The Black Opal

by Виктория Холт

  And, of course, if you found it too much, there would be that other alternative. Would you be prepared to give it a trial? The doctors think that, with a childlike mind like hers, there is a chance of her regaining her serenity. “

  “Well, of course, I talked it over with Jefferson. Here was another ” case” for him. He was prepared to study Adeline and he was soon eager to know how she would respond to being with me. So we haughtily declined payment.”

  “And she came to you?”

  “Yes, she did. That was about seven years ago. It worked. She is now exactly like the old Adeline loving and gentle. She adores Edwina.

  At first I was afraid to leave the child alone with her and contrived never to do so. But now all that is changed. They are the greatest of friends. It is a joy to hear Adeline singing about the house. Do you remember how she used to, when she was happy? “

  “I am so glad that she came back to you. I know how distressed she was at that time when you went away and then when she went off with Aunt Florence. She loved you from the beginning. I remember how frightened she was when she heard there was to be a governess, and you became the most wonderful person in the world to her.”

  “Poor Adeline! They didn’t know how to treat her. Her mother particularly frightened her and made her unhappy. She was very easily frightened and very easily made happy.”

  After a brief pause, she went on: “Jefferson is, of course, very interested in Adeline. He is so good with her. He understands her. She is happy now.”

  “Jefferson sounds a wonderful person.”

  “He is indeed. He treats Edwina as his daughter and she looks on him as her father. They are very contented together. So, you see, Carmel, I have much to be thankful for. There is one thing I ask. Perhaps I shall never have it and must be content with what, miraculously, has been given me.”

  “What is that?”

  “To know what actually happened on that day in Commonwood House. Who killed Grace Marline? All I know is that it was not Edward. Then who?

  I want to know most of all for my child’s sake. I know she has her name and she can go through life as Jefferson’s daughter. But there is a chance, fainter now, thanks to Jefferson, but it is there, that someone might discover who her father was . they might remember me. Jefferson was very anxious that there should be no publicity about the wedding.

  Imagine what a field day the press would have had with that!

  “Jefferson Craig marries Kitty Carson whom he saved from the gallows.”

  It would have been unbearable, and you can be sure that, if some of them discovered this information, there would be no hesitation in using it to get a good story which would sell papers. “

  “That would be dreadful.”

  “You see, it is hanging over me. If only it could be cleared up. But there it remains. Perhaps one day … It seems unlikely, but one can hope. Carmel, you won’t lose touch now that we have found each other?

  It has been good to talk to you. You must come and see us. We have a pleasant house in Kent. We used to be in London but when we were married, Jefferson bought this house and we retired to the country because he did not want to be too much in the public eye. You see what he did for me. “

  “I do, but I could not admire him more than I do already.”

  “So you will come?”

  “I should very much like to.”

  “Soon, please. Jefferson will be so eager to meet you, and he is very impatient. He does not like to wait.”

  “I promise.”

  “I want you to meet Edwina … and there is Adeline. She will be so excited.”

  “Do you ever hear of Estella and Henry?”

  She shook her head.

  “No, I think they realized that the past was something best forgotten. Adeline does not seem to care about them.

  You were the one of whom she was most fond. “

  “I think all her love was for you.”

  “Poor child. Life was not very good to her.”

  “Until you came and it was clear then how much she loved you.”

  “Well, I was saying how pleased she will be to see you. So when?”

  “I could come at the end of next week.”

  “Oh, could you?”

  “Not too soon?”

  She laughed at me.

  “We shall look forward to it. Let me give you instructions.”

  She took a piece of paper from her bag and wrote on it.

  “I shall be at the station to meet you,” she said.

  “Friday week,” she said, and we settled the time of the train I should catch.

  She was smiling. She looked very like the Miss Carson who had come to Commonwood House all those years ago. Our meeting had cheered her. I was glad I had had the courage to step into the past.

  Confession

  Dorothy called that afternoon, eager to hear what had happened at the meeting. She was greatly excited, especially when she heard I was to pay a visit.

  “How wonderfully it worked out! And he married her! He was always known as an eccentric. I can understand the worry about the child. It would be just the sort of titbit the press likes to get its teeth into. Just imagine if that came out! The object of the marriage would then be completely pointless. And she didn’t have any light to throw on the case?”

  “Only that she confirmed my conviction that the doctor did not kill his wife.”

  “Well, I suppose she would believe that, wouldn’t she?”

  “I am absolutely convinced of it.”

  “Unfortunately, that wouldn’t carry much weight in a court of law. And you are actually going to stay in Jefferson Craig’s house! Perhaps you’ll get an invitation for me, one day.”

  “I should think that might be possible.”

  “What’s the next plan of action?”

  “I am to go down at the end of next week.”

  “Wonderful. And in the meantime … secrecy.” I looked at her steadily.

  “At this stage, I think so.” She nodded. She would agree with me that there could be no point in telling Lawrence at this time. We both knew that he would consider it unwise to become involved in something unsavoury that happened a long time ago.

