The changeling

There was something very wrong in this house. There was a brooding feeling of tragedy. Perhaps I was fanciful. It might be because I knew something of the deep passion which had existed between him and my mother-a feeling of such intensity that it could not die because one of them had. What happened in that silent room behind the locked door? Her brushes were on the table ... her clothes hanging in the wardrobe. Could she come back to him there? I had thought she came to me once. Perhaps when a person is deeply loved that person becomes part of the one left behind; there is a bond which even death cannot break.

But poor Celeste was living flesh and blood. Warm and passionately, earnestly desiring ... the unwanted one, brought in because the people who had put him into Parliament expected him to have a wife. That was what was wrong in the house and it was more obvious here than it had been in London because behind that locked door my mother seemed to linger.

I was in my room one day, thinking of going for a ride. I was about to change into my riding habit and sat for a moment at the window looking down at the seat under the oak tree, that haunted part of the garden where Lady Flamstead was said to have returned to be with the daughter she had never seen.

There was a gentle tap on the door. I turned sharply. Such was my mood that I almost expected to see my mother standing there.

The door opened slowly and Celeste came in.

“I thought you were here, Rebecca,” she said. “Were you just going out?”

“Yes, but it is not important. I was only going for a ride.”

“It’s Mrs. Carston-Browne. She always terrifies me. She is downstairs now. She speak so that I cannot follow all.”

“Oh, she is an indefatigable worker for good causes. What does she want?”

“She talks about a fete ... a pageant ... I think she say. I tell her I believe you were in and that you are interested in that kind of thing.”

“Celeste!”

“Forgive ... I am desperate.”

“I’ll come down,” I said.

Mrs. Carston-Browne was in the drawing room. Large, benign and bland, she regarded me with relief. This was the second time within a week when I realized that the Member’s stepdaughter was preferable to his wife.

“Oh ... Miss Mandeville ... good morning. How nice that you are at home.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Carston-Browne. It is good of you to call. I am afraid Mr. Lansdon is out.”

“I did not want to see him exactly. I daresay he is too busy and that is no man’s business. It is for us women ... the pageant, you know.”

“Well, you see, I have only just arrived here.”

“I know. It is necessary for us to be represented at Westminster certainly and we cannot expect the Member to be here all the time. But this is something we have been planning for some time. It is done every year and I wanted to enlist your help. We are doing scenes from Her Majesty’s youth and we thought that as it is forty years since she came to the throne we might have a coronation. Tableau vivant, you know. Some people manage so much better if they don’t have to speak. We’re collecting clothes ... anything that could be made over to fit the period.”

“I see,” I said. “I don’t know if we have any clothes. I’ll look.”

“We thought the little girls might appear. Children are so appealing. The Member’s daughter should certainly be there ... and the little adopted one as well.”

“You mean taking part in the tableau?”

“Exactly. We are doing as one scene the Queen’s being awakened to be told she is Queen ... and then her coronation and her wedding. A great deal of organizing has to be done and it does help raise funds. It is for the church, of course. I thought the little girls might be in the wedding scene. They could be attending on the Queen.”

“I am sure they would enjoy that.”

“We usually do very well and the proceeds are for the church. Reverend Whyte is very concerned at the moment about the roof. He said if we can get it done now it will save pounds later.”

“Was the bazaar a success?”

“An immense success.”

“I am sure Mrs. Lansdon is very sorry she was not here to help you.”

Mrs. Carston-Browne gave Celeste a cool nod in acknowledgment of her regret. “It was necessaire to be in London,” said Celeste. “Did you know that Rebecca was having a season?”

“Yes, we do read the papers.”

“Oh, was it mentioned there?” I asked.

“The local paper. As the Member’s stepdaughter ...”

“Oh, of course.”

“I am sure, Miss Mandeville, that you will be able to dress the children.”

“Mrs. Lansdon will, / am sure. And perhaps help you with the costumes. She is very clever at that sort of thing.”

”Oh?” said Mrs. Carston-Browne, almost disbelievingly.

“Yes, she has a special eye for what is right for all occasions.”

“I am sure that will be most useful. Could I expect you at The Firs tomorrow morning at ten thirty for discussions?”

I looked at Celeste who seemed bewildered. “I am sure that will be all right,” I said.