Виктория Холт - Snare of Serpents

“A great pity,” said Lilias. “Still, you’ve got plenty of your family close and that’s a good thing.”

“I think of them that’s far away.”

“Well, you’ve got good daughters and a daughter-in-law to see to your comforts.”

“I’ve nothing to complain of in them. Only Olive …” She turned to me. “That’s my daughter-in-law … she’s in and out like a flash. A good cleaner. But do you know what she says? ‘There b’aint time to sit and chat, Ma. I’ve got things to see to at home.’ “

“One can understand that,” said Lilias soothingly. “But you do have lots of visitors.”

“Oh yes … yes … they come and see me.” She turned to me, her eyes in her wrinkled old face alight with curiosity. “It’s nice of you to come and see me. Tell me, what do you think of our village, eh?”

“I’m finding it most interesting.”

“Seen many of us?”

“Quite a number.”

“And what part of the world do you come from? I can see you’re not a Devon girl.”

“No. I come from Scotland.”

“Oh.” She looked at me with some suspicion. “That’s a long way.”

“Well, it is not really so far by train.”

“I’ve never been in one of them newfangled things.”

Lilias laughed. “Oh, they have been going for a good many years, Mrs. Dalton.”

“All these years … it’s been the chair for me. You can’t go about when the rheumatics strike. And before that there was the family to bring up.”

“Well, you see the world … the world of Lakemere … from your cottage window.”

“There was that murder case up in Edinburgh. Edinburgh, wasn’t it?”

“Edinburgh … yes, that’s the capital,” said Lilias. “How is young Clare doing at school?”

“She’s all right. There was a lot about it in the papers.”

My heart had begun to beat so loudly that I thought they might hear. Lilias was looking at me anxiously. She said: “It was a good year for fruit, Mrs. Dalton.”

“Do ye say? There was this terrible murder in Scotland. Edinburgh … that’s where it was. The place you come from. They let her off.”

“Has the doctor been today?” asked Lilias.

“Oh, he says there’s not much he can do for me. Just got to live with it, he says. People of my age is bound to get something. He calls in when he feels like it … takes a look at me and says, ‘Just rest. Do what you can.’ It was as plain as the nose on your face. She had her reasons, didn’t she? Going off buying that stuff. And her own father! That woman … beautiful, wasn’t she? I reckon she was making it all up. Him taking arsenic to make himself more of a man! I never heard the like. What’s the world coming to?”

“Well,” said Lilias who was becoming quite agitated. “I really think we should be going. We have some more calls to make.”

“You’ve not been here much more than five minutes. I wanted to tell you about Mrs. Mellish’s lodger and that daughter of hers. Oh, and I’m forgetting the great news. It’s not out yet. It will soon be all over the village. What do you think?”

“I’ve no idea,” said Lilias coolly.

“It’s them at the House. He’s a very upstanding sort, don’t ‘ee think? It’s all very nice and proper and I reckon Mrs. Ellington be pleased. As for Miss Myra, well, it’s about time, I must say. She’s getting a bit long in the tooth. Must have been thinking she was right and truly on the shelf. Then he comes … this rich and good-looking widower. Well, no wonder they’re pleased up at the House. ‘Tis going to be announced tonight.”

“How do you know about this?” asked Lilias.

“Mrs. Eddy told me and her being housekeeper up there, she’d know. We’re mates. I went to school with her oldest sister so if she couldn’t give me a bit of news, who could? She popped in this morning. Hadn’t gone more than a minute or two when you arrived. There’s a dinner party tonight … so it’s all cut and dried. It won’t be long before there’s a wedding up there. That Mr. Lestrange will be wanting to go back to Africa and taking his bride with him.”

“I see,” said Lilias.

“So, Miss Myra will be off to Africa.” Mrs. Dalton grimaced. “Rather her than me. Wild horses wouldn’t drag me to an outlandish place like that.”

“Let us be thankful that those wild horses will not be needed,” said Lilias. She had been deeply put out by Mrs. Dalton’s references to my father’s death and wishing, I knew, that we had not paid this call.

As we untied our horses, Lilias said: “That old gossip!”

“It’s always going to be like that, Lilias,” I reminded her. “I’ve got to face it. At least she didn’t know who I was.”

“No. What a good idea it was to change your name.”

We did not speak much as we rode back. I thought it was just another incident … another warning that I should never be able to escape from the past.

WHEN I RETURNED HOME there was a letter awaiting me. It was addressed to Miss Diana Grey. Eagerly I took it to my room and impatiently opened it. It was from Ninian Grainger.

Dear D,

Forgive me for addressing you thus, but you will know the reason. I have been thinking a great deal about you and wondering how you are getting on. I think you were very wise to get away and I do hope you are recovering from your ordeal. I have seen your stepmother on one or two occasions. She seems to have put all behind her remarkably well.

Do write to me and tell me how you are feeling. I assure you I am most concerned.

Sincerely,

NINIAN GRAINGER

It was a letter an advocate might send to a client whose case had been of especial interest to him. How foolish I had been to imagine that, because he had meant so much to me during that trying time, he held deeper feelings for me.

I was still so shocked by the encounter with Mrs. Dalton when I sat down to write to him.

