The doctor was intruding more on my notice. I saw him more frequently.
He had changed so much. He had become more and more interested in our work, which had never seemed to interest him until Miss Carson came.
He used to come to the schoolroom often and ask how we were getting on.
His visits were not in the least alarming. He was always smiling. Miss Carson was proud of Adeline’s progress, for she could read a little now, which she had not been able to do before Miss Carson came.
Adeline would flush with pleasure when Miss Carson said she must read to her papa to show him how clever she had become. And Adeline, a frown of concentration on her face, would open the book and run her finger along the line as she read:
“Three idle ducklings They played beside the pool. The naughty little idle things They ought to have been at school.”
Miss Carson clapped her hands when Adeline lifted her eyes, full of pride in her achievement, and waited to see the wonder on the faces of the onlookers. The doctor joined in the applause; and Adeline was very pleased with herself, and so happy.
I wondered whether the doctor was thinking what I was, which was how different Miss Carson was from Mrs. Marline.
Then he would ask how Estella and I were getting on, and Miss Carson would show him our work.
“Good. Good. This is excellent,” he would say, looking at Miss Carson.
“I thought of starting them in French,” she said one day.
“What a capital idea!”
“I could do my best…”
“Which I am sure would be very good indeed,” said the doctor; and he smiled benignly at us all, including Miss Carson.
There was no doubt that he at least approved of her, and I often thought how happy the household would be if it were not for Mrs. Marline.
Henry came home from school. He had become very friendly with Lucian Crompton and often went to the Grange. Camilla was at school, too, and when she came home, we were invited to tea. She told us hair-raising stories of school life which made Estella envious, but I would not have changed Miss Carson for any excitement and reckless adventure.
A new year had come, and the atmosphere at Commonwood House seemed to be changing further. I could not exactly say what it was. The doctor was different. I often heard him laughing. Even when he emerged from Mrs. Marline’s room, and she had been upbraiding him fiercely, he did not have that depressed and frustrated look which I remembered from the past. Often I heard him humming a tune from one of the Gilbert and Sullivan operas which lots of people were singing at that time. That was something he would never have done in the past.
Then Mrs. Marline was having more bad days. We could not help welcoming these, because Dr. Everest came and gave her a sedative which made her drowsy and silence reigned on the ground floor and the servants did not have to listen for those perpetually clanging bells.
Miss Carson seemed happy. Her pleasant face was radiant and she looked quite beautiful. Not as Zingara was, but with what I can only say was some inner light.
Adeline was happy. She went round singing to herself:
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are.”
Whenever I hear that, I am transported back to those days, and I realize, of course, that they were the prelude to the storm which was about to break and submerge us all.
But we were all very happy during that time. Even Estella did not sigh for school.
I noticed that the servants were constantly whispering together, and that the whispering stopped abruptly when any of us children appeared.
Something was happening. Vaguely I wondered what.
The top floor of Commonwood House consisted of attics odd-shaped rooms with sloping ceilings. That was where the servants slept. The nursery was just below on the third floor. Here was the schoolroom and our bedrooms mine, Adeline’s, Estella’s, Henry’s, and Nanny’s and Sally’s, of course. Miss Carson’s was on (he second floor, and on the first floor was the master bedroom which had once been occupied by Dr. and Mrs. Marline and which was now the doctor’s alone.
I don’t know why I should have awakened on that night, but I did.
Perhaps it was due to the gibbous moon which was shining right through my window on to my bed. I opened my eyes and looked at it. It seemed very near.
Then suddenly I heard something. It was like a door being shut. I immediately thought of Adeline. Her room was close to mine. Miss Carson had said we must be watchful of Adeline and always make her feel she was just like we were . never imply that she was different in any way.
I got out of bed and quietly opened my door. All was silent, and there was no sign of Adeline. I saw that her door was shut. I told myself I had imagined that I had heard something. Perhaps I had been dreaming.
Then I heard a sound from below. I looked over the banisters and saw Miss Carson. She was walking stealthily along the corridor towards the stairs, as though she were eager to make as little noise as possible.
She descended to the next floor and walked along the corridor until she came to the master bedroom.
Then, quietly, she turned the handle and went in.
I was amazed. Why did she want to see the doctor at such a time? Could there be something wrong with Adeline? But she must have come out of her bedroom and gone straight down to him. I could not think she had been to Adeline’s room.
I waited a while. Nothing happened. Minutes went by and the door of the master bedroom remained shut.
I was very young and I did not fully understand what this must mean.
Of course, later, so much became clear to me.
There was something different about Miss Carson. At times she would sit staring into space as though she could see something which was invisible to the rest of us. Her face would be gentle and beautiful and touched with a kind of wonder. Then one of us would say something which would bring her out of her dream. She was as kind to us as ever.
Moreover, there was something secretive going on in the house. It seemed to please and amuse Nanny Gilroy, although it was something she disapproved of. But then, I had discovered that she was often pleased about certain things, particularly if they were what she called shocking, as when the baker’s wife ran off with a travelling salesman, which she declared was downright wicked as she sat and smirked and said the baker’s wife would come to a bad end, which was no more than she deserved. She seemed highly gratified about that. I had never been the least bit fond of her, but now I disliked her more than ever.
One day Miss Carson told us that she had to go away to see someone and she would be away for a few days. When she left, Adeline was in a panic. She was terribly afraid that her mother would send for her and whenever we were on the ground floor she would keep close to me and hold my hand.
When Miss Carson returned after a week’s absence, Adeline clung to her more than ever.
“Don’t go away,” she kept saying.
Miss Carson looked as though she were going to cry.
She hugged Adeline tightly, and said: “I never want to go away, darling. I want to stay here for ever with you and Carmel, Estella and For ever and ever I want to stay.”
It was September. Lucian and Camilla, who had been home for the holidays, would soon be going back to their schools. Lucian was still kind to me, although he was so much older. He always took notice of me and would chat with me. Estella was not very pleased about that, which made me doubly appreciative of his attention. She was fond of Lucian and always trying to get him to talk to her.
The weather had turned hot and sultry. Tom Yardley said there was thunder in the air. In fact, we heard the occasional rumble of it now and then. Looking back, I think of that as being symbolic of what was about to happen in Commonwood House.