The Changeling (27 page)

“I want you to go over to that trunk and take out what you find lying on the top.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to show me and to tell me how they came to be there.”

“How should I know?”

“We’ll see about that.”

I stood up and, taking her hand, led her to the trunk. “Now open it,” I said.

“Why?”

“Open it.”

She did so.

“You put those things there,” I said.

“No.”

I ignored the lie. “How did you get into the locked room?” I asked.

She looked sly. She thought she had been rather clever and it was hard to resist boasting of that. But she remained silent.

I went on: “You stole the key from Mrs. Emery’s sitting room. You knew it was there because she went in to clean twice a week. You knew when she would not be in her room and you went there and found it.”

She stared at me in amazement. “Lucie’s been telling tales.”

“Lucie knew …?”

“A bit,” she said.

“And what did Lucie do?”

“Nothing. Lucie never thinks of anything. She’s too silly.”

“I see. Well, having got the key, you took the clothes. You knew they were there and that they were your mother’s. She would be very sad if she knew you did things like this, Belinda. Don’t you care about hurting people?”

“People hurt me.”

“Who? Who hurts you?”

She was silent.

“Leah is good and kind to you. Miss Stringer is too. Lucie loves you, so does Mrs. Emery. And have I been unkind to you?”

For a moment her defiance wavered and she looked like a frightened little girl.

“
He
hates me,” she said. “He hates me because … because … she died having me.”

“Who tells you these tales?”

She looked at me scornfully. “Everybody knows. You know. You only pretend you don’t.”

“Oh Belinda,” I said. “It’s not like that. It wasn’t your fault. It happens to hundreds of children. Nobody blames them.”

“He does,” she said.

I wanted to put my arms round her and hold her against me. I wanted to say: We are sisters, Belinda. I know we have different fathers, but your mother was my mother. That makes a special bond between us. Why don’t you talk to me … tell me how you feel?

She said: “You don’t like him either.”

“Belinda …”

“Only you don’t tell the truth. I do. I hate him.”

I was in despair. I wondered what to say to her. It was true that he avoided her and was cool towards her, that he could not take to her, he could not forget that her coming had meant the departure of his beloved wife.

I wished afterwards that I had been older, wiser, more experienced, and could have comforted the child in some way.

But at the time I could only think of what she had done to Celeste.

“Why did you want to frighten her like that?” I asked.

Her defiance had returned. The softness I had glimpsed, the craving for affection, was no longer there. She was Belinda, the clever one, who knew how to take revenge on those who hurt her.

She lifted her shoulders and smiled.

“They were so big,” she said. “I had to be careful.” She laughed almost hysterically. “I nearly tripped over. The hat was all right but it did press down on my ears. I had to keep sitting down.”

“She fainted,” I reminded her. “Fortunately she fell on soft earth, but she could have been badly hurt.”

“Serve her right for marrying him. She’d no right to marry him. I didn’t want a stepmother.”

“There are many things in life you don’t understand. Perhaps you will when you grow up. She is not to blame for anything. She wants to do what is best.”

“She can’t even speak English properly.”

“I should imagine her English compares favorably with your French. Doesn’t it worry you that you may have caused her some injury?”

She looked at me steadily, her eyes almost expressionless.

She shook her head.

“I was very good,” she said complacently. “She thought I was a real ghost.”

“You weren’t clever enough.”

“Lucie told you.”

“Lucie has told me nothing. Tell me what part she played in this.”

“None. She couldn’t. She’s not clever enough. She would have spoilt it. She just knew … that was all. And she told you. Because … how else would you have known?”

“I know
you,
Belinda. I suspected you almost at once.”

“Why?”

“Because of the clothes for one thing. I knew where you found them. Then I checked with Mrs. Emery and discovered they were missing, so I knew someone had taken them. Belinda, I want to talk to you very seriously.”

“What are you going to do? Tell him … tell my father?”

I shook my head. “No. You must see your stepmother and tell her how sorry you are and you will never do anything like that again. Don’t you see how wrong it is to hurt people?”

“I was only being a ghost.”

“I told you before …”

I saw the tip of her tongue protruding.

“Belinda, listen to me. You want people to like and admire you, don’t you?”

