“And it was when you were visiting her that you met Toby.”
She nodded.
“I met him in the woods. We talked. There was an immediate attraction between us. I was lighthearted. So was he. We were young.
We were both the sort who would slip into a relationship carried along by the desire of the moment. He was not my first lover. There had been several. But he was different. We met again and again. For people like us it was natural. Toby did not know about you until some time later.
By then you were safe in Commonwood House. He said he would have married me if he had not already had a wife in Australia. He often told me how it was at Commonwood. He was very sorry for the doctor.
His sister was a termagant, he said. The women of his family were like that efficient, practical, but hard to live with. I loved to hear about Commonwood. I knew it was the place for you-and, after all, you belonged in a way. I used to see the good doctor going out in his carriage, visiting his patients, and occasionally his wife, very formal, very proper; and the children with their nanny. They were all especially interesting to me because of Toby’s connection with them.
One day he gave me a pendant. It was a Romany pendant and it had “Good Fortune” on it in our language. “
“I have it still,” I said.
“I knew the doctor would recognize it, and I put it round your neck.
Toby told me of the time when he had bought it. The doctor had seen it and had warned him to be careful. He knew how it was between us, of course, Toby and me. When I was going to have a child, I went back to Rosie and I wanted you to be brought up as Toby’s child should be. I knew they would give you that sort of life at Commonwood, and, well, you know the rest. “
“You left me under the azalea bush and Tom Yardley found me there.”
“I watched. I saw that you were taken in. I knew then that I had done the right thing. And when Toby came back, I would tell him. I wondered what he would feel to learn he had a child. As you know, he was overcome with pride and joy.”
“How did you feel when you left me?”
“Heart-broken. Do you believe that?”
“I do.”
“I want you to know that I watched you … from outside. I knew you would have the right sort of home. If it had not turned out as it did, I should have taken you away. With Harriman’s help I would have looked after you. But it was better that you should be brought up conventionally-as you would be at Commonwood House. And there you were, with Toby’s nephew and nieces. You were one of them. I thought that was the easiest way. I said to myself, ” There she will be as the doctor’s daughter, and she will grow up as a lady. “
The tears were falling down her cheeks as she talked. Tears and laughter came easily to her, but I knew she was deeply affected.
She went on: “I knew that Toby was watching over you. I saw him when we came to Commonwood. He was so happy. He said you were the most enchanting child. He was proud of his daughter and he said too that he was glad I was your mother. He always knew how to say those things that people wanted to hear. I said it must not be known that your mother was a gipsy, and he said that if you knew me you would be proud of me. “
She was. choking with emotion and I put my arm round her and dried her tears, and soon she was smiling.
“And here we are, on the steps of my caravan, talking of the past which can never be changed, and we are together and, what is important to me is you. There is much I have to know.”
It was not long before we were talking of James, his search for opals and his rather nonchalant offer of marriage.
“He is the good, practical man,” she said.
“He will cherish his wife, but not excite her. It is good … in a way.”
Then I told her of Lawrence Emmerson, who had saved Gertie and me from disaster all those years ago, and how he happened to be on the ship which was returning to England.
She cried: “It is fate. When fate takes a hand, we must take notice.”
There were times when she became the gipsy, her eyes alight with an assurance of her special powers, and she seemed to be probing the future.
I laughed.
“So, dear Gipsy Rosaleen, it was fate, was it?”
“Tell me more of him. I like this man. I like him very much. And the sister? She is good, too. She will see that the servants are kept in order and that the household is run as a house should be. Why do you smile? I am not laughing at this. It is important.”
“I am smiling because you have assumed the manner of the seer. Tell me, did you learn to tell fortunes from Rosie?”
“Of course. It is part of a gipsy girl’s upbringing.”
“But you do not believe in it really?”
She was thoughtful.
“It can be … and it can not. You must know all you can of your subject. You must find out, and it must be done quickly. Sometimes it is shut against you, but not always. Then you think: ” What does this one want? What will she do? ” And sometimes you guess. But there are moments … wonderful moments … when something passes between you … a flash of understanding. It is there and you believe you know what is to come. I cannot say how it happens, and it is rare. Perhaps it is what they call telepathy. But it could be something. There are wonderful things here all around us of which we know nothing. You must talk to Harriman about this. He will talk of the unknown universe of which our earth is but a fragment. He has many theories and he will remind you that with nature all things are possible. Perhaps, now and then, it may be that the gipsy sees into the future. But tell me more of this Lawrence because I like him.”
“Perhaps I should bring him to see you.”
“That would be very enjoyable. And the sister, too.”
“They would naturally expect to come together.”
“And you think that the sister wants you to marry her brother?”
“I am sure she does.”
“She will not be a little jealous of her brother’s affection for you?”
“I am equally sure she is not.”
“But you are not sure … about him … although it would be such good sense. He would be a good husband and reliable in every way. But there would not be this-what shall I say? this enchantment.”
