The Changeling

Nightmare

IT WAS LATE MAY before we went to Cornwall. I had been receiving Pedrek’s letters regularly, but they were not enough, so it was with great delight that I set out. Belinda and Lucie were delighted at the prospect—Miss Stringer slightly less so. As for Leah, it was difficult to know what she felt. I was sure she would be glad to see her native town, but she would have to pay frequent visits to her mother and I supposed that was a less attractive proposition.

Life had run smoothly since Christmas. Belinda seemed more contented than ever before. Mrs. Emery said: “It’s good to see her more settled like. She’s lost that moody broody way she used to have … picking quarrels … and wanting to be better than anyone else.” It was true.

Oliver Gerson was a frequent visitor. He came when Benedict was there and they spent a good deal of time together but he usually managed to ride with us. He was as friendly as ever and although I would sometimes find him regarding me ruefully, he did not refer to his proposal. He seemed to be biding his time.

He always showed his affection for Belinda and she blossomed when he was around. Moreover the pleasure inspired by his visits seemed to linger after he had gone and I was sure she lived in a state of pleasant anticipation wondering when he would come again.

I had thought, when I first told her we were going to Cornwall, she would raise objections for it was hardly likely that Oliver would visit us there and for a time it really seemed as though that was on her mind. But after a while she was as excited as Lucie about going back there.

I was glad of that, for although recently she had changed so much for the better, I remembered how sullen she could be and I did not want the pleasure in the visit to be spoilt in any way.

It was wonderful to arrive at the station and find my grandparents with Pedrek waiting to greet us.

I was caught up in loving embraces and everyone seemed to be talking at once.

“Wonderful to have you here at last.” “How well you look!” “We’ve been counting the days … and Lucie … and Belinda … how they’ve grown!” “Everyone in the Poldoreys knows you are coming.”

And there we were, getting into the carriage, Pedrek beside me, clinging to my hand as though he feared I was going to run away, Belinda and Lucie talking excitedly … memories coming back to them. Was Petal still in the stables? Was Snowdrop?

Yes, they were, and waiting to be ridden.

“Oh, there’s the sea,” cried Lucie. “It looks just the same.”

“Did you expect it to turn black or red or violet?” demanded Belinda.

“No, but it’s lovely to see it.”

“Oh, look, there’s Cador.”

And there it was indeed, looking as majestic as ever, having that thrilling effect on me, as it always did after absence, making me feel warm and happy.

My grandparents were smiling contentedly.

“The Pencarrons wanted to come over but thought it might be too many for the first day. They’ll come tomorrow.”

“That’s lovely,” I said. “Oh, it is wonderful to be back.”

“You’ve had an exciting time in London and Manorleigh, I daresay,” said my grandmother.

“It’s still exciting to be here.”

“We had a treasure hunt at Christmas,” Belinda announced.

“That must have been fun. We could do something like that at Cador.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be the same. Mr. Gerson did this one. He wrote poetry and you had to find it. I won, didn’t I, Lucie?”

“You just beat me by four seconds,” said Lucie.

“It must have been very exciting,” said my grandmother.

“It was the best treasure hunt in the world,” said Belinda nostalgically.

And then we were at Cador. It was like coming home. I was happy. I should see Pedrek often.

He had told me he returned to his family at week-ends but had contrived to have a few days off because of my arrival.

I think I was happier than I had ever been since the death of my mother.

I went to my room and sat at the window looking out at the sea. Lucie and Belinda had already gone to the stables to assure themselves that Petal and Snowdrop were really there.

My grandmother came to my room.

“Do you want any help with unpacking?” she asked.

“None at all,” I assured her.

She came over to the window and I stood up and we were in each other’s arms.

“It seems such ages, Rebecca,” she said.

“Yes. I was longing to come.”

“And now … you and Pedrek. It will be wonderful.”

“Yes … I know.”

“The Pencarrons are so pleased. You know how they are.”

“Yes, they are a pair of old darlings.”

“We’ve always been such friends … more like a family.”

“We always thought of ourselves like that.”

“Now it will be a reality. Pedrek was saying that if he worked hard and passes the exams, by the end of the course he’ll be fully fledged. Old Jos Pencarron said he never had any degrees or diplomas and he’s managed the mine all these years. But it seems nowadays that bits of paper count. When you marry you’ll be near us … that’s what gives your grandfather and me such pleasure.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” said my grandmother.

The door opened and a girl entered the room. She could not have been more than sixteen years old. She had very dark hair—almost black, lovely dark eyes and an olive skin. I should have thought her foreign looking if we had not quite a number of her type in Cornwall. There was a Spanish touch about her. It was said that people of her coloring and type of feature were the result of title visit of Spaniards to the Cornish shores when the Armada had been scattered along the coast and many a shipwrecked sailor had managed to reach land, had settled there, and married the local girls so introducing Spanish blood into Celtic Cornwall. This girl was voluptuous and very attractive.

She stood there expectantly, her lively eyes surveying my baggage.

“This is Madge,” said my grandmother. “She’s been with us a month now and works in the kitchen.”

“I was sent, Ma’am, to see if I could help Miss Rebecca with her unpacking.”

“Thank you,” I said with a little laugh, “but I can manage myself. I don’t really need any help.”

Still she hesitated, seeming reluctant to go.

“That’s all right then, Madge,” said my grandmother. “Just go and tell them Miss Rebecca can manage by herself.”

She bobbed a little curtsy and, looking disappointed, went out.

“What a striking looking girl,” I said to my grandmother.

“Yes, she’s very willing, I believe. I think she is very grateful to be here.”

“You say she has only been here a month or so.”

“Yes. She comes from Land’s End way. Mrs. Fellows heard of her and said she could do with a girl in the kitchen. She’s a bit shorthanded since Ada left to get married. So she came here.”

“Where had she been before? She seems quite young.”

“She’s from a family of eight … the eldest, I think. The father is one of those fanatical Bible thumpers. All hell fire and the wrath of the Lord type.”

“Oh, there are a lot of those in Cornwall.”

“They interpret the Bible their way and being by nature sadistic they want vengeance on all sinners which means, of course, people who don’t agree with them. If their sort had their way we should have stakes set up on Bodmin Moor and people being burned to death as they were in the days of Bloody Mary.”

“What happened to the girl then?”

“He threw her out.”

“What had she done?”

“Exchanged pleasantries with one of the cowmen. She must have been heard laughing on a Sunday. Then she was caught, talking with him, we heard, but it might have been something more. In any case she was turned out. Poor child. A sister of Mrs. Fellows took her in and then asked Mrs. Fellows if she could find a place for the girl. Hence she is here.”

“What a lot of trouble these people cause. By the way, this reminds me of Mrs. Polhenny. How is she?”

“Still fighting the good fight with all her might. You’ll see her on that bicycle of hers. It shakes her up quite a bit but it helps her to get round and, as she tells me every time I see her, she’s doing the Lord’s work.”

“Well, I’m glad this girl Madge found somewhere to go.”

“You’ll see her around. She’s the sort of girl who makes herself seen and heard. Well, we’ll talk later on. Just now I think I ought to go down and see what’s happening. We’re going to eat soon and then you can have an early night.”

When she had left me I unpacked, washed and changed my travelling clothes. I went downstairs where the children, freshly washed and combed, were already assembled with the rest of the family for the meal.

Pedrek was at my side. We talked eagerly. He told me how he was progressing at the college and how fortunate it was that it was so near. Being at St. Austell enabled him to get to Pencarron for week-ends, and we should be seeing each other frequently while I was at Cador.

It was a very happy evening and I reminded myself it was a prelude. It was wonderful to be at Cador.

I had not been in my room for more than five minutes when there was a knock on the door and my grandmother came in. This was the usual ritual. Whenever we met after a long absence she would come to my room on the first night and we would have what she called a “Catching-up chat.”

“Well,” I said as she sat in one of the armchairs. “What is the news?”

“I’ll tell you the worst first,” she said. “There’s been an accident at Pencarron Mine. It upset Josiah very much. He’s always had such a record for safety, which is due to meticulous and continual checks. So … although it wasn’t so bad as it might have been, it has upset him.”

“That’s terrible. Pedrek did not mention it.”

“We agreed not to … on your first night, and there wasn’t an opportunity really. It happened six weeks ago. Something caved in. It was possible to get most of the men out, but one was badly hurt, Jack Kellaway. It was … tragic.”

“How dreadful! Was he married?”

“Yes, with one child. A girl of eight or nine. Mary … Mary Kellaway … the poor wife, was distracted. Josiah was in a terrible state. I remember the day the news came through. It was the night shift. It was what happened afterwards which was really so dreadful. Jack Kellaway was so badly hurt that he would never work again. He could just crawl about the cottage. There was no hope for him really. He had always been a good husband and father and it was terrible for him. He could not bear to be a burden. One day when he was in the house alone he set fire to the place and cut his throat. He wanted it to seem as if he had been burned to death. It was something to do with insurance and he thought his wife and child would be better off without him. Some farm laborers happened to be passing and saw the fire and poor Jack’s body was found. It was very sad. The cottage was uninhabitable. His plan had gone wrong.”

“What a terrible story!”

“Josiah is going to see that Mary Kellaway and the girl are all right. The child is Mary too. He’s going to build a cottage for them. In the meantime we had to find somewhere for them to live. There wasn’t anything available except Jenny Stubbs’ old cottage near the pool.”

“So she is there?”

My grandmother nodded.

It was the cottage where Lucie had been born and spent her first years. Once I had been held captive there. I had always felt there was something mysterious about it. It was hardly the place to revive the poor widow’s spirits. I said so to my grandmother.

“I think she was glad to be quiet with a roof over her head and it was the only place. She seems to have settled in there. Oh, I know, it’s rather eerie. It’s that pool really … nothing to do with the cottage. It’s quite ordinary … just like all the others around here. It’s all that talk about the monastery being at the bottom of the water.”

“A lot of people still believe that.”

“Well, the Cornish are notoriously superstitious.”

“My mother always had a strong feeling about the pool.”

“I know.”

We were silent, thinking of her, then I said: “Are they still talking about the bells at the bottom of the pool which are supposed to ring to herald disaster?”

“Of course. They always did. The point is that people remember they heard them after the event.”

“What else has been happening?”

“One of the boats was lost in a gale. The gales were worse than usual this year.”

“A string of disasters.”

“Well, there are always the gales. Mrs. Jones had twins and Flora Grey is expecting a baby.”

“Good work for Mrs. Polhenny. How is she?”

“Doing her duty. Now tell me about yourself. The season went well, didn’t it? And you emerged engaged to be married.”

“That is what all girls are expected to do. But ours is a secret so I don’t get the glory.”

My grandmother laughed. “It is … wonderful. Our dearest hopes realized.”

“I did not know you were so dedicated to the idea.”

“We didn’t feel we could interfere. A marriage should be arranged between the two chief parties concerned.”

“But it is nice to find approval all round.”

“You haven’t told your stepfather?”

“Why should I?”

“He’s your guardian, I suppose. He’ll have to know.”

“You don’t think he’ll raise objections.”

She was silent and I flushed with indignation. Then I was laughing. “He won’t care,” I said. “He’s not interested. All he thinks about is getting on with his political career.”

