jean Pascal came to the house with the carriage which was to take us to the station.