The changeling

“Oh yes ... surely ... but I can’t stay forever. And now the lady’s back where she belongs ... well, it seems to me that I ought to begin to make tracks for home ... and I don’t like it ... much.”

“We shall be very sorry to see you go. I can’t imagine what Belinda is going to say.” He smiled. “Ha. I’ll be sad to go. Reckon I’ve stayed too long already. But I just had to wait and see what happened. Now it’s all in the clear ... well, I should be off.”

”You sound very reluctant to go.”

“It’s been good here. Don’t know when I enjoyed myself so much.”

“It’s always sad when visits like this come to an end, and we have to say goodbye.

But I daresay you’ll be coming over again.”

“I reckon,” he said.

So that was it. He was going and although he wanted to get home he did not want to leave England. It was gratifying and we should all be sorry, for we had grown fond of him.

I did wonder about Belinda. Oliver Gerson first, then Tom Marner. She was going to be very upset.

Celeste and Benedict returned. All the servants were in the hall when they came in.

It was quite an emotional scene.

Celeste looked radiant. I had never seen her look so beautiful. I knew the reason, of course. It was Benedict. I hoped he was not merely playing a part, expiating his sins: I hoped he really was beginning to care for her deeply. There was great rejoicing. I had arranged for Emery to bring champagne from the cellar and everyone in the house drank to the joyous return of Mrs. Lansdon. Celeste replied charmingly, thanking them all for their kind welcome. “I think I am almost well now,” she told them.

They clapped with pleasure.

There would be a dinner party to which the agent and many of the important people in the neighborhood who worked for the party, would be invited. Normally Celeste would have been apprehensive at the prospect, but she was changing. She had more confidence now. Benedict said he loved her and she was proud to work with him in his career.

I would never have believed they could have changed so quickly. It was like a miracle.

And the evening was a success.

It was not only Celeste who was so happy; Benedict was too. At least I believed so, though I did now and then wonder if he were playing a part.

Sometimes his eyes would meet mine and some understanding flashed between us. He really was finding consolation; he was shutting out the past. I knew my mother would be there always in his heart; she was the one he would always yearn for, but Celeste was there, warm, loving and living ... and she would comfort him; she was helping him and he would love her more as time passed.

It was now known throughout the household that Tom Marner would soon be leaving us. Everyone was sorry. He was such a jolly person, treating all as though they were important to him. “Such a pleasant gentleman,” commented Mrs. Emery, “even if he is not quite out of the top drawer.”

I laughed and said I never thought of people being in drawers.

“... as the saying goes,” added Mrs. Emery, somewhat reprovingly. Miss Stringer said: “The children are very upset ... both of them ... but particularly Belinda. She keeps asking about ships and how far Australia is. I heard her telling Lucie that they have stowaways on ships and I have the idea that she fancies herself as one of them. That child’s imagination is phenomenal.” Belinda was certainly intense in her feelings. Hadn’t she tried to ruin my life and Pedrek’s because of her infatuation for Oliver Gerson?

I tried to find out how deeply her emotions were engaged with Tom Marner. She was always asking questions about the goldfields.

“Fancy you being born there, Rebecca,” she said. “Lucky you!”

“I don’t think it was considered to be very lucky. It was not the best of places to be born, I assure you.”

“I wish I’d been born in a goldfield. Is it a long way to Australia?”

“It’s right on the other side of the world,” volunteered Lucie.

“You go in a big ship. There are lots of people on it and they have stowaways.”

“What do you know about stowaways?”

“That they stow away. They get on the ship when it’s in port and they hide themselves and when the ship gets out to sea they come out and they can’t be put off.”

“They could and they are ... at the next port.”

“Well, the clever ones wouldn’t come out until they got to Australia.”

“They would never be able to hide for so long.”

“Clever ones could.” Her eyes were speculative.

“You’re not thinking of trying it, are you?” I asked.

“It would be a great adventure,” she said, her eyes shining. “You wouldn’t like it. If they found you they would make you work until they could put you off.”

“I wouldn’t mind working, would you, Lucie?”

“No, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Peeling vegetables, washing up in the galley, swabbing the decks?” I asked.

“I’d swab the decks,” said Belinda. “Lucie could wash up and do the vegetables.”

“You’re talking a lot of nonsense,” I said.

But I was worried about Belinda. She had a way of bringing her fantasies into reality.