“He did give you that expensive season.”

“He probably expected me to marry some great nobleman … someone who would bring kudos to him. ‘Rebecca Mandeville, stepdaughter of rising politician Benedict Lansdon, is to marry the Duke of …”

“Uncle Peter was like that. He always wanted such things to be noticed. Well, Benedict is his grandson. He might have the same thing in mind.”

I faced my grandmother. “If ever he tried to stop us …”

She smiled at me. “Don’t worry. We would talk him round.”

I stamped my foot in sudden rage. “It’s not his affair.”

“He might think differently.”

“I would not have it, Granny.”

“Well, don’t let’s imagine something which has not happened yet.”

“I think we were right in not telling people. We should wait until Pedrek and I are married.”

She did not answer. I knew it was something she would discuss with my grandfather later.

She changed the subject and said: “The children look well.”

“Leah turned out to be good for them.”

“She does a lot of sewing and they have beautifully embroidered dresses. She is always stitching. I think she is happy. But one can never be sure with Leah.”

“She must enjoy coming back here … after all it was her home.”

“I think she had a bad time before she escaped.”

“There was a change in her after she went up to High Tor. It must have been strange to her to find she was more or less working for the same people. Who would have thought Benedict would have married Celeste Bourdon?”

“It was rather surprising. I think it was their connections with Cornwall which made them interested in each other in the first place.”

“I’m glad he married again. We all know how it was between him and Angelet. They were made for each other. I think he suffered terribly. I like to think of him … settling down.”

“He hasn’t settled down.”

I told her about the locked room, the sadness of Celeste and the uneasy situation between him and Belinda.

“Belinda is very much aware of it,” I said. “It is quite wrong. But she is much better now. Miss Stringer is very good for her and Leah, of course, dotes on her. She probably lets her have too much of her own way. But what is rather nice is that she seems to be getting fond of me. Lucie is a help.”

“Dear Lucie! One would think she might be the one to develop complexes.”

“She knows of her birth. I thought it best that she should learn of it through me and not discover some other way. Belinda has a knack of finding out things and I did not want her taunting Lucie with it. Oh, they are good enough friends, but you know what children are. Lucie knows that I brought her into the household because her mother died. She does not know of course that her mother was strange and her father unknown. I said her father was dead … as he may well be … and that her mother lived near Cador and we had known her for a long time. She seemed content to leave it at that.”

“I am sure you will never regret insisting that we take her.”

“I had to do it, Granny. It was some compulsion.”

“You are a good sweet girl, Rebecca. You know what a comfort you have been to us.”

“Granny, we are getting morbid again.”

“All right … I won’t. Tell me about Belinda.”

“Christmas was good. There is a friend of my stepfather … well, a business associate really. He came down. He’s one of those suave men … very charming to everyone. Men of the world, I think you call them. He was particularly nice to Belinda and that made her very happy.”

“What that child needs is tenderness … special tenderness.”

“If only her father would notice her. I think that is what she wants. After all he is her father. But I notice that he avoids looking at her … and she knows it, too. It makes her truculent, always calling attention to herself … always wanting to be better than anyone.”

“How does Lucie react?”

“Lucie has a sunny temperament. She takes it without concern. I think she is aware Belinda is the daughter of the house and that she is the one who is privileged to be brought into it.”

“She is a dear child.”

I agreed. “And a wonderful companion for Belinda.”

“All was for the best then. But what are we going to do about Belinda and her father? How could we show him what he is doing to the child?”

“I don’t think he can help it. It’s a sad household, Granny. I liked it better at Manorleigh … when he was in London. Then Celeste had to be with him and we had the house to ourselves.”

“How’s Mrs. Emery?”

“Very grand and so is Mr. E. He’s developed great dignity. They both have. I get on well with Mrs. Emery who invites me to drink a cup of her best tea … Darjeeling … which comes from the Strand in London, she tells me. It’s only used on special occasions and when I take tea with her that is one of them.”

“She’s a good woman and I am glad she is with you. Now, my dear, it is getting late and time for bed. I’ll see you tomorrow … and the next day … and the next… and the next. Sleep well in your old bed and in the morning we’ll talk and talk. Goodnight, my darling.”

“Goodnight, Granny dear.”

It was a wonderful feeling to have come home.

In a few days I had settled in and it seemed as if I had never been away. I had done all the familiar things. I had walked into the town and been greeted by Gerry Fish wheeling his barrow through the streets and beyond as his father old Tom Fish had before him. He shouted a greeting. “Good day to ’ee, Miss Rebecca. How be to, then? You back with us now for a spell, me ’andsome?” Old Mrs. Grant, who had kept the wool shop when my mother was a girl and still did, although her hands were too crippled with rheumatism to allow her to do her crochet work now, came to the door of the shop to welcome me. There were the young Trenarths who had taken over the Fishermen’s Arms from old Pennyleg and were, to the dismay of some, introducing new ways.

They all had a welcome for me.

I paused to chat with the fishermen who were mending their nets and received a detailed description of the gale in which one of the boats had been lost.

It was comforting to realize that life did not change very much here.

The Pencarrons came over the day after our arrival and there was a happy reunion. Both of them had adopted a rather proprietorial attitude towards me. I was now to be their grand-daughter-in-law, and they wanted me to know how happy that made them.

My grandmother had warned me not to mention the mine disaster to them.

“It upset Josiah so much,” she explained. “No doubt he’ll tell you about it later on … or I expect Pedrek will. Just don’t bring it up. Let him enjoy the reunion.”

It was a very happy day. Pedrek was not with us but he would be home for the week-end, and it was arranged that I should go over to Pencarron on Saturday. “So it will be a lovely surprise when he comes in,” said his fond grandmother.

I spent a happy week-end at Pencarron and on the Sunday Pedrek came back with me to Cador. There would be many week-ends like that.

Pedrek and I went riding together and we talked of the future as we made our plans. We would not live at Pencarron. We would look for a house and if we could not find what we wanted we would build our own.

We spent happy hours planning it.

“By the sea or on the moor?” asked Pedrek.

“Somewhere between the two perhaps?”

“The best of both worlds.”

“Are you going to enjoy it, Pedrek?”

“Superbly. But isn’t it frustrating to have to wait?”

I agreed that it was.

“They say that anticipation is the best part of life.”

“We will make the realization even better.”

“Oh, we will,” I said fervently.

I was delighted to see that Belinda was enjoying Cornwall. I had wondered how she would feel when the possibility of seeing Oliver Gerson was removed, for indeed she had seemed to have an adoration—an obsession one might say—for the man. Perhaps I had exaggerated it. She seemed so fond of me now, which was gratifying. I was very content to bask in the affection of the two girls and the love of Pedrek and my grandparents. I was thinking that, in spite of the fact that I had lost my mother and could not forget that, I had a great deal to be thankful for.

Leah took the children into the Poldoreys and on the way she called in to see her mother. The girls were intrigued by Mrs. Polhenny. They rolled about in glee when they described her on her “bone-shaker.”

“She looked so funny!” shrieked Belinda.

“We thought she was going to fall off,” said Lucie.

“Did she give you an exhibition then?” I asked.

“We went there … and there was no one in and just as we were going away she came up on that…”

They were hysterical.

“And what did she say to you?”

“We had to go in and sit in the parlor,” said Lucie.

“There were pictures all round the room. Jesus on the cross …”

“And another one carrying a little lamb.”

“And somebody with a lot of arrows sticking out of his body. She asked Leah if our souls were saved.”

“And what did Leah say?”

“She said she looked after us in a right and proper manner,” Lucie told me.

“Mrs. Polhenny was looking at me all the time,” said Belinda.

She and Lucie could say no more because they were laughing so much.

I told my grandmother about it afterwards. “They found it quite hilarious,” I added.

“I am glad they did. I should have thought they would have hated it and wanted to get away.”

“You would think they had been to some entertainment.”

“Well, I’m glad they see it that way. I daresay Leah would like to go and see her mother now and then and if they would go with her willingly, that’s all to the good.”

“It would take Mrs. Polhenny’s attention off Leah perhaps.”

“Yes, that is what I thought.”

The new girl, Madge, was often with the children. They obviously liked her very much. I had seen her in the garden where she had doubtless been sent to bring something in from the kitchen garden, and the children would be with her. I liked to hear their laughter.

My grandmother had noticed, too.

“She is young and full of high spirits,” she said. “I don’t see why she shouldn’t relieve Leah a little.”

“You mean to give Leah time to go off and see her mother?”

My grandmother grimaced. “No. To give her a little time to herself. And it would be good for Madge. She is little more than a child herself and she is far from home.”

I had wanted the girls to enjoy Cornwall and I was delighted that they seemed to be doing so.

I gathered that they often went to St. Branok Pool. They talked about it. They also enjoyed the moors and when we went out together they would lead the way either to the pool or the moors.

There had been a great deal of gossip about people’s seeing white hares and black dogs, not only at Pencarron Mine, but on the disused one on the moors.

I noticed that Belinda seemed to have a particular interest in disaster. She liked to talk about old superstitions. Lucie did, too. Their eyes would grow wide while they discussed the knackers who were reputed to inhabit the mines and could, by some magic they possessed, bring disaster to any miners whom they disliked. It was the same with the fishermen. There were many superstitions about the evil which could befall them if they broke any of the ancient customs.

Down by the pool they made the acquaintance of young Mary Kellaway. She would often come out of Jenny’s old cottage to talk to them.

She was a strange looking child with long straight hair and a sad look in her eyes, which was understandable considering the tragedy in which she had recently become involved.

I discovered that it was she who had told them of the hares and dogs and little old men in the mines.

“It shows what they do,” was Belinda’s verdict. “Mr. Kellaway must have made them angry and then they made the mine fall down on him.”

“That’s nonsense,” I said.

“How do you know?” demanded Belinda. “You weren’t there.”

“Because such things don’t happen. The accident was due to a fault in the mine.”

“Mary says …”

“You shouldn’t talk about it with Mary. She should try to forget.”

“How can she forget it when her house is burned down?”

“She’ll soon have a new house.”

“But you don’t forget …”

How right she was! One did not forget.

My grandmother said she thought it was good that they had made friends with Mary. “I’d ask her over to Cador to play with them but you know what the servants are … and you’d have them saying that if she can come why can’t all the other children in the neighborhood do the same?”

“I think they like seeing her at the pool. I wish they had chosen some other meeting place but of course it is so near the cottage.”

They both told me the story of the wicked monks who would not repent and were warned by Heaven but they went on doing what they shouldn’t and the flood was sent.

“It was like Noah’s,” Lucie told me.

“No it wasn’t, silly,” cut in Belinda. “That was a long time ago. This was when they had monks and things they didn’t have in Noah’s day.”

“How do you know?” demanded Lucie.

“I do know. There wasn’t an ark for them and they were all drowned. They’re still down there at the bottom of the pool … because wicked people don’t always die. They have to go on living in misery which it must be down at the bottom of the pool with all that dirty water. And the bells ring when something is going to happen. I wish I could hear the bells.”

“You wouldn’t want something awful to happen, surely?” I said.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“As long as it didn’t happen to you,” I retorted with a laugh.

