“Oh yes,” said Lucian.
“She was found under the bush. She told me. Why wasn’t she asked?”
“Well … she’s a foundling,” said Estella.
“What fun!” cried Camilla.
“It sounds exciting. Like something out of Shakespeare or a romance.”
“She was left under an azalea bush.”
“Yes!” said Lucian.
“The one that gave poor old Tom Yardley a lot of trouble one year.”
He and Camilla looked at each other and laughed.
I liked them. They were very friendly. I guessed it was because they were rich and important and did not have to keep reminding people that they were really better than they seemed. They behaved to me as though I were just another guest. The cake was delicious. It was sprinkled with coconut and I had two pieces.
“Do you like it?” asked Lucian, smiling at me as I took my second piece.
“It’s lovely.”
“This is better than crouching in the shrubbery, eh?”
He and Camilla laughed and I said: “It’s a lot better.”
They both seemed to like me and as soon as tea was over Lucian went to the stables and told the groom that he was going to take the dog-can into the town and we were all going. Lucian seemed to be very important, for all of them did what he said without question; and we all crowded into the dog-cart which was fun. Lucian drove and I sat beside him.
Then we went into Mr. Higgs’s shop and Mr. Higgs himself came out and said: “Good afternoon, Mr. Lucian. What can I do for you?”
“Just a little job,” said Lucian.
“It’s a link on this chain. It just needs fixing, I think.”
Mr. Higgs looked at it and nodded.
“Jim will do it,” he said.
“It won’t take more than a minute or two.
Just needs fixing on the ring. Jim! Here’s Mr. Lucian. Wants this fixing. See what’s happened? “
Jim nodded and went off.
“Little girl’s pendant, is it?” said Mr. Higgs.
“Yes, her uncle brought it from Hong Kong for her.”
“Chinese, yes. Good craftsmen. They turn out some interesting stuff.
And how’s everyone up at the Grange? “
Lucian assured Mr. Higgs that they were all in excellent health, and I listened in admiration to his easy manner of conversation while I waited impatiently for the return of my pendant.
And there it was . just as it had been . and no one would know that there had been any trouble with the link.
Lucian was going to pay for it, but Mr. Higgs said: “Oh, that’s nothing, Mr. Lucian. Just a matter of fixing it. Glad to oblige.”
Lucian fastened the pendant round my neck.
“There,” he said.
“Safe as houses.”
And I loved him from that moment.
Nanny Gilroy did not like what she heard from Estella about my being at the party.
“Pushing,” she commented.
“Didn’t I always say?”
Estella said: “Lucian brought her in. He saw her in the shrubbery when she lost her pendant.”
“Pendant! What’s a child of her age doing with a pendant?”
“Uncle Toby gave it to her.”
She smiled in that way she did when Uncle Toby’s name was mentioned, and clicked her tongue. But clearly she thought it was not quite so bad if he had been responsible for it.
The next time Estella and Henry were invited to tea, I was too. I began to grow accustomed to going there. I liked Camilla. She never showed in any way that she thought I was not the equal of the others.
As for Lucian, I felt there was a special friendship between us because of the pendant.
So the friendship between Commonwood and the Grange was growing. The shared tutor had been the beginning and then there was Mrs. Marline’s determination to return to the sort of society she had enjoyed before she married beneath her; and she did everything she could to win the approval of Lady Crompton by devoting herself to charitable works particularly those in which her Ladyship was involved. Consequently she was a frequent visitor to the Grange.
Henry could be a friend of Lucian and Estella of Camilla. How fortunate that the sexes fitted so well in the families! I was not excluded. In fact, Lucian always had a special smile for me. At least, I imagined it was special. He would glance at the pendant which I always wore outside my dress when I was out of Nanny Gilroy’s range, and I knew he was recalling our first encounter with some amusement.
Life was very pleasant.
Mrs. Marline had always been a keen horsewoman and we all had riding lessons. Estella and Henry had their ponies and Uncle Toby had provided me with one so that I could join them. What a wonderful uncle he was to me! And I attributed the change in my fortunes to him.
I had begun to realize how important Mrs. Marline was in the household.
Even Nanny Gilroy was subdued in her presence. Everyone was in considerable awe of her even the doctor. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say, especially the doctor.
I heard Nanny Gilroy talking about her to Mrs. Barton, the cook.
“She’s a holy terror,” she said.
“She goes on and on and never lets the doctor forget whose money pays most of the bills. She’s the boss all right.”
“He’s good, the doctor,” said Mrs. Barton.
“His patients think the world of him. Mrs. Gardiner said she was in agony with her leg until she went to him. He’s really a nice gentleman in his way.”
“Mild as milk, if you ask me. Can’t seem to stand up for himself.
Well, she’s got the money . and money talks. “
“Money talks all right,” replied Mrs. Barton.
“Poor doctor. I reckon he don’t have much of a life.”
Mrs. Marline took little notice of me. She seemed as though she did not want to know I was there. I did not mind that. Indeed, I was rather glad of it. I had Uncle Toby and now Lucian, Camilla and Sally: and Estella and Henry were not bad and Adeline had always liked me.
