She knew that her mother was going to send Kitty away, and for that reason she, Adeline, had killed her. She had been sent to Aunt Florence, and had made them hate her so much that they begged Kitty to take her. Then everything was right and she was happy for a long time.
But now they knew she had killed her mother they would take her away from Kitty. She did not think they would hang her because they would say she was silly, but she would rather that than live away from Kitty. But this was the best way and Kitty would be with her till she died, which she knew would be soon.
She had told me she was going to kill me because she thought I knew she had killed her mother. But I had been her friend and she couldn’t do it after all, so she had tried to kill herself. Lady Garston had fallen from the battlements, so she fell from the balcony.
She lived for two days. She had made her confession not only to me but in the presence of several people and in doing so had banished the cloud which hung over so many of us.
As Jefferson had predicted, there was a great deal of publicity.
Adeline’s confession of guilt, the fact that an innocent man had been hanged for a crime he had not committed, had aroused public interest and for a few weeks there was comment throughout the press. Kitty, with Jefferson and Edwina, went abroad for a few months to escape attention. The case was closed, solved without a doubt. Adeline’s last dramatic act had settled that.
I felt sad when I thought of poor Adeline’s life, but I remembered the joy she had displayed when she and Kitty were together. Surely she had been happy then. I think her conscience had not worried her a great deal. Her mother was wicked, she would reason, causing unhappiness to many people. She had deserved to die. And her father? How had she thought of him? She had not known him well, but he had never been unkind to her. She had probably been able to put him from her mind.
Lucian and I were married three months later. Lady Crompton had insisted on making it a more grand affair than either Lucian or I wanted, but that was of small importance.
We were too happy to care.
And After
Five years have passed since Adeline’s death. They have been five happy years.
A new century has come, and I think that the whole of Britain knows that this is the beginning of a new era. The Queen has died and the Court is plunged into mourning on this cold and wintry day. They have buried her beside the husband she adored in her ‘dear mausoleum’ at Windsor.
I stood at the window, looking over the lawn where so long ago I had had tea with Camilla and Lucian, Estella, Henry and Adeline, and I thought: This is my home. Lucian is my husband, and all that happened has brought me to my present happiness.
Lady Crompton is an invalid these days, but her life has considerably brightened. I have a son, Jonathan, aged four, and a two-year-old daughter, Catherine, who is equally dear to her. There is also Bridget. Jemima Cray is no longer with us. I was greatly relieved when we were finally rid of her. I had steeled myself for the ordeal. I offered her an annuity, implying that she should only have it if she left without fuss and stopped her ridiculous fabrications. I also hinted that such monstrous untruths amounted to slander and she had better take care. I was delighted when she decided to go quietly.
My mother and Harriman are frequent visitors to the Grange, and the children greatly enjoy Castle Folly. Gertie continues happily married and there are two little Raglands in that nursery which Aunt Beatrice prepared with such high hopes.
Two pieces of news from Australia cheered me. They concerned James Forman.
Elsie wrote:
I think he was a bit cut up when he heard of your marriage. James was never one to talk about his emotions. But Mrs. Forman says he is interested in a very nice girl, and they are hoping something will come of it. He has had a few finds, nothing much so far to boast about, but comforting, I suppose. Poor James! He is as determined as ever.
Oh, one good thing has happened. They found the one who killed the old sundowner. It was one of the miners. It was what we expected, but I think James felt he was a bit under suspicion. So he’s relieved that that little matter is settled.
I thought of Lucian’s ordeal, and I rejoiced for James.
I was delighted a few months after my wedding to hear from him. With his letter came a gift, and when I opened the small box I was amazed and delighted to see lying there a black opal. James had written:
This, my dear Carmel, is a belated wedding present to remind you of the time you spent in the Outback. I am still slogging away, rewarded now and then by the occasional find; but I wouldn’t be doing anything else, I hear news of you now and then from Gertie. I wish you all the best life can give you. That’s why I thought this would do for you.
I was reading the other day about one of those old Roman historians.
He had a good word to say for opals. In those days the word ‘opal’ meant Magic Eye or Seer of Good Fortune and was supposed to bring the gifts of Foresight and Prophecy to its owner. The stone was then known as the Lucky Opal. I said to myself, that shall be for Carmel.
I took out the stone and, studying it, I thought of what a big part opals had played in our lives. If Adeline had not searched for her mother’s opal on that fatal day she would not have been goaded to do what she did; Dr. Marline and Kitty Carson would not have been accused of murder; and Lucian would not have suffered those years of guilt.
I had the opal made into a ring. I wear it constantly.
And then there is Kitty. When I heard what was in her mind, I must say I was very surprised, but now it is done, I think I understand how she feels.
Jefferson died three years ago, leaving Kitty and Edwina very well provided for. There was a certain amount in the papers about his life and his work and it was recalled that he had married Kitty Carson, and there was further reference to the Marline case, of course.
After his death, she and Edwina often came to stay with us, and she had a habit of going to Commonwood House.
One day she asked me to go there with her and, as we stood among the ruins, she said: “Carmel, I am coming back.”
I did not understand what she meant at first. Then she went on: “In my dreams, long ago, I used to think of living here. I loved this house.
I used to think of how it might have been. I should like to be near you, Carmel. Edwina loves you all, and so do I. I think she is happier here than anywhere. She grows more like Edward every day. I want to be here. I am going to buy this ground. You know Jefferson left me very comfortably off and I can do it easily. The ruins shall be cleared away. I shall build a new house here . a new Commonwood. “
At first I thought she could not be serious, and I was surprised to discover she was in earnest.
And that is what she has done.
She came down to the new Commonwood during the first week of the new era, and, as I stepped over the threshold, I knew this was right for her.
She has her daughter, her memories of Edward, and his name has been cleared for ever.
Now, as I look across at the lawn, I see that the snowflakes are beginning to fall. The children are coming across the grass. Jonathan is holding up his hands to catch the snowflakes, laughing with delight. He loves the snow.
Lucian is there. Catherine runs to him and he lifts her in his arms.
They are coming into the house.
I look at my black opal and think of its promise. That good fortune has been mine.