I often heard them discussing the bells and I often thought that the reason they went to the pool so frequently was in the hope of hearing them rather than to play with Mary.

I had formed the habit of going in to say goodnight to them when they were in bed.

There were two single beds on either side of the room and Leah said they used to talk to each other after she had put out the lights. I thought it was very pleasant for them to have each other and rejoiced once more that I had been able to bring Lucie into the house and give her a good home. It was proving beneficial not only to her but to Belinda as well.

One night I went in and I heard Belinda say: “It must have been exciting when they dragged the pool … to look for Rebecca and found the murderer.”

I was shocked that they had learned that. I did not mention it. Belinda seemed to know that I might have heard her comment and guessed it was a subject I would not encourage for she immediately said that Petal had to go to the blacksmith the next day. Tom Grimes had said they could go in and see her shod.

I left them, wondering where they got their information. I suppose dramatic events were remembered and it was inevitable that they should hear some of them.

It was one of our Saturdays which had become very precious to us. Pedrek came riding over to Cador where I was waiting for him. We were to go off riding together.

“Why can’t we come, too?” demanded Belinda.

“Because they have a good deal to talk about,” my grandmother explained.

“I don’t mind listening,” said Belinda, which made us all laugh.

She was a little sullen when we left and Lucie showed clearly that she did not like it either. But for Pedrek and me the happy day had begun.

We were in such harmony that we did not always have to speak; we often understood the other’s train of thought. This gave me a wonderfully cozy feeling. I was growing closer than ever to Pedrek—as close as I had been to my mother—and that gave me great content.

We would laugh all the time—at nothing often, just out of sheer happiness. Simple things seemed extraordinarily amusing—and there were so many plans to be made.

It was nearly a year since he had gone to college, he reminded me. “Halfway there. Just think of that.”

“It seems such a long time since you asked me to marry you.”

“It seems an age … yet half of it has gone. Sometimes I think I can’t wait and I am on the point of abducting you.”

“That wouldn’t be necessary,” I told him. “I’d come without protest.”

“Then … why don’t we?”

“What about college?”

He was thoughtful. “There’s a good deal to learn.”

“You must learn it then. You would hate to think there were things you didn’t know. The more you learn the more likely you are to stop accidents like …”

“I think so. There is so much known about the soil now. I am finding out all sorts of things which would astonish my grandfather.”

“We shall have to be patient for another year.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t start on the house. It will take some time to get all that settled. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to get it all ready … so that it is there for us. We could do all that while we are waiting.”

“That would be fun. I wonder what your grandfather would say about it.”

“He would probably like the idea and I am sure my grandmother would.”

“It would make us feel that we were almost there.”

“I tell you what we’ll do. We’ll start looking. Next week-end we’ll begin in earnest. How’s that?”

“It’s a marvelous idea.”

“It will have to be in the vicinity of the mine.”

“It looks as if we may have to build.”

“Yes … something in between the families. We want to please both sides.”

“They would appreciate it if we were half way. We’ll start looking now.”

The search added zest to the day.

We stopped at an inn—a charming old place called The King’s Head. There was a picture on the old sign, of Charles II, saturnine in spite of a certain lustful look and a luxuriously curly wig. We went into the parlor with its oak beams, leaded windows and great open fireplace round which sparkling horse brasses were displayed.

We drank cider from pewter pots and ate cheese with hot bread straight from the oven.

We talked of the house we would have. I saw it materialize before my eyes—the hall, the wide staircase, the rooms upstairs, and I realized I was creating a place which was something between Cador and Pencarron Manor.

“You wouldn’t like a Victorian house,” said Pedrek. “Your heart is in the past.”

“I’ll tell you something,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind what period it was as long as we were in it together.”

On the way back we looked for likely sites and inspected them critically.

“It would be very open here. Imagine the southwest gales.”

“And wouldn’t it be lonely?”

“Not with servants. Lucie will be there. Oh, Pedrek, what about Belinda?”

“She can come, too.”

“She’ll have to be with her father. He will insist. He has to preserve the family atmosphere.”

“She can come and stay with us.”

“I don’t know how she and Lucie will feel about being apart.”

“Are they such good friends?”

“Not exactly. I think they have become a habit to each other. They quarrel of course as all children do … but I don’t think they would like to be separated.”

“They’ll get used to it.”

“I wonder what my stepfather will say. He is supposed to be my guardian, you know.”

“I shall be your guardian soon.”

“I am not sure I like this talk of guardians. I like to think I am my own. But there is a point. I should have to get his consent, I suppose.”

“We’ll get married first and tell him afterwards.”

We agreed that that was a good idea; but it did not answer the question of how the girls would feel to be separated.

They would be a year older then. They seemed so knowledgeable sometimes that I forgot how young they were. But I suppose most children are aware of what is going on. They have sharp enquiring minds; all they lack is the experience which comes through living.

Pedrek came back with me to Cador.

The girls dashed out to welcome me home and they both flung themselves at me. Belinda first … Lucie in her turn. It was comforting to receive such a welcome.

“We’ve been riding this afternoon. Then we went for a walk with Leah … to the pool.”

“I suppose you did,” I said. I turned to Pedrek. “It’s one of their favorite places.”

“Well, it does have an air of mystery.”

“All those legends … bells and monks,” I said.

“And other things,” added Belinda.

“What things?” I asked.

“Other things,” she repeated, smiling mysteriously.

My grandmother came into the room. “Oh, you’re back. Good. Had a pleasant day?”

We assured her we had had a wonderful day.

Pedrek stayed to dine which was served a little earlier on Saturdays so that he would not be too late getting back to Pencarron.

We talked to my grandparents about our search for a suitable site on which to build our future home.

“Well, did you decide?”

“Not really. We’ll look further next week, won’t we, Pedrek?”

“Talking of houses,” said my grandfather, “I saw the people at High Tor this afternoon. They’re leaving.”

“Are they? After all this time?”

“Yes. The son is coming home from Germany. He’s been living there for some years. He says he fancies getting a place in Dorset and … I’ve forgotten what their name is.”

“Stenning,” supplied my grandmother.

“That’s right. Stenning. Well, he said they will be getting a place there to be near the son. They rented High Tor because they didn’t want to commit themselves to buying before their son came home.”

“That means High Tor will either be to let or for sale,” said my grandmother looking at me.

I glanced at Pedrek.

“High Tor,” I murmured. “It’s a nice place.”

“And ancient,” added Pedrek.

“Well,” added my grandmother. “It’s an idea. I daresay it will be some time before the Stennings are ready to leave, but … as I said … it’s an idea.”

High Tor had taken possession of my thoughts and the next Saturday Pedrek and I rode out there. It looked different from what it had before. I suppose that was because there was a possibility that it might one day be our house.

“Do you think,” said Pedrek, “that we might call on the Stennings?”

“Why not? They may not know us well but they know who we are.”

“Let’s go then,” said Pedrek.

So we rode in through the cobbled courtyard under the archway to the oak iron-studded door.

A servant came out, and Pedrek asked if Mr. or Mrs. Stenning were at home.

Mrs. Stenning came down. She was a little surprised but extremely hospitable and soon we were seated in the drawing room. We told her that we had heard that she and her husband were contemplating leaving High Tor to settle in Dorset and as we planned to marry in a year’s time we were interested in the house.

She opened her eyes wide and said: “What a good idea! I don’t know whether the owners want to sell or rent it … but I could find out. You probably know them.”

“Very well,” I said. “My stepfather is married to the lady who was Miss Celeste Bourdon.”

“Of course. Well, that is interesting. We shall be leaving fairly soon. We are taking a house in Dorchester and there we shall stay until we find a suitable property. This is a very interesting house, this. We shall be sorry to leave it. Most of the furniture is ours though the Bourdons did leave one or two pieces. But in any case you would want your own. Would you like to see over it?”

We spent an interesting hour being taken round. The house had been built in the late sixteenth or early seventeenth century. I liked the gables with their pediments and the casements and leaded lights.

Mr. Stenning joined us and he was quite knowledgeable about architecture. He said he thought the house was in the style of the Inigo Jones period and the architects had learned a great deal from him.

“He went to Italy and studied the buildings there. You can detect the influence of that.”

I was not interested so much in the architecture. I was just seeing it as our future home.

The Stennings insisted that we take tea with them and this we did in the drawing room with its gracious proportions and casement windows. It was indeed a beautiful house.

We talked of it incessantly and could hardly wait to get back to Cador and tell my grandparents about it.

They were as thrilled as we were.

“It would be ideal for you,” said my grandfather. “I daresay we shall soon hear what the Bourdons intend to do.”

We became obsessed by the house. We talked of nothing else.

A few days after we had been shown over it, we had a note from the Stennings saying that if at any time we wished to look at High Tor, or ask them questions about it, they would be delighted to show or tell us if they knew the answer.

We took the first opportunity of calling.

They told us there was a change of plans and they intended to leave a few weeks earlier than they had originally arranged to. In ten days they would be gone.

They could give us the Chislehurst address of the Bourdons or perhaps we would prefer to approach them through Mrs. Lansdon.

The Pencarrons came over to Cador to dine and there was a consultation between the two lots of grandparents. Mine were more romantically minded than Mr. Pencarron. “We didn’t want to find we had a ruin on our hands,” he said.

Pedrek reminded him that houses which had stood up to the weather for a few hundred years could surely do so for a few hundred more. But Mr. Pencarron thought that a good, solid modern place might be better.

“It’s due to being brought up at Cador,” said my grandmother. “There is something romantic about living in houses where lots of people have lived before.”

“Nevertheless,” insisted Mr. Pencarron, “we want to have a good look at the place.”

“That can be easily done,” said my grandfather.

Pedrek and I knew that we wanted it. We did go round it once more and our rides always took us past it. We would sit in a field where we could look up at the grey gables and dream of the days when it would be ours.

Pedrek had written to the Bourdons and received a reply.

They were not entirely certain what they intended to do but would decide quickly. We sighed with impatience and continued to regard it as our house.

We had just had luncheon. It was one of those week days which I lived through, longing for the week-end to come. The children had gone for a ride, one of the grooms accompanying them. I was with my grandmother who wanted to show me something in the garden. As we came out of the house one of the maids announced a visitor.

I was amazed and excited to see Jean Pascal Bourdon. He took my grandmother’s hand and kissed it; then did the same to me.

“What a pleasure!” he said. “I have descended on you charming ladies to pay my respects. I am to be in Cornwall for a little while. How good it is to see you! And Mademoiselle Rebecca is looking so well …”

“Have you had luncheon?” asked my grandmother.

“I have indeed.”

“Then come in. Would you like some wine … or a little coffee?”

“Some coffee please. That would be nice.”

When we were in the drawing room I went to the bell pull and very soon Madge appeared. I noticed Jean Pascal’s eyes on her, assessing her; and I remembered that old habit of his. Girls like Madge were always aware of masculine attention. She bridled a little and said demurely: “Yes, Ma’am?”

“Will you bring some coffee please, Madge?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” With a little bob she disappeared.

Jean Pascal said: “I expect you have guessed why I am here? It concerns High Tor, of course.”

“You know we are interested.”

“Yes. May I say that I was most … interested to hear that you were interested.”

