Philippa Carr - The Changeling

I was sad and lonely. I had lost her, as he had, and then I had thought I could have a happy life with Pedrek, and now I had lost him, too.

He said: “We should try to help each other, you and I … instead of which …” He was silent for a short while and then went on: “There was only ever one trouble between your mother and me. It was these clubs. She hated it when I inherited them from my grandfather. She wanted me to get rid of them. I should have listened to her. It was the only time there was contention between us. She knew my grandfather. He was an adventurer. Everyone said I was like him. But I think there is a difference. I should have listened to her. I should have got rid of them long ago.”

I said: “I heard something about … was it The Devil’s Crown?”

“Yes … I was considering acquiring it. Gerson believes I already have. He does not know as much as he thinks he does. I can’t imagine how he has so much information about my affairs.”

A sudden memory came back to me.

I said: “Do you keep confidential papers in that locked room?”

“Yes,” he said.

“So it is not entirely a shrine. I thought you kept it as it was because …”

“I did,” he admitted. “Then it occurred to me that it was just the place to keep secret documents.”

I was surprised that at such a time I could feel a twinge of amusement. I supposed that was typical of him, that in the midst of his emotions he could think of such a thing. He had made that shrine to her memory and he could at the same time use it as a secret cache for important documents. I seemed to see my mother’s face smiling indulgently, whispering: “Yes, but that is Benedict.”

I said: “You kept private documents in there yet you let Oliver Gerson have access to them.”

He stared at me in amazement. “No. Never,” he said.

I went on: “He was here in that locked room.”

“When?”

“Not very long ago. I heard noises there and I made Mrs. Emery get her key. We went there and he was there with some papers before him … at the bureau. He said you had given him your key.”

He was incredulous. “He must have got hold of Mrs. Emery’s key.”

“No. She had hers. We had gone in with that and found him there. He had locked the door on the inside.”

“I can’t believe this. My key has never left the ring on which I keep it.”

“Well, it was not Mrs. Emery’s because she had hers.”

“I am astounded, Rebecca. I can’t imagine how this could happen. There are only two keys.”

“If one of them had been in his possession for a while couldn’t he have had another made?”

“That’s the answer. He must have stolen one of the keys at sometime.”

“It seems the only reasonable solution.”

“And he has been examining papers …”

“Does that make any difference to what he can bring against you?”

He shook his head. “You know so much now, so let me tell you this. The clubs which my grandfather started and owned for many years brought him great riches. He was a clever man who loved adventure. Life without risks would not have been exciting enough for him. He enjoyed what he did. Some would say he was a rogue … but many loved him. I have realized that we are different. I am not of his caliber. I have inherited some of his qualities … but not all. You know my ambitions are great. They mean more to me than that fortune which comes through questionable channels. For some time I have been working on disposing of the clubs and concentrating entirely on politics. As you know I made a fortune from the goldmine. I still have a small interest in that. Money is no problem. It was just the thought of more that tempted me. Now I am following the advice which she gave me … all those years ago. I shall dispose of my interests in the clubs. That is what Gerson does not know. He has worked for me for some time. He is ambitious. He plans to have a big share by acquiring a partnership … well, you’ve heard all that.”

“And this attempt to blackmail you, what harm could it do you?”

“This Devil’s Crown which I was considering adding to the others … is more than just a night club. There are activities going on there which are quite unsavory. I think it is possibly the haunt of drug traffickers. It was that which decided me that I wanted to get out.”

“So you are not caught up in anything of that sort yet?”

“Nor do I intend to be. I shall not be acquiring The Devil’s Crown, I think.”

“Then Oliver Gerson’s threats are groundless. He could bring nothing against you.”

“Well, he could always remind people of my connection with the clubs.”

“And that would harm you?”

“If I were in the Cabinet, perhaps.”

“So you think it wise to get out?”

“I should have listened to your mother long ago. But I am so pleased you are not involved with him.”

“There was never any intention on my part to marry him, but if there had been …”

“Oh yes,” he said with a faint smile, “you would have rejected my advice. I anticipated conflict so I am only too delighted that there is no need for it.”

“But if I did decide to marry …”

The smile deepened. “You would not be prepared to listen to me.”

“I should expect to make my own decision.”

“And if your choice had fallen on an unsuitable person such as Oliver Gerson, I should have done everything in my power to prevent the marriage because … well, I should feel it would be what your mother would have wanted. I wish …”

I looked at him waiting for him to go on.

“I wish,” he continued, “that I knew how Gerson got that key. I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you are not involved with him. That pleases me more than anything.”

He meant that. I was amazed.

It was a turning point in our relationship.

LEAH WAS IN THE garden with the children and I was just about to join them when a telegram arrived.

I glanced at it and saw that it was addressed to Leah. I took it to her at once. She was startled and took it from me with trembling fingers. Like most people who received them she was immediately thinking of bad news.

She read it and stared at me.

“Is something wrong, Leah?” I asked.

Belinda ran to her and took the telegram. “ ‘Your mother very ill,’ ” she said. “ ‘Asking for you. Come if possible.’ ”

I snatched the telegram from her. Belinda had read it correctly. “Oh Leah,” I said. “You must go at once.”

