The Black Opal

by Виктория Холт

  “Zingara!” she cried.

  “Who else!” said the woman. Then she smiled at me and said: “This is ?”

  “Little Carmel March, who comes from Commonwood House.”

  “I know about you,” said Zingara, looking at me as though she was very pleased to see me.

  “And how you came to visit the raggle-taggle gipsies.”

  I did not know what to say, so I gave a little giggle. She came close to me and put her hands on my shoulders, studying me intently and giving me the impression that she liked me very much. Then she put a hand under my chin and turned my face up to hers.

  “Little Carmel March,” she said slowly.

  “I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Sit beside her, then,” said Rosie.

  “I tell you what. I’ll make you some herb tea. Then you two can have a little chat.”

  She rose and went to the back of the caravan where there was a small alcove. I was more or less alone with Zingara. She kept looking at me; she touched my cheek lightly with her finger.

  “Tell me,” she said earnestly.

  “Are they kind to you at that house?”

  “Well, yes … I think so. The doctor always smiles, and Mrs. Marline doesn’t notice me, and Miss Carson is very nice.”

  She wanted to hear about Miss Carson and listened intently while I talked. I thought it was very kind of her to seem to care so much. I repeated what I had told Rosie a short time before.

  “You’re being educated, and there’s a great deal to be said for education,” said Zingara.

  “I wouldn’t mind a bit more of it myself.

  Still, I get along. “

  “Do you live here with the gipsies?” I asked.

  She shook her head.

  “No, this is a visit. I was brought up with them.

  I used to run about like those little boys and girls you saw down there. I’d sing and dance a lot. I couldn’t stop myself, and then, one day, one of those gentlemen who write books was going to write one about gipsies and he came and stayed with us in the camp. He heard me sing and saw me dance and he said I ought to do something about it. He was the one who did it. I was sent away to a school where they trained people for the stage-and that’s what I did. I sing and dance and travel round the country. Zingara, the singing gipsy dancer. “

  “But you’ve come back.”

  “Now and then I do. I can’t tear myself away, you see.

  It’s all in the song about the raggle-taggle gipsies. Oh, you can never forget where you belong. “

  “But you like being Zingara the dancing, singing gipsy.”

  “Yes, I like it. But every now and then I am drawn back.”

  Rosie arrived from the alcove with three mugs.

  “You’ll like this,” she said to me.

  “It’s my own special brew. And how are you two getting on together? Like a house on fire, I see.”

  “Just like that,” said Zingara.

  “Lucky you were here when Miss Carmel came visiting,” said Rosie with a pronounced wink.

  “It was the luckiest thing,” Zingara agreed.

  “Now, what do you think of my tea?” asked Rosie.

  “Is it as good as that served by the doctor’s servants?”

  “It’s different,” I replied.

  “Well, we are different, aren’t we?” said Rosie.

  “Well, we can’t all be alike. Did Carmel tell you about the governess?”

  “Yes,” answered Zingara.

  “She seems to be a very good governess.”

  I nodded vigorously.

  “I reckon,” said Zingara, ‘that one day they’ll send you away to school. “

  “Henry is going with Lucian Crompton,” I told them.

  “Well,” said Rosie, ‘that’s good. You’ll be going with the young man’s sister. That’ll make a real lady of you. “

  How I enjoyed sitting in the caravan, talking to them. Zingara fascinated me. She had been a gipsy child, running about the encampment and had been taken away by the man who liked her singing and dancing to go on the stage. It was a wonderful story. I should have loved to see her dance. We talked and talked and then I suddenly realized how long I had stayed and that Estella and Miss Carson would be wondering what had happened to me.

  I said: “I must go. I ought to be back by now.”

  “They’ll miss you, will they?” said Zingara.

  They will begin to,” I answered.

  They’ll think you’ve been stolen by the gipsies,” put in Rosie with a laugh.

  They wouldn’t think that,” I protested.

  “You never know,” said Rosie.

  “I shall see you again,” Zingara told me.

  “Oh, I do hope so,” I said.

  She took my hands and gripped them firmly.

  “It has been lovely to be with you.” She gave me her dazzling smile and Rosie’s expression was tender and loving. I felt a glow of happiness and wished I need not leave them.

  Then I thanked Rosie for the drink and told them how much I had enjoyed being with them.

  Zingara suddenly put her arms round me and held me tightly. She kissed me and Rosie sat very still, smiling.

  “She must go,” she said at last. They’ll be waiting for her. “

  “Yes,” Zingara said, and came to the door of the caravan with me.

  “Better not go with her,” said Rosie.

  “Better to let her go on her own.”

  Zingara nodded.

  I came down the steps and looked back. They were both standing, watching me.

  I waved and then sped across the clearing and into the trees.

  I had not gone far when I heard the sound of voices. I pulled up sharply and listened. That sounded like the doctor. It could not be.

  What would he be doing in the woods at this time?

  Quietly I went forward. I did not want to be seen by anyone, for I did not want to talk of my visit to the gipsy encampment. I was not sure why, except that I thought there might be objections, and I did not want to be told I must not go there. I wanted to think about it.