“It’s no secret. Rebecca and Pedrek Cartwright are thinking of buying a house.”

He raised his eyebrows and my grandmother went on: “They will be married in a year or so.”

“May I offer my congratulations?” He looked at me as though the prospect of my marriage was a mild source of amusement.

“You may,” I said, “and thank you for them.”

“It is unexpected news.”

“It was not all that unexpected to us,” said my grandmother. “Pedrek and Rebecca have been good friends for years.”

He nodded. “The Stennings will be leaving shortly,” he said.

“Are you staying there … at High Tor?”

He smiled. “Yes. There is plenty of room. It is not a small house, you know. And we have business to discuss. Some furniture belongs to my family … but most of it in the house is theirs.”

The coffee had come. I noticed his renewed interest in Madge and I thought to myself: It is a habit with him. He assesses all females. How different he was from Pedrek. When Jean Pascal married, his wife would be wondering all the time if he was unfaithful.

Over coffee we discussed the house.

He said: “My family are a little uncertain at the moment. They are leaving Chislehurst.”

“Oh,” I said blankly. “Did they plan to come back to Cornwall?”

He paused. I had betrayed my eagerness to possess the house. Mr. Pencarron would say that was a foolish thing to do before a prospective seller.

He smiled at me and went on: “No. They will not come back here. The Empress kept a little court at Chislehurst of which my family were a part as they were of the Imperial Court before the débâcle. She has suffered much in exile … the loss of her husband and now after the death of her son in the Zulu war she finds it difficult to be happy there and wants to move. She is to go to Farnborough and my parents will give up their place in Chislehurst and go with her.”

“So … not to Cornwall,” I murmured.

“No … no. That would be too far away. They will go to Farnborough.”

“The point is,” said my grandmother, “what of High Tor?”

He smiled at us blandly. “Yes … I am sure they will sell.”

My grandmother and I exchanged glances of triumph.

“When will it be on the market?”

“If you are interested, you shall have the opportunity to buy before we put it there.”

“Thank you,” said my grandmother. “That’s what we hoped.”

“Well, are we not friends?”

“I am sure my husband and the Pencarrons will want to look at the place.”

“But naturally. Perhaps when the Stennings have left we can start to talk business.”

“Excellent,” said my grandmother. “More coffee?”

“Please, yes. It is delicious.”

I went over and took his cup. He smiled up at me and there was something secretive in his eyes.

“And when is the wedding to be?”

“Oh, not yet … not for some time yet. Mr. Cartwright is at college and will be there for another year or so.”

“And when he emerges … that will be the happy day?”

“Oh yes …”

“It is a pleasure for me to think that my old home will be yours.”

When he had taken his leave my grandmother looked at me with shining eyes.

“I don’t think there will be any difficulty,” she said. “Your grandfather and I want to give you the house as a wedding present, but there will be some argument for I happen to know the Pencarrons want to do the same.”

“How lucky we are! We do realize it, Granny. How many people about to get married have such lovely generous grandparents arguing over who is going to give them the most wonderful house in the world?”

“We are all so happy,” she said. “Because we are going to have you close to us for the rest of our lives.”

There was no talk of anything but the house. On the following Saturday Jean Pascal was invited to lunch. The Stennings were also invited. They talked a great deal about their imminent departure. Pedrek, with his grandparents, was present.

“I hope you will find the perfect place in Dorchester,” said my grandmother to the Stennings. “I hear it is a beautiful town.”

“We shall not be far from the sea, as we have been here. And we have been so happy in Cornwall, haven’t we, Philip?”

Mr. Stenning agreed that they had.

Pedrek and I exchanged glances throughout the meal. Marriage seemed so much closer now that we had a home in view.

After luncheon, when we were taking coffee in the drawing room, Jean Pascal talked to Pedrek and me.

“It’s not easy to assess a house when people are living in it. As soon as the Stennings leave you must come over.”

“Which pieces of furniture belong to your family?” I asked.

“Some rather heavy stuff. There is a fine old four poster bed which my parents would have liked to move, but it is rather ancient and they were not sure how it would stand up to the journey, so they left it. There are one or two heavy cabinets. Not a great deal. You must come over and see it. When they have gone we’ll make an appointment;”

“That will be wonderful.”

When our guests had gone we were still discussing the house. It had been agreed that the grandparents would buy it between them and it should be a joint present from the four of them.

I said: “We are so lucky.”

“Nothing but what you deserve, my dear,” said Mr. Pencarron. “Mind you … it’s got to be right. I’m still suspicious of these old places. There are some who think that a ghost or two make up for a leaking roof and crumbling walls. That’s not my idea.”

“There may be some repairs needed,” said my grandfather.

“We’ll get someone down to look at it.”

“As soon as the Stennings have left we can give the place a real overhaul,” said my grandmother.

In the middle of the following week, I left the house in the afternoon to take a short ride. As I rode out of the stables I met Jean Pascal.

“Hello,” he said. “I know you often take a solitary ride at this time and I hoped I’d meet you.”

“Why … has something happened?” I asked in alarm.

“Only this pleasant encounter.”

“I thought perhaps you had come over with some news.”

“Actually I came over in the hope of seeing you.”

“Because …”

“Because it seemed a good idea. Look. You are going for a ride. Why don’t I accompany you? We could talk as we go.”

“Then there is something. Is it about the house?”

“There is a lot to talk about on the subject, is there not? But there are other things.”

“Such as …?”

“General conversation. I always think it is amusing to let that take its own course.”

“How do you mean?”

“Let it flow … let it come naturally.”

“Where shall we go?”

“Not to High Tor. I believe you go there frequently. I mean you ride close by. Mrs. Stenning says she sees you.”

I felt a little uncomfortable that my naïve excitement about the house had been noticed.

“I am hoping, of course, that everything will go through satisfactorily,” I said.

“I should feel the same myself. It will be your new home.”

“Mr. Pencarron wants to have a surveyor to look at it. I hope you won’t mind.”

“No … no. I admire him. It is a wise thing to do. Who knows: the old mansion might be ready to crumble about your ears?”

“Oh, I don’t think that.”

“Nor do I. But Mr. Pencarron is a business man. He does not go out and say, ‘This is a pretty house. I will buy it for my grandson and his wife-to-be.’ That I admire. He is a realist.”

“And that is a quality you admire very much.”

“It is wisdom. Romance, oh, that is beautiful, but the wise man, the realist, he says it is beautiful while it lasts … whereas a house must endure … it must not be blown away by the first strong wind.”

“I’m glad you don’t mind Mr. Pencarron taking advice. I thought you might be offended.”

“Certainly not. I understand. There is much I understand.”

“I am sure you are very wise.”

I spurred up my horse and we cantered across a field. We looked down at the sea.

“Do you ever feel nostalgic for France?” I asked.

He lifted his shoulders. “I visit now and then. It is enough. If we could go back to the Old France … perhaps I would be there. But not this time … the communards … Gambetta with his Republicans … they have destroyed the old France. But you do not want to hear of our politics … our mismanagements. I have made this my home now … and so have others. That is France for us. These matters are a bore. I will not speak of them.”

“I find them interesting … as I do our own politics. When I am in London …”

“Oh yes, you are at the heart of politics. In the house of your stepfather and my sister. But you will have to renounce all that. You are going to live the life of a lady of the manor. It is what you have chosen. I want to talk to you. Let us find a cosy inn. We can give the horses a rest and talk over a tankard of cider. How is that?”

“Yes, please let us do that. I am sure you have a lot to tell me about High Tor.”

The inn he chose was the one where, not so long ago, Pedrek and I had been. There was the King’s head with the dark sensuous face of the Merry Monarch depicted on the sign over the door.

“I believe the cider in here is of a particularly good vintage.”

We seated ourselves in the inn parlor with the horse brasses and the leaded windows and cider was brought to us by a buxom girl who claimed Jean Pascal’s attention for a few fleeting moments.

“Ha!” he said. “The old English inn … a feature of the countryside.”

“And a very pleasant one.”

“I agree!” He lifted his tankard. “Like so much in this country … its women for one thing and chief among them Miss Rebecca Mandeville.”

“Thank you,” I said coolly. “The Stennings are going at the end of the week, are they not?”

He smiled at me. “High Tor occupies your mind to the exclusion of everything else.”

“I admit it.”

“You see life at the moment in the glow of romance.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know what it is like to be young … and in love. And you are both young and in love with the fortunate Pedrek.”

“I think we are both fortunate.”

“I think he is.”

There was a warm glow in his eyes. I thought: He cannot resist flirting with any woman … even one who, he knows, is on the point of marriage. It is all part of the way in which he looks at women. I supposed I should be amused and I was, to a certain extent, because we were in an inn parlor with mine host and hostess bustling about in the next room. It would have been different had I been alone with him. I felt safe.

He put his tankard on the table and leaned towards me.

“Tell me,” he said. “Have you ever had a lover before the worthy Pedrek?”

I flushed hotly. “What do you mean?”

He spread his hands and lifted his shoulders. Like most of his countrymen and women—I had noticed it in his sister Celeste—he used his hands a great deal in conversation.

“I mean … is this Pedrek the first?” He laughed suddenly. “And now you are going to say I am impertinent.”

“You read my thoughts,” I said. I had risen from my chair and he put out a hand and detained me.

“Do please sit down. You are very young, Mademoiselle Rebecca, and for that reason you close your eyes to much which goes on in the world. It is not a good thing to close one’s eyes. If one is going to live well and wisely … to have a good marriage and understand what it is all about … one must be wise in the ways of the world.”

“I thought we were going to talk about the house. Really, I don’t want to …”

“I know. You don’t want to look at reality. You want to make your pretty pictures and paste them over the truth … deluding yourself as you do so. There are people who delude themselves all through their lives. Are you going to be one of them?”

“Perhaps they are happy doing it.”

“Happiness? Can there be true happiness through shutting one’s eyes to reality?”

“I don’t know what you are trying to say but I don’t think it necessary to continue this conversation.”

“You are being a little … childish … is it?”

“Then you must be bored with my company and I will say goodbye. There is no need for you to leave. I may be childish but I am capable of riding back alone. I ride by myself frequently.”

“You are very pretty when you are angry.”

I turned away impatiently.

“You are afraid to listen to me,” he accused.

“Why should I be afraid?”

“Because you fear to listen to the truth.”

“I am not afraid, I assure you, but I find your questions offensive.”

“About a lover? I apologize. I know you are a virgin and propose to remain so until your wedding night. That is charming, I know. I was merely hinting that a little premarital experience can sometimes be an advantage.”

“I cannot understand why you are talking to me like this.”

His attitude changed and he became almost humble. “I am foolish,” he said. “That is why. Perhaps I am a little envious of Monsieur Pedrek.”

I said with what I hoped was a touch of sarcasm: “Now we have returned to the familiar methods. You complain about my veiling the truth with my romanticism so now I will tell you that I do not believe a word you say. You would use the same words, express the same sentiments, to any woman to whom you happened to be talking at the time. It signifies nothing. It is just idle conversation with you.”

“You are right. But in this case it happens to be true.”

“So you admit that you, who so admire the truth and think it should be revealed to all, are frequently false?”

