They were on the table where they had been and we ran giggling from the room just in time. Carmel, I did not think about that incident until later . much later. I awoke one early morning. The possibility had dawned on me. I had mixed up the pills. They were two different kinds, I was sure now. Mrs. Marline had taken the wrong ones. “
“I can’t believe that, Lucian.”
“I have been trying to tell myself it couldn’t have been like that. I never stop trying to assure myself. But it is a possibility. I should have come forward. I should have told what had happened. But I could not have saved Edward Marline. He was already dead. I was away at school at the time of the trial and the execution, and knew nothing of it until it was over. It was not until a long time after that I realized what could have happened. The idea suddenly came to me. It might have been due to my action. Those pills were in different bottles to distinguish them. They might have looked different. In my haste, I had not thought of that. My one purpose was to get the pills back in their place before I was discovered. Mrs. Marline might have intended to take a small dose but taken a fatal one.”
“Lucian, you are building up a fantasy. How do you know there were two sorts of pills, just because there were two bottles on the table?”
“I saw some newspaper cuttings about the trial once. There was a great deal about the medical evidence and those pills figured largely in it.
What the pills contained was described. There was one which was to be taken only if she were in great pain-and no more than one a day.
Then there was a milder sort, of which she could take three a day. I supposed they were both at her bedside. You can see how it might have happened they were spilt. They were hurriedly picked up and put back anyhow. It is almost certain that some would have got into the wrong bottle. “
“But suppose you did mix them in your haste? There would be some difference in the pills. One would be larger, or of a different colour. You might not have noticed it, but anyone in the habit of taking them would.”
“There was no suggestion at the trial that she had taken the wrong ones by accident. There was no suggestion that they had been put into the wrong bottles. They did not know they had been spilt, of course.
All that was said was that she had taken a massive overdose of strong pills which had proved fatal. As it was so long after they hanged that poor doctor that this occurred to me, I tried to convince myself that it was too late to alter anything. There was nothing I could do to save him. But I can’t stop thinking of Kitty Carson and her daughter, who have to live their lives, as you say, under a threatening cloud. I can’t forget it. It has haunted me for a long time.
“I am glad I have told you, Carmel. I must do … whatever has to be done.”
I’m glad you’ve told me. We’ll talk of it. We’ll work out what has to be done. We must always share. “
He turned to me. We looked at each other for a second and then his arms were round me. He kissed me lingeringly and with a yearning passion. He was asking me to help him. Fleetingly, I thought of him as he had been when I first knew him. The hero who protected me. Now it was his turn to be vulnerable, and I wanted more than anything to care for him.
I knew in that moment that I loved him completely. Understanding was there between us. Barriers had been swept away. I had said it all when I had told him we must share.
“What’s to be done?” I said.
He replied: “You are going to Kitty Carson. I am coming with you.”
I stared at him in astonishment.
“Yes,” he said.
“I thought it out last night. There is that man, the expert, Jefferson Craig. He will know what action to take. I will tell them exactly what happened. I have decided on that. It is the only way I can live now. There will be publicity, but I shall face it. Do you agree, Carmel?”
“I think you will not be at peace until you have faced up to this. But to come with me … I am not sure. We shall have to think more about that. Kitty will not expect me to arrive with anyone. I think the best thing would be that I should first explain to them and perhaps you could come down the following day. Kitty will probably remember you.
You must have seen her now and then when you came to the house. “
“Yes, I do remember her a very pleasant person.”
“I will tell her what you have told me and then we can all talk it over.”
“I think that is probably the best way of doing it. Oh, Carmel, how glad I am that I told you!”
“You should have told me before.”
“I know that now.”
“You have to throw off this sense of guilt. Even if it were as you fear and I cannot believe it happened like that it is not your fault. A boy’s careless act does not make him a murderer.”
“No. But it can make him the cause of someone’s death. And that is a sobering thought. One can’t help its having an effect. Oh, I wish I could be sure that it had not happened that way!”
“We’ll ask Jefferson Craig’s advice. He will know what could be done.”
Lucian smiled suddenly.
“Oh, Carmel,” he said.
“I like the way you say ” we”.”
We were a great deal happier when we left the Gardens. Guilt still hung heavily on Lucian, but now I shared his problem, and we were both aware that through it we had come closer together.
When Kitty met me at the station there was a young girl with her. I knew at once that this was Edwina a pretty girl with considerable charm, and I was immediately aware of the great affection between her and her mother.
“This is my daughter Edwina, Carmel,” said Kitty.
“And Edwina, this is Miss Carmel Sinclair, whom I used to teach.”
Edwina smiled and shook my hand.
There was a gentleness about her which reminded me of the doctor, and I could understand why Kitty was proud of and apprehensive for her.
Kitty drove the trap herself and, as we passed along through those pleasant lanes, I was trying to work out how soon I could approach the matter which was uppermost in my mind.