  Dorothy understood Lawrence absolutely. Had she not been looking after him for so many years?

  I wrote to my mother and told her what had happened. I thought she would be interested, and it was Harriman who had suggested what I should do. I had not told the Hysons and Gertie would not be home until Saturday. So I would wait until after the visit before saying any thing specific about it to anyone else. Dorothy knew, of course, but then Dorothy was involved, as my mother and Harriman were.

  One thing I must tell them was that Edward Marline had sworn to Kitty that he had not poisoned his wife. I knew they would say it was natural that he should do that, but I knew, and Kitty knew, that Edward would not have sworn that he was innocent if he were not. So I was v completely convinced that it was someone else who had administered the fatal dose. I had a letter from my mother wishing me luck and telling me how much she looked forward to being with me again and hearing the result.p>

  Gertie and Bernard came home the following Saturday. They were in excessively high spirits. Aunt Beatrice, Uncle Harold and I went to the station to meet them. There were hugs and kisses and shrieks of delight. We drove to the house where everything had been prepared by Aunt Beatrice to give the newly married couple a suitable welcome home.

  Bernard had not carried Gertie over the threshold and she insisted they go out and enter in the correct manner, so Bernard performed his duty to everyone’s satisfaction and we all went into the drawing-room where Uncle Harold produced champagne and we all drank to the return of the happy couple.

  And they were happy. Gertie shrieked her pleasure at the well-stocked larder and demanded to know if Aunt Beatrice wanted to make her as fat as she was.

  It was a wonderful homecoming and it was some time before Gertie turned her attention to me
.

  I told her about my mother, which interested her, and that I had found some other friends from the past whom I was visiting the following weekend.

  “What a lot of friends from the past you have!” she cried.

  “You are really a dark horse, Carmel Sinclair.”

  Fortunately there was too much to absorb her in her new house for her to be very interested in me.

  I had a note from Lucian. He was coming up to London in the middle of the week and suggested we have lunch together at Logan’s.

  This threw me into a dilemma. I should have to tell him that I was going away again. He had been in my thoughts a great deal since he had asked me to marry him, and there had been many times when I had wanted to say yes. Very much I had wanted it. I thought how unhappy I should be if he had to go away. I felt envious of Gertie, whose life ran so smoothly. That was how I should have felt if I had been certain of Lucian. There was just that barrier which I could not cross. I did not know even if it were a barrier. There was just something I could not understand and I must know what it was before I could marry him.

  I knew now that Lawrence could never be anything but a good friend. Of course, some people married good friends and were very happy. There was my mother and Harriman Blakemore -and now Kitty and Jefferson Craig. A marriage of convenience, if ever there was one. But for what motive? Not financial gain, but genuine desire to help on one side and on the other an over-riding need for support. My mother and Harriman.

  Kitty and Jefferson Craig. There was no pretence between them.

  I was thinking of telling Lucian what I had told Gertie. That I was going to see a friend from the past. Well, I was . but there was more to it than that.

  Then the thought came to me. If I were not frank with Lucian, why should I expect him to be with me?

  I decided then that I must tell him that I had seen Kitty Carson, that I was going to stay with her and that I was becoming more and more caught up in what had happened at Commonwood House during that fatal time when it had become part of a cause celebre.

  I met him at our now familiar table at Logan’s.

  When we had ordered, he said: “Something has happened. Tell me.”

  I hardly knew where to begin, so I said: “You know I have always been interested in the Marline case.”

  His face changed. He frowned slightly.

  “Oh, it is so long ago. It’s all over. What good could anyone do now?”

  “I don’t know. But I have seen Kitty Carson.”

  “What?”

  “Let me explain. You know I stayed with my mother. I told you how she had married Harriman Blakemore and how they would like to see you one day. I am going to arrange that. When I was there, we talked a lot about the Marline case. You see, my mother was interested in Commonwood, for obvious reasons, and we talked about the old days.

  Harriman suggested that, as a man called Jefferson Craig had campaigned for Kitty, he might know something of her whereabouts. “

  “What made you go to all this trouble?”

  “I suppose it was due to knowing them all so well and my conviction of the doctor’s innocence.”

  “If he were innocent, who killed Mrs. Marline?”

  “That is the mystery. Suicide possibly, but I can’t believe that.

  However, Harriman had this idea, and Dorothy Emmerson had once written to Jefferson Craig and had an address. So I wrote to Kitty care of him, and she got the letter right away because she had married him.

  The out come of all this was that we met in Kensington Gardens.

  It was easy to talk there. I had found a quiet spot and there are not many people about at ten o’clock in the morning. “

  He stared at me unbelievingly and I added: “There it is. And that is where I am going.”

  “I can’t see …”

  “You think I should not have done this?”

  “Perhaps, when something like this has happened, it would be better not to become involved. I think it is something you should put out of your mind and forget.”

