Free The Changeling by Philippa Carr Page A

Polhenny, you can’t believe all you hear. I think this would be an excellent chance for her.”
    “I don’t like my daughter to be away from home at night. I like to know she’s here … and I’m in the next room to her.”
    “Don’t refuse right away. Think about it. Leah loved doing our tapestry. How much more interesting such work is than plain embroidery.”
    “With foreigners!”
    “They are the same as we are,” I said.
    Mrs. Polhenny gave me a stern look. In her opinion, I was sure, young girls should be seen and not heard.
    “Let’s leave it like this,” said my grandmother. “But think what it would be worth … financially.”
    “I’d want her home every night.”
    “I don’t think that would be feasible. She has to catch the best of the light and you know how predictable the weather is. A light morning can turn to a dull one and her journey would be wasted. And it is a little far. Just think about it. In the meantime, I’ll have a word with Madame Bourdon.”
    So we left it at that.
    As we walked away my grandmother said: “Sometimes I think Mrs. Polhenny is a little unbalanced. It’s a pity. She’s such an excellent midwife.”
    “And a good housewife too, it seems. There’s nothing out of place in that cottage. It’s uncomfortably clean.”
    My grandmother laughed. “It’s what is called a fetish and I don’t think that is a very healthy thing to have. Then, of course, there’s Leah. She can’t have a very happy life. Poor girl, it must be difficult to live up to that perfection. And the way she guards the girl … it’s really unnatural.”
    “She seems afraid that Leah might do something … terrible.”
    My grandmother nodded and said: “I do hope she will see sense. I tried to persuade her. I thought I detected a glimmer of interest when I talked of money.”
    “Yes, so did I.”
    “Well, we’ll have to wait and see. I’ll write a note to Madame Bourdon and tell her of the reluctance. Perhaps if the money were tempting enough …”
    So we should have to wait and see.
    A letter came from my mother. She was wonderfully happy, she wrote, and she hoped I was enjoying Cornwall. What she was looking forward to about coming home was seeing me. She hoped I would be in London when she arrived. We would stay a few days there and then go down to Manorleigh. It was going to be so exciting.
    “You will be able to help us in the political work. It will be great fun and I know that you will enjoy it. Oh, Becca, we’re going to be so happy together … the three of us.”
    So she wanted me there when she returned.
    I showed the letter to my grandmother.
    “She’s very happy,” she said smiling. “It comes out, doesn’t it? You can sense it. We must be happy for her, Rebecca. She deserves to be happy.”
    “I must be there when she comes back,” I said.
    “Yes, your grandfather and I will go up with you. I should like a few days in town.”
    So it was arranged.
    The last day arrived. I rode in the morning, Miss Brown was busy packing. In the afternoon I took a walk to the pool. I saw Jenny on the way. She was singing softly to herself happy in the certainty that she would soon have her baby.
    She was certainly, as my grandmother would say, unbalanced. I suppose the same description could be applied to Mrs. Polhenny because of her preoccupation with sin.
    We heard that she had succumbed to the lure of money, that Leah had completed her commitments to the Plymouth customers, and was going to take a rest from such work and go up to High Tor to repair the Bourdon’s tapestries.
    The next day we left for London. We went to Uncle Peter and Aunt Amaryllis as we usually did. My mother and her husband were due to arrive in London the day after we did.
    I was apprehensive, realizing how peaceful it had been in Cornwall and how preoccupied I had been with the matter of the Bourdon’s tapestries and Mrs. Polhenny’s addiction to virtue, as well as with Jenny Stubbs singing happily in the