At the end of the summer, the gipsy encampment was no longer in the woods.
“There one day and gone the next,” said Nanny.
“Well, good riddance to bad rubbish.”
I wanted to defend them and remind her of how Rosie Perrin had dressed my leg and Jake had carried me home. But of course I said nothing.
Then there was talk of Henry’s going to school.
“That Lucian from the Grange is going, so Master Henry must do the same. Some grand school, I expect it will be. Well, they’re Grange people and where Lucian goes, mark my words, Henry will go too. That’s if I know anything about Madam.”
“Who else, if you don’t?” added Mrs. Barton sycophantically. She was eager to be on good terms with Nanny, who was reckoned to be a power in the household-second only to Mrs. Marline herself.
I should be very sorry when Lucian went away. He and Camilla came to tea at Commonwood now and then. They were very special occasions and I never enjoyed them as much as going to the Grange. Mrs. Marline was not actually present at tea but she hovered. She was so anxious that everything should be in order and that tea at Common wood should be in every degree as good as that taken at the Grange.
I believe she would really have liked to exclude me, but in view of the fact that Lucian had insisted that I join them at the Grange, she could hardly keep me out of these return occasions.
She was intruding more and more on my notice. She had a shrill and penetrating voice and a very domineering manner; and she was usually complaining about something which had or had not been done. She was such a contrast to the mild-mannered doctor. I wondered if it was because of her that he had become as he was-resigned. I imagined she would have that effect on someone like the doctor who seemed to be a man who would avoid trouble at all cost.
It has always amazed me how our lives can go along in a sort of groove for a long time and then some incident cha
nges the entire pattern and what happens after is the result of that one detail, without which nothing that follows would have taken place.
This is what happened at Commonwood House.
Mrs. Marline was eager to join the Hunt, an enthusiasm which she shared with the Cromptons.
Henry, Estella, Adeline and I would often assemble to see the start of it. It would set out from the Grange and Mrs. Marline, looking very much the horsewoman, and as completely in command of her steed as she was of the doctor and her household, would be in the centre of it, exchanging pleasantries with the gentry who had come in from the surrounding neighbourhood.
The men looked splendid in their pink coats. The hounds were barking and there was general excitement in the air.
The doctor did not hunt. He would have been quite out of place among such people.
However, we would watch them ride off after the poor little fox until they were all out of sight. Then we would return home.
It was a cold day, I remember, and we ran all the way. Henry was sighing for the day when he would be able to join the Hunt. Estella was not sure whether she wanted to. She was not all that happy on her pony and even contemplating the frisky mounts of the riders made her nervous.
The day went on as usual. How could we know what an important day it was going to prove to be to us all at Commonwood House?
It was due to the stump of a tree which some time before had been uprooted. The recent rains had exposed it apparently and it lay in the path taken by the hunted fox.
The first I heard of what had happened was when I was in the garden with Estella. The household was quiet. It was amazing what a difference the absence of Mrs. Marline made.
We saw Fred Carton, the policeman, wheeling his bicycle up to the gate. He came walking up the path.
“Mr. Carton,” cried Estella.
“What’s happened?”
“Is Doctor in?” he asked.
“I want to see him at once.”
“Yes. He’s here,” said Estella.
Jenny the parlour maid came out. She was startled at the sight of Mr. Canon.
“I want to see Doctor now,” said Mr. Carton, rather curtly for him. He was usually affable and inclined to joke.
Estella and I looked at each other with mounting excitement
Something was wrong and Mr. Carton had come to tell us what it was.
We followed Mr. Carton into the house and Jenny went upstairs to call the doctor.
He came at once and there was consternation in his voice as he said:
“What is it? What is it?”
Estella and I hovered.
“It’s Mrs. Marline, sir. Her horse took a toss. They’ve got her in the hospital. Reckon you ought to get there right away.”
“I’ll come at once,” said the doctor.
The Governess
They had not brought her home on a stretcher, which was what had happened when Mr. Carteret of Letch Manor had broken his leg in the hunting field. They had taken her to the hospital, and that seemed significant.
The doctor was away a long time. The news spread through the house.
The mistress had had an accident in the hunting field. It must be bad because they had not brought her home but had taken her to the hospital. It is only natural that people’s first thoughts are of how such events will affect them. Was she going to die? To the servants this might present a threat of losing their jobs. Everyone knew that she had the money. Nobody in the house liked her. The servants avoided her whenever possible.
However, there was no talk of Mrs. Marline’s being a ‘holy terror’. In fact, she was rapidly turning into a saint, which, I had long realized, was what death did for people. So they had decided that Mrs. Marline was going to die.
The doctor returned at last. He talked to the servants and then sent for Estella, Henry and me.
When we were assembled, he said to us: “I have to tell you that your mother has been badly hurt. Her horse tripped over an exposed tree root just as she was about to jump over a fence. As a result, the horse was so badly hurt that it has already been destroyed. Your mother is in the hospital and will be there for a few days. There are fears that she may not be able to walk. We must pray that something can be done and that she will be restored to full health. In the meantime, we can only wait … and hope.”
