You are always in my thoughts.

My love to you,

LILIAS

What a lovely letter! I wept a little over it and read it again and again.

I did think about her suggestion. To get away from this house where it had happened would be good for me. In the secluded atmosphere of the vicarage I could talk to Lilias of the future, for I was realising that I could not go on in this state forever. I had to go forward. I needed to talk with someone who knew me well. I wanted advice, and who better than Lilias to give me that?

I mentioned the invitation to Zillah.

“I think it is a good idea,” she said. “You like Lilias, don’t you? You get on well with her. Typical governess, your father said she was … until she was overcome by temptation.”

“She never was tempted,” I cried indignantly. “It was all a terrible mistake. She was innocent.”

“I was just telling you what your father said. Poor girl. She might have been worried about money. They have a hard time of it, governesses. I can understand the temptation. After all, I’ve been a governess myself.”

“Zillah, Lilias did not steal. She had nothing to do with the wretched pearls. I’m sure of it.”

“Oh well, you’d know. You were here with her. But your father seemed to think …”

I felt exasperated and was about to make a further protestation, but Zillah held up her hand.

“All right. I’m sure you’d know best. After all, she was special for you, wasn’t she? You’re sweet and I love you—honest I do. There are some stepmothers who’d say you oughtn’t to go to someone who’s under suspicion …”

“I’m under suspicion, Zillah.”

“Well then, there you are. I think it would be good for you to go.” She put her arm round me. “I can see you really want to … and therefore I think you should. That’s settled then. You write to her and tell her you’ll go. I agree it would do you a world of good to get away from here for a bit.”

“Zillah, I do assure you that Lilias is quite incapable of stealing anything.”

“Of course. I don’t doubt it for a moment. You go. It’ll be nice for you and that’s what concerns me. By the way, there’s something I’ve got to tell you. I’ve been trying to say it for some days. It’s about your father and … er … money. He was most anxious to provide for me and … he’s left me everything … almost. This house … bonds … and things like that. Poor darling, he said he was so grateful to me. He was going to cut you right out. He said if you’d married Alastair McCrae you would have been well taken care of, and if you went to Jamie, well then … he would certainly have cut you right out. I told him that wasn’t right. I said if he didn’t leave something to you I couldn’t take it. I worked on him and, well, I made him see my point. He has left you something. The solicitor reckons it would bring you in about four hundred pounds a year. I feel awful about it. All the rest comes to me.”

“I … I see.”

She pressed my hand. “This is your home, dear. Always will be as long as you want it. I told him it would be like that. He said I was too good. I said I was not. I said, ‘I just love the girl. I look on her as my daughter.’ He was ever so pleased really. Of course, -I never thought he’d go off like that. How was I to know he was taking that stuff?”

I was silent and she went on: “Four hundred a year! It’s quite nice. It’s not as though you will be penniless. And I’m always here. I want to share it all with you.”

I don’t think I was surprised. Of course, he had left everything to her. He had doted on her. I was not concerned with money just now and I had a little of my own that would suffice.

My thoughts were with the possibility of a visit to Lilias. There was one thing which made me hesitate. They would naturally have heard of the case in Lakemere. What would Lilias’ father’s parishioners think of their vicar’s harbouring someone who might be a murderess? I knew he was a good man for he had taken Kitty in and found a post for her, but I must not allow him and his family to be made uncomfortable because of me.

“What is it?” asked Zillah anxiously.

“I can’t go,” I said. “People will have heard of me in Lakemere. It will be most uncomfortable for my hosts.”

“Well,” said Zillah, “why not change your name?”

“What?”

“You can’t very well do that here where people know you. But you could when you went away.”

“I … I suppose I could.”

“No suppose about it. Why shouldn’t you? Choose a name they won’t connect with the case. It’s simple.” She warmed to the subject, her eyes glistening. “It’s advisable to keep to your initials. You never know when they might turn up on something … and then there would be a bit of explaining to do. D.G. That’s what we’ve got to look for.”

“What a good idea!”

“It’s being on the boards, dear. Lots of people there change their names. Have to sometimes for show business … if not for anything else. Now let’s think. Davina. Well, that is the sort of name people would remember. What about Diana?”

“Oh yes. That starts with a D.”

“Diana. Now we want a G.”

“What about Grey? Diana Grey?”

“You’re taking my name. I was Miss Grey before I became Mrs. Glentyre.”

“It’s short and it begins with a G.”

“I think it goes well. Diana Grey. Well, that’s what you’re going to be while you’re with the parson’s family. It’s better for them and you.”

“I’ll write to Lilias at once.”

I went straight to my room to begin the letter.

My very dear Lilias,

I want so much to come to you, but it would be unfair to come as I am. I hope your father won’t think this deceitful, but I want to escape from myself. I want to be a different person … and I do not want to bring gossip to you. I am sure people in your neighbourhood would know of the case, so I have decided I shall come as Diana Grey. I’ll keep my own initials, which Zillah says is very wise. I will come if you agree to this deception. I don’t think I could face coming if there was a danger of people’s suddenly remembering.

I just want you to write and tell me that you approve of this, and then I shall pack my bag and come right away.

