Changeling

“Poor Becca. You haven’t been very happy lately, have you? You have felt it hasn’t been quite the same with us. First I go away on a honeymoon … and we are apart as we never have been before … and then I am caught up in all this political work.”

“It had to be,” I said.

She nodded. “But you haven’t liked it. I know how you love Granny and your grandfather. I know how you feel about your father. You put him on a pedestal. It doesn’t do to put people on pedestals, Becca.”

What did she mean? Had she discovered that her idol Benedict had feet of clay? She must have done so. He had inherited Uncle Peter’s shady business connections and would not give them up although she begged him to.

What a difference Uncle Peter’s death had made to us all. Aunt Amaryllis no longer provided that rest house in London; no longer did we have the benefit of his advice; and his death had caused a rift between my mother and her new husband.

She went on: “I am not much use … politically … now and I shall not be for some time. I had to cancel an engagement the other day because I suddenly felt quite unable to carry it out. I think it would be better for everyone if I retired from the scene for a while … and if I went to Cornwall I should be less of a burden than if I were here.”

“And my grandparents would be delighted.”

“Yes, bless them. I shan’t mind being a bother to them.”

“A bother! You would be the reason for rejoicing.”

I skipped round the room and she laughed at me.

“When do we leave?” I asked.

Even then I was scared that he might raise some objection. It was clear that he did not like the idea. He was very tender and loving towards her and I thought I saw her wavering again.

My grandparents had a long talk with him. My grandmother was a most forceful lady. She was the one to look after her daughter in such circumstances, she said, and she knew exactly what was best for her. It would be simple. We should travel to Cornwall with her; the nursery there would be made ready. Dr. Wilmingham was a friend of the family. He had brought Angelet herself into the world. The very best of midwives lived nearby. She should be engaged at once. He must realize that Aunt Amaryllis was no longer able to help and Uncle Peter was not there in case of emergency. He, Benedict, could come down whenever he had the time. There would be no need to make arrangements. All he had to do was arrive. It was true that Cornwall was not exactly close to London but the train was convenient. At weekends he would be more free than during the week … and he could come at any time.

At length he saw the wisdom of this and I and my mother made preparations to leave for Cornwall.

I was happier than I had been for a long time. It was as it had been before the marriage. I think I must have showed it.

He stood on the platform, waving us farewell. He looked so desolate that not until we began to glide out of the station was I able to cast off my fears that she might change her mind.

She was sad at the parting and I was aware once more of the great attraction between them.

I took her hand and clung to it. She kissed mine and said: “The time will soon pass.”

“I daresay that Benedict will be down before long,” comforted my grandmother.

I grew happier as we sped along and crossed the Tamar. One of the grooms was waiting for us and soon we were rattling along through those winding lanes and there was Cador—a sight which always filled me with emotion but never more than at this time when a kindly fate had given me back my mother … if only temporarily.

I vowed that I would make the most of the weeks during which I should have her to myself. I thought of the baby as Our Baby. We should look after it together.

One has to have been unhappy to appreciate real happiness; and on that journey I believed I had never in the whole of my life been happier than I was then.

What a joy it was to settle. It was like coming home. My mother’s spirits revived. Naturally she loved Cador, for it had been her home when she was a child and she and my grandparents were devoted to each other. If anything could make her stop grieving for the loss of Benedict’s company it was this.

It was the beginning of April when we arrived and the countryside was especially beautiful. Spring came a little earlier in Cornwall than it did in London. One could feel it in the air. I could smell the sea and listened contentedly to the gentle rising and falling of the waves. How pleasant it was! My grandparents shared my contentment. They had their beloved daughter back home with them.

The first thing my grandmother did was summon Mrs. Polhenny. She came at once. I thought she looked a little older than when I had last seen her, but if anything even more self-righteous.

She was delighted at the prospect of a new baby.

“ ’Twill be a marvelous thing to have a little one up at Cador, Mrs. Hanson,” she said. “Why, it seems only yesterday that Miss Angelet arrived.”