The changeling

“Mrs. Emery, she must be somewhere near. She wouldn’t have run away from him without anything ... only the clothes she was standing up in.”

“I can’t think what it means.”

“Nor can I.”

Mrs. Emery went on: “It looks to me as if she didn’t leave the house of her own free will.”

“How could it be otherwise?”

“If she’d gone at night and taken a case full of some of her things with her ... it would make sense. But she’s gone with nothing and we’ve searched the gardens and round about and still ... no sign of her.”

“I don’t know what explanation there can be,” I said.

“It frightens me,” added Mrs. Emery.

It frightened me, too.

Benedict returned, and we began to realize how serious the matter was. He questioned every one of us and there was no doubt that Celeste had left the house on the previous night taking nothing with her. The search had been extended and she could not be found.

We knew that it could not be long before the news was out. It came sooner than we expected.

“Wife of prominent M.P. disappears. Tragedy-haunted Benedict Lansdon is the centre of a new mystery. His wife, Mrs Celeste Lansdon, is missing from her home in her husband’s constituency of Manorleigh. As she appears to have taken nothing but the clothes she was wearing there is alarming speculation as to what has happened to her. It will be remembered that Benedict Lansdon’s first wife died during his original and unsuccessful campaign in Manorleigh and there were suggestions of foul play. It was, however, afterwards proved that she was suffering from an incurable illness and took her own life. Unlucky Mr. Lansdon is now at his home in Manorleigh where extensive enquiries are being made, and there is no doubt that the mystery will soon be solved.”

There was a hush over the house. The servants were talking in whispers. I could imagine the theories which were being circulated. I saw the expressions of excitement ... suppressed into concern, of course, but they were there. They were hoping for startling developments. I wondered how many of them knew of the strained relations between the master and mistress of the house.

I also wondered what would be revealed when the press intruded on us and its members talked to the servants ... always the most informed of detectives, keeping a close watch on our lives. What would the police get from them? I could imagine the questions ... and the answers. Tom Marner was a boon to us during that time. He took the children off our hands. They went riding with him and he was often in the nursery. I would hear their laughter which sounded odd in a house of fear.

We felt so helpless. What could we do? What had happened to Celeste? If only she would walk into the house and tell us she was well. If only we knew. It was so frustrating. She had just disappeared without a trace.

The first few days had passed and speculation was rife. The police had called. They spent a long time with Benedict. They asked some of us questions, including myself. Had I seen her the night she disappeared? Had I noticed anything unusual?

No, I told them. There had been nothing unusual.

“Had Mrs. Lansdon seemed distressed ... afraid? Had she mentioned that someone had been threatening her?”

“Certainly not.”

The questions frightened me. They held a suggestion of foul play.

Did I know any reason why she should suddenly walk out of the house? I did not. She was not a great walker. We had both said goodnight and gone to our respective rooms.

“What was the time then?”

“About nine o’clock.”

“Did anyone see her after nine?”

I thought no one had.

Yvette was closely interrogated. Everything had seemed as normal, she said.

“Was there any reason why Mrs. Lansdon should leave home?”

There was none that she knew of.

I guessed that they had not ruled out the possibility of murder. Jean Pascal arrived at Manorleigh. It would have been impossibly embarrassing meeting him had it not been for the terrible tragedy which dwarfed everything else into insignificance. He looked distracted and grief-stricken. He talked to Benedict in his study and when he emerged he was pale and clearly disturbed. He told us that his parents were very worried. They were neither of them well enough to travel and he would have to go straight back to them but would keep in close touch.

He did have a word with me before he left.

“Don’t think too badly of me,” he said. “I’ve repented. I am truly sorry, Rebecca. I misjudged you. I have meant to come here on one or two occasions, but could not imagine how you would receive me.”

“I am afraid it would not have been very graciously.”

“So I guessed. This is a terrible business. We did not see very much of each other recently but she was ... is ... my sister.”

“If anything comes to light we shall let you know immediately.”

He frowned. “Was everything all right between ... them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she seems to have disappeared.”

I said, “Mr. Lansdon was not here when it happened. He was in London. We had to send for him.”

“I see.”