Leah looked round in a bewildered way. “How can I? The children …”

“Of course we can manage. Don’t you think you should go? She is asking for you.”

Leah nodded dumbly.

“You could catch the evening train,” I went on. “It would get you to Cornwall in the morning. Someone will meet you. Don’t worry about what’s happening here. We can manage.”

She seemed very undecided but at length she agreed that she must go.

I kept thinking of Mrs. Polhenny … ill. I wondered what had happened to her. The last time my grandmother had mentioned her, everything seemed as it always had been.

A few days later I had a letter from my grandmother.

“We are all a little shocked by the death of Mrs. Polhenny,” she wrote. “She was so much a part of the place and it is hard to imagine that we shall not see her any more. She was riding home from one of her cases when the wheel of her old boneshaker seems to have come into contact with a stone of some sort. It must have been a sizeable one. Unfortunately she was at the top of Goonhilly Hill and she came hurtling down. You know how steep it is. She fell and cracked her skull. They got her to the hospital in Plymouth but by the time she reached there she was in a bad state. A messenger came to tell me that she was asking for me … urgently. She wanted to say something very important to me. They had already sent for Leah.

“I scarcely recognized her when I saw her. She did not look in the least like the Mrs. Polhenny we knew. She looked old and frail lying there wrapped up in bandages.

“They left me with her, for somehow she implied that was what she wanted. I was surprised that it was allowed but I think she was too far gone for anything to matter. It was so strange, Rebecca, she seemed really afraid. You know how we used to say her place was secure in Heaven. She was always the virtuous one, you remember, on very special terms with the Almighty. We used to say she had her place booked in the Heavenly Choir. And then … there she was. There was no doubt in my mind that she was a very frightened woman.

“She put out a hand to me. I took it. Hers was cold and clammy. She was very feeble but the light pressure on her fingers told me she wanted me to be there. She kept saying, ‘I want … want … want …’ I replied softly, ‘Yes, Mrs. Polhenny, I am here. What is it you want? I am listening.’ ‘Have to … have to …’ I could not make out what she was trying to tell me but I knew it was something on her mind. Then she started to make queer gurgling noises. I thought she needed help so I called for the nurse. I was sent out of the room and the doctor came in. That was the end, and I never knew why that urgent call had been sent to me. I waited at the hospital and a little while later they came out to tell me she was dead.

“I can tell you it was a terrible shock to us all. I think we had believed she was immortal. We expected she would still be riding that old bone-shaker up and down the hill when most of us were no more. Oh, how I hate change!

“How are you getting on? We think of you all the time.

Pedrek has now arrived in New South Wales. His grandparents are sad without him. They say he will probably be away for two years.

“How I wish it could all have been different!”

I could scarcely read on. This terrible thing had ruined not only Pedrek’s life and mine but all those who loved us.

Leah had returned from Cornwall. It was difficult to tell what her true feelings were. She had always been such a secretive person. She had found her mother dead when she arrived. There had been a certain amount to clear up. She had to arrange the sale of the furniture and other matters. My grandparents had been helpful and had insisted that she stay at Cador while all that was done.

The children were delighted to have her back. Belinda had been a little sad because Oliver had left so abruptly. I wondered what her reaction would be when she realized she was not going to see him again. His visits had always been spasmodic so, for the time being, she had no notion that anything was wrong and I did not give her any intimation. I thought the longer the time lapsed the easier it would be.

Then Tom Marner arrived.

Benedict told me about him. Since that day when I had had a glimpse of a different aspect of him, there had begun a growing friendship between us. It was as though a high barrier had been removed; but there were still others.

We were at dinner. There were only three of us: Benedict, Celeste and myself.

He said: “By the way, Tom Marner will be coming. He’s now on his way over.”

I imagined Celeste, like myself, had no notion who Tom Marner was.

“He’s a good sort,” went on Benedict. “A bit of a rough diamond, but he’s a fellow one can trust. By the way, he’s the man who bought the goldmine from me.”

“And he is coming here?” asked Celeste in some alarm.

“If he’s a good sort we shall enjoy meeting him,” I said.

“I think you will be interested and amused. Honest … down-to-earth, no compromise.”

“I know,” I said. “The heart of gold under the rough exterior.”

“I think you have the idea.”

He looked faintly embarrassed as he did when he mentioned the mine. He guessed, rightly, that I should be thinking of the way he acquired it.

“I didn’t sell outright,” he went on. “I retained a small interest in it.”

“So it is really a business visit,” I said.

“You could say that. There are certain matters we want to discuss.”

“Will he be staying in Manorleigh or London?” asked Celeste.

“Manorleigh first, I should think. And we may go up to London. He’ll probably be here in a couple of weeks.”

“We will get ready for him,” said Celeste; and we went on to talk of other things.

I made use of the Australian’s coming when Belinda talked about Oliver Gerson.

“It’s funny,” she said. “He went away without seeing us. He didn’t say goodbye and it’s ages since he came.”