Changeling

“And the priceless tapestries, are they still there?”

“They were taken to Chislehurst. What do you know of them?”

“I heard of them because Leah Polhenny went to High Tor to repair them, and made a very good job of the intricate work, I believe. She is now in our nursery.”

He was silent for a few seconds, wrinkling his brows as though trying to remember.

“Oh yes, she did come to repair the tapestries … I remember now how pleased my mother was with her work. So you know her well.”

“Nobody knows Leah very well. Even now I am not sure that I do. Everyone knew her mother because she was the midwife and had assisted at the birth of quite a number of the inhabitants of the Poldoreys.”

“Well … so now the young lady is here and the tapestries are safe in my parents’ house in Chislehurst and I am sure I cannot fully express what great pleasure it is for me to meet you. I hope you too are pleased to renew our acquaintance.”

“So far,” I said, “it has been a pleasure.”

“Why do you say … so far? Do you expect it will not continue to be a pleasure?”

“I meant nothing of the sort. I am sure it will continue to be as it is now.”

“We are relations how, eh … in a way. My sister married to your stepfather.”

“Well, a connection, shall we say.”

“We shall meet often. That I look forward to with great pleasure.”

I was sorry when the dance came to an end. It had been so comfortably easy to dance with him. And when he returned me to my seat I was delighted to see Pedrek there.

Jean Pascal stayed and chatted with us and Pedrek remarked that he was late in arriving because his train had been delayed.

“Better late than never,” commented Morwenna, “and I believe Rebecca has left the supper dance free. I advised her to because I knew you would want it.”

“How is it going?” Pedrek asked me.

“As well as can be expected.”

“That sounds like a sick patient.”

“Well, I always felt it would be touch and go … According to these gruesome accounts I had from your mother and Aunt Helena, these occasions can be fraught with anxieties. Will this man or that man ask me to dance? Will anybody ask me? I am going to be a failure. The wallflower of the season.”

“That could never happen to you.”

“Perhaps not in my stepfather’s house where it would be a breach of good manners for no one to ask me. So far I have got through with slightly mutilated toes but my pride intact.”

One could be easy and frank with Pedrek. But then we had been friends from babyhood; and the most enjoyable dance of all was the supper dance which I shared with him.

Not that he could dance well. He was no Jean Pascal, but he was Pedrek, my dear friend with whom I felt fully at ease.

“It is long since I have seen you,” he said. “It’s not always going to be like that.”

“What are your plans, Pedrek?”

“I’m starting next month at a Mining Engineering College near St. Austell. Pencarron Mine will belong to me one day. My grandfather thinks I should take the course. The college is one of the finest in the South West.”

“Well, that’s good. I am sure your grandparents are delighted. You won’t be far away from them.”

“And I shall be there for two years. It will be extensive study, but when I emerge I should be ready to take over the mine and, as my grandfather says, with a full knowledge of modern improvements. I’ll tell you more about it over supper. And, Rebecca, let’s find a table for two. I don’t want anyone joining us.”

“It sounds intriguing.”

“I hope you’ll find it so. I’m sorry … I think I went the wrong way then.”

“You did. Madame Perrotte would despair of you.”

“I noticed the graceful movements of the Frenchman.”

“He’s the perfect dancer.”

“Few possess his talents.”

“You sound envious. Surely you know there is more to life than being able to dance well?”

“I breathe again.”

“Oh, Pedrek, what’s come over you? You’re unlike yourself tonight.”

“A change for the better or worse?”

I hesitated, then I said: “I’ll tell you over supper. Look. They are going in now. Do you think we ought to look after your mother and Aunt Helena?”

“They can look after themselves. Besides, I suppose they will be with other chaperones.”

“I see they have joined my stepfather and his wife.”

“Come on. We’ll find a table for two.”

We found it—slightly shaded by a pot of ferns.

“This looks inviting,” said Pedrek. “You sit down and I will go and get the food.”

He returned with the salmon I had seen being delivered that morning. On each of the tables was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. We sat down opposite each other.

“I must say your stepfather knows how to manage these affairs in style.”

“It is all part of the business of being an ambitious member of Parliament.”

“I thought that was done by distinguishing oneself in Parliament.”

“And keeping up appearances outside … knowing the right people … pulling the right strings and keeping in the public eye.”

“That can sometimes be disastrous.”

“I mean keeping in a favorable light.”

“That’s different. But enough of politics. I don’t ever intend to take part in them. Does that please you?”