  Zingara had made a deep impression on me, as Rosie Perrin had before her. But this was different. I wanted to think about our meeting just by myself. I did not want Estella’s scornful comments. She would say that they had flattered me because they wanted to tell my fortune or something like that.

  I wanted to remember every moment clearly, from that one when Jake had stood beside me and said Rosie Perrin would like to see me, to the time when I had left.

  So, I must not be seen.

  But yes . that was the doctor’s voice, and then . Miss Carson’s.

  Then I saw them. They were sitting together on the trunk of a fallen tree. I knew the spot well. I had often sat on that tree-trunk myself.

  I had approached them from behind. Otherwise I should have been seen.

  I stood for a few moments watching them. They were talking earnestly.

  I could not hear what was said, but every now and then one of them laughed, so it must have been amusing. The doctor’s manner was quite different from usual. I had never seen him like that before. As for Miss Carson, she seemed very merry. It struck me how happy she appeared to be.

  It was rather strange, because they both seemed like two different people.

  I congratulated myself on hearing them before they could have seen me.

  I should have had to explain that I had been visiting the gipsies and I did not want to do that, even to Miss Carson.

  I turned away and silently made my way back to the house through the trees.

  I did go again to the gipsies after that. Rosie Perrin was sitting on the steps of her caravan weaving a basket as she had been when I had first seen her.

  She told me Zingara had gone away. She had to fulfill a contract.

  People thought highly of her in the theatres, she said, and she danced and sang a lot in the big towns, even London.

  We talked a while.
She asked me how I had liked Zingara.

  I told her, “Very much,” and she pressed my hand and said: “She liked you, too.”

  There was a subtle change in Commonwood House. Not in Mrs. Marline so much. She was just as demanding as ever, though Mrs. Barton said she grew worse every day. She never bothered to wait until the door was closed before she started criticizing Dr. Marline again and again, and we heard her reminding him that it was her money which had bought the house, and how he owed everything to her. She seemed to want to hurt everybody, and, perhaps because Adeline was most easily hurt, she seemed to single her out for especially harsh treatment.

  She would send for her and ply her with questions to test her progress with the new governess and, as Adeline was reduced to a state of terror, she seemed to lose what wits she had. Mrs. Marline would bewail the fact that she had given birth to such a poor creature, and implied it was all due to some inadequacy in the doctor, and the blame could not be laid at her door.

  Miss Carson would be waiting for Adeline to emerge, shaking and demoralized. She would take her upstairs to the schoolroom where she would put her arms around her, hold her tightly, wipe away her tears and murmur words of comfort. She would assure Adeline that she was not a poor creature by any means, she was doing very well with her lessons, and she must take no notice of anything anyone said to the contrary. Nobody was going to hurt her while Miss Carson was there.

  They would have to face Miss Carson first.

  I would follow them up and join in the comforting. Adeline would smile and listen. She would put her arms round Miss Carson’s neck and cling to her.

  Fortunately, Adeline’s moods were transient and Miss Carson could soon convince her that all was well until the next dreaded summons came.

  When it did, instead of Adeline, it was Miss Carson who faced Mrs. Marline. Estella, Adeline and I knew that she had gone to Mrs. Marline, and we were all hanging about round the door to discover what would happen.

  We heard Mrs. Marline’s raised voice and the low murmur which was Miss Carson’s: and after a while Miss Carson came out, her face red, her eyes blazing. She looked frustrated and angry. I was afraid then that she had been given notice to leave, and the thought of her going filled me with dismay. Adeline and I loved her, and even Estella admitted that she was ‘not bad’.

  Miss Carson went to her room and shut herself in. Over come with fearful suspense, I could not stop myself going to her.

  She was sitting on her bed, staring ahead of her. I threw myself into her arms and she held me tightly.

  “You are not going to leave us?” I cried fearfully.

  She did not answer. She just looked miserable, and I feared that she had been ordered to leave.

  Then she said sadly: “I could be happy here … so happy,” as though she were speaking to herself.

  “Don’t go,” I said.

  “Don’t leave us. Adeline couldn’t bear it … nor could I. We love you.”

  “You dear child,” she said.

  “I love you, too. I love this house. I love …”

  Her lips were trembling, and she went on: “She said I am to go away.

  She is wicked. She cares for no one but herself. The poor doctor .

  what, what am I saying? There is nothing . nothing to be done, but accept what is . “

  I thought: If Mrs. Marline has given her notice to leave, there is nothing to be done. Mrs. Marline always gets what she wants.

  I thought of how dreary it would be here without Miss Carson. There would be nothing to look forward to except Uncle Toby’s visits, and they were so infrequent. There would perhaps be Zingara the gipsy, but she had contracts. She would come very rarely.

  When the doctor came home, we were all waiting for what would happen when he went to his wife’s room, as he did every day on his return.

  There was a great deal of shouting on Mrs. Marline’s part. There was no doubt that she was very angry. The doctor came out of the room. His face was white. He went straight to Miss Carson’s room and was there a long time.

  I never learned exactly what happened, but Miss Carson did not go. The doctor had his way, by some means, as he had had before when Mrs. Marline would have sent me to an orphanage and he had wanted me to stay.

