Seven for a Secret (44 page)

believed it was a child her mind was at rest. She had shut out the past. But that evil man made her tell what had happened. He brought her back to reality and that is something she cannot face.”

“Crispin,” I said.

“There is one thing you must do or you will never know real peace of mind. Tamarisk must know that this place is hers.

She must know the truth. You will never be entirely happy until you have told her. “

“And when I have lost all that I have worked for through these years?”

“Tamarisk loves you. She is proud of you. She regards you as her brother. She will want you here. She understands that she would be useless to manage things without you.”

“It would not be mine. I could not take orders.”

“She would not give you orders.”

“And what if she married? Just imagine what Gaston Marchmont would have been like if he were here!”

“He is not. I think it is right that Tamarisk should know, and I believe that you will not be truly happy until you have told her.”

He said he would never tell. He had told me because we had agreed not to have secrets between us. But now that I knew, this must go no further. What good could it do to tell people that long-ago story?

What good would come of accusing Flora of murder?

Poor Flora, she would have to stand up to a trial. He would not allow that. The whole story would come out. Tamarisk would not want that.

All the scandal would be revived, her disastrous marriage. Poor Lucy all of us. It would do no good at all to anyone.

There was nothing to be done. The murder of Gaston Marchmont would be regarded as an unsolved crime. If anyone thought of it now they believed the murderer must have been some person from his past, which was known to have been disreputable.

No, there was nothing to be done.

But 1 insisted that Tamarisk should be told and that Crispin could never be happy in the knowledge that he had taken that which was not his by right.

We talked through the night and in the end I made him see that there was only one thing he must do.

He wrote to Tamarisk.

It was a long time before we heard from her, and during that time I think Crispin was happier for having told me and for the course he was taking.

He did say that it was as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders; yet at the same time there was a deep sadness in his eyes. When he talked about the estate I could detect a certain wistfulness. I wanted to console him; and I sometimes wondered what would happen if we had to leave St. Aubyn’s.

What would Tamarisk’s reaction be when she learned she was the owner of a large estate? If he had lived, Gaston Marchmont would have taken charge of it. What a tragedy that would have been for so many people!

1 often thought of Flora’s taking the gun and killing him. The child’s death had been due to her, but that was a youthful, foolish gesture.

To have killed Gaston was coldblooded murder. Yet what worried her was the betrayal of the secret.

It was difficult to think of anything but those astounding revelations.

Each day we waited for news from Tamarisk. The letters which Crispin and Aunt Sophie had posted to Casker’s Island had been sent back by Karla. My father wrote that he was indeed happy at the turn of events and he hoped I would bring my husband to see him on Casker’s Island.

At last the long-awaited letter from Tamarisk came. It was addressed to us both and was written in the somewhat flippant style characteristic of Tamarisk.

My dear newlyweds, I was, as you must guess, absolutely astounded when I read your letter. What extraordinary things go on in Harper’s Green!

First, I will give you the most important news. Do not think you are the only ones who can marry. You’ll be surprised, though perhaps the astute Frederica may have had some inkling as to the way things were going.

Yes,
am married. To Luke, of course. I really got caught up in that mission, didn’t I? After dear old Jaco’s leg things got very exciting.p>

We have a little school now, and believe it or not, I and dear old Muriel do the teaching! She does earnest stuff, saves their souls and all that. I am the comedy turn. They come to me and they laugh and sing and I love them all dearly. I believe they reciprocate.

Luke is getting along very well and we have a little . well . clinic, I suppose you’d call it at home. Muriel is very good at that, and John and Luke help too and even I am called in now and then. Our success over Jaco’s leg has made us famous throughout the island.

Tom Holloway is here often and they are all very pleased with the mission.

As for what you tell me-I am just amazed. So, Crispin, you are not my brother after all. To tell the truth, I often thought it was surprising that I should have such a worthy brother, so different from myself. It doesn’t make any difference. I love you and your new wife dearly.

And all that about Flora and the babies. It is like something out of the Bible or Shakespeare . swapping people around like that. One wouldn’t have thought it would happen to real people . especially those in Harper’s Green. Life goes on in a dreary sort of pattern for years and suddenly drama strikes.

So St. Aubyn’s is mine! What on earth am 1 expected to do about that?

What good would 1 be going round seeing the tenants about crops and roofs and cow sheds

Dear brother-that-was, please don’t desert me. Don’t go off to the ends of the earth with your new bride. Stay where you belong, although I must say it would be nice if you could pay a visit to Casker’s Island. I know, Fred, your father would like that very much; and I should love to show you the changes we have made at the mission. We are going to put up a new building. I’m helping to pay for some of that. But dear old St. Luke doesn’t like that very much. He wouldn’t want a rich wife. In fact, he thinks I am too affluent already. He isn’t interested in all that. He just wants me. Very unworldly of course but rather sweet. But then you know St. Luke.

Now, please don’t let all this make any difference. The place is yours, Crispin. We all know it would be just nothing without you.

Luke says we mustn’t try to be grand here. Missions are not built that way. They are built on trust, faith and understanding. You know him, Fred, so you’ll understand what I mean.

1 put down the letter and Crispin said: “I had not expected this. She is so flippant, as though it isn’t important.”

“What is important to her is her new life. She has Luke and Luke is a wonderful person. So we shall go on as before.”

“What of the future? The place is not mine.”

“Crispin,” I said, ‘it never was. “

“What if she changes her mind? How long do you think she will be engrossed in this mission? You know Tamarisk. Her enthusiasms do not last very long.”