We made conventional conversation and in due course arrived at the house. It was very pleasant, of three storeys and painted in white, which gave it a clean, fresh look. The house was made attractive by the green shrubs which grew around it. There were steps to the front porch and on the second floor were two balconies, one on either side, which had a charming effect.
As the trap drove up, a young woman appeared on the porch and ran down to greet us. I knew her at once and felt a rush of emotion. Adeline!
She stood still, looking at us. She had aged very little with the years. Her wide, innocent eyes had retained their youth. She must be thirty, but she looked no more than seventeen.
She skipped towards us as a child might. Indeed, I believed Adeline had remained a child at heart. She seemed happy and serene.
A man came out of the stables and took the trap. He touched his forelock to us.
“Thank you, Thomas,” said Kitty. And then: “Adeline. Well, you two know each other.”
Adeline had run to me. She stood there, smiling shyly. I took both her hands and kissed her.
“Adeline,” I said.
“I am so pleased to see you.”
“It’s Carmel,” she said and laughed.
“Yes,” said Kitty.
“Carmel is going to stay with us for a few days.
Won’t that be nice? “
Adeline nodded, and we went into the house.
The hall was spacious and there was an oak chest on which stood a bowl of flowers, arranged, I guessed, by Kitty. A man came into the hall and I knew at once that he was Jefferson Craig. He stooped a little and walked with some difficulty, but the eyes that met mine were among the most alert I had ever seen. They were brown under bushy grey brows and his hair was thick and almost white. He was an old man, but he certainly had a great presence.
He said: “I am so glad you have come to see us. Kitty has been talk
ing of you ever since she came back from your meeting, so you are not exactly a stranger to me. I look forward to getting to know you better.”
“Thank you, and I do not think of you as a stranger either … for I have heard a great deal about you.”
“I shall take her to her room, Jefferson,” said Kitty.
“We’ll get together for lunch. How’s that?”
“Excellent. I’m looking forward to it.”
“So … be with you shortly.”
He nodded and went back to the room which I presumed was his study.
Adeline had slipped her arm through mine.
“Kitty,” she said, “I want to show Carmel her room first.”
“Go ahead, then,” said Kitty.
With the delight of a child, Adeline took my hand. She whispered:
“It’s next to mine.”
“That’s very nice,” I replied.
She was leading me on ahead of the others. Kitty was smiling. Life must have been very good for Adeline since she had gone to Kitty.
There was no doubt of her happiness. I thought how different it had been for her at Commonwood, when all the time she had been terrified of encounters with her mother.
Adeline turned and said to Kitty: “I want to take her through mine first. Kitty.”
“Well,” retorted Kitty, “I don’t suppose she will mind the extra journey.”
I could see that Adeline had not grown up at all. She was still the child she had been all those years ago.
She opened a door and went in, standing aside for me to follow. It was a bright room and I noticed immediately the door which opened on to the balcony. There was a single bed with a blue carpet, a dressing-table and a mirror. On the wall hung many pictures. They were all colourful scenes of happy family life. It was a young girl’s room and it was clear from the manner in which she was watching me that she expected me to exclaim in admiration at it.
“It is lovely,” I said, and I thought how different it was from her room in Commonwood House, with its lofty ceiling and heavy furniture.
This was light and full of colour. Adeline must be very happy now.
She beckoned me to the window.
“Come,” she said, and I followed her on to the balcony. There was a pleasant view of the garden. I looked over the railing. Below was a stone patio with tubs of flowering plants.
Then she took my arm and, glowing with pride, showed me that the balcony extended to the next room, which was to be mine.
She went to it and beckoned to me.
“Carmel,” she said, ‘this is your room. You see, we have the same balcony. If you leave your door open and I do the same with mine, we can call on each other this way. “
“That’s very convenient,” I said.
We had stepped into my room. It was very like Adeline’s, but there were only two pictures on the wall.
The door opened and Kitty came in with Edwina.
Kitty said: “We are going to leave Carmel to hang up her clothes and wash her hands. Then we shall have lunch.” She smiled at me.
“Is everything all right, Carmel?”
I assured her that it was, and she went on: “We shall be in the garden when you are ready.”
“I’ll bring Carmel down,” said Adeline.
“I can see you are going to have a guardian angel,” commented Kitty.
“I’ll be your guardian angel, Carmel,” cried Adeline.
“Thank you,” I replied.
They left me. There was a basin and ewer in a small alcove and I washed. Then I unpacked and hung up the few things I had brought with me.
I was feeling a little apprehensive, wondering what their reaction would be when they heard what I had to tell them. I was eagerly waiting for an opportunity to do so. It would not be possible, of course, in the presence of Edwina or Adeline.
I suddenly felt as though I were being watched. It was an uncanny feeling.
I swung round. Adeline was standing at the door to the balcony.
“Hello, Carmel,” she said, as though we had not seen each other for some time.