Dear Mr. Grainger,

Thank you for your letter. It is kind of you to be concerned. I have heard from my stepmother that you have been meeting.

Everyone here is very kind to me and they are all trying to make me comfortable. But it would not be true to say that all is well.

I have to face the fact that taking a new name is not enough. I am uneasy every time anything leads to some disclosure from my past life, however trivial. When people ask me where I live and I tell them Edinburgh I am afraid they may connect me with the case. Miss Milne and I have just visited one of her father’s parishioners who actually talked about it when she learned that I came from Edinburgh.

Do forgive my writing thus. It happened only today and I feel rather shaken.

The terrible truth is that it is always going to be so.

Thank you for your kind concern, but it is something I have to live with and it fills me with dread.

However, you did what you could for me and I shall always be grateful for that.

Sincerely,

D.G.

When I had posted the letter I wished that I had not. What would he think of such an hysterical outburst? I should not have been so outspoken. Nor should I if I had not so recently been shaken by Mrs. Dalton’s comments.

I WAS SURPRISED by the promptness of his reply. It came within a few days.

Dear D,

I was distressed to read your letter. I do so understand your dilemma. It is no use telling you this sort of thing will not happen again, though, of course, it will become less likely as the years pass.

My father remembers a case in his youth. There was a young lady in a similar position. She went abroad. She married there and has had a very good life ever since. She has been able to put the past right behind her.

That is a way you might decide to take. Let us face the fact that the case did attract a great deal of attention; there was a wide coverage, but it is hardly likely that there would have been much interest outside the British Isles.

You might want to consider this—I mean to make a new life somewhere outside this country … as my father’s client did, most successfully.

A friend of the family, a Mrs. Crown, works with a society which was formed some twenty-odd years ago. It is called the Female Middle Class Emigration Society. The object of the Society is to find posts abroad for those who are seeking them. This would be mainly in the Colonies … Australia, New Zealand, South Africa … and even in America. This is for ladies who, for some reason, wish to leave the country. It may be that they cannot find employment at home, or they wish to leave for some other reason.

This client of my father’s went to America through this Society. My father still has the occasional letter from her. She said it was a great opportunity and gave her new interest in life. She took a post as a governess, which is the usual practise, although other occupations are dealt with.

The Society will lend money to an applicant who will pay it back by degrees when she is working, thus paying travel and living expenses until the applicant is settled in.

I am just sending you this idea for you to ponder on. It is not something you would be able to decide in a hurry.

If, however, you feel it would be a way out of your difficulties, and that it could release you from the perpetual fear that someone might know what happened, I could arrange for an interview with Mrs. Crown. The offices of the Society are in London and if you think there is something in this suggestion, just let me know.

In the meantime, my very best wishes to you.

Sincerely,

NINIAN GRAINGER

I read that letter several times. I was not sure what I thought about it. Leaving the country was something which had not occurred to me. It was running away, of course. And to a foreign country. Many women became governesses. It was a fate which had befallen Lilias and Zillah. True, they had stayed in their own country … or near enough. They had both come from England, not Scotland, but that was not like going overseas.

Lilias saw how preoccupied I was and asked if something had happened.

I told her I had had a letter from Ninian Grainger.

She looked at me steadily and I guessed I had betrayed something of my resentment because he was so taken with Zillah.

“And it has given you food for thought,” she said.

“He suggests I must go abroad.”

“What?”

“I wrote to him. I was probably rather hysterical. I felt so awful after what Mrs. Dalton had said. I knew it was what people were saying everywhere and that it was going to happen again … perhaps as long as I live. I hate hearing people talk about it … and they are saying it all over the country, that I should not have been freed … I shall have to be on guard against it all my life.”

“Oh no … it won’t go on. People forget. After all, it is really rather recent as yet. What is all this about going abroad?”

“Apparently there is some society he knows of which arranges it. He could put me in touch with it … if I thought about leaving.”

She was speechless.

“I … I have never thought of that,” she said slowly.

“To go right away, Lilias … just think of it. One might never come back.”

She said nothing for a few seconds. Then: “It would take a lot of thinking about.”

“That’s what Ninian Grainger says.”

Lilias was silent, obviously deep in thought.

LOOKING BACK afterwards, I felt that Fate was leading me to make my decision, and that all around me events were falling into place to make me go the way I did. It was like a jigsaw puzzle when all the pieces fit into place and the picture is complete.

The main topic of conversation was the coming wedding of Myra Ellington and Roger Lestrange. It would be a grand affair—none the less so because preparations would have to be hurried, in view of the bridegroom’s need to return to South Africa.

Mrs. Ellington could be trusted to overcome difficulties.

Tradespeople were arriving at Lakemere House every day. Excitement prevailed. It was a nine days’ wonder. Most people had decided that Miss Myra would never make her journey to the altar, and now that she was about to achieve it, it was a matter of wonder and perhaps hope to those who felt themselves to be in a similar position to that of the bride-to-be.

Moreover the bridegroom was eminently suitable. He was good-looking and rich; and if he were a widower, which might just tarnish the romance a little, there was the fact that Miss Ellington was not so young herself and a mature man was just what she needed, even though it was rumoured that he had a child in South Africa. Well, Miss Myra could be a mother to him.