That was true.

He went on: “And when she realizes what this place means … who knows? Suppose she came back and wanted to take over?”

“You mean turn you out? How could she? She has no idea how to manage the place.”

“Suppose she gets tired of this saintly husband? Suppose…”

“Anything is possible, of course.”

“And then?”

“Crispin,” I said, ‘we shall have each other. That is the most important thing in the world. I believe Tamarisk is learning to love as she never did before. You should have seen the change in her. She is not the same person who was deceived by Gaston Marchmont. Yes, I am sure she is learning what are the important things in life. “

“As I am?” he asked.

“Yes, Crispin,” I said.

“As you are.”

He smiled suddenly. He looked younger and contented as I had seen him look during our honeymoon days when he believed the secret would never be discovered. But even then there had at times been the shadow of a fear. Now it was there no longer.

It happened during the night. I was awakened by strange noises and when I looked out of the window I saw an angry glow in the sky.

I leaped out of bed. Crispin was beside me.

“Something’s on fire,” he said.

We put on our clothes and went out. Some of the servants were already downstairs.

When 1 saw the direction from which the smoke was coming 1 thought immediately of the Lanes. We hurried to the cottage and there before our eyes was the blazing mass of what had once been the House of the Seven Magpies.

Lucy was there. She ran to Crispin. He had his arms around her and she was crying hysterically.

It was like a nightmare the crackling sound of burning wood, the sudden eruption of the flames as they leaped and licked the walls followed by the crash of masonry.

Lucy was sobbing. She kept saying Flora’s name, over and over again. 1 learned then that Flora was dead. She had leaped from the nursery window down into the garden and her crumpled body had been found beside the mulberry bush.

That night is one I shall never forget. In my mind it is a blur of images and people shouting to each other as they tried to put out the fire. For a long time it would be remembered as the night the Lanes’ cottage was on fire.

There was a good deal of talk about the cause of it. Flora Lane had always been odd. She must have left a candle burning; it could have toppled over. Fires are easily started. She must have jumped out of the window, poor soul, although she could have found her way downstairs. The other sister managed it. Poor muddled Flora!

It was easy to see how it happened, they said.

I felt sure in my heart that Flora could not face the truth; twice she had killed and she could not live with that knowledge. I believed she had started the fire in the nursery and had wanted it to be thought that she had jumped free of the fire. She had betrayed the secret to Gaston Marchmont and she could not trust herself to go on living and preserving the secret which must never be told.

We took Lucy back to St. Aubyn’s. She stayed there for a while, but she wanted a house of her own and Crispin would see that she had it. It would be on the estate nearby, of course. There was a cottage which was empty. The widow of one of the estate workers had died some three months before. Crispin was arranging for it to be redecorated and made ready for Lucy.

I talked with her. She was different towards me now and I did not have the feeling that she was trying to get away from me.

There was a new friendliness between us. She was my husband’s mother.

I guessed how she was feeling. She had cared for Flora over so many years. It had been a time of great anxiety and now it was lifted, but at first she could only be aware of a deep void. She explained this to me. I think she was excusing herself for the way in which she had behaved towards me in the past. I remembered her nervous comments.

“That’s nice,” she used to say, her eyes uneasy, so that I had felt she was waiting for me to go, for of course I must have shown my curiosity rather blatantly. But there was friendship between us now.

She said to me: “I shall be glad to be near.”

“Crispin wants that,” I told her.

“He has been so good to me always. Even before he knew, he was kind.”

Once she said: “I can regret nothing that gave him to me.”

“I understand,” I told her.

“You and I must be friends,” she went on.

“I bore him and you have made him very happy. He is the centre of my life and he has been from the moment I saw him. It was a wicked thing to do, but it seemed the only way then and it brought great good to him.”

“I know,” I said.

There was another letter from Tamarisk. The mission was flourishing beyond their wildest dreams. She wished we would come out and see it.

Lucy visited Flora’s grave every Sunday after church. We joined her sometimes and then we would go back to her new home and spend an hour or so with her.

One day Crispin and I were out riding when we passed the remains of the old cottage. I could not look at it without a shudder. It seemed ghostly, even in the sunlight.

“It’s time we built there,” said Crispin practically.

“Let’s go and have a look at it. They could start clearing next week. The builders haven’t much to do just now.”

We tethered our horses to the gate post which still stood there, and passed through the garden where Flora used to sit with her doll facing the mulberry bush.

“Be careful,” warned Crispin as we entered what was left of the house.

He took my arm and held it firmly as we went into what had been the kitchen. Most of the wall had broken away.

“It will be easy to clear this lot,” said Crispin.

We went through to the stairs which were still intact.

“They’re firm,” said Crispin.

“It was quite a good staircase.”

We mounted them. Half the roof had gone and the actv smell still hung on the air. I gazed at the blistered w< Am and scorched bricks.

And there on the floor, I saw itAI” was lying on its face.

I picked it up. The glass had splintered and it fell awlp as I touched it. And there, looking at me, were the seveft ! magpies.

There were smudges of grime on the picture. ThS paper was brownish and damp.

I took out the picture and the frame fell to the floor.

“What is it?” asked Crispin.

“It’s Flora’s picture the one Lucy framed for her.” seven magpies for a secret never to be told. “

He looked at me, reading my thoughts as I tore picture into tiny pieces. I threw them up; they were cau on the breeze which came from where once there had a roof; and the pieces floated away.