Виктория Холт - Snare of Serpents

“That is why the day my father found the Kimberley Treasure was the most important in my life.”

I dropped the book and stared at Lilias.

“What an extraordinary essay!”

“I thought so. The boy has imagination and a rather powerful way of expressing it.”

“I don’t think he’s imagining that. That is just how it happened.”

“Do you think it’s true?”

“I know that his mother married Roger Lestrange soon after her husband’s death and that she died by falling down a staircase.”

“And soon after he married Myra?”

“Yes. What do you think of it?”

“That that boy has a certain talent for expressing himself.”

I SAID: “That was an interesting essay you wrote, Paul.”

His eyes lit up. “Did you like it?”

“Very much. That diamond. It must have been exciting when your father found it. You were very young then. Do you remember very much about it?”

“Oh yes. When things like that happen, it’s so important. Everybody … however young … gets to know. Everything was different.”

“Different from what?”

“From what it was before.”

“What was it like then?”

“It was nice … nicer really. We were all together … my Daddy, my Mummy and me. We were there … the three of us … and neither of them are there anymore.”

“It sometimes happens like that, Paul.”

“Did you have a mother?”

“Yes. She died.”

“How did she die?”

“She was ill for a long time … and then she died as we knew she would.”

“And your father?”

I felt myself shrink. “He … he died also.”

He said nothing for a while. Nor did I. Too many unpleasant reminders were chasing themselves round in my mind.

“They said it was unlucky,” he said at length.

“What?”

“The diamond. Diamonds can be unlucky if they’re big. I suppose it is because everybody wants them. They were all right before they found that. My father ought to have sold it. We ought to have gone away. But he had to go on looking for more just because he’d found that one. He wouldn’t have died if he hadn’t gone looking for more. He left it to my mother. So it was there and she took the bad luck with it.”

“That’s pure fancy, you know, Paul. Things like diamonds are not unlucky in themselves.”

He looked stubborn. “She had it and she kept it and a lot of people wanted it. There was another man who wanted to marry her. It was all because of the diamond.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“I just know. And then she married him. He had the diamond then. But he sold it. And he bought Riebeeck House. But the diamond had been hers … so … she died.”

“Perhaps she was not well before she died.”

“She was well.”

“Tell me, Paul, what it is you have on your mind.”

“She died because she fell down the stairs. She was all right. Why did you think she was not well?”

I could not mention to him that she had been drinking.

He went on: “If she hadn’t had the diamond, he wouldn’t have married her. There wouldn’t have been that house. She wouldn’t have fallen down the stairs. It was all because of the diamond.” I thought he was going to burst into tears. “That’s why the most important thing in my life is the Kimberley Treasure.”

“Oh, Paul,” I said. “You mustn’t think like that. Diamonds can’t hurt anybody.”

“Not by themselves … but what they mean.”

“How could a diamond have made your mother fall down the stairs?”

“I don’t mean that the diamond did it. But because of it, someone might have …”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I only wish my father had never found it. I wish we could have gone on … finding little ones … little ones that were enough to keep us happy.”

“Paul,” I said firmly. “You have to stop brooding on this. It’s over. It isn’t going to help to go on thinking about it … making up what might have been. Try to grow away from the past. There’s so much that’s good for you. Miss Milne thinks you are going to do well at school.”

He looked at me sadly, frustration in his eyes which I knew meant: nobody understands.

I felt I had failed him. It was cowardly, but had I been afraid that he might have said too much?

I WENT TO SEE MYRA as Roger had suggested.

“Go in the afternoon,” Lilias had advised. “I can manage for two hours on my own. I’ll set the older ones an essay or arithmetic problems which keep them occupied and I can easily look after the others. I’ll enjoy it. It will be a challenge.”

Myra was delighted to see me and I spent a pleasant afternoon with her. She was a little reticent and I did not probe; we talked lightly, mentioning Lakemere and village affairs. I remembered some amusing incidents and was able to make her smile. When I left she begged me to come again.

When I returned to the schoolhouse Lilias said: “I don’t see why you shouldn’t go now and then. I managed very well. It’s not really difficult.”

“The fact is, you could do very well without me here.”

“Oh no. I should be desperately lonely. It’s wonderful to have you to talk things over with. In any case, I shouldn’t have come out here without you and I think it is one of the best things I ever did. John is such a good friend and so interested in the school. I’m happier than I have been for a long time. I felt so frustrated at home after that terrible affair of the necklace. But I do believe I’m getting over it now. How do you feel?”

“Oh … I don’t think I shall ever forget.”

“Yours was such a terrible ordeal, but you will get over it … in time. It’s nice that you meet people. How lucky we are that John is here to help us.”

“Yes, we are.”

“And your seeing Myra will be good for her and you. You must go again soon.”

I did and it was on my third visit that Myra began to talk a little more freely, and I felt I could ask her if she were worried about anything.

She hesitated for a while and then she said: “It’s this house. There’s something about it. Do you feel it?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s as though it has two parts. One just an ordinary, normal sort of house … and the other that’s … haunted. Sometimes, Diana, I feel that she is still here.”

“Who?”

“Margarete … Roger’s first wife.”

“She’s dead, Myra.”

“But some people think the dead can return. Sometimes I feel … that she can’t rest. She was his wife … just as I am. I think she must have been rather like me. Quiet … not very attractive.”

“That’s being foolish. Roger must have found you attractive. He married you.”

“I feel she and I are like one person.”

“Really, Myra, you’re getting fancies. He married her and she died soon after. It was a tragic accident. These things happen.”

“I know. That’s what I tell myself. I am beginning to believe she can’t rest. When people die violent deaths, it is said that they can’t rest. They sometimes come back. Just imagine it! You are alive one moment and then … without warning… you’re dead. You’ve left everything unfinished.” She looked at me fearfully. “I should hate to go like that.”

“Why do you think of such things? You’re here. You’re healthy. And you’re by no means old. Your whole life is before you.”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

I looked at her intently. “What do you mean?”

“Oh … nothing. I suppose I’m just nervous. My mother was always telling me to pull myself together.” She laughed. “You’re reasonable, Diana.”

“Am I? Lilias thinks I am very unpractical. I’ve got a wild imagination, she says. I don’t know what she would think of you and your fancies.”

“Even my mother admired Lilias. I can’t tell you how much better I feel now you are here. And it is lovely to have our afternoons together. I look forward to them