I thought of Gertie’s ecstasy, and how excited she had been about the most trivial things, simply because she was so happy.
She watched me closely, and I told her about Gertie.
“I know,” she said.
“That is love. It will not stay like that.
How could it? But love will stay if they cherish it. So there are this James and this Lawrence. “
“And,” I said, ‘there is Lucian. Lucian Crompton of the Grange. “
“The Grange near Commonwood?”
“Yes.”
“And he, too, wants to marry you?”
“He has not said so. It is just that Gertie and her aunt cannot see a man and woman friendly together without assuming that there is some romantic attachment.”
“And they see it with you and Lucian?”
“They would see it with anyone.”
“And what of you? Do you see it?”
I was silent for a moment while she watched me intently.
“He is very friendly. I met him when I returned to England. He was very kind to me in the old days. He has changed somewhat.”
I explained how my desire to see Commonwood House had been irresistible and I told her in detail about my visit to Easentree, how I had gone into the house and been startled by the two boys, how, in the town, I had met Lucian at the roadside and we had lunched together.
“It is interesting,” she said, ‘and once again we cannot ignore fate.
You could so easily not have met. Then you would not have met Rosie again, and we should not be sitting here, reunited. You see, it is indeed the hand of fate, and look what it has given us! Now, tell me more of Lucian. “
It was so easy to talk to her. She seemed to understand
every nuance of my mood. I told her of the boy Lucian had been, how he had always been kind to me, drawn me into the circle and become a hero to me.
“You were in love with him then … in your child’s way,” she said.
“How could I not be? The boy from the Grange! The Grange family was very important in Mrs. Marline’s eyes.
He seemed tall, handsome, strong and powerful. Even Henry was in awe of him. And he was so kind to me. Toby had given me a pendant. I lost it and Lucian not only found it but had the clasp repaired for me, and he insisted on my joining them for tea which Nanny Gilroy had thought I was not worthy to do. After that, he always made sure that I was all right. It was no wonder that I adored him. “
“And then you did not see him again until you were about to cross the road and the frisky horse appeared. Undoubtedly fate! I am getting excited about Lucian … and now you are less enchanted with him.”
I was silent, and she added quietly: “Yes, still a little, I believe.
But he has changed, you say? “
“He was so lighthearted in those days. He seemed invincible.”
“The perfect hero, yes. And now?”
“There seems to be something. You see, he was married and his wife died. There is a child. The wife died when she was born. She is looked after by a ghoulish old nurse. It is all rather melodramatic. On her deathbed the wife made the nurse swear to stay to look after the child, so she stayed, although both Lucian and his mother would like to be rid of her. The nurse spoke to me. Do you know, she accused Lucian of murdering his wife … or at least she hinted at it.”
Rosaleen was alert.
“I see,” she said.
“No wonder you’re unsure. Do you think he was responsible for his wife’s death?”
“No … no! I would not believe that of him, any more than I can believe Dr. Marline is guilty of murder.”
“The Commonwood affair, you mean. My darling, what dramas you have .. well … not exactly been involved in, but been on the fringe of!
This is very interesting. You like Lucian. I can see that there is something rather special about him. Then there is this hint of suspicion. Now, Lawrence would always be above reproach. It is interesting because you wonder whether Australian James did have a hand in despatching the sundowner, but you do not feel the same about him as you did about Lucian. “
“Perhaps James would have said if he had been responsible for the death of the man. But maybe not. He might feel that if one is caught up in something like that it is better to remain quiet. I suppose people sometimes commit murders and remain undiscovered. Do you think this venomous old woman is throwing out hints because she does not want me there? Perhaps she is looking at it as Gertie and her aunt do I mean, that Lucian is contemplating asking me to marry him.”
“Why should she go to such lengths?”
“Because she might fancy her position would be threatened. A new wife might not be impressed by that deathbed promise. Besides, the child, Bridget, has already shown a liking for me.”
“And you are telling yourself that you do not believe this woman. She is lying, you say. You find reasons for her to lie. There is a difference in you when you speak of Lucian. I do not see this for James, or even Lawrence. It is very interesting. I have learned so much .. and I shall learn more.”
We sat for a long time on the steps of the caravan, and we talked more of Lucian. He had caught her imagination and I think she was telling me as well as herself that Lucian was the man for me.
We used to sit long over dinner. Harriman was a great talker, but he liked to listen too. He was obviously very interested in me, as Rosaleen’s daughter, and because I had been brought up in that house which had some time ago figured in a murder case.
“You were there,” he said, ‘when the drama was building “And I knew nothing of the outcome until a short time ago.”
“That is amazing.”
“Toby thought it wouldn’t be good for her to know what had happened there,” said Rosaleen.
“So she was whisked away before the trial took place. Carmel is convinced that Dr. Marline did not commit the murder.”