Again the lifting of the shoulders, the spreading of the hands. “In France,” he said, “a young man’s father will arrange for him to take a mistress … usually an older charming worldly woman. It is to teach him the ways of the world so that when he marries he will not be gauche. You understand?”

“I have heard of this, but we are not French and it would seem we have a different code of morals here.”

“I doubt that the English are persistently moral while the French are universally corrupt.”

“Is this going to become a nationalistic battle between us?”

“By no means. There is so much here that I love, but there are times when your countrymen can be a little hypocritical, posing as the so-virtuous when they might be slightly less so than they proclaim. I think a little experience before marriage is good for us all, so that when we come to the greatest adventure, which is marriage, we know how to deal with those little crises which arise in the best-regulated unions. In all endeavors, experience is something to be cherished.”

“Are you suggesting that I … should be trying to gain this … experience?”

“I would not dare suggest such a thing. In fact I apologize most sincerely for having raised the subject.”

“I accept your apology and now we can drop the matter.”

“May I refill your tankard?”

“No thanks. I am ready to leave now. I think I should. There are things I have to do at home.”

He bowed his head. “First,” he said, “I want you to tell me that I am really forgiven.”

“You have apologized and I have accepted it.”

“I was very foolish.”

“I thought you were so wise on account of all your experience which I am sure has been great.”

He looked at me in such a forlorn manner that I could not help laughing.

“That is better,” he cried. “I believe I am truly forgiven. You see, I have always admired you so much. Your freshness, your beauty, your approach to life. Do not think I do not admire that innocence of yours, that air of chastity …”

“Oh please, you are going too far. I may be innocent and ignorant of those matters in which you are so well versed, but I do know flattery when I hear it. And you have laid it on with a trowel, as I have heard it described.”

“So I am foolish, am I not?”

“Listen. You think you understand me. Well, I understand you, too. You are very interested in women. You cannot keep your eyes from them. You are looking for a quick seduction with servant girls and in fact everyone you meet. There are some who say this is natural in young men. It is no concern of mine except that I insist they keep their speculative eyes off me.”

He smiled in a rather appealing way.

“I am duly chastened,” he said. “I see I have been quite foolish.”

“Well, I suppose we all are at times.”

“Then we are good friends again?”

“Of course. But please don’t talk to me in this fashion ever again.”

He shook his head emphatically. “And now another tankard to seal our reconciliation?”

“I have had enough, thank you.”

“Just a sip … or I shall think I am not well and truly forgiven.”

The cider was brought and we lifted our tankards.

“Now we are the best of friends,” he said. “And we shall talk about High Tor and as soon as the Stennings have gone you and Monsieur Pedrek will come over and I will show you everything you want to see.”

“Thank you. That is what we want.”

We talked of High Tor and then he began to tell me about the miniature court at Chislehurst and the members of the French aristocracy who visited the Empress from time to time.

He was very amusing and he had a gift for mimicry which could be very funny, particularly when he was imitating his own formal countrymen and -women.

I laughed a great deal and he was delighted. I could not understand what had made him talk to me as he had in the beginning. However, I believed I had made him realize his mistake.

So after all it was quite a pleasant afternoon.

The Stennings had delayed their departure for a week but at length they left; and it was a Tuesday morning when Jean Pascal sent a message to me at Cador.

He was asking Mr. Pencarron to come over that afternoon at three o’clock so that they could clear up a few points which Mr. Pencarron wished to raise. Would I care to come and join them? I sent the messenger back saying that I should be pleased to.

The girls were there when the messenger came and wanted to know what it was all about.

“It’s from Monsieur Bourdon,” I said.

“From High Tor?” asked Belinda.

“Yes.”

“Are you going over there this afternoon?”

“Yes, this afternoon.”

“I’d like to come, too,” said Lucie.

“Not today. Perhaps some other time. If we have the house you will be there often. It will be great fun getting the furniture and all that.”

“Lovely,” said Lucie.

I could scarcely wait and immediately after the midday meal I set out for High Tor.

When I arrived there were no grooms about so I took my horse to the stables and went to the house. I rang the bell and heard the clanging ringing through the emptiness. Jean Pascal opened the door.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m glad you have come.”

“Is Mr. Pencarron here?”

“Not yet … but come in.”

We went into the hall.

“It looks bigger without the furniture,” I said.

“It is easier for you to see where you want to put your own.”

“That table?” I asked. “Will you be taking that away or selling it … or does it go with the house?”

“We’ll see about that. There are one or two other pieces. You might like to see them and decide whether you want them. Shall we look now?”

“What time did Mr. Pencarron say he would come?”

“He was a little uncertain. He said it would depend on some business at the mine.” Noticing my anxious look, he went to the door and opened it. “If I leave it ajar he’ll be able to come in. Come up to the first floor and look at this vase.”

He paused on the landing while we studied it.

“It’s rather fine, is it not?” he said.

“Yes, it is lovely and something would be needed at that spot.”

We went through to the gallery. “You will have to start a picture gallery,” he said.

“I daresay my grandparents will have some of the family portraits to pass on. They have plenty, I think.”

“You will start a dynasty.”

I laughed as he led the way up some stairs and threw open a door of a room. The curtains were still at the windows and in the center of the room was a large four poster bed.

“Bourdon family heirloom,” he said.

“It’s very grand.”

“The velvet of the curtains is a little worn. The pile has rubbed away over the years.”

“You will be taking that away, I suppose.”

“I daresay my mother will not want to let it go.”

He sat down on it and took my hand so suddenly and firmly that before I realized what was happening I was sitting beside him.

I must have looked alarmed for he said: “Are you just a little uneasy?”

“No,” I lied. “Should I be?”

“Well … perhaps. Here you are in a house alone with a man whom you know to be a bit of a sinner. After all, he has not really made a secret of the fact, has he?”

I attempted to rise, but he held me back.

“You are a little idiot in some ways, Rebecca,” he said. “But I adore you.”

“Mr. Pencarron will be here at any moment. Don’t you think this is a strange way to behave? You apologized for your impertinence before and I accepted your apology.”

“I do not like apologizing very much.”

“No one does but there are times when it is necessary. So please do stop behaving in this foolish manner.”

His reply was to grip me hard and hold me against him. He bent his head and kissed me on the lips.

I was really frightened then. I tried to free myself but he was stronger than I.

“It’s time you stopped being a little innocent, Rebecca,” he said.

“You … you monster!”

“Yes, I am, am I not? I meant what I said the other day when you were so outraged. It is time someone taught you a lesson.”

“I do not want lessons from you.”

“That is where you are wrong. You need lessons … from someone as charming, practiced and understanding as Jean Pascal Bourdon.”

“I think you are behaving in a ridiculous manner.”

“You would. You are so conventional. Don’t hang on to your conventions, Rebecca. For once do what you want to … what your instincts tell you to.”

“My instincts tell me to slap your face.”

“You might try,” he said, imprisoning my hands.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“You know very well what I am doing.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Then you are not thinking very clearly. I told you what you need. You must know the world. You need to live a little before you tie yourself down to a dull existence.”

“I think you are mad.”

“I am rather … at the moment. You are so deliciously innocent. I am fond of you. I’ve wanted you for a long time. I was just waiting for the opportunity to show you what fun life can be if you will stop being prim. Let yourself go. Throw away your principles. It will be worth it. It will be an experience you need. Have … what do you say? … a little adventure, a fling? … and then you will settle down with your memories … to a dull existence in the country.”

“Do you really think I would dally with you? You must be out of your senses. A lecherous man who contemplates seducing every woman he sets eyes on and is so conceited that he imagines he only has to offer himself and she will fall swooning at his feet.”

“I think if you and I became friends … really friends … you would find it a pleasurable experience.”

“Take your hands off me.”

“I can’t. The temptation is too great.”

“I never want to see you again.”

“Don’t be so prim. I assure you it will be most enjoyable … irresistible …”

“When Mr. Pencarron comes …” I began.

He laughed. “So you are naïve enough to think that Mr. Pencarron will come?”

I was struck speechless at the implication of his words.

“That has shaken you,” he said with a grin. “Of course, he won’t come. He doesn’t know about the little rendezvous. No one need know. Come on, my sweet Rebecca, be a sensible girl.”

My fear must have given me strength. I got to my feet but he still held me. I brought up my knee sharply; he gave a cry of fury and recoiled. I was at the door. I ran through the gallery … but he was close behind me. I was at the top of the stairs. I stood still, gasping, for someone was in the hall. It was Belinda.

I heard myself stammer “Belinda …”

“Oh hello, Rebecca.” She stood staring at me. I realized I had lost my riding hat, that my hair was falling about my face and the buttons on my blouse were undone.

She said: “Rebecca … you look …”

She saw Jean Pascal and there was a silence which seemed to go on for some time. Jean Pascal recovered himself first.

“Hello, Miss Belinda,” he said. “Have you come visiting me in an empty house?”

“Yes,” she replied. “We went riding. Lucie’s here too, out there with Stubbs. I said, ‘We’ll go to High Tor because I know Rebecca is there. Let’s surprise her,’ I said.”

I walked slowly down the stairs.

“I’m glad you came, Belinda,” I said.

“Your hair’s untidy.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, and where’s your hat?”

“Oh … I’ve put it down somewhere.”

“We’ve been looking round the house,” Jean Pascal explained, “deciding about the furniture.”

“Oh,” said Belinda, looking intently from me to Jean Pascal. “It’s made Rebecca very untidy.”

At that moment Lucie came into the hall.

“Hello, Rebecca,” she said. “We’ve come to see you.”

I said to myself: Thank God you did. I never want to see this monster again and I never will.

Jean Pascal was looking at me with a somewhat cynical smile. He said: “I think I ought to tell you where you left your hat. It was in that bedroom leading off the gallery. I’d go and get it.”

I went slowly down the stairs. Belinda’s eyes never left my face. I wondered what she was thinking.

“You didn’t mind our coming, did you?” she said.

“No … no, I’m glad you did.”

“Can we see round the house?” asked Lucie.

“I think it is time we should be going home.”

“Just a quick look,” pleaded Belinda.

Jean Pascal was coming down the stairs, carrying my hat. He handed it to me with a little bow. He seemed completely undisturbed.

“We want to see round the house,” said Belinda. “It is funny without furniture … well, only a bit anyway.” She called, “Cooee” suddenly. “Listen,” she went on. “It echoes. It reminds you of ghosts and that sort of thing.”

“But you know it is only because there is hardly any furniture here,” said Lucie.

“Come on,” said Jean Pascal, “I’d show you round. Will you come with us, Miss Rebecca?”

I wanted to shout: “No, I long to get away from here. I never want to see you again. You have spoiled this house for me.” But what could I do? I had to behave as though nothing unusual had happened.

My thoughts were in a turmoil as I went round the house with them. I was asking myself what I should do. I thought of telling my grandmother. What would be her reaction? I could not say. She would tell my grandfather perhaps. Could I tell Pedrek? What would he do?

I was in a quandary.

I thought: I must do nothing at once. I must think about it. I must never be alone with him again. I would never speak to him unless I was forced to. It could be very embarrassing in the future, his being the brother of my stepfather’s wife. Moreover his family owned the house which we were proposing to buy.

