Changeling

The son and daughter were like their parents and I detected similar qualities. The young man’s gallantry and awareness of feminine society for instance; the girl’s svelte appearance.

They admired Cador’s impressiveness and antiquity; and my grandmother said she would show them the house after luncheon if they wished to see it. Monsieur Bourdon said it would be a great pleasure, Madame declared it would give her immense delight, and the son and daughter echoed their parents’ words.

Over lunch they talked of the terrible events in their country which had led to their exile.

I gathered that Madame Bourdon was acquainted with the Empress Eugenie and that Monsieur Bourdon had, on several occasions, been admitted to the society of Napoleon III.

“Now that our Emperor and Empress are in England … we feel that we must be with them,” said Monsieur Bourdon haltingly.

My grandmother asked them how much they liked High Tor.

“Very well … very well,” was their reply.

“Do you think you will return to France?” asked my grandfather.

Monsieur Bourdon put the palms of his hands together and shook his head from side to side, shrugging his shoulders at the same time.

“It could be … yes. It could be … no. La République.” He grimaced. “If the Emperor returns …”

“I should hardly think he would do that for a very long time,” said my grandfather.

“And in the meantime he lives in exile,” added my grandmother. “I wonder how they feel about that. It must be strange to go from all the pomp and ceremony of the French Court to quiet Chislehurst.”

“Perhaps he is happy to escape to that quiet spot.”

I noticed that Jean Pascal was watching Jenny, the parlormaid who was serving at table. Their eyes met as she held a dish of vegetables for him. She was flushed. Jenny was interested in young men, I knew. I promised myself that I would try to find out what she thought of this one.

When the meal was over we showed them over Cador.

I was with them. I liked to hear my grandfather explain the history of the place. He loved the topic so much and spoke so enthusiastically that my grandmother gently put an end to his discourse which she feared might be boring to the guests.

We were in the gallery in which were displayed some old tapestries, some in the region of five hundred years old, when Madame Bourdon became very excited.

“Cette tapisserie … it is … how you say? … er … made right?”

“Repaired? Oh yes. We had to have it done. I think it was mended rather well.”

“But … it is very good.”

“You noticed.”

“My wife … she is very interested,” explained Monsieur Bourdon. “We have some tapisserie … very good … very old … Gobelins … You understand?”

“Indeed yes,” said my grandmother. “That must be wonderful.”

Jean Pascal, who was more fluent in our language than his parents were, said that they had brought some of their most valuable tapestry with them. They had been going to have it repaired in France, but if there was someone who could repair it as well as ours had been done, perhaps it would be possible for theirs to be done here.

“It was a young girl living quite near here who restored these two years ago,” said my grandmother. “She is very clever with her needle, as you see. She is a professional seamstress and does embroidery on garments and such things which are sold in the shops in Plymouth … at quite high prices I imagine.”

Madame Bourdon became very excited.

“If you could tell my mother where to find this embroiderer, she would be very grateful to you,” said Jean Pascal.

My grandmother was thoughtful. She glanced at my grandfather. “It’s Leah,” she said, “and that makes it a little awkward. You know how Mrs. Polhenny was about letting Leah come up here.”

She turned to our guests. “I will speak to the girl’s mother and ask her if she will allow the girl to go to High Tor. You see, her mother likes her to work at home.”

“We will pay well …” began Jean Pascal.

“Leave it to me. I will do what I can.”

We left it at that and there was a great deal of talk about tapestry. Apparently the Bourdons had some priceless pieces in their collection—one from the Chateau of Blois and another which had been in Chambord.

“It was risk bringing them over,” said Jean Pascal, “but my mother could not bear to leave them behind, and some of them did get a little damaged in transport.”

When they left, my grandmother assured them that the next day she would go to the Polhenny cottage and would let them know the result immediately.

The next afternoon my grandmother said she was going to beard Mrs. Polhenny in her den and would I care to accompany her? I said I would.

We walked into the town, talking about the Bourdons and the possibility of Mrs. Polhenny’s allowing Leah to go up to High Tor to do the work.

“It would mean she would have to stay up there for several weeks, I expect.”

“Why should she not go each day?”

“Well, I think she needs the very best light to do the work. She might get there and find the light no longer any good. I think she would have to be on the spot.”