  There was a mood of uncertainty in the house. No one was sure what would happen next, and there was a lot of talk behind closed doors. It seemed that Miss Carson had a reprieve. In any event, she stayed.

  She did not go to Mrs. Marline’s room after that. Nor did Adeline. The poor girl was spared those terrifying interludes and she knew that Miss Carson had saved her from them.

  Adeline was of a loving nature, and, more than anyone she had ever known, she adored Miss Carson. Her face would light up with joy when she set eyes on her; and she would watch her all the time, smiling to herself. I had the notion that Adeline only felt safe and happy when Miss Carson was there.

  The doctor was intruding more on my notice. I saw him more frequently.

  He had changed so much. He had become more and more interested in our work, which had never seemed to interest him until Miss Carson came.

  He used to come to the schoolroom often and ask how we were getting on.

  His visits were not in the least alarming. He was always smiling. Miss Carson was proud of Adeline’s progress, for she could read a little now, which she had not been able to do before Miss Carson came.

  Adeline would flush with pleasure when Miss Carson said she must read to her papa to show him how clever she had become. And Adeline, a frown of concentration on her face, would open the book and run her finger along the line as she read:

  “Three idle ducklings They played beside the pool. The naughty little idle things They ought to have been at school.”

  Miss Carson clapped her hands when Adeline lifted her eyes, full of pride in her achievement, and waited to see the wonder on the faces of the onlookers. The doctor joined in the applause; and Adeline was very pleased with herself, and so happy.

  I wondered whether the doctor was thinking what I was, which was how different Miss Carson was from Mrs. Marline.

  Then he would ask how Estella and I were getting on, and Miss Carson would show him our work.

  “Good. Good. This is excellent,” he would say, looking at Miss Carson.

  “I thought of starting them in French,” she said one day.

  “What a capital idea!”

  “I could do my best…”

  “Which I am sure would be very good indeed,” said the doctor; and he smiled benignly at us all, including Miss Carson.

  There was no doubt that he at least approved of her, and I often thought how happy the household would be if it were not for Mrs. Marline.

  Henry came home from school. He had become very friendly with Lucian Crompton and often went to the Grange. Camilla was at school, too, and when she came home, we were invited to tea. She told us hair-raising stories of school life which made Estella envious, but I would not have changed Miss Carson for any excitement and reckless adventure.

  A new year had come, and the atmosphere at Commonwood House seemed to be changing further. I could not exactly say what it was. The doctor was different. I often heard him laughing. Even when he emerged from Mrs. Marline’s room, and she had been upbraiding him fiercely, he did not have that depressed and frustrated look which I remembered from the past. Often I heard him humming a tune from one of the Gilbert and Sullivan operas which lots of people were singing at that time. That was something he would never have done in the past.

  Then Mrs. Marline was having more bad days. We could not help welcoming these, because Dr. Everest came and gave her a sedative which made her drowsy and silence reigned on the ground floor and the servants did not have to listen for those perpetually clanging bells.

  Miss Carson seemed happy. Her pleasant face was radiant and she looked quite beautiful. Not as Zingara was, but with what I can only say was some inner light.

  Adeline was happy. She w
ent round singing to herself:

  “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are.”

  Whenever I hear that, I am transported back to those days, and I realize, of course, that they were the prelude to the storm which was about to break and submerge us all.

  But we were all very happy during that time. Even Estella did not sigh for school.

  I noticed that the servants were constantly whispering together, and that the whispering stopped abruptly when any of us children appeared.

  Something was happening. Vaguely I wondered what.

  The top floor of Commonwood House consisted of attics odd-shaped rooms with sloping ceilings. That was where the servants slept. The nursery was just below on the third floor. Here was the schoolroom and our bedrooms mine, Adeline’s, Estella’s, Henry’s, and Nanny’s and Sally’s, of course. Miss Carson’s was on (he second floor, and on the first floor was the master bedroom which had once been occupied by Dr. and Mrs. Marline and which was now the doctor’s alone.

  I don’t know why I should have awakened on that night, but I did.

  Perhaps it was due to the gibbous moon which was shining right through my window on to my bed. I opened my eyes and looked at it. It seemed very near.

  Then suddenly I heard something. It was like a door being shut. I immediately thought of Adeline. Her room was close to mine. Miss Carson had said we must be watchful of Adeline and always make her feel she was just like we were . never imply that she was different in any way.

  I got out of bed and quietly opened my door. All was silent, and there was no sign of Adeline. I saw that her door was shut. I told myself I had imagined that I had heard something. Perhaps I had been dreaming.

  Then I heard a sound from below. I looked over the banisters and saw Miss Carson. She was walking stealthily along the corridor towards the stairs, as though she were eager to make as little noise as possible.

  She descended to the next floor and walked along the corridor until she came to the master bedroom.

  Then, quietly, she turned the handle and went in.

  I was amazed. Why did she want to see the doctor at such a time? Could there be something wrong with Adeline? But she must have come out of her bedroom and gone straight down to him. I could not think she had been to Adeline’s room.