“I have often said so,” I told them.
“But people tell me that the most unexpected people will commit murder in certain circumstances.”
“That is true, of course. And you have this strong conviction
“I do. I knew him. He was a man of kindness and extreme gentleness. I know he was very unhappy and there was a relationship with Miss Carson.
But I still believe he did not do it. “
“There was the motive and the evidence,” Harriman pointed out.
“Mistakes can be made,” said Rosaleen.
“And Carmel has this strong conviction.”
“You were only a child, Carmel,” said Harriman.
“But children sometimes see more clearly than their elders,” added Rosaleen.
“I should like to know for certain,” I told them.
“But that is not possible.”
“Everything is possible,” said Harriman.
“This seems not to be. Dr. Marline is dead. He cannot defend himself. I wonder what happened to Miss Carson?”
That would be interesting to know. She disappeared, as people usually do in these cases. “
“Poor girl!” said Rosaleen.
“Just imagine what agony she must have endured! Her lover hanged for murder, and she herself at one time in danger of such a fate. And she was to have their child. What must her life have been like?”
“It would be revealing to know,” said Harriman.
“Do you think she would have the answer as to whether he was guilty or not?” I asked.
“It is a possibility that she might.”
“How I should like to know what became of her!” I said.
“We were all very fond of her. I cannot believe she would ever have been involved in murder, any more than I can the doctor. They were both the very last people you would associate with a crime.”
“She must be somewhere,” said Rosaleen.
“She may have gone abroad,” -suggested Harriman.
“I dare say she would want to get as far away as possible.”
“There was someone who was interested in her case,” I told them.
“Dorothy Emmerson told me about him. It was some criminologist who was sure of Miss Carson’s innocence. He campaigned for her acquittal.”
“Who was he?”
“I can’t remember his name, but Dorothy did mention it.”
Harriman was thoughtful. Then he said: “It might well be that Miss Carson would like to hear from you.”
I stared at him.
“You were fond of each other, you say. If you could find her, get in touch with her in some way, tell her that you are convinced of the doctor’s innocence, you could discover whether she wished to see you, and if she did not… well, there is little harm done.”
I was excited. I thought of her sweet, kindly face. I remembered how she had looked when she comforted Adeline. The accomplice of a murderer? I would never believe that.
Harriman was saying: “There is this man the man who campaigned for her. He is presumably some person of importance. Suppose you could get in touch with him?”
Rosaleen was watching us, her eyes round with excitement.
She said: “Miss Dorothy would remember who he is.
Did she not once write to him? And he replied, I believe. “
“Oh yes, she did.”
“Then might it not be that she would have his address?”
“Yes,” I repeated.
“Oh, it would be wonderful to see Miss Carson again.”
We sat over dinner that night talking for a long time. I was deciding I would go to Dorothy. I would explain everything to her. I was sure she would help if she could. It was just possible that she might still have the letter this man had written to her. If she had, I could write to him and ask if it were possible to ge
t in touch with Miss Carson.
He could not fail to remember her. Yes, I could see that this was a possibility.
I was feverishly excited by the idea.
We talked of it for the rest of the visit and it was decided that, as soon as I returned home, I should consult Dorothy.
I should have left Castle Folly with great regret, had I not been so eager to pursue my inquiries.
Rosaleen made me promise that I would come again soon and that I would keep them informed as to what happened. I must remember that there would always be a welcome for me at Castle Folly. We had been separated too long. We must make plans, for I could not stay at my good friends the Hysons’ for ever, and Castle Folly would be my home for as long as I wanted it.
A Meeting in the Park
Mrs. Hyson welcomed me back with genuine pleasure. It was clear that she was missing Gertie. She wanted to know if I had enjoyed my trip to Yorkshire, but did not ask searching questions, for which I was relieved. Her thoughts were really with the honeymooners.
The next morning, I called at the Emmersons’ house. To my joy, Dorothy was home. Lawrence would already have left, as I guessed. I was glad of this, because I felt that he would have been less enthusiastic about my plan. He would feel that it was not good to stir up the unpleasant past and it would be more sensible to leave things as they were.
“Carmel!” cried Dorothy when I arrived.
“It’s good to see you. When did you get back?”
“Last night.”
Her satisfaction was obvious. So I had called on her as soon as possible.
“You’ve missed Lawrence. He went off an hour or so ago.”
“Yes, I guessed he would have gone.”
“He’ll be delighted you’re back. You must come round to dinner soon.”
“Thanks, Dorothy. I’ve a lot to tell you.”
“Good. I’m all eagerness to hear.”
“First, I didn’t tell you that I was visiting my mother.”
She looked at me in astonishment.
“You said … a friend.”
“Well, she is a friend, too. You see, it was all so unconventional.
My father told me who my mother was, and I had met her once when I was a child-only I didn’t know she was my mother then.”
The Black Opal Page 27
