The Changeling by Philippa Carr Page A

than his evil ones. There were many people at the funeral. Aunt Amaryllis was dazed with grief; and even Frances, whose brilliant work at the Mission had been so outstanding and who had never pretended to have a good opinion of her father-in-law, was sad. As for the rest of us, we were quite desolate.
    I was only just beginning to be aware of change and now I found it everywhere.
    In due course the will was read. I was not present at that ceremony, but I heard about it later.
    The servants were pleased. They had all received their legacies. Everything had been taken care of, I was told, which one would expect of Uncle Peter. Aunt Amaryllis was well provided for; Helena, and Martin, Peterkin and Frances all had their portions. He had a great fortune to leave but the larger part of it was in his business which meant the notorious clubs; and these he had left to his grandson, Benedict Lansdon.
    They were whispering about it and I wondered what differences this would mean.
    I was soon to discover. The relationship between my mother and her husband had undergone a slight change. She was no longer idyllically happy. In fact there was a certain uneasiness about her.
    I had seen them in the garden together. Instead of laughing and now and then touching hands, they walked with a slight distance between each other, yet in earnest conversation … frowning … emphatic … in fact one might say arguing.
    It dawned on me that it had something to do with this new inheritance from Uncle Peter.
    I wished my mother would talk to me about it. But of course she did not. It was one thing to be considered mature enough to read Jane Eyre, but to be involved in discussion of this delicate affair was quite different.
    My mother was very worried.
    I did overhear her discussing it with Frances. Frances was one of those rather uncomfortable people who are kind and considerate when dealing with the masses and less so with individuals. She was of sterling character; she had devoted her life to good works; she had said she accepted money from Uncle Peter with gratitude for she did not care how that money had been come by as long as it came her way and she could use it to the good of her Mission. But she had always been more critical of Uncle Peter than any other member of the family. She had accepted him for what he was and was like Elizabeth of England, gratefully receiving plunder which her pirate-heroes brought her and pouring it into the treasury for the good of her country.
    This was logical reasoning of course and one would never expect anything else from Frances.
    She said: “Benedict should sell off the clubs. They’d bring him a fortune. Surely he doesn’t mean to continue with them?”
    “He feels it is what Uncle Peter wanted him to do,” said my mother. “It was for that reason he left them to him.”
    “Nonsense. Peter would expect him to do what was best for himself … as he always did.”
    “Nevertheless …”
    “He fancies himself in the role, I daresay. Well, my father-in-law sailed very near the wind, sometimes … and that’s no way for a politician to go.”
    “It’s what I tell Benedict.”
    “And he thinks he can go on reaping rewards from the underworld and increasing his riches. There is no doubt that money is a great asset in a political career.”
    “It frightens me, Frances.”
    “Well, like grandfather like grandson. There is no doubting Benedict is a chip off the old block.”
    “Benedict is wonderful.”
    A brief silence while Frances was no doubt implying her disagreement with that statement.
    “Well,” she said at length, “those clubs nearly finished my father-in-law, remember.”
    “I know. That’s why …”
    “Some men are like that. Offer them a challenge and they’ve got to take it. It’s something to do with their masculine arrogance. They think nothing on Earth can beat them and they have to prove it.”
    “But it could ruin him …”
    “Well, his grandfather came sailing through,