We were all very solemn. Nanny was closeted with Mrs. Barton and they discussed the future. Estella and I did not know what to say. We were shocked and expectant. As for myself, she had never played a big part in my life, and her presence or absence made very little difference to me. But I knew, even then, that nothing was going to be quite the same again.
And how right I was.
Just as it had ever been, the house was dominated by Mrs. Marline. Two rooms on the ground floor had been prepared for her. They both had french windows opening on to the garden-one was her bedroom, the other her sitting-room. There was a wheelchair in which she could propel herself from room to room, but she needed help to get through the trench windows to the garden. She had bells, by which she could summon the servants to her, and their imperious clanging was often heard throughout the house.
Each morning Annie Logan called to help her wash and dress. Annie Logan was the district nurse. She would arrive promptly on her bicycle at nine o’clock and spend an hour or so with Mrs. Marline. Then she would go to the kitchen and drink a cup of tea with Nanny Gilroy and Mrs. Barton. They would chat and after a while Annie would cycle off to the next poor creature who needed her attention.
It was obvious that Mrs. Marline was in intermittent pain. Dr. Everest, from the next village, called on her. That seemed to me rather odd since we had a doctor in the house. I said so.
“Silly!” retorted Henry.
“A doctor can’t attend his own wife.”
“Why not?” I demanded.
“Because they think he might finish her off.”
“Finish her off? What do you mean?”
“Murder her, stupid!”
“Murder her!”
“Husbands do murder wives.”
I thought then that it was a reasonable arrangement, for Dr. Marline might well want to do that.
She was more vociferous than ever. She continually raged against everything and everyone. Nothing was right for her. We often heard her haranguing the poor doctor. We would hear her loud voice and his meek replies.
“Yes, my love. Of course, my love.”
“My love’ seemed incongruous. How could Mrs. Marline be anyone’s ‘love’?
The poor doctor was looking gaunt and haggard. I understood very well then why it was necessary for Dr. Everest to look after her.
It was a very unhappy household. I was one of the more fortunate ones, because I could keep out of her way.
When Uncle Toby came life brightened. Even Mrs. Marline seemed a little happier, for she was clearly pleased to see him. He sat with her, talking to her and making her smile now and then.
I had a long talk with him. It was in the garden.
“Nice to get out of the house,” he said.
“Poor old doc. Things not too bright for him. And you have to be sorry for Grace. She’s always wanted her own way. She ought to have married someone more like herself, someone who could put a curb on her. Doc’s all for a comfortable life.” He raised his eyes to the sky.
“And he married Grace! Some people do have bad luck. Their own fault, I suppose.
“Not in our stars but in ourselves,” and all that. And what about you, little Carmel? How does all this affect you? “
“She doesn’t take much notice of me … she never did … so I’m lucky.”
“Ah, there’s good in everything, eh? You’re growing up now. How old is it? Eight?”
“Eight in March,” I told him.
He patted my hand.
“Not much fun, is it? I wish it could be better.”
“It’s nice when you come.”
He put his arm round me and h
eld me tightly.
“One day,” he went on, ‘perhaps I’ll take you to sea with me. We’ll sail round the world. How would you like that? “
I clasped my hands together in ecstasy. There was no need for words.
“We’ll sit on the deck in the moonlight,” he said, ‘and we’ll look up at the Southern Cross. “
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s the stars you see on the other side of the world. On hot days we’ll watch for the whales and we’ll see the dolphins jumping out of the sea. We’ll watch the flying fishes skimming across the water ..”
“And mermaids?” I asked.
“Who knows? We might even produce one of those for you.”
“They sing songs and lure sailors to destruction.”
“We won’t be lured. We’ll go on sailing.”
“When?” I asked.
“One day … perhaps.”
“I’ll pray every night.”
“You do. I believe those up there occasionally answer prayers.”
I thought about those words for a long time afterwards, and I dreamed of the day when Uncle Toby would keep his promise and take me away with him.
Uncle Toby left soon after that and uneasiness settled on the house.
Dr. Marline looked lost and exhausted. Nanny Gilroy and Mrs. Barton had long conversations in the kitchen with the district nurse.
I overheard some of them.
“Nothing pleases Madam,” complained Nanny Gilroy.
“She’s in pain,” said Annie Logan.
“Not all the time … but it’s there, threatening. That’s why she’s got those rather strong pills, for when it’s specially bad. Morphine in them.
It helps her. She wouldn’t be as well as she is without them. “
“She was bad enough before,” said Mrs. Barton.
“Nothing pleased her then, but it’s ten times worse now. There’s no pleasing her.”
The weeks began to pass. My eighth birthday came. It was set on the first of March, though nobody knew the exact day. Tom Yardley had found me on the sixteenth, and they reckoned I was a few weeks old at that time, so the first seemed about right. Everyone else had a birthday, so mine was set for that date. Uncle Toby had given orders that I was to have a fine dress. Sally had bought the material and had given Mrs. Grey, the local seamstress, one of my old dresses to copy for size. It was the finest dress Mrs. Grey had ever made and I was not to see it until the morning of the first. Sally had given me a book of children’s rhymes which I had seen in the bookshop and coveted:
The Black Opal Page 4
