She shrank back.
“It is necessary,” I went on. “She has had a bad fright. She thinks she saw a ghost.”
The old Belinda was back and I saw a look of triumph cross her face.
“She will be looking for that ghost everywhere she goes. It will haunt her.”
Belinda nodded, her eyes sparkling at the prospect of future hauntings and I realized I had been premature in my belief that I had aroused something good in her nature.
“We have to put her mind at rest,” I said firmly. “We have to tell her the truth. So we are going to her now. We are going to tell her exactly what happened and ask her forgiveness. It was a silly childish prank but you are sorry you did it. You just did not think what harm you were doing.”
“I don’t want to.”
“We often have to do things we don’t want to in life. I shall give these clothes to Mrs. Emery and she can put them back where they were. She will be glad to hear that there was no ghost—only a little girl playing tricks.”
She looked stubborn.
“Come along,” I said. “Let’s get it over.”
I put the coat and hat back in the trunk to be dealt with later and took Belinda down to Celeste’s room.
Celeste was sitting by the window in her dressing gown.
I said: “Belinda wants to tell you something.”
She looked surprised and I led Belinda over to her.
Belinda said in a sing-song voice as though she were repeating a lesson: “I took the clothes out of the wardrobe in the locked room. I took them to the garden and when I heard you coming I put them on. It was only a game and I’m sorry I frightened you.”
I could see the relief in Celeste’s face.
I said: “Belinda is really sorry. You must forgive her. She thought she was playing a game. You know how she likes dressing up and acting … ever since the tableaux vivants.”
“Oh …” said Celeste faintly. “I … I see.”
“Belinda is very, very sorry for what happened.”
Celeste smiled at her. “I see it,” she said. “It is just a little joke, eh? It was silly of me.”
Belinda nodded. I put my arm round her and she was not exactly responsive but she did not reject me.
“Are you riding this afternoon?” I asked her.
“Yes.”
“You and Lucie? I’ll come with you. You can go now.”
She was clearly glad to escape.
I said: “She really is contrite.”
“She hates me … I think.”
“No. She is bewildered … lost. I wish her father would give her a little attention. That is what she needs. I think she admired him …” I paused. “But you see …”
“Yes, I see,” said Celeste.
Their problems were similar.
I could not help feeling a certain pleasure because, due to this episode, Belinda and I had come a little closer. I must keep it that way. The child—and she was only a child although we forgot it at times—wanted affection. It was the reason why she was always showing off, as it were, seeking admiration. If only Benedict would cast aside his bitter grief. If only he would give a little thought to the living.
It all came back to him.
The Treasure Hunt
BENEDICT HAD RETURNED AND Christmas was almost upon us. I had hoped I could take the children with me to Cornwall but this was not to be. Christmas was an important time in Manorleigh. There would be a great deal of entertaining at Manor Grange with special dinner parties as well as the usual celebrations. People who worked in the constituency would have to be invited. My stepfather would want his family around him at such a time for Christmas was an occasion when all the family should be together.
It was a great disappointment, for not only would I have loved to be with my grandparents, but Pedrek was there with his parents and grandparents; and I daresay they would be often at Cador.
It was very frustrating and I consoled myself with the fact that time was passing, and next Christmas we should be planning our wedding. So … I must be patient.
Miss Stringer was to join her family in the Cotswolds for three weeks. There would be no lessons during that time. “Hurrah!” said Belinda. Lucie joined in and they danced round the schoolroom singing: “No lessons for three weeks.”
“There will be so much to do for Christmas,” I reminded them, “that you will find yourselves fully occupied.”
It was to be a traditional Christmas. The great hall would be decorated with holly, ivy and bay. Besides the sprays of mistletoe, there were the old Christmas bushes—two hoops fastened at right angles and trimmed with evergreen leaves which were hung on the rafters; they served the same purpose as the mistletoe and were even called Kissing Bushes.
Belinda was very excited. She and Lucie were dashing about helping with the decorations, running into the kitchen to take a stir at the puddings which, decreed Mrs. Grant, the cook, should be stirred by everyone in the household, high and low.
So we all had a stir—apart from Benedict. I could not imagine anyone’s suggesting he should take part in such a procedure.
The smell of the boiling puddings permeated the kitchen and we all went down to listen to them bubbling away in the copper in the laundry house. Mrs. Emery said that all the staff should join in the tasting ceremony and the children were allowed to share in it too. This was indeed a ceremonial occasion when Mrs. Grant, like a priestess in some holy temple, served everyone with a mouthful from one of the small basins which contained a specimen of the rich mixture; and which we all declared was perfect.
Then there were the mince pies to be made and the Christmas cake to be iced with the words “Merry Christmas” and “God Bless This House” written on it in blue; and then this was placed in state on the kitchen table where all might inspect and admire it before it was put away.
It was all very simple and exciting; and I was glad to see Belinda looked happier than she had for some time; and what was most gratifying was that she seemed to want to please me. I said to Celeste that this incident, regrettable as it was at the time, might be a turning point.
“I think I am closer to her than I have ever been,” I said. “She has always seemed so overbearing, but, poor child, what she needs is love and tenderness.”
Celeste was inclined to agree with me.
I said: “She admires her father, I know. She is deeply hurt by his neglect. If only he would show a little interest in her it would make a world of difference, I am sure.”
“He seems to like Lucie more than he does her.”
“Lucie is easier to like perhaps.”
“That may be. But Belinda is his daughter.”
“Perhaps one day … one of us will be able to make him see …”
“Perhaps,” sighed Celeste.
I received letters from Cornwall. Pedrek had kept his promise to write once a week and I had kept mine to reply. So I knew exactly what was happening in Cornwall. He was getting on well at the Mining College. Working hard helped him to endure the separation. I tried to write amusingly about life in London and at Manor Grange, telling him of the political world and what it was like to be on the edge of it.
The day before Christmas Eve I received a batch of letters from Cornwall with gifts from everyone. There was a necklace of amethyst from my grandparents and a gold bracelet from Pedrek.
I kept the letter he sent with it.
Dearest Rebecca,
If only we could be together! I kept hoping that you would come for Christmas. So did we all. I have a confession to make. I have told them. I could not keep it to myself. They were talking about you and saying how they wished you were here … and somehow it came out.
We did say we wouldn’t … and I should have waited until we could tell them together … but if you could have seen their joy you would have been glad they knew. My mother and your grandmother hugged each other and I thought my grandparents were going to burst into tears … tears of absolute bliss. They all said it was what they had always hoped for and prayed for. And my grandfather said there was going to be such a wedding as had never been seen in Cornwall.