Changeling

“This is a joyous reunion, I see,” he said. “I am deeply aware of my own delight but it is gratifying to see that it is shared.”

“Why didn’t you come to Cornwall?” demanded Belinda.

“I had my duties here. I am not a man of leisure.”

“I know,” said Belinda. “You work for my father.”

“Which is very fortunate because it gives me an opportunity to be with his charming family now and then.”

His eyes met mine and he smiled warmly. “I wondered when you were going to return from Cornwall,” he said.

“It was a long time,” said Lucie. “And then Belinda got ill.”

“Oh dear me.” He was all concern, turning to Belinda.

“I’m all right now,” she said. “What are we going to do?”

“Well, first I shall have a conference with your father. After that I shall be free for an hour or so. Could we ride … as we did in the days before you deserted me?”

“We didn’t desert you,” said Belinda firmly. “It was just that we had to go to Cornwall.”

“And now you are glad to be back.”

Belinda did one of her joyous leaps and nodded.

“Well, as they say, all’s well that ends well. Now, if Your Majesty will excuse me …” He made an elegant bow in Belinda’s direction which delighted her. “… I will get to my duty and later we will ride together … all of us, the Misses Rebecca, Belinda and Lucie … and I shall be their guide.”

“Hurry,” commanded Belinda.

He bowed more deeply. “Your wishes shall be granted, my Queen.”

How he charmed her! He came frequently to the house and every day she looked for him. She seemed to have completely forgotten her unhappy experience in Cornwall and reverted to her old self.

He was right when he said he would be a frequent visitor and on those days when he did not come Belinda would be sulky and very difficult to handle. Leah was wonderfully patient. How devoted she was to that child! To Lucie too, I supposed, but Lucie was more docile and she was always making excuses for Belinda.

We often rode at Manorleigh and Oliver Gerson’s company was a help even to me. He was constantly devising competitions for the children, tests in riding and observation so that each ride was full of interest for them. They were always on the alert for what he had decreed they must watch for and he instilled in them a competitive spirit which Miss Stringer said was good for them. She too had fallen under the spell of the Gerson charm.

One day we found an inn with a creaking sign over the door: The Hanging Judge. Belinda was immediately intrigued.

“What does it mean? Is it because he’s hanging up there?”

“Oh no, no,” said Oliver. He’s the hanging judge because he hanged people by the neck.”

Belinda’s eyes were sparkling.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ll go in and have a little refreshment.”

I was uneasy about taking the children into such a place, but he took my arm reassuringly. “They’ll love it,” he whispered. “It will be something new for them. I’ll make sure it is all right.”

He exerted his charm wherever he went. He talked to the landlord’s wife; she nodded conspiratorially and we were all seated in the parlor with its oak beams and air of adventure.

Watered-down cider was brought for the children and we all sat there drinking. Neither Belinda nor Lucie had been in an inn before. Their eyes were round with wonder and it was clear that they thought it a great adventure.

Belinda demanded to know about the hanging judge and he told them that the Duke of Monmouth, the son of Charles the Second, thought he had more right to the throne than the King’s brother James, and how there was a battle and Monmouth was defeated and his men captured and brought before the cruel hanging judge.

“There are gibbets all over the West Country,” he told them; and they listened spellbound.

I thought: How they love horror! I could only think it was because they did not fully understand it.

“You think of the most lovely things,” Belinda told Oliver Gerson.

When they reached home they chattered to Miss Stringer about the hanging judge and the Monmouth rebellion. She was delighted.

“So instructive,” she said. “So good for them. What a delightful man!”

My dreams were haunted by Pedrek. I kept recalling that look of dawning horror on his face when we had confronted him with our suspicions. My first thoughts were of him each morning when I awoke, and he seemed to be beside me all through the day.

I said to myself: I must see him. I must tell him that I believe in him. That whatever he has done, I love him.

I knew there had been a mistake.

I would write to him. I would ask him to forgive me for distrusting him. But I did not write. Between me and that letter was the face of Belinda … distorted with fear … her wide innocent eyes showing so clearly that she could not entirely understand what had happened to her.

In the midst of my uncertainty there came a letter from my grandmother.

My dear Rebecca,