The Changeling by Philippa Carr Page B

honored and sung to his grave. Men like that don’t think they are living if there is not a bit of danger around them for them to overcome. Don’t worry, Angel. It’s bad for you in your condition. Take care of yourself and let Benedict fend for himself. His kind always come through … and I daresay he knows what he’s doing.”
    So that was it. He was going to continue in Uncle Peter’s business. It was dangerous, but then, as Frances had said, that was how men like Benedict and Uncle Peter lived.
    Aunt Amaryllis had aged considerably. She was listless and had lost those youthful looks which had been characteristic of her. She caught a chill and could not shake it off. It seemed that now Uncle Peter was dead she could find no purpose in living.
    My grandparents came to London. They were concerned about my mother.
    I heard them talking together. “She doesn’t look at all well,” said my grandmother. “Quite different from when we saw her last.”
    “Well, it’s getting near the time, I suppose,” replied my grandfather.
    “No … it’s more than that.”
    I was worried.
    “Granny,” I said, “is my mother all right?”
    She hesitated just a fraction of a second too long. “Oh yes,” she said at length. “She’ll be all right.” But she did speak without conviction. “I was wondering …” she went on, and paused.
    “Wondering what?” I asked.
    “Oh, nothing,” she answered, leaving it at that.
    Later I realized what she had in mind. She and my grandfather wanted my mother to go back with them to Cornwall and have the child there. I did not think she would agree to that for it would mean leaving Benedict. But then … it was not quite the same between them as it had been. This inheritance had come between them. She did not like it and he apparently did. I knew she was trying to persuade him to get out of the business and he was strongly resisting.
    My grandfather had long conversations with him and my grandmother talked a little to me.
    “I think it would be a good idea if you and your mother came back to Cornwall with us. We ought to go soon while your mother can travel. It could be a little difficult in a few weeks’ time.”
    “She won’t want to go. He couldn’t go with her.”
    “You mean your stepfather. No, of course he couldn’t. But he could come down for the occasional week-end. It is not so very far and he is used to travelling about.”
    “Oh, Granny, I hope she agrees.”
    My grandmother squeezed my hand. “We must try to persuade her. You see, it was different before Uncle Peter died. Everything has changed here. We always thought Aunt Amaryllis would look after her in London but she, poor soul, is hardly in a condition to do so. I know your stepfather would make sure that she had the best attention, but somehow I think people want those nearest and dearest to them at such a time. If she were with us you could be there too.”
    “Yes,” I said. “Oh yes.”
    I spoke to my mother about it.
    “Grandmother wants you to go to Cornwall.”
    “She is fussing over me.”
    “Well, you are her daughter.”
    She smiled at me. “Cornwall,” she said. “Sometimes I think of it, Becca. I feel very tired now and then. I do feel as though I want my mother. Isn’t that childish of me?”
    I reached for her hand. “I think people do want their mothers at certain times. ”
    “I believe you are right. I should always be there if you wanted me. You’d tell me, wouldn’t you, if anything was worrying you.”
    I hesitated and she did not pursue the matter. I was aware then that she knew how deeply I resented my stepfather. Perhaps it seemed to her nothing out of the ordinary; it must have happened thousands of times when a mother remarried.
    I wished she would tell me how deep was this rift between herself and her husband. Sometimes I thought it did not exist at all and that she was so much in love with him that he might do anything he pleased without changing that love. And what