“I shall take you down,” she said.
“I’m not quite ready yet.”
She came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“In Australia.”
She wrinkled her brows and repeated: “Australia?”
“It’s on the other side of the world.”
“Why?”
“Why is it there or why was I there?”
“You,” she said.
“Well, I was taken there a long time ago.”
“When we went.”
“Yes, about that time.”
“It was horrible. I hated it.” Her face suddenly distorted in fury.
“Then I came to Kitty.” In half a second, she had changed from hatred to sheer joy.
“It’s very good now,” I said.
“I am so glad you came to Kitty, Adeline. That must have been wonderful.”
She nodded. Then she said: “Why did you come here?”
“I met Kitty and she asked me.”
She nodded again, as though she were satisfied about something which had troubled her.
“Shall we go down?” I suggested.
“I am ready now.”
Kitty and Jefferson Craig were in the garden. Edwina was with them. We sat and talked for a time about the journey and my friends in London and Australia. I was getting impatient. I think Kitty was aware of this, for she smiled at me, as though to say there would be plenty of opportunity to talk later.
We had an enjoyable lunch. There was a maid, Annie, who waited at table and I discovered that the cook-housekeeper had been in Jefferson’s employ for many years. So they lived comfortably, but not ostentatiously.
It was not until after the meal that the opportunity came to talk to Kitty and Jefferson. Edwina had taken Adeline off somewhere and the three of us sat under the oak tree, looking across the lawn to the house. That was the moment, and I lost no time in telling them about Lucian’s confession.
Jefferson was very interested.
“Poor young man!” he said.
“What a dilemma! And he has carried the burden of guilt for a long time. One can see exactly how it happened.
He jolted the table, the pills were scattered over the floor, the fearsome Mrs. Marline would be wheeled in at any moment when she would discover him in her bedroom. He falls into a panic. His one aim is to get the pills back and escape. Well, I would say it is just possible, but highly improbable that he was responsible for the woman’s death.”
“Improbable!” I cried.
“Oh, if only he could see that!”
“Let us consider it all. There must have been some difference in the pills. They would probably be of a different colour … a different size. Lucian was in a panic. He did not notice these differences. His one aim was to get them into the bottles and escape. Mrs. Marline took the pills regularly. She would be well aware of the difference between the strong ones and the others. I could not think she would have taken the stronger ones unless she intended ” So you think Lucian could not have been responsible? ” I cried.
“It is, of course, a possibility. But by no means a certainty.”
“Lucian thinks he has been wrong in not letting it be known. He fears that a man may have been hanged because of his carelessness.”
“But Lucian could do nothing about it at the time,” put in Kitty.
“He was away at school, wasn’t he, and he did not know what was happening until it was too late for him to intervene.”
“There are you and Edwina to consider,” I reminded her, and we talked of the effect it could have on Edwina if it was discovered who her father was.
“I have often thought of that,” said Kitty.
“If Edward’s name could be cleared, it would be a great blessing.”
I said to Jefferson: “Lucian and I thought you would kn
ow what action ought to be taken in a case like this. I don’t think Lucian will be at peace with himself until he has told what happened.”
“I see what you mean,” said Jefferson.
“And it is true that there are Kitty and Edwina to consider. If this came out, there would be more publicity to contend with, and the case would be brought before the public. Attention would be focused on Kitty, which would be the worst possible thing for Edwina. If we could come up definitely with the one who had killed Grace Marline … someone who confessed … there would, of course, be a great deal of notice then, but it would be well worth it. We should have a conclusion to the case, and Edward Marline’s name would be cleared. Kitty would be beyond suspicion and she need have no fear for Edwina. That would be quite a different matter from a flimsy possibility.”
I told them that I had arranged for Lucian to call the next day.
“I should have asked your permission first, but there was no time, and, believe me, please, he is very distressed. He thinks Jefferson could tell him what has to be done. “
“It will be good to see him,” said Kitty.
“I remember him. He was such a nice boy. You were very fond of him in those days, Carmel.”
“He was always kind to me and a little attention meant a great deal to me at that time.”
“Yes, I know.”
“We shall look forward to seeing him very much.”
“He will arrive in the afternoon on the two o’clock train. Is that all right?”
“Of course,” said Kitty.
Jefferson said: “This is very interesting. I shall enjoy talking to him. In the meantime, I shall brood on this. There may be something we can do. I just feel at the moment that it is all rather suppositious, and I’m wondering whether, if he did reveal what he fears to be his guilt, he might not do more harm than good. However, I always like to think over these matters. We’ll have a long talk tomorrow. That’s always useful. My word, this is getting interesting.”
“What a big pan those opals play, don’t they?” went on Kitty.
“You remember, Carmel. Adeline was looking for them when she pulled out the drawer which resulted in that dreadful scene.”
“Yes, I remember vividly.”
The Black Opal Page 31
