The Black Opal (35 page)

“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 get 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.”

“Well, I do know something about that, because, after all, Lawrence was a great friend of your father when they were on ships together.”

“Yes, of course. My mother was on the stage and she is now married to a most interesting man. They will invite you and Lawrence to Yorkshire. You will enjoy their company.”

Dorothy’s eyes sparkled. There was nothing she liked more than meeting interesting people.

“I will tell you more about them later, but first of all there is something I want to talk to you about… something that is really on my mind. When my mother was living with the gipsies, she came with them to their encampment in the woods near Commonwood House. She had seen something of the household there. She was naturally interested, because of my father’s connection with the family. We talked about the tragedy. Harriman Blakemore, my mother’s husband, is the kind of man who has wide interests. He has theories about this and that and it is fascinating listening to him. Briefly, we discussed the Marline case.

As you know, I’m convinced there was some mistake and I will never believe that Dr. Marline was a murderer.

“During the course of the conversation Harriman raised the point that Miss Carson probably knew more about what happened than anyone else.

Then we talked about them and wondered what had actually happened to her, and we came to the conclusion that she must be living somewhere, probably under an assumed name. Then we wondered whether she might like to hear from me. She and I had always been the best of friends.

”

“Yes, go on,” said Dorothy.

“We decided that there would be no harm in my writing to her and telling her how much I should like to see her. If she preferred not to do so, well then, she could just ignore my letter.”

z87

“How will you get a letter to her?”

That bothered me. Then I thought of you. “

She stared at me, her eyes round with excitement.

There was a man who campaigned for her,” I went on.

“Jefferson Craig, the criminologist, yes. I haven’t heard anything about him for some time. He seems to have faded quite out of the public eye.”

“You wrote to him once.”

“Yes. I admired his book and one day had the temerity to write and tell him so.”

“And he wrote back.”

She nodded.

“Was there an address on his letter?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. I was so thrilled to get an answer that I didn’t give a thought to the address.”

“I suppose you couldn’t remember it then?” I said in disappointment.

She shook her head and laughed at me.

“You don’t suppose I’d destroy a letter from Jefferson Craig, do you?

Of course it’s in my box of treasures. Let me get it and put us out of our suspense. But don’t get too excited. It’s some years ago. He was very prominent at the time of the case, and that made him more so. But after that he seemed to fade out. If there is an address, he might not be there now. “

“Dorothy, please get the letter.”

She went off and in a few minutes reappeared, waving it in her hand.

She gave it to me.

Dear Miss Emmerson [I read], Thank you for your letter. I am so pleased that you enjoyed my book and it was good of you to write and tell me so.

Yours sincerely, Jefferson Craig.

And there was an address. Campion & James, 105 Transcombe Court, London E.

C.

4.

“That would be his publishers,” said Dorothy.

“Don’t look downcast.

They will probably be in touch with him and will forward it on wherever he is. So write to Jefferson Craig and enclose a letter to Miss Carson. Then put it in an envelope with the one addressed to this Campion & James and ask them to forward it to him. It’s simple. “

“Oh, Dorothy, what a help you have been.”

“Don’t get too excited! This could come to nothing. On the other hand, it might work. And don’t thank me. I’m as excited as you are. I always wanted to know what became of Kitty Carson.”

I immediately wrote to Campion & James. Between us, Dorothy and I had decided what should be said. Dear Sirs [I had written], I am anxious to get into touch with Mr. Jefferson Craig, and I wondered if you would kindly forward the enclosed to him. If this is not possible, will you be good enough to return it to me. With many thanks in anticipation of your kindness in this matter, I am, Yours sincerely, Carmel Sinclair.

Inside this letter was the one addressed to Jefferson Craig, explaining that I wished to get in touch with Miss Carson, and in that the letter to her.

To Kitty Carson herself, I had written:

Dear Miss Carson, You will remember Carmel. I have never forgotten you and all your kindness to us all. Perhaps you will also remember Captain Sinclair.

He was my father and he took me to Australia where I remained until

now. I have returned to England only recently and only just heard what happened after I left.

I remember you with such fondness that I wondered if it would be possible to see you. I should be so pleased if it were, but if you do not wish it, I shall understand.

I so much look forward to hearing from you. Your one-time pupil, , Carmel Sinclair. (I am no longer March. I took my father’s name. )

Dorothy read the letters several times and, when we thought we could not improve on them, we sent them off.

Then the waiting began.

Almost a week had passed and there was no response. It must be expected, I told myself. Suppose I were in Kitty’s place? Suppose I had suffered the agony she must have endured? Suppose I had succeeded in establishing myself in a new life? Should I want to revive the past with its anguish and misery?

Had Campion & James forwarded the letter? That seemed likely, otherwise they would have sent it back to me. Had Jefferson Craig passed it on?

I had a letter from Lucian. He was coming to London for a day or so.

Could we meet for lunch the following Tuesday? What about Logan’s? We had been there before, I would remember.

I had not seen him since my visit to Castle Folly. I was sure he would be very interested to hear what had happened and I wanted to learn what he thought of my trying to get in touch with Miss Carson. I knew that Lawrence would not approve. He would think immediately of how distressing it might be for a woman in her position to be reminded of the past. 1 tried to make myself believe that he would be wrong and that Miss Carson would be pleased that I remembered her with fondness.

As I entered the restaurant, Lucian rose from the table at which he was seated and greeted me. He looked happy, without what I had come to think of as that haunted look. In fact, he looked very like the boy I had known at those tea-parties who had tacitly insisted that I should be treated as the others were.

“It’s been a long time since we met,” he said.

“You always say that, Lucian.”

“That’s because it always seems so.”

He smiled at me, and, as we sat down, said: “So you have been visiting again.”

“It was a particularly interesting visit.” I told him about my mother, Harriman Blakemore and Castle Folly.

“What an interesting background you have sprung from!” he said.

“You would like my mother. She is so amusing and so different from everyone else. And Harriman is unique, too.”

“I hope I shall meet them.”

“Oh, you must. They want to meet you. It was wonderful finding her.” I explained what had happened.

“It was during that time I was staying with your mother, I found Rosie Perrin in the woods, and she put me in touch with Rosaleen … Zingara that was.”

“Tell me more.”

So I did.

“The wonderful thing is that I have a home there now. I have felt guilty about staying so long at the Hysons’. Not that they have hinted in the slightest way that they don’t want me there. In fact, there are protests if I speak of leaving. But my mother’s home will be mine. And I suppose Harriman is my stepfather. It’s a wonderful feeling of security.”

“Carmel, I have been wanting to talk to you seriously for some time.”

“Yes?”

“When you came back, it was so interesting for me. I felt

as though we were young again. I wish we had not lost all those years.

We ought to have grown up together. “

I laughed.

“When we knew each other all those years ago, I was just a little girl. You were far above me. You only condescended to know me because I was a poor little outsider and you had a kind heart. It was like that, you know. I wasn’t even as old as Estella or Camilla.”

“That’s true, I suppose. But I did miss you when you went away.”

“As you did Estella and Henry.”

“Differently. That is the point. Everything is different. There is something missing at the Grange. It’s my fault, of course. It ought to be as it used to be when I was young. I suppose it is because I made the most ghastly mistake that anyone can make. I’ve changed everything. I’ve brought a gloom into the place. I want to break out of that, and I want you to help me.”