The changeling

“Yes, but he was never a happy man since and a man needs to have a happy home life. There’s Mr. Lansdon ...” She shook her head sadly. I thought: They know everything about us. They know that Benedict does not love Celeste and that he still mourns for my mother, and that I have come back from Cornwall sad and troubled because my engagement to Pedrek is broken. All these things they know of us and they discuss them at meal times when they are all round the table together. No, Mrs. Emery would not allow that. It would be between herself and Mr. Emery when they were alone in their room. But the servants would be all eagerness to learn; they would listen at every opportunity; they would watch; they would garner their information and compare with each other; then they would doubtless draw their garbled conclusions.

“It’s no good looking back,” said Mrs. Emery. “Your dear mother is dead and gone and more’s the pity. If she were here ... how different everything would be. The present Mrs. Lansdon ... she tries. She could be good for him ... if he’d let her be. But he keeps looking back.”

“Perhaps in time.”

“Time. That’s what saves us all. No use nursing your troubles, Miss Rebecca. That’s what I always say ... and it will be wonderful for Mr. Lansdon if he gets a post in the Cabinet. Emery and me ... well ... we’ll be that pleased.”

“Yes,” I said. “I wish ...”

She looked at me expectantly but I did not finish.

She was silent. She was a very understanding woman and I think she had the good of the family at heart. She really would like to see Benedict in the Cabinet and happy in his domestic as well as public life; she would like to see me recovered from my wounds and happily engaged to a suitable someone.

She and Emery wanted to have a happy as well as a successful household over which to rule in the lower regions.

Benedict was in London and Celeste with him. Oliver Gerson came down once or twice but his stays were brief. He told me that Mr. Lansdon was so busy in the House that business matters ‘Were left to him. I was pleased to hear Belinda’s laughter. She really seemed to have forgotten. Leah said she never referred to it now and that she slept peacefully and was her old self.

When I went to the children’s room to say goodnight she suddenly put her arms round my neck and hugged me tightly.

“I love you, dear darling sister Rebecca.”

Such expressions of affection from Belinda were rare and made me very happy. I went over to Lucie’s bed. She hugged me too. But then she often did. “I love you too, Rebecca,” she said.

I was very comforted.

It was a few days later in the early afternoon, a time when the household was usually quiet. Mrs. Emery returned to her room to-as she said-put her feet up for five minutes. I don’t know what Mr. Emery did-probably took a nap in the Emery bedroom. The house had a somnolent air.

I was going upstairs and as I passed the locked room, I thought I heard a sound.

I went quietly to the door and stood there for a few moments ... listening. I felt a tingling sensation in my back. Benedict was in London. Mrs. Emery was in her room, and I knew that someone was behind that locked door. It was so much my mother’s room ... her brushes, her mirror ... her clothes ... just as she had left it. I must be mistaken. I stood very still... listening.

And then came the faint rustling sound.

I was trembling. Did the dead really return? Once I had had the feeling that my mother came back to me. That was when I had fancied that she had wanted me to take in Lucie. Fancy? Imagination? I had always had a vivid one. I had been intrigued by the story of Lady Flamstead who had returned to comfort the child whom she had never seen. Perhaps if people left especially loved ones behind they had to come back. My mother had left Benedict and she had left me. I knew how deeply she had loved him and I had been the center of her life until she married him.

These thoughts flashed into my mind as I stood there, tingling with excitement and apprehension.

I took the handle of the door and turned it very quietly. The door was locked. Yet ... someone was in there.

I stood for a few more seconds and then I went very quietly along to Mrs. Emery’s room.

I knocked. There was no answer for a few moments and then she said sleepily: “Who’s there?” I went in. She was dozing by the fire and was startled to see me.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Emery, but I think there is someone in the locked room.”

She continued to look bemused and was clearly not yet awakened from her doze.

“Locked room ...” she repeated.

“Yes. I distinctly heard someone there.”

She was recovering herself. “Oh no, Miss Rebecca. You must have fancied it. Unless Mr. Lansdon’s come home unexpectedly and none of us heard he had.”

“I can hardly believe that. Have you got your key?”

She jumped up, looking alarmed, and went to a drawer, opened it and held up the key in triumph.

“Then it must be Mr. Lansdon. But I tried the door and it was locked.”