  “There are some things one cannot forget, however much one tries.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “How she suffered. She has a daughter now. Jefferson Craig married Kitty so that the child should have the name of Craig. He seems to be a wonderful man. Harriman is too. How lucky both Kitty and my mother are! Poor Kitty, she suffered so much.”

  He was staring ahead of him.

  “Yes. Both of them seem to have found very good men.”

  “Kitty admits how fortunate she has been in that respect. Her great fear is that, although her little girl has the name of Craig, some day someone might discover that she is the daughter of Edward Marline. She says that will hang over her for ever.”

  “It is very remote,” he said.

  “Yes, she knows that, but it is there. And, Lucian, it is possible.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “So I am going to her. I shall meet Jefferson Craig. Dorothy Emmerson is most impressed. She says he is a very clever man.”

  He was silent and I guessed he was thinking that my preoccupation with this unsavoury event was unhealthy and rather foolish. Yet, at the same time, he had looked rather disturbed when I had spoken of the shadow which Kitty had said would hang over her daughter.

  He changed the subject and we talked of other matters, of Gertie’s return and my next visit to the Grange, which would be after my return from seeing Kitty. Then my mother wanted me to go to Castle Folly, and she had said that it would be very pleasant if Lucian accompanied me.

  But some pleasure had gone out of this meeting, and I felt the barrier between us was stronger than ever.

  I was very surprised that evening to find that a note addressed to me had been delivered at the house. It had been pushed through the letter box and I was surprised to see that it was in Lucian’s handwriting.

  I opened it with eagerness and read:

  My dear Carmel, I must see you tomorrow. It is very important. I have something to tell you without delay. We must go somewhere where we can be undisturbed. You told me you had met Kitty Carson in Kensington Gardens and there was hardly anyone there at ten in the mornings.

  Could you possibly meet me there tomorrow at that time? I will wait for you at the Memorial. I shall be there in any case.

  My dearest, this is very important. I love you.

  Lucian.

  I read and re-read the note. He had called me ‘dearest’ and he had said “I love you.” That gladdened me, but the mysterious urgency of it faintly alarmed me.

  I scarcely slept that night and in the morning at ten o’clock I was at the Memorial, to find Lucian already there.

  “Lucian!” I cried.

  “What has happened?”

  He took my arm.

  “Let’s sit down in that quiet spot you mentioned.”

  We hurried there. His face was stern and very solemn.

  As soon as we were seated, he said: “It is about the Marline case.”

  I was astonished.

  “Yes, yes?” I said eagerly.

  “You are convinced that Edward Marline did not commit that murder. I think I know who did.”

  “Lucian! Who?”

  He was staring straight ahead. He hesitated, as though he found it difficult to speak, then he said slowly: “I think … I did.”

  “You! What do you mean?”

  “I mean that I fear I may have been responsible for Grace Marline’s death.”

  That’s impossible! You weren’t there. “

  “Carmel, I think I may have been responsible,” he repeated.

  “I mean her death may have been due to me. It has haunted me for a long time.

  I try not to think of it, but sometimes I wake in the night with a horrible sense of guilt, and I think of that man who hanged for something which could have been due to me. I think of the governess . and now her daughter . who have this hanging over them for the rest of their lives . becau
se of what I did. “

  “How could you have had anything to do with it? You hardly saw the woman. You weren’t there.”

  “I was there,” he said.

  “Do you remember the day before she died? I shall never forget it.”

  “I remember,” I said.

  “You and Camilla came to tea.”

  “Yes. We were in the drawing-room downstairs because Mrs. Marline was in the garden and it wouldn’t matter if we made a noise. We talked of opals. You remember that?”

  I nodded.

  “Camilla said our mother had had some fine ones, and Estella, or it might have been Henry, replied that their mother had an opal ring. He wanted to show it to me.”

  It was all coming back to me that warm afternoon. Tom Yardley had wheeled Mrs. Marline into the garden and there we were, in the drawing-room, laughing because we did not have to worry that we might make too much noise since She was in the garden and out of the way. I had been disappointed because Lucian had gone off with Henry, leaving us girls together.

  Lucian went on: “Henry was determined to show me his mother’s opal, because he was sure it was as good as any thing my mother had: and I was eager to see it. Henry said: ” Come into her bedroom. It’s all right. She’s in the garden. I know where she keeps it. ” We tiptoed into her room. She was safe in the garden, in the shade of the oak tree. Henry found the opal.

  “Look!” he cried. It was then that it happened. I knocked over the table at the side of her bed as I went to take the jewel. There were two bottles of pills on it. The tops were not properly screwed on and they were scattered all over the floor.

  “I was dismayed, but Henry said: ” Look, pick them up in a minute. Just look at this. Look how it flashes. I reckon that’s a very fine opal one of the best. ” I was about to proclaim the superiority of my mother’s when I heard Mrs. Marline say something to Tom Yardley and the chair began to move. Henry put the opal quickly back and I started to pick up the pills. There was one idea in our minds. We must not be caught here. I picked them all up. I had put them into the bottles.