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.