I hope to hear from you soon. With my love,

DIANA

I sealed the letter and was surprised to find my spirits had lifted considerably.

I would take it down to the hall and put it on the silver salver where letters which were to be posted were laid until, at a certain time, Kirkwell would collect them and take them to the post.

I laid it on the salver and as I stood in the hall I was suddenly startled by the sound of a door being loudly shut. It was followed by an immediate clatter of footsteps. I was not anxious to come face-to-face with any of the servants, so I slipped into the sitting room and half closed the door.

The footsteps were coming down the stairs. I looked out and to my amazement saw Hamish Vosper. His face was scarlet and distorted with rage. He rushed through the hall and out by the back door.

What had he been doing in the upper part of the house? I wondered. Had Zillah sent for him because she wanted the carriage? Surely not at this time.

It was very strange.

My thoughts however were centered on Lilias. I wondered what she would have to say about my changing my name.

It would only be for the visit, of course; but the idea had occurred to me that I should get right away … start a new life with a different name. It would mean leaving Edinburgh. Where could I go? It was a wild dream really. But it would be something to discuss with Lilias.

I WAS IMPATIENTLY WAITING for a reply, but had started to pack for I was sure she would tell me to come soon. Then I had a caller.

Bess came to my room. “There’s a gentleman to see you, Miss Davina.”

“A gentleman!”

“Yes, Miss. I’ve put him in the drawing room.”

Who was it? I asked myself. Jamie … come to tell me he loved me after all; he was ready to face anything with me? Alastair McCrae?

“Who is it?” I asked.

“A Mr. Grainger, Miss.”

I felt a tremor of excitement. Could it really be? What could he want? The case was over as far as he was concerned.

Hastily I went down to the drawing room. He rose to greet me and took my hand, looking searchingly into my face as he did so.

“Miss Glentyre, how are you?”

“I’m all right, thank you. And you?”

“Well, thanks. It’s … just a little difficult, is it?”

“Yes, but I’m thinking of going away for a while.”

“Ah, that would be the best thing.”

“I’m going to stay with my governess.”

He looked surprised.

“Oh,” I said. “I mean the governess I had years ago before …”

“I see there have been several governesses in your life.”

“Only two.”

“And both important to you. Tell me, where?”

“In England. Devonshire actually. A place called Lakemere.”

“Devonshire is, I believe, a very attractive county.”

“I’m going to stay at a vicarage. Miss Milne was a vicar’s daughter.”

“That sounds ideal.”

The habit of confiding in him was still with me. When we had been fighting for my life he had let me know that I must hold nothing back, that every seemingly trivial detail might prove to be of the utmost importance. So now I found myself saying: “I’m … thinking of changing my name because it might be uncomfortable for my hosts.”

“It’s often done in such circumstances.”

“So you think it’s a good idea?”

“I do really. You see, there was a great deal of press coverage. It could be uncomfortable, as you say.”

“Yes, I was thinking mainly of my hosts.”

“Well, they apparently invited you.”

“I know, but I imagine Lilias’ father is a little unworldly.”

“Oh?”

“He’s such a good man … a saint almost.”

“Do you think the saintly are unworldly?”

“Not exactly, but if he thought someone needed help he would give it without considering whether it would be inconvenient to him.”

“He sounds like a most unusual person.”

“He is. Lilias—that’s Miss Milne—says he is a true Christian. So many talk like them and are not. He was wonderful about Kitty whereas others …”

I paused.

“Kitty?” he prompted.

“She was one of the maids. She was caught in a compromising situation with one of the grooms. She was promptly dismissed whereas the man … because he was a good coachman … was allowed to stay.”

“That was in this household?”

“Yes. What I was saying was that Lilias’ father took Kitty in when she had nowhere to go and he found a job for her. And, of course, he was wonderfully understanding when Lilias went.”

“What happened about Lilias?”

I felt I was going too far. I was forgetting that he was no longer my legal adviser who had to learn everything about me. His profession made it second nature for him to extract information. Nonetheless I found myself telling him the story of Lilias and the necklace, to which he listened earnestly.

“So she was dismissed,” he mused. “The parson’s daughter.”

“Yes, it was terrible. I can’t think how it could have happened. There is only one thing I am certain about and that is that Lilias could not have stolen the necklace.”

“It seems hardly likely. Did anyone have access to the house from outside?”

“No. There were only the servants. Why should any of them take and put it in her room? If they had taken it surely they would have wanted it for themselves? It’s worth a considerable amount of money.”

“It looks as though someone might have had a grudge against her.”

“I can’t think who. They did not have much to do with her, but none of them disliked her.”

“Someone wanted her dismissed.”

“Why should they?”

“That’s the mystery.”

“Well, it happened long ago and I don’t suppose we shall ever know.”

“And meanwhile poor Lilias has been unable to prove her innocence.”

“Like …”

He touched my hand gently. “It seems clear that your father took the arsenic himself. The jury thought that.”

“Then why?”

“Because there was a shadow of a doubt.”

“And for the rest of my life, I …”

“You must not let it hurt you more than you can help. You must grow away from it. Go to this parsonage. Try it for a while. Your new name will help you to forget. Leave me your address. Perhaps we could keep in touch.”