“You are right.”

“And one of these charming young ladies is Miss Belinda Lansdon.”

“It’s me,” shrieked Belinda.

“If Miss Stringer were here what would she say?” I asked.

“Don’t shout,” said Lucie. “That’s what she’d say. You’re always shouting, Belinda.”

“People want to hear what I say,” Belinda pointed out.

“You are forgetting your manners,” I said. “And what Miss Stringer would say is ‘Watch your grammar.’ It should be ‘It is I’ not ‘me.’ ”

“Well, it is me all the same however you say it.” She went to the newcomer and held out her hand. “I am Belinda,” she said.

“I guessed,” he told her.

“Are you looking for Mr. Lansdon?” I asked. “He’s in London.”

“Is that so? Well, I must content myself with meeting his charming family.”

“You know who we are,” I said. “Could you introduce yourself?”

“You must forgive the omission. I have been so overcome with pleasure to meet you in this somewhat unconventional manner. I am Oliver Gerson. I might say an associate of your stepfather.”

“I presume you want to talk business with him.”

“Not as much as I want to chat in the sunshine with his family.”

I thought he was a little too suave—the typical man about town with a talent for paying flattering compliments which were obviously false, although I had to admit that he did so with a certain grace and charm which inclined one to forget the insincerity.

He asked if he might sit with us. Lucie came and stood close to me. Belinda was stretched on the grass; she stared with unconcealed interest at the newcomer.

He surveyed her benignly: “You are putting me under close scrutiny, Miss Belinda,” he said.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“You are studying me intently, wondering whether I fit into your scheme of things.”

She was a little taken aback but pleased to have his attention focused on her.

“Tell us about you,” she said.

“I am an associate of your father. We are in business together. I, however, never did aspire to the Houses of Parliament. Now tell me, Miss Rebecca, is it true that you are shortly to be presented to the Queen?”

“I can do the curtsy,” cried Belinda, and leaping up proceeded to show him.

“Bravo!” he shouted. “What a pity you are not going to be presented too.”

“They don’t present little girls.”

“But fortunately little girls become bigger in due course.”

“But they have to wait until then. I’ve got ages to wait.”

“Time will soon pass, will it not, Miss Rebecca?”

I said yes it would and before long it would be Belinda’s and Lucie’s turns.

“We know how to do it already,” Lucie observed.

“You have recently come from Cornwall?” he asked.

“What a lot you know about us!”

“I am very interested in Benedict’s family. Are you going to help him hold his seat?”

“I shall help him if I want to,” announced Belinda.

“You are a young lady of whims, I see.”

Belinda had sidled up to him and placed her hands on his knees. “What’s whims?” she asked.

“Passing fancies … impulsive acts … Is that how you would describe it, Miss Rebecca?”

“I should think that is an accurate description.”

He looked at me earnestly. “I shall look forward to seeing you after your initiation.”

“Oh, shall you be in town?”

“Indeed I shall. I have wanted to meet you ever since I heard you were leaving the remote land of Cornwall.”

“You heard of that?”

“Your stepfather is very proud of his stepdaughter and very eager to see her entry into society.”

“Oh, do you know him well?”

“Indeed. We work together.”

“Yes, I believe you did tell us this.”

“Can you ride?” asked Belinda.

“I came here on horseback. My steed is now in the stables being looked after by your very capable groom.”

“We have ponies, don’t we, Lucie?” said Belinda.

Lucie nodded.

“Would you like to see us jump?” went on Belinda. “We go very high now.”

“Oh really, Belinda,” I said with a laugh. “Mr. Gerson won’t have time for that.”

“I have time.” He smiled at Belinda. “And my greatest desire at this moment is to see Miss Belinda take the jump with her pony.”

“Will you wait until we get into our riding things?” asked Belinda excitedly.

“Until the end of time,” he told her.

“You say such funny things. Come on, Lucie.” She turned back to him. “Stay there till we come. Don’t go away.”

“Wild horses could not drag me away.”

They ran off and I looked at him in astonishment. He smiled at me half apologetically. “They were so charmingly eager,” he said. “What a bright creature Miss Belinda is.”

“Sometimes we feel a little too bright.”

“The other one is charming, too. She is the foundling … is she not?”

“We don’t mention it.”

“Forgive me. I am a close friend of Benedict’s and I know the circumstances. I have so long wanted to meet his family and this is a great occasion for me.”

“I am surprised that you did not know he is in London.”

He had a way of lifting one eyebrow when he smiled.

“Will you forgive me? I did know. I wanted an opportunity to meet his stepdaughter in private, so that when we meet at those functions which you as a young lady who has passed the royal test will be attending, I should already have had the pleasure of your acquaintance.”

“Why should you bother?”

“I thought it would be more amusing. At those dances and such like functions conversation is not always easy. I wanted to get to know you away from them. You must pardon my forwardness.”

“Well, at least you have been frank and there is really nothing to pardon.”

“May I say that I have rarely spent such an agreeable afternoon?”

He had such a convincing manner that I almost believed him. His presence in any case had given an interest to the afternoon.

The girls appeared, flushed and excited.

“Do we have to have a groom?” asked Lucie.

“I think you should. Let’s go and see who is in the stables.”