“Leah does.”

“Leah has been your nurse since you were a baby. She loves you and Lucie as though you were her own.”

“She loves me best.”

“She loves you both. If you are kind to people they will love you in return. Believe me, you will be happier if you are good and do not play unkind tricks on people … especially those who have done you no harm.”

On impulse I put my arms round her and to my amazement and joy she suddenly clung to me. I held her to me for a few minutes. Then I looked into her face. Her tears were genuine.

“Always remember, Belinda,” I said, “that we are sisters … you and I. We lost our mother. I knew her and loved her dearly. She was everything to me. We have to remember that he loved her dearly, too. When she died he was deeply and bitterly hurt. He cannot forget her. We each have to help him, Belinda, and in helping him we shall help ourselves. Promise me you will talk to me more. If anything happens, come to me, tell me about it. Will you?”

She looked at me steadily and nodded.

Then she threw her arms about my neck and I felt happier than I had for a long time. I was breaking through. I was beginning to make headway with this strange child who was my sister.

I said: “Now we understand each other. We are friends, eh, Belinda?”

She nodded again.

“There is one other thing,” I went on. “We have to go to your stepmother.”

She shrank back.

“It is necessary,” I went on. “She has had a bad fright. She thinks she saw a ghost.”

The old Belinda was back and I saw a look of triumph cross her face.

“She will be looking for that ghost everywhere she goes. It will haunt her.”

Belinda nodded, her eyes sparkling at the prospect of future hauntings and I realized I had been premature in my belief that I had aroused something good in her nature.

“We have to put her mind at rest,” I said firmly. “We have to tell her the truth. So we are going to her now. We are going to tell her exactly what happened and ask her forgiveness. It was a silly childish prank but you are sorry you did it. You just did not think what harm you were doing.”

“I don’t want to.”

“We often have to do things we don’t want to in life. I shall give these clothes to Mrs. Emery and she can put them back where they were. She will be glad to hear that there was no ghost—only a little girl playing tricks.”

She looked stubborn.

“Come along,” I said. “Let’s get it over.”

I put the coat and hat back in the trunk to be dealt with later and took Belinda down to Celeste’s room.

Celeste was sitting by the window in her dressing gown.

I said: “Belinda wants to tell you something.”

She looked surprised and I led Belinda over to her.

Belinda said in a sing-song voice as though she were repeating a lesson: “I took the clothes out of the wardrobe in the locked room. I took them to the garden and when I heard you coming I put them on. It was only a game and I’m sorry I frightened you.”

I could see the relief in Celeste’s face.

I said: “Belinda is really sorry. You must forgive her. She thought she was playing a game. You know how she likes dressing up and acting … ever since the
tableaux vivants.”

“Oh …” said Celeste faintly. “I … I see.”

“Belinda is very, very sorry for what happened.”

Celeste smiled at her. “I see it,” she said. “It is just a little joke, eh? It was silly of me.”

Belinda nodded. I put my arm round her and she was not exactly responsive but she did not reject me.

“Are you riding this afternoon?” I asked her.

“Yes.”

“You and Lucie? I’ll come with you. You can go now.”

She was clearly glad to escape.

I said: “She really is contrite.”

“She hates me … I think.”

“No. She is bewildered … lost. I wish her father would give her a little attention. That is what she needs. I think she admired him …” I paused. “But you see …”

“Yes, I see,” said Celeste.

Their problems were similar.

I could not help feeling a certain pleasure because, due to this episode, Belinda and I had come a little closer. I must keep it that way. The child—and she was only a child although we forgot it at times—wanted affection. It was the reason why she was always showing off, as it were, seeking admiration. If only Benedict would cast aside his bitter grief. If only he would give a little thought to the living.

It all came back to him.

B
ENEDICT HAD RETURNED AND
Christmas was almost upon us. I had hoped I could take the children with me to Cornwall but this was not to be. Christmas was an important time in Manorleigh. There would be a great deal of entertaining at Manor Grange with special dinner parties as well as the usual celebrations. People who worked in the constituency would have to be invited. My stepfather would want his family around him at such a time for Christmas was an occasion when all the family should be together.

