The changeling

“It’s the way of children ... but as I’m telling you, I’d like to see them rooms cleared out. Her clothes could be sent away. But he won’t have it. Maybe he gets some comfort from going in there. Who’s to say? It’s as though he can’t face his loss and he’s trying to pretend she’s not gone after all.”

“Oh, Mrs. Emery, it’s so sad.”

“It’s life, Miss Rebecca. It’s what the good Lord has ordained for us ... and we needs must accept it.”

I nodded.

“But it’s not right ... particularly now he’s wed again.”

“If he cared so much for her ... why ... ?”

“Well, a man needs a woman, I reckon. His sort as much as any. And if you can’t have the one you want you’ll sometimes take second best. I’m sorry for the new Mrs. Lansdon. She’s a strange lady. I never did take to foreigners. All that funny talk and throwing their hands about. It’s not natural. But she thinks a lot of him. There’s no doubt of that. Well, he married her, didn’t he? What does he want to marry her for if he’s going to spend all his time in that room moping over what’s past and done with?”

“Does she ... know?”

“Poor young lady, I reckon she does. When he’s here, as he is some of every week, she’ll come with him. Well, he’s in that room. She must know. I think she gets rather cut up about it.”

“But he must care for her ...”

“He’s not an easy man to know. There was no question of how he felt about your mother ... and she about him. But the present Mrs. Lansdon ... well, she’s young - a lot younger than he is - and she’s good looking if you like that foreign sort of way which I don’t much. And the time she spends on her clothes and her hair and all that ... and it wouldn’t surprise me if some of that nice complexion of hers didn’t come out of a box. Then she’s got this French maid. Yvette or some such outlandish name ... well, some of the servants say she must have thrown herself at him ... helping him with the constituency ... and of course, as Jim Fedder down in the stables says ... forgive the expression, Miss Rebecca, but you know what he means ... he said she was a tasty piece ... the sort a man would find it hard to say no to if you know what I mean.”

“I do, Mrs. Emery.”

“Well, I must say you found out about that room pretty quick and I had to take you in there ... you being mistress of the house so to speak in the absence of him or her. But I think it’s what I call unhealthy. I’ve said it to Mr. Emery and I’d say it to Mr. Lansdon himself if I had half a chance. In a house like this you don’t want people to get imagining things ... servants being what they are. There’s some of them already saying she can’t rest because of him being so cut up. They’ll soon be seeing her under that oak tree ... and they’ll say it’s like Lady Flamstead all over again.”

“Yes, I do see what you mean, Mrs. Emery,” I said. “It is unhealthy.”

She sat there nodding her head sagely. Then she said: “Another cup, Miss Rebecca?”

“No thanks. I’d better go. I have things to do. It’s been pleasant having a chat.”

I left her then. I wanted to be alone to think.

I was sure that by the time I had to leave Manorleigh the children would have settled in. They had the familiar figures of Leah and Miss Stringer; and Mrs. Emery had already become a favorite with them as had Ann and Jane.

But while I was there I spent as much of my time as I could with them. I was in the nursery one day when Jane brought in the milk and biscuits which they had midmorning. She was very fond of them and they of her, and she waited while they drank their milk, which was natural as she did not want to make another journey to the top of the house to collect mugs and plates.

Leah was there and we all talked together for a while ... of the weather, I believe.

I said they all seemed very comfortable and I asked if Jane regretted leaving London. “Well, it was ever so nice working for Mrs. Mandeville,” she said. “But it was rather a little house ... and not convenient like ... but she was such a lovely lady. It’s different here but there is something about working in a big house.”

“Owned by a Member of Parliament?” I asked.

“Well, a gentleman like Mr. Lansdon ... that’d be working for somebody, I reckon.”

“It’s quiet here, Jane.”

“Only when the master’s not in residence. When he is ... well, there’s entertaining all the time. It’s very exciting ... all those people coming and going, some of them you’ve seen in the papers. It’s not often we’re as quiet as we’ve been since you’ve been here, Miss. There hasn’t been any guests ...”

“Do you get many people actually staying at the house?”

“Oh yes ... friends of the master, they come. And then there’s her people.”

“You mean Monsieur and Madame Bourdon?”

“Mind you, they haven’t come. It’s different with that Monsieur Jean Pascal.”

“Oh ... Mrs. Lansdon’s brother. He’s been?”

“That’s him. He comes down now and then.” She flushed a little and giggled. I remembered when I had met him long ago and, young as I was, how I had noticed that his eyes rested on the young girls.