The Changeling by Philippa Carr Read Free Book Online Page B

Miss Brown could come and … well, you might as well be at Cador as here.”
    “Oh … I’d like that.”
    “Then it’s settled. Aunt Amaryllis won’t mind. She’d understand that you might feel a little lonely here, whereas a complete change of scene … we all know you love Cador … to say nothing of how we should love to have you.”
    “Oh, Granny,” I cried, and flung myself into her arms.
    I did weep a little but she pretended not to notice.
    “It’s the best time of the year for Cornwall,” she said.
    So they were married. My mother looked beautiful in a dress of pale lavender and a hat of the same color with an ostrich feather to shade her face. Benedict looked very distinguished; everyone said what a handsome pair they made.
    There were many important people there and they all came back to the house where Uncle Peter and Aunt Amaryllis played their accustomed role of host and hostess.
    Uncle Peter was obviously pleased by the way in which everything had gone. As for myself, my depression had deepened. All my hopes for the miracle which was going to stop the marriage had come to nothing. Heaven had turned from me and my prayers had fallen on deaf ears. My mother, Mrs. Angelet Mandeville, was now Mrs. Benedict Lansdon.
    And he was my stepfather.
    Everyone was assembled in the drawing room; the cake had been cut, the champagne drunk, the speeches made. It was time for the departure on the honeymoon.
    My mother had gone to her room to change. As she passed me she said: “Rebecca, come with me. I want to talk.”
    Willingly I followed her.
    When we were in her bedroom she turned to me, concern showing on her face.
    “Oh Becca,” she said, “I wish I hadn’t got to leave you.”
    I felt a rush of happiness and, fearing to show my true feelings, I said: “I could hardly expect to go with you on your honeymoon.”
    “I’ll miss you.”
    I nodded.
    “I hope you’ll be all right. I am so glad you are going to Cornwall. It’s where you’d rather be, I know. You do love them so much, don’t you … and Cador …?”
    I nodded again.
    She held me tightly in her arms.
    “When I come back … it’s going to be wonderful. You’ll share things with us …”
    I just smiled and pretended that I was content. I had to. I could not spoil the happiness which I knew was hers.
    I stood with the others waving goodbye.
    My grandmother was beside me. She took my hand and pressed it.
    The next day I was with them on our way to Cornwall.

The Waiting Months
    M Y GRANDMOTHER WAS RIGHT . Spring is undoubtedly the best time in Cornwall. I felt better when I smelt the sea. I stood at the carriage window as we chuffed through red-soiled Devon where the train ran close to the sea for a few miles … then leaving lush Devon behind and crossing the Tamar into Cornwall which had its own special fey quality to be found nowhere else.
    And in time we had arrived. The station master greeted us and one of the grooms was waiting with the carriage to take us to Cador. I felt more emotional than usual when I saw the grey stone walls and those towers facing the sea; and I knew I had been right to come.
    My familiar room was ready for me and soon I was at the window watching the gulls swooping and screeching and the white frothy waves slightly ruffled by the breeze blowing in from the southwest.
    My grandmother looked in and said: “I’m glad you came. Your grandfather was afraid you might not.”
    I turned and smiled at her. “Of course I came,” I said, and we laughed together.
    Miss Brown was pleased to be in Cornwall although I think she was looking forward to being in her new grand quarters at Manorleigh and in London.
    “The change will be good,” she said. “A bridge between the old and new way of life.”
    I slept more deeply that night than I had for some time and was undisturbed by the vague dreams which had haunted my sleep lately. Benedict Lansdon was usually somewhere in those dreams … a rather sinister figure. I