It was a great disappointment, for not only would I have loved to be with my grandparents, but Pedrek was there with his parents and grandparents; and I daresay they would be often at Cador.

It was very frustrating and I consoled myself with the fact that time was passing, and next Christmas we should be planning our wedding. So … I must be patient.

Miss Stringer was to join her family in the Cotswolds for three weeks. There would be no lessons during that time. “Hurrah!” said Belinda. Lucie joined in and they danced round the schoolroom singing: “No lessons for three weeks.”

“There will be so much to do for Christmas,” I reminded them, “that you will find yourselves fully occupied.”

It was to be a traditional Christmas. The great hall would be decorated with holly, ivy and bay. Besides the sprays of mistletoe, there were the old Christmas bushes—two hoops fastened at right angles and trimmed with evergreen leaves which were hung on the rafters; they served the same purpose as the mistletoe and were even called Kissing Bushes.

Belinda was very excited. She and Lucie were dashing about helping with the decorations, running into the kitchen to take a stir at the puddings which, decreed Mrs. Grant, the cook, should be stirred by everyone in the household, high and low.

So we all had a stir—apart from Benedict. I could not imagine anyone’s suggesting he should take part in such a procedure.

The smell of the boiling puddings permeated the kitchen and we all went down to listen to them bubbling away in the copper in the laundry house. Mrs. Emery said that all the staff should join in the tasting ceremony and the children were allowed to share in it too. This was indeed a ceremonial occasion when Mrs. Grant, like a priestess in some holy temple, served everyone with a mouthful from one of the small basins which contained a specimen of the rich mixture; and which we all declared was perfect.

Then there were the mince pies to be made and the Christmas cake to be iced with the words “Merry Christmas” and “God Bless This House” written on it in blue; and then this was placed in state on the kitchen table where all might inspect and admire it before it was put away.

It was all very simple and exciting; and I was glad to see Belinda looked happier than she had for some time; and what was most gratifying was that she seemed to want to please me. I said to Celeste that this incident, regrettable as it was at the time, might be a turning point.

“I think I am closer to her than I have ever been,” I said. “She has always seemed so overbearing, but, poor child, what she needs is love and tenderness.”

Celeste was inclined to agree with me.

I said: “She admires her father, I know. She is deeply hurt by his neglect. If only he would show a little interest in her it would make a world of difference, I am sure.”

“He seems to like Lucie more than he does her.”

“Lucie is easier to like perhaps.”

“That may be. But Belinda is his daughter.”

“Perhaps one day … one of us will be able to make him see …”

“Perhaps,” sighed Celeste.

I received letters from Cornwall. Pedrek had kept his promise to write once a week and I had kept mine to reply. So I knew exactly what was happening in Cornwall. He was getting on well at the Mining College. Working hard helped him to endure the separation. I tried to write amusingly about life in London and at Manor Grange, telling him of the political world and what it was like to be on the edge of it.

The day before Christmas Eve I received a batch of letters from Cornwall with gifts from everyone. There was a necklace of amethyst from my grandparents and a gold bracelet from Pedrek.

I kept the letter he sent with it.

Dearest Rebecca,

If only we could be together! I kept hoping that you would come for Christmas. So did we all. I have a confession to make. I have told them. I could not keep it to myself. They were talking about you and saying how they wished you were here … and somehow it came out.

We did say we wouldn’t … and I should have waited until we could tell them together … but if you could have seen their joy you would have been glad they knew. My mother and your grandmother hugged each other and I thought my grandparents were going to burst into tears … tears of absolute bliss. They all said it was what they had always hoped for and prayed for. And my grandfather said there was going to be such a wedding as had never been seen in Cornwall.

But they all think it is wise that we should wait until I am through with college. They said we are both very young and need a little time to prepare. I don’t agree. I’m just telling you what they said. I am just wishing the time away.

Oh, Rebecca, it would be wonderful if you were here. It would be such a happy Christmas. Your grandparents said you are certain to come down in the Spring, but that seems far away. But I suppose it will come in time and I must be patient until then. The only way I can do that is by telling myself that we shall be married and then together all the time.

My love to you … today, tomorrow and forever,

Pedrek