“We don’t need a groom,” said Belinda impatiently. “We can do without him. We can ride now. Grooms are for little children.”

“I know you are fast leaving childhood behind and are vastly experienced but the rule is that a groom must be present and we must keep to it.”

“It’s nonsense,” said Belinda.

“Don’t flout authority, Belinda,” I said, “or Mr. Gerson will think you are a rebel.”

“Will you?” she asked. “And am I?”

“The answers are Yes and Yes again. Do you believe I am right?”

She skipped round him. “You’re a rebel. You’re a rebel,” she chanted.

“Do I so betray myself to those clear young eyes?”

It was obvious that Belinda was enchanted by Mr. Gerson. I was afraid she would try to do something rash to impress him.

We stood side by side in the paddock, watching them taking their jumps, under the guidance of Jim Taylor.

“What a charming domestic scene,” said Oliver Gerson. “I cannot remember when I enjoyed an afternoon so much.”

Afterwards I took the children back to the house.

“Leah will be wondering what has become of you.” I told them.

“Oh, she’s got one of her silly old headaches,” said Belinda.

“You will see that Miss Belinda Lansdon is not of a very sympathetic nature,” I said to Oliver Gerson.

“Miss Belinda Lansdon is a young lady of strong opinions,” he replied, “nor does she hesitate to express them.”

He did not come into the house. He said he had to get back to London; he had business to deal with.

After he had gone Lucie said to me: “I think Belinda liked him a lot … and I think he liked you.”

I replied: “He is the sort of person who appears to like people … that is on the surface. In fact, he might have entirely different feelings about them.”

“That’s called deceit,” said Lucie.

“Often,” I answered, “it is called charm.”

It was time for me to return to London. The children said a regretful goodbye to me, but I felt that they were happy enough at Manor Grange. In the short time we had been there it had become home to them and it was true that a house in the country was more suitable to their needs than the splendid London residence could be.

Morwenna was waiting for me. There was a great deal to press into a short time, she said. We must go to the dressmaker to make sure everything fitted; moreover Madame Perrotte would be coming until the very last day. She was a little worried about my curtsy.

There followed a week of intensive action and then the great day dawned.

I set out in the carriage with Morwenna and Helena and as was the custom we were inspected by the curious eyes of passers by. It was quite an ordeal. At last we were in the royal drawing room and there was the Queen, a diminutive figure, with an expression of gloom and an air of aloofness which was rather disconcerting.

However, the procedure was short lived. One approached, curtsied, kissed the plump bejeweled little hand, and for a fraction of a second looked into that sad old face, than cautiously walked backwards, balancing the three plumes on one’s head and taking the utmost care not to trip over one’s three and a half yards of train. I was inwardly amused by all the preparations which had been necessary to make me ready for those few seconds of confrontation with royalty. However, the purpose was served. I had survived the ordeal and was now an accepted member of London society.

I was relived to take off my feathers—as great a hazard as the train of my dress—and to sit back and say Thank Heaven, that’s over.

Morwenna was as relieved as I was.

“I remember it so well,” she said.

“I too,” added Helena.

“I was in a state of perpetual anxiety throughout the whole business,” admitted Morwenna. “I knew I’d be a failure.”

“So did I,” added Helena.

“Yet,” I pointed out, “you are both happily married which is the whole purpose of the affair.”

“The whole purpose of the affair,” said Helena, “is to parade the girls so that they can aspire to a grand marriage. Our marriages were grand for us but not to the world. Martin wasn’t known at all when I married him.”

I knew the story of how they had met on the way to Australia with my great-grandparents. Martin had been going out to write a book about convicts. Uncle Peter had helped him when he returned to England and had molded him so that he had become the successful politician he was today.

Morwenna said: “And Justin was not considered a good match. He is just a good husband.”

“To get a good husband is a more successful way of going about it, I should think,” I said.

“You see what a wise woman our little Rebecca has become,” said Helena. “I am going to pray that yew find the most successful way.”

We all were pleased that the great ordeal was over but we all knew there could be more to come. There would be the invitations, the gaiety, the splendor and the misgivings of the London season.

My stepfather would be watching me. He after all had borne the cost of the expensive arrangements of getting me launched. There had always been a great deal of entertaining at his London house—and at Manorleigh, of course; but that was political entertaining. Now the parties would be for his stepdaughter. There would doubtless be a strong political flavor about them, I supposed, because that was the circle in which he moved. But on the face of it the balls would be given for me. What return did he expect? He wanted to see little notices in the paper. “Miss Rebecca Mandeville, stepdaughter of Mr. Benedict Lansdon … the debutante of the season …” “Miss Rebecca Mandeville announces her engagement to the Duke of … the Marquis of … It will be remembered that she is the stepdaughter of Mr. Benedict Lansdon …” Uncle Peter had been like that. His grandson had inherited his talent for advertising himself. My mother used to laugh at Uncle Peter. What had they said of Benedict? “He’s a chip off the old block.” Well, if he expected me to shine in society and walk off with the big matrimonial prize, I feared he might be in for a big disappointment.

There was to be a ball for me at the London house. It was the first of the season. Great preparations ensued. Celeste was eager to help in any way she could. She was certainly trying hard to be friendly. She came to my room to help me dress for the ball, bringing her maid, Yvette, with her.