Changeling

When they had reached the age of five a governess had been engaged for them. Miss Stringer was energetic and efficient, brisk but kindly and she had a gift for enforcing discipline in a rather genial way which was very necessary in the case of Belinda.

Leah, of course, remained in charge of the nursery. My grandmother said she made herself more indispensable every day.

Benedict paid periodic visits which I always thought to him were a matter of duty. I wished he would stay away, for I could never see him without remembering how happy I had been before the fatal marriage which had resulted in my mother’s death. I believed I never would forget that or forgive him for spoiling my life.

On those occasions Belinda would be presented to him and I could see by his expression that he was remembering that her arrival had caused the departure of my mother. He bore the same resentment towards her which I did towards him; so I understood his feelings well.

Belinda was aware of it, I felt sure. She was a very sharp child. I had seen her regarding him with a hint of hostility in her eyes. Once as he turned away after a rather perfunctory talk about her riding and how she was getting on with her lessons, I saw the tip of a pink tongue protruding very slightly from her lips, and I could not help smiling. So she had retained the habit then. She was really a rather naughty little girl.

Well, there I was, my schooldays coming to an end. I might have guessed there would be speculation among the adult members of the family as to what was to happen to me.

Benedict wrote to my grandparents now and then and I knew something serious was about to happen when they said they wanted to talk to me.

I went to the small sitting room just off the hall where they were waiting for me. They both looked apprehensive.

“Rebecca,” began my grandfather, “you are growing up fast.”

I raised my eyebrows. Surely they had not asked me to come here to tell me such an obvious fact.

“Schooldays are over,” went on my grandmother, “and, of course, there is your future.”

I smiled at them. “Well, I shall be at home, I suppose. There is plenty for me to do here.”

“We have to think of what is best for you, of course,” said my grandfather and my grandmother went on: “Perhaps it is not the place for a young girl. At least your stepfather thinks something should be done.”

“My stepfather! What is it to do with him?”

“Well, he is your natural guardian, you know.”

“He’s not. You are. I’ve always been with you.” I was beginning to be alarmed.

My grandmother saw this and tried to soothe me. “We have to look at this clearly, Rebecca,” she said. “Your stepfather is going to be married.”

“Married!”

“It is six years since your mother died. A man in his position needs a wife.”

“And that is why he is getting married?”

My grandmother shrugged her shoulders. “I daresay he is very fond of the lady. It is very natural, Rebecca. I think it is what your mother would have wanted for him. She loved him very dearly, you know, as he did her.”

“So he is going to marry again!”

“He is probably lonely. He needs a wife … a family. He is a rising politician. A wife is an asset to a man in his position. I know he has been unhappy for a long time. I hope it is a success and he finds some happiness again.”

“But what of me?”

“He wants you to go and live in his house … you and Belinda.”

“And what of Lucie?”

“She would stay here perhaps. Don’t worry about her. We’d always care for her.”

“But I have promised …” I hesitated and went on: “I have sworn to look after her … always.”

“We know how you feel. But I think we should wait and see what happens. He is coming down soon.”

“I shall never leave Lucie.”

“It will be best to wait and see.”

“Who is he going to marry?”

“He did not say. It must be someone he met in London or Manorleigh. He would meet all sorts of suitable people in the course of his career, I daresay.”

“We can be sure she will be suitable.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, Rebecca. I hope he will find some happiness.”

There was a certain amount of apprehension because Benedict was coming.

My grandfather said: “I imagine he is a little disappointed that Disraeli stayed in power so long. It must be five years. But Gladstone’s popularity is rising. There’ll probably be a new government in a year or two … and it won’t be Disraeli’s.”

“That’s the worst of politics,” replied my grandmother. “There’s so much luck in it. So much depends on who’s in and who’s out. There are all those years of waiting while a man gets older. It can mean that the most promising career never gets a chance to blossom. But I daresay if the Liberals get in Benedict will get a post if it is only an under secretaryship to start with. There is a forcefulness about him and it should be obvious that he is an outstanding man. Surely the sort who would add to his party’s stature.”

“H’m,” said my grandfather.

“I know what you are thinking … that matter of his first wife’s death.”