I had been a fool to trust him in the first place. I should have remembered that he had tried to coax me into having an affaire with him when he had been at the inn. And because I had shown my contempt for that he had endeavored to force me. I was indeed the innocent he believed me to be. That was what was so humiliating. He had laid a trap and I had blithely walked into it.

I imagined that he would say I had come willingly, I had led him on, and then afterwards I had been scared and accused him of rape. That was what was often said on such occasions. That was how such men as he was behaved; they were without scruples and principles. My grandparents and Pedrek would believe me but when this sort of thing happened there were always those to doubt and condemn.

But I had had a lucky escape … thanks to Belinda and Lucie.

I felt sick when we came to the bedroom with the four poster bed. I thought the ordeal would never end.

He stood in the courtyard while we mounted our horses. I would not look at him.

He said: “It has been such an interesting afternoon. A pity it is over so soon.”

He gave me his cynical smile as he spoke. I turned my horse away, still thanking God for my miraculous escape as I rode with Stubbs and the girls into the courtyard at Cador.

Evil had intruded into my euphoric dream. The house no longer meant the same to me. I felt unhappy. I did not know what I should do.

If I told what had happened it would be an end of our relationship with the Bourdon family and I thought how awkward that would be for Celeste and for me. I wondered what Benedict would say if he were told.

I could see Jean Pascal’s insouciant smile if he were ever taken to task. “It was just a bit of fun … a light flirtation. Rebecca agreed to come to the empty house and well, I naturally thought …”

Would they believe that it had all been so different?

I was still uncertain what action I should take when the ultimate horror struck and drove all thought of anything else out of my mind.

It was the following Friday and six o’clock in the evening. I was in my bedroom alone, still brooding on that shameful encounter when Leah came to me. She looked very alarmed. Something was very wrong, I knew.

“What is it, Leah?” I asked in trepidation.

“It’s Miss Belinda. She’s not here …”

“Not here? Then where …?”

Leah shook her head. “I don’t know. Lucie says she went out to take something to Mary Kellaway. Lucie told her she should wait till morning but she said she was going then. It was a book they had been talking about.”

“And she’s not come back?”

Leah shook her head.

“Then we had better begin looking for her.”

I went to the door and started down the stairs. My grandmother was in the hall.

I said: “Belinda’s missing …”

“What?” cried my grandmother in alarm.

“Leah says she went out somewhere and hasn’t come back.”

“Out alone … and this hour?”

“I didn’t know she’d gone,” said Leah. “I would never have let her go alone. Lucie says …”

“Where is Lucie?”

“Lucie!” I called. “Lucie!”

I heard Lucie’s voice at the top of the stairs.

“Come here quickly, Lucie.”

She came. She was breathless and looked startled.

“Where did Belinda go?”

“To take a book to Mary.”

“At this hour?”

“I said wait till morning but she said no.”

“How long ago?”

“Well, half an hour or more. It was about five o’clock.”

“We’d better go down to the village,” said my grandmother. “Let Mr. Hanson be told. We’d better get people looking for her.”

At that moment Belinda burst in. She ran to me and threw herself into my arms. Her dress was torn and blood mingled with the soil on her face and hands.

“Oh Rebecca,” she cried. “It was awful. He frightened me. He was horrible … horrible … different. I didn’t know what to do. I kicked … and I screamed … but no one came and he held me … I couldn’t get away …”

“Who … who?” I cried.

I saw the horror dawning on my grandmother’s face.

I said: “Belinda, it’s all right now. You’re here with me … with us all. You’re all right now. There’s nothing to be afraid of any more. Just tell us what happened.”

“I was taking a book to Mary. I said I would … in the morning … but I took it today. It was near the pool. It was quiet there and then I saw him. He said Hello and I was a nice little girl and he liked nice little girls. It was all right at first. Then he pulled me down and I was lying on the ground …”

I felt sick. She hid her face on my shoulder. “He looked different, Rebecca. I didn’t know him any more. He tried to pull my frock off. I was right on the ground … and he pulled at my skirt. It was all torn …”

I stroked her hair. I kept saying: “It’s all right. It’s all right.”

“Then I hit him … I hit him as hard as I could. And I jumped up and I ran … I ran all the way home.”

My grandfather had appeared. His face was white. I had never seen him so angry.

“Did you know this man, Belinda?” he said.

She nodded but could not speak for sobbing.

“Who …?” demanded my grandmother.

“It was … Pedrek,” she said.

When I look back it is like a series of nightmares from which I fought desperately to escape. There was no escape. I had to face this terrible thing in the clear light of day, and I knew that I had to accept it.

I could not believe that of Pedrek. How could he, who had always been so kind, so gentle, so courteous, so caring for others, have behaved so? I could not conceive it in any way. And yet there was the evidence of my own eyes. I had heard Belinda’s horrific account of what had happened. I had seen the terror in her eyes.

All that night we had sat up … my grandparents and I … talking … endlessly.

I kept saying: “I can’t believe it. I can’t.”

My grandmother said: “Nor I. But the child is so certain. How would she know of such things? How … if she had not experienced them? Could it have been a moment of madness?”

“No … no,” I cried. “Not Pedrek.”

I thought of my recent experience with Jean Pascal. In fact when Belinda had been telling her story, my thoughts had immediately gone to him … and when she had mentioned Pedrek’s name my entire happiness had collapsed about me. I think that was the worst moment I had ever lived through.

How long the night seemed, but we knew it was no use trying to sleep. We had to sit there talking … saying the same thing over and over again … trying to tell each other that there had been some terrible mistake.

What could we do? How could we question Belinda further? She was distraught. Leah gave her a small dose of sedative which she kept in her medicine cupboard. At least, she said, it would help the child sleep. She was so disturbed and kept crying out.

So there we sat … the three of us … trying to tell ourselves it was not true … that we should wake up suddenly and rind it was only an evil dream.

Leah had taken Belinda into her room. She said the child might wake up in the night and the memory of what she had undergone come back to her. Leah must be there to comfort her … to assure her that she was safe now.

At last the morning came—but it brought no comfort.

We were all waiting for the arrival of Pedrek as he usually came about ten o’clock on Saturday morning.

What would he do now? He would know that Belinda had escaped and that she would have given us an account of what had happened. Perhaps he would not come.

He did come … riding into the stables as though nothing had happened. He came into the house. My grandparents and I were waiting in the hall.

We all stood up as he entered.

There was no sign from him that this was different from any other week-end when he arrived, full of plans as to what we should do.

“Rebecca!” he cried and his smile embraced us all. He stared at us. “Is anything wrong?”

My grandfather said: “Come into the little room. We have to talk.”

Puzzled, he followed us, and my grandfather shut the door.

He said: “Sit down.”

Still seeming bemused, Pedrek sat. I felt as though my knees would give away because I was trembling so much.

“What ever is wrong?” asked Pedrek.

“Belinda …” began my grandfather.

“Is something wrong with her? Is she ill?”

“Pedrek, do you know what is wrong with her?”

His brow was creased. He shook his head.

“Last night … she came running home in a dreadful state. She was molested by the pool.”

“Oh, my God …”

“She escaped … in time. The poor child is distraught. Heaven knows what effect this will have on her.”

“What a terrible thing …”

“She knows the man.”

“Who …?”

There was a brief silence, then my grandfather said in a very stern tone: “You … Pedrek.”

“What?”

“You had better tell us exactly what happened.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She came in and said that you had spoken to her by the pool … St. Branok’s Pool. She said you threw her to the ground, tore her clothes … and told her that you liked little girls.”

“It’s … madness.”

We were all staring at him. He turned to me. “Rebecca … you don’t believe …”

I was silent. I could not bear to look at him. I just covered my face with my hands.

He took a step towards me but my grandfather barred his way.

“This is a very serious matter,” he said. “I don’t know what happened … what came over you … but it is better to come out with it. We might …”

“How dare you!” cried Pedrek. “How dare you suggest …”

“The child said it was you.”

“Bring her here. Let me confront her. She’s lying …”

My grandmother said: “We cannot have her put to more distress. She is in a terrible state. She was desperately frightened. Anyone who saw her would have realized that …”

“I don’t know how you can think for one moment …”

“Look, Pedrek,” said my grandfather. “We don’t want to blow this up out of all proportion. God knows, it’s bad enough already. Was it … was it … just a moment of madness?”

“I tell you I was not there.”

My grandparents exchanged glances.

“If this comes out,” said my grandfather, “it is going to cause a great deal of distress in our two families. I can’t understand, Pedrek. You are the last person …”

“How can you possibly think … Rebecca …?” He was looking at me. I was desperately trying to think of the Pedrek I had known all my life, but I kept seeing his face changing into a monster’s. I felt ignorant of men and their ways. I had recently allowed myself to be duped by Jean Pascal. He had said I was innocent … knowing nothing of the world. I was simple and trusting and I knew little of the inner lusts of men. I had thought I knew Pedrek as well as I knew anyone, but was I too ready to believe what I saw on the surface? I did not look deep enough. Only a few days ago my innocence and ignorance had lured me into a situation which could have scarred my life. And … I could not meet Pedrek’s eyes. I was afraid of what I might see there.

My grandfather went on: “Were you in the neighborhood last night?”

“My God,” said Pedrek hotly, “is this an interrogation? Of course. I came home from college as I always do.”

“Then you would have been with your family …” His face lightened. “You are usually at Pencarron about six o’clock.”

“Yes, but …”

I felt myself go limp with fear.

“But last night you were not?” insisted my grandfather.

“No. I went to see a friend before I left college. It made me late.”

“And what time did you get home?”

“It must have been about seven thirty.”

There was a terrible silence in the room.

“So … you were much later than usual?”

“Yes … about an hour and a half.”

I knew what my grandparents were thinking. It was just after six when Belinda came running into the house.

“And you came later … because you were with a friend. I’m sorry, Pedrek, but would your friend be able to corroborate this?”

Pedrek was growing more and more angry. Could it be the anger of guilt? “This has become an inquisition. Am I in the dock? Do I have to prove alibis?”

“This is a very serious charge. It would be in everyone’s interest if we could clear it … absolutely.”

“I know nothing about it. The child is mistaken. She must have confused me with someone else.”

“It’s the best way, Pedrek. If this friend of yours will confirm you were with him … you see everyone will realize that you could not possibly have been at the pool.”

“I was not with him. He was not at home.”

“So you did not see him … and you came back later …”

“Yes, because my visit had delayed me.”

We all sat quiet, frightened by the implication of his words.

“So,” he cried, “I am judged guilty, am I? Rebecca, how can you believe this of me?”

“I can’t believe it, Pedrek, I can’t …”

He would have approached me but I shrank back and my grandmother said: “We are all very upset. I think we should do nothing at the moment. Belinda … fortunately … escaped what could have been a terrible experience for her. Understand, Pedrek, we have to think about this. Perhaps when the child has recovered from the shock a little we can discover more … but frankly, I should hesitate to question her at the moment.”

“I think you had better leave us, Pedrek,” added my grandfather. “We must have time to think about this.”

He turned abruptly and left us. Through the window I saw him striding to the stables. Something told me that the Pedrek I had known till now had gone out of my life.

