Changeling

“It was a terrible thing to do … to let a child feel she has cause her mother’s death. I know it is not the first time this sort of thing has happened, but it should never be.”

“I know. I am to blame. But there is something about her which … in a way repels. Celeste told me that she took your mother’s clothes and played the ghost. It shows a strange quirk in her nature.”

“It is because you have aroused this feeling of guilt in her.”

“I have done so much that is wrong. But it was so premeditated. She stole the key from Mrs. Emery’s drawer to get the clothes … it was not a matter of dressing up on the spur of the moment. It was planned. She knew it would cause distress and I guessed—though it was only a surmise—that this was another of her well-thought-out schemes. She is devious.”

“She is clever to deceive us all.”

“You were too ready to be deceived.”

“It is because of her youth. I would never have thought she knew about that long-ago murder.”

“Foolish people talk to her. There was that maid. You can imagine her version. Then the little girl whose father had been in the mine accident. She would be interested in stories of disaster … legends … bells at the pool. The salacious Madge would corrupt the mind of the young. They would not fully understand, but they would know enough to give a girl like Belinda the material she needed for her game.”

“I feel a little lightheaded.”

“You see why I wanted you to get this letter off to Pedrek? I did not want you to write to him later and say you had discovered the truth. I wanted that letter to go first. I wanted you to show your faith in him … the depth of your feelings …”

“I don’t know what to say to you. I can’t help feeling happy although …”

“Well, at least there is a little brightness now. I feel happier too. Believe me, it grieved me to see you so sad.”

He took my hands and gripped them hard.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” I began.

“Then say nothing. We’ll talk … we’ll talk a lot … later.”

The Devil’s Crown

FEELINGS OF ELATION MINGLED oddly with a terrible apprehension. This was a house of shadows with a menacing cloud hanging over it. And so it would remain until Celeste was found. But there was something miraculous in my new relationship with my stepfather, and the manner in which he had dealt with my unhappiness filled me with tender admiration for him.

It seemed that he, who had always before been on the fringe of my life, had now walked into it and swept aside all obstacles to my happiness. He had always given an impression of power, and how astute he was for as soon as he was aware of what had happened, he had guessed at the truth and exposed it in a masterly fashion.

I wished that I could do something for him.

I wrote to Pedrek telling him what had happened, making sure, as Benedict would have advised me, that he knew I had written my previous letter before the revelations.

Then I wrote to my grandparents, the Pencarrons and Morwenna and Justin. I told them all that I had already written to Pedrek some days before the truth was known, that I believed in him and hoped he would forgive me for doubting him even for a short time; and I was waiting to hear from him that his feelings towards me had not changed.

I knew what joy that would bring them all. We could now be together in harmony just as we had been in the past.

I asked them all not to think too hardly of Belinda. She was only a child and it had been a great tragedy for her that she had lost her mother before she could know her. We must all try to understand that.

“I have talked to Benedict,” I wrote. “And he wants to do everything he can to make a harmonious family life for us all. At the moment, of course, he is terribly worried and unhappy with this fearful mystery hanging over us. But I am convinced that the truth will come out soon.”

I wondered how long it would take for my letter to reach Pedrek and for him to reply. It was a long way for a letter to go—to the other side of the world.

Meanwhile it was the waiting period. I could not believe that Pedrek would not come back to me. But then he would not have believed I could think him guilty of such a monstrous crime. He must have been bitterly and deeply wounded. Did that sort of thing leave a scar forever?

My grandparents wrote of their delight. How understanding they were! They spared a little sympathy for Belinda in spite of the havoc she had wrought in our lives.

“We must remember that she is only a child,” wrote my grandmother, “and I suppose she did it for your happiness as well as her own. She, in her simple innocence, thought she could play God and direct your lives. At what a cost to poor Pedrek! Let us hope that he will soon come home and that you will be happy together.”

And it was Benedict who had done this. But for him I should not have written that letter. Only he could have made Belinda confess the truth.

How I wished that I could help him!