On those occasions when I knew that he was coming I always built up a picture of him in my mind. Arrogant, overbearing, knowing I did not like him and therefore despising me because he was so wonderful that anyone who did not recognize this obvious fact must be a fool.
When he came he was always different from my mental picture which was a little disconcerting.
He arrived in midafternoon and one of the first things he did was have a talk with my grandparents.
After that my grandmother came to my room. “He wants to talk to you,” she said. “I think he really wants to do everything for the best.”
“The best for him,” I retorted.
“The best for all concerned,” she corrected. “It is better that he explains to you himself.”
I went down to him in the little sitting room. He rose and took my hands.
“Why, Rebecca, how you have grown!”
What did he expect, I wondered. That I was going to remain a child all my life?
“Come and sit down. I want to talk to you.”
“Yes, so I was told. I believe I have to congratulate you on your coming marriage.”
He frowned and looked at me intently. “Yes,” he said. “I am to be married next month.” He turned to me suddenly and I felt sorry for him as I had never done before. His mouth twisted a little and he said in a voice unlike his normal one: “It is six years, Rebecca. I think of her all the time. But … one cannot go on living in the past. You know what she meant to me … and I believe she would want me to do what I propose to now. We have to get on with our lives … you, too. I know your feelings. I know how it was with you two. She often told me. I was there when you were born. I could be fond of you as my own child … if you would allow me. But you never have, have you? You have resented me. I don’t reproach you. I understand … absolutely. In fact, I believe I should have felt the same had I been you. You see, we both loved her … infinitely.”
I could not believe that this was the great Benedict speaking. I was deeply moved but, even as I listened, so great was my resentment against him that I was telling myself that he was not completely sincere. He had loved her … but in his selfish way. There was only one person he loved wholeheartedly and that was Benedict Lansdon.
He seemed to regret his lapse into sentimentality.
“We have to be practical, Rebecca,” he went on. “It is not good for me to go on in this way … and not good for you either. You are now a young lady. You cannot be shut away in the country.”
“I don’t feel shut away. I am very happy with my grandparents.”
“I know. They are wonderful people, but you have to come out into the world. It is what your mother would have wanted for you. You have to make a life for yourself. You have to meet people of your own age. You have to mix into a society where you belong … where you can meet suitable people.”
“Suitable? Everything has to be suitable.”
He looked at me in amazement. “What is wrong with that? Of course everything should be suitable. You don’t want things to be unsuitable, do you? What I propose is that after the wedding, when we get settled in, you and Belinda come up to London. You will live mainly at Manorleigh. That is most … suitable.” He looked at me and smiled. “It is a most … er … satisfactory residence. We shall take the governess and the nurse with us. The nursery will just be transported from Cador.”
“You make it all sound very simple.”
“It is simple. As for you … you must have a London season.”
“I wouldn’t want that.”
“You must have it. It would be …”
“Suitable?”
“Necessary … in your position. You are my stepdaughter, you must remember. It would be expected. Moreover, you would find it very enjoyable … exciting even.”
“I am not sure about that.”
“I am. You have lived too long out of touch down here.”
“I have been as happy … as I could be in the circumstances.”
“I know. Your grandparents have been wonderful.”
“I suppose you can take Belinda, but I won’t come. I can’t. There is a reason.”
“What reason?”
“The child Lucie.”
“Oh,” he said. “That little girl in the nursery. I thought she was the nurse’s child.”
“She is not the nurse’s child. I have adopted her. I would not go anywhere without her. I don’t expect you to understand. I am sure you would consider it most … unsuitable.”
“Why not try and explain?”
“I have told you. I have adopted her.”
“You … a young girl … adopt a child! It sounds absurd.”
“My grandparents understand.”
“I hope you will give me a chance to.”
I told him what had happened at the party. He listened with horror.
“Belinda … my daughter … did that!”
“She didn’t realize what she was doing. However, the mother died from burns and shock. She died saving her child whom I felt to be our responsibility. Belinda is my half-sister. I had to do something. I know it is what my mother would have expected me to do.”
He nodded. “What of Belinda? What was her reaction?”
“She was contrite. She did her best to make Lucie welcome in the nursery. She was somewhat antagonistic towards her before. It was that, I think, which caused her to set the dress alight. But we knew she did not understand the danger of fire. But she knew she had done a terrible thing. Leah, the nurse, is wonderful with her. She understands her and manages her as well as anyone can. But I have vowed always to look after Lucie because she lost her mother due to the action of a member of my family. I shall look after her and shall never do anything which prevents my being able to do so.”
He was looking at me intently; I fancied—but I may have been wrong—that I saw something like admiration in his eyes.
Then he said: “There was nothing else you could have done, but it would have been better if your grandparents had taken full responsibility for the child.”
“I did it. I wanted to. And she is my responsibility.”
“Well, you have left her while you went away to school.”
“With my grandparents … yes.”
“She can stay with your grandparents.”
“But you are going to take Belinda and the nursery with you.”
“There is only one answer then. The child must come with us.”
“You mean you will take her into your household?”
“What else? You are coming to London. So is Belinda. So the child must come, too.”
He was smiling at me triumphantly because he had removed the obstacle I had tried to set up.
He went on: “As soon as we are settled in, you, with the young children, will come to London. I will make all the arrangements with your grandparents. They see the point of your coming. They liked you to be here, of course, but then you will be coming back and forth for holidays and so on … just as you used to before … before …”
I nodded.
“And, believe me, Rebecca, it is the best thing for you. It is what your mother would have wished. I think you can finish school. I had, thought of your going for a year or so to some establishment on the Continent where they are supposed to do wonders for girls.”
“I would not leave Lucie for a year … or even six or seven months.”
“I gathered that, so we will dispense with the finishing school. As soon as you are settled in we will set about your presentation. I think it takes place at Easter so there is plenty of time for next year. You’ll be eighteen then. That’s about the age, I believe.”
“When do you propose to marry?”
“In about six weeks’ time. Would you come up for the ceremony?”
I shook my head. He understood. He touched my arm lightly.