The talk continued. Leah was very anxious about Belinda. She said the child was quiet and thoughtful. She kept her in her room for she had nightmares and Leah had to be there to comfort her.

“We should be very grateful for Leah,” said my grandmother. “No mother could be more caring for her child.”

We had tried very carefully to question her, but when we attempted to she would shrink from us and a look of terror would come into her face.

“It is very important that this should not arouse all sorts of fears in her,” said my grandmother. “She is so young and the young are impressionable. It is a dreadful experience for a child to undergo.”

“Granny,” I said, “I do not believe that Pedrek would do this.”

She shook her head. “People do strange things. Nobody really understands another person completely.”

We could think of nothing else. The sordid matter took complete possession of our minds. We should take some action, we knew.

I could not eat; I could not sleep; and my grandparents were as worried as I was.

That evening, after I had gone to bed, but not to sleep, my grandmother came to me.

“I guessed you’d be awake,” she said. She drew her dressing gown about her and sat down close to the bed.

“We have to do something, Rebecca. We can’t go on like this.”

“No,” I said, “but what?”

“For one thing, Belinda ought to get away. Leah says she keeps talking about the pool and that time they drained it because they thought you were there and they brought up a murderer.”

“Where does she hear such tales?”

“People talk. They don’t realize that children hear these things. You know there is that superstition about the pool. They get garbled versions. However, what I think is that Belinda should get away from here, and—much as I hate it—you go, too.”

“Go away …” I repeated.

“Yes. In London or Manorleigh, Belinda will be far away from the scene. Leah thinks she should not go to the pool again. I can’t imagine that she will want to … but sometimes that sort of thing has a strange effect … and the thing is to put it behind her as quickly as possible. In London or Manorleigh life will be entirely different. She will forget. She is only young. But here … she never will.”

“I can see some reason in that.”

“And you, my dear, what of you and Pedrek?”

“I don’t believe …”

“You don’t want to believe … but half of you does. Tell the truth, Rebecca. You know you can tell me.”

“Yes … I think you are right.”

She nodded. “If you got away for a while, I think it would be good for you. You were so fond of Pedrek. I know how you feel. And now … you are beset by doubts. You are trying to force yourself not to believe … and in your heart you do.”

“I don’t know.”

“Time may help. If you stay here you might do something you would regret for the whole of your life.”

“What?” I asked.

She lifted her shoulders. “You might decide that you believe him. You might marry him … and then find out hidden things you hadn’t dreamed of. On the other hand you might reject him … and you might regret that all your life. Go back to London or Manorleigh. Ask yourself how much you care for Pedrek. Look this thing straight in the face … don’t shirk any possibility. Discover how much you care for Pedrek. Take Belinda with you. Look after her. She is in need of help as much as you are, my darling.”

She put her arms round me.

I said pathetically: “Everything was so wonderful. There was the house …” I shivered. The house would never be the same to me again. I would always remember that terrifying scene with Jean Pascal. He had besmirched the house—but Pedrek had ruined my future happiness.

I knew my grandmother was right. I could not stay there. I had to get away.

There was another reason why I knew we must go, which was made clear to me by Leah.

My grandmother and I were discussing Belinda with her and my grandmother asked her if she thought the child was growing away from her experience.

Leah stood up very straight, her hands clenched.

“Will she ever be able to grow away from it?” she demanded. “Oh, Madam, Miss Rebecca … sometimes I feel I could kill him.”

“Leah!” I murmured.

“Oh yes, Miss Rebecca, that is how I feel. What has he done to our child? I see the terror in her eyes. She whimpers in her sleep. Sometimes she calls out. It will be a long time before it goes away. These men, they … they should not be allowed to live. If I see him … I could not trust myself.”

“You must not talk like this, Leah,” said my grandmother. “It may well have been a mistake. Perhaps she was frightened … she did not see very well.”

Leah looked at my grandmother as though she thought her a little stupid.

“She saw …” she said. “Men … they are not what they seem. They are wicked. They think only of themselves … their need of the moment. Their victims mean nothing to them.” I had never seen her so vehement. “They submit them to their will … and then cast them aside.”

“Dear Leah,” said my grandmother, “you have always been wonderful with Belinda. You will know how to help her through this. She will need such careful treatment.”

Leah was fierce. “I will not have her questioned and cross-questioned. She must forget quickly … it is the only way.”

“Leah is right,” said my grandmother.

Leah nodded and when I looked at her eyes, wild with hatred, I had a horrible conviction that she meant it when she said she would kill Pedrek.

Afterwards my grandmother said: “She was so fierce. Of course, she has looked after Belinda since she was a baby and regards her as her own child. I can see great trouble growing out of this. I do hope it is not going to be known. It will kill Josiah.”

“It isn’t true, Granny, I know it in my heart.”

“I feel the same. After all these years … we know Pedrek and it is not plausible. And yet if it were so … there are other children to be thought of … protected.”

“I know there is some explanation.”

“I feel that, too. We must not act rashly. Your grandfather feels we should wait a few days before taking any action.”

Wait? What could we do by waiting?

But I could see that it was imperative for us to get away. It was what I needed, too.

I wrote to Pedrek. I made several drafts of the letter before I produced the final one.

Dear Pedrek,

I am going back to London. I cannot stay here. I have been so unhappy since this happened. I know you have been, too. At the moment I am bemused and I don’t know what to say. My grandparents think I should get away for a while. I don’t want to believe it. I am trying not to. Sometimes I think how absurd it is and then … at others … I am so unsure.

Do try to understand. Give me time.

Rebecca

He wrote back to me:

Dear Rebecca,

I see that you doubt me. I cannot understand how you could possibly believe this of me. I had thought you loved me. I can see now that I was wrong. After all these years you don’t know me if you think I could molest a child. It is a cruel fabrication of lies. But you prefer to believe others rather than me.

Pedrek

I wept over his letter. I wanted to go to him, to comfort him, to tell him that, no matter what he had done, I still loved him.

But I could not do it. I knew that I would always be watching him for signs. I thought of the weakness of men. It was no use setting them up on pedestals and thinking of them as perfect gentle knights. They were not like that. Oddly enough memories of Benedict Lansdon kept coming into my mind. I remembered the love I had witnessed between him and my mother, and yet he had married his first wife for the goldmine she brought him. My mother had known this and forgiven him.

That was different. My image of Pedrek had been changed and when I thought of him I would see the lust I had witnessed in Jean Pascal’s eyes, and the two seemed to merge into one.

I was not ready at this time to make a decision.

So I left Cador with Belinda, Lucie, Leah and Miss Stringer, for London.

As the train took us nearer to London I wished that I had not left. I felt a yearning to be back there. I think if I could have seen Pedrek then I should have told him that I believed there had been some hideous mistake. Now that I was away from him I seemed to see more clearly that he could not have been guilty of such an act.

I looked at Belinda. She was pale and sat back in her seat with her eyes closed. Lucie looked a little bewildered. We had told her that Belinda was not well and we must be careful not to upset her.

Miss Stringer was unaware of what had happened. I feared she would have insisted on an open accusation of Pedrek. I could imagine what her verdict would have been.

As for Leah, her attitude had become more protective. She hardly took her eyes from Belinda. I wondered whether she blamed herself for not noticing that the child had left the house to go to Mary Kellaway.

I wanted to tell her that no blame attached to her. We all knew how strong-willed Belinda could be, and if she wanted to go and visit Mary she would have found some way of doing so.

And so we reached London.

Benedict was at home. He had not been told of the reason for our arrival. I said to my grandmother: “There is no need to worry about that. He will not notice whether we are there or not.”

The carriage was waiting for us and in a short time we drew up before the house which had never seemed like a home to me. I felt so miserable. There was nothing I wanted to do so much as to take the next train down to Cornwall.

Belinda seemed a little happier as we went into the house. They had been right. It was necessary for her to get away.

There was a great deal to do … unpacking, which I wanted to do myself … and getting the children fed and settled in.

I noticed that Belinda ate what was put before her. She seemed very tired and I left Leah to put them to bed.

Celeste was pleased to see me; but even she brought up memories of Jean Pascal, although the horror I had felt in that bedroom at High Tor was sunk in insignificance by my greater tragedy.

I wondered—as people do at such times, about matters which seemed of small importance beside the great tragedy—what would happen to the house.

That set me thinking of those happy times when we had talked of living there.

I dined with Benedict and Celeste. The talk was mainly about Cornwall and my grandparents. Benedict was always interested In Cornwall which made him melancholy for he would be reminded of my mother. It was in Cornwall they had first known each other when she was a child. He always looked sad and nostalgic when he spoke of it and I was sure Celeste was aware of this.

As soon as the meal was over I wanted to escape to my room. I think Celeste would have liked to talk to me but I could not endure this on that night. I kept thinking of Jean Pascal—after all, he was her brother—and I wanted to put that out of my mind if possible. I was reminded that there would be occasions when he came to this house and I should have to avoid him.

There were so many unpleasant dilemmas ahead of me and I just wanted to be alone to think.

Celeste said: “Of course you are tired. We will talk in the morning,” and I was grateful for that.

As I was making my way upstairs I passed the door of Benedict’s study and as I did so the door opened and he came out.

He said: “Rebecca … I’d like a word. Do you mind?”

I followed him into the study, and he shut the door.

He looked at me quizzically and said: “Something is wrong, isn’t it?”

I hesitated. “Well, Belinda has not been very well.”

“No, so I gather. And you? You don’t look well yourself.”

“Don’t I?”

“You seem surprised about something.”

“Oh … I am surprised that you noticed.”

“I do notice.” He smiled. “I want everything to be … all right for you.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“I know I haven’t been very demonstrative, but that doesn’t mean I’m indifferent.”

“Oh, doesn’t it?”

“No. I wish …” He shrugged his shoulders. “I want you to know that if there is anything …”

“Anything?”

“Any way in which I could help …”

“I don’t need help, thanks. I’m all right.”

“Well, don’t forget. Your mother would have wanted us to be friends. She always did.”

I was astonished. He was looking at me almost pleadingly.

He went on: “I’m here, you know … I just want you to realize that if I can be of any use … well, I’m here.”

For a moment I forgot my misery. What on Earth had happened to the man? Of course, there had been an election in March and Mr. Gladstone, his hero, was now Prime Minister. Perhaps that would mean a post in the Cabinet for him. It must be that which made him feel on good terms with the whole world. He had even noticed me … and Belinda.

A week passed and the tragedy seemed as close as ever. I brooded for hours when I was alone in my bedroom. I should have stayed in Cornwall. But Belinda had had to get away and how could she have gone without Lucie and me, for Lucie was my responsibility. She had no claims on Benedict. I could not have let her go without me. And yet my heart was back in Cornwall with Pedrek. I wanted to write to him to tell him that whatever he had done made no difference. Anything else would not have been the same. If he had been a thief … even if he had killed someone … but to me this was so revolting that I could not bear to think of it.

I had a talk with Celeste who had her own problem to face.

She said: “You are unhappy but you do not want to talk about it.”

I shook my head.

“Is it a love affair?”

I nodded.

“Someone in Cornwall. It must be Pedrek Cartwright. I always thought what a delightful young man he is. Has it gone wrong then?”

“Yes,” I said. “It has gone wrong.”

“My poor Rebecca. And you love him?”

“Yes.”

“It is so sad. Life is cruel, is it not? To love and to be rejected … that is a terrible thing.”

I was silent thinking of Pedrek. It was I who had rejected him. We had said our love would last forever and at the first ill wind it had blown away.

“At least,” she went on, “you find out in time … not like …”

I was drawn away from my own tragedy to hers.

She said: “It hurts too much to talk, I know. But it is too soon. As time passes the hurt does not go away … but it is easier to talk. And you suffer, too …”

I put out my hand and took hers.

She went on: “Sometimes I wonder how I will endure it. It is better when he is away. Then I can deceive myself … a little. But when he is here and shows so clearly … Why did he marry me? I ask myself.”

“He must have loved you or he would never have done that.”

“It was done … how you say? … without thought.”

“On the spur of the moment. Oh, but I do not believe he would act rashly in such matters. He must have thought you would be happy together.”

“Perhaps. At first … I thought we might … but he is obsessed by a dead love. He cannot forget.”

“Does he still go to the locked room?”

She nodded. “And I am sad and lonely waiting for a husband who does not want me.”

“My poor Celeste.”

“I need to be loved. I am not one to live alone.”

“Perhaps in time …”

“In time? It is years since she died … but she is still with him. It is as though she is in this house. I do not know how long I can endure …” She stared into space. “I could take a lover … or take my life … he would not care …”

“Oh, Celeste, please don’t talk like that.”

“You see … I love him. I want him as he … wants his dead wife. We are in a maze … both of us … searching for the impossible.”

“Perhaps it will come right in the end.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “That is a word which does not fill me with hope.”

“It may be it is wrong to care for people too much. One gets hurt.”

She nodded.

“He must have been fond of you to marry you,” I insisted.

“He needed a wife. I could entertain his guests. It is a help in his career. I am like the first wife. He married her for the goldmine.”

“I think he cares for you, but you see … there was this special feeling for my mother … and he just cannot forget her.”

“She is there all the time.”

“Yes, I know … a shadowy third!”

And between Pedrek and me was the memory of a small girl running to me … her eyes wild, her clothes torn … as certainly as Benedict’s obsession with my mother was between him and Celeste.

It might well be that I had been right to get away. We should never have been happy with that shadow between us. It would have flashed into my memory at odd moments throughout my life.

I was glad when we left London for Manorleigh.

Mrs. Emery was shocked at the sight of me. “My goodness me, Miss Rebecca,” she said. “You do look pale … and I believe you’ve lost some weight. Yes, I’m sure of it … and you were like a beanpole before. That’s Cornwall for you. Well, we’ll have to see what we can do. We’ll get some color back into those cheeks and a little more flesh on the bones.”

I would sit at my window and look down at the winged-footed Hermes, at the pond and the haunted seat under the oak tree. If only my mother were here, she would tell me what to do.

Oliver Gerson called. The children and I were pleased to see him. He was one of those people who only have to appear to dispel melancholy. He expressed his great delight in our reunion. He kissed hands all round. Belinda seemed to step right away from her tragedy on his first visit. She jumped about him. Lucie was almost equally delighted.

“This is a joyous reunion, I see,” he said. “I am deeply aware of my own delight but it is gratifying to see that it is shared.”

“Why didn’t you come to Cornwall?” demanded Belinda.

“I had my duties here. I am not a man of leisure.”

“I know,” said Belinda. “You work for my father.”

“Which is very fortunate because it gives me an opportunity to be with his charming family now and then.”

His eyes met mine and he smiled warmly. “I wondered when you were going to return from Cornwall,” he said.

“It was a long time,” said Lucie. “And then Belinda got ill.”

“Oh dear me.” He was all concern, turning to Belinda.

“I’m all right now,” she said. “What are we going to do?”

“Well, first I shall have a conference with your father. After that I shall be free for an hour or so. Could we ride … as we did in the days before you deserted me?”

“We didn’t desert you,” said Belinda firmly. “It was just that we had to go to Cornwall.”

“And now you are glad to be back.”

Belinda did one of her joyous leaps and nodded.

“Well, as they say, all’s well that ends well. Now, if Your Majesty will excuse me …” He made an elegant bow in Belinda’s direction which delighted her. “… I will get to my duty and later we will ride together … all of us, the Misses Rebecca, Belinda and Lucie … and I shall be their guide.”

“Hurry,” commanded Belinda.

He bowed more deeply. “Your wishes shall be granted, my Queen.”

How he charmed her! He came frequently to the house and every day she looked for him. She seemed to have completely forgotten her unhappy experience in Cornwall and reverted to her old self.

He was right when he said he would be a frequent visitor and on those days when he did not come Belinda would be sulky and very difficult to handle. Leah was wonderfully patient. How devoted she was to that child! To Lucie too, I supposed, but Lucie was more docile and she was always making excuses for Belinda.

We often rode at Manorleigh and Oliver Gerson’s company was a help even to me. He was constantly devising competitions for the children, tests in riding and observation so that each ride was full of interest for them. They were always on the alert for what he had decreed they must watch for and he instilled in them a competitive spirit which Miss Stringer said was good for them. She too had fallen under the spell of the Gerson charm.

One day we found an inn with a creaking sign over the door: The Hanging Judge. Belinda was immediately intrigued.

“What does it mean? Is it because he’s hanging up there?”

“Oh no, no,” said Oliver. He’s the hanging judge because he hanged people by the neck.”

Belinda’s eyes were sparkling.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ll go in and have a little refreshment.”

I was uneasy about taking the children into such a place, but he took my arm reassuringly. “They’ll love it,” he whispered. “It will be something new for them. I’ll make sure it is all right.”

He exerted his charm wherever he went. He talked to the landlord’s wife; she nodded conspiratorially and we were all seated in the parlor with its oak beams and air of adventure.

Watered-down cider was brought for the children and we all sat there drinking. Neither Belinda nor Lucie had been in an inn before. Their eyes were round with wonder and it was clear that they thought it a great adventure.

Belinda demanded to know about the hanging judge and he told them that the Duke of Monmouth, the son of Charles the Second, thought he had more right to the throne than the King’s brother James, and how there was a battle and Monmouth was defeated and his men captured and brought before the cruel hanging judge.

“There are gibbets all over the West Country,” he told them; and they listened spellbound.

I thought: How they love horror! I could only think it was because they did not fully understand it.

“You think of the most lovely things,” Belinda told Oliver Gerson.

When they reached home they chattered to Miss Stringer about the hanging judge and the Monmouth rebellion. She was delighted.

“So instructive,” she said. “So good for them. What a delightful man!”

My dreams were haunted by Pedrek. I kept recalling that look of dawning horror on his face when we had confronted him with our suspicions. My first thoughts were of him each morning when I awoke, and he seemed to be beside me all through the day.

I said to myself: I must see him. I must tell him that I believe in him. That whatever he has done, I love him.

I knew there had been a mistake.

I would write to him. I would ask him to forgive me for distrusting him. But I did not write. Between me and that letter was the face of Belinda … distorted with fear … her wide innocent eyes showing so clearly that she could not entirely understand what had happened to her.

In the midst of my uncertainty there came a letter from my grandmother.

My dear Rebecca,

I hope you are feeling a little better. I think you did right to get away—and in any case it was necessary for Belinda. It has been sad for us here. Pedrek is leaving Cornwall. I think it is best really. I think we all need to get away from that terrible time … to try to see things in proportion.

He is going to Australia. There have been discoveries of tin in New South Wales and they are asking for mining engineers to go out there. Of course, Pedrek has not finished his course at the college but he has attained a degree of knowledge and there are of course his grandfather’s connections in the mining field and that will stand for a good deal. He needs to get away. We simply could not go on as we have been after all that has happened. He will be leaving almost immediately and I don’t know how long he will be away.

The Pencarrons are very upset. They don’t know what it is all about. They think there has been some big quarrel between you and Pedrek and they are very sad.

Your grandfather and I have felt very uncertain. We could not bring ourselves to tell them. I think it would have killed his grandmother … and what Josiah would have done, I cannot imagine. They worship Pedrek. Then we wondered whether we should have done something about it … whether it was our duty to. It is such a terrible thing … What if some other child …? On the other hand we could not really believe it somehow. As I said to your grandfather even suppose he lost control for a moment he would have learned his lesson.

He looks so unhappy … so terribly sad and bewildered in a way. It is such a wretched business and I know, my darling, how you must be suffering. It is best for you to be right away from it.

We can only wait and see. Try not to grieve too much. Perhaps there will be some explanation some day. However it was best that you should leave here and I think that he should get away, too.

I only wonder whether we have done the right thing …

The letter dropped from my hands. Gone away! To Australia! As my parents had in search of gold. My grandmother had gone there too and met tragedy … and now Pedrek had left to look for tin and get away from a situation which had become intolerable.

Who would have believed that in such a short time life could change so drastically?

I should have written to him before. I should have told him that I loved him and would go on doing so no matter what had happened.

But it was too late now.

He continued to haunt my thoughts. Where was he now? Had he left Cornwall? I could imagine the heartrending farewell between him and his grandparents.

Morwenna came to see me. She was distraught.

“What does all this mean between you and Pedrek?” she demanded.

“We decided we couldn’t marry … for a while.”

“But why? You were so happy … so looking forward to it … why, you had almost got the house.”

“I know … but it changed. We realized that we had made a mistake and it would be wrong to … to er … rush into it.”

“I can’t believe it.”

I looked at her sadly. I could not explain to her. I could not show her how bewildered and unhappy I was. She and his father would be completely shocked if they knew.

So I let them think that I was fickle. They could not believe that it was Pedrek who had changed his mind.

And now he was going to Australia … the home of his birth. I could see the fear in Morwenna’s eyes; her attitude had changed towards me. She was cold and withdrawn.

But I could not tell her. The terrible event at the pool had resulted in misery in all directions.

Mrs. Emery said: “I don’t know what’s the matter with Mrs. Cartwright. She seems changed. It’s because her son’s going out to Australia, I suppose.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” I said.

She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. They had all guessed that there had been an understanding between Pedrek and me and knew that this was so no longer.

“These matters are for them they belong to,” was her judicial summing up. “It’s for them to decide and nobody else’s business.” She looked at me almost tenderly. “And you’ve got to take a bit of care of yourself. We don’t want you ill, Miss Rebecca.”

“I’ll take care,” I promised.

I imagined how they all discussed the matter round the kitchen table and conjured up reasons for my wan looks.

There were times when I almost walked out of the house and took the train to Cornwall that I might see him before he left and urge him not to go …to tell him that no matter what had happened I wanted to be with him.

Would he accept that? He would not want me to say “no matter what.” He wanted me to have the utmost belief in his innocence. This I instinctively knew would be his terms.

I loved Pedrek. I knew now how much. But I had grown up. I had discovered lust in the bedroom at High Tor and I knew men could change when that lustful urge was upon them. I had learned that it takes a long time to know people and I was asking myself, Did I know Pedrek? Did I know every aspect of him?

The fact of the matter was that I could not be sure. And what he was asking from me was absolute belief in his innocence.

It was an impasse. I hesitated … and so he would go to Australia.

There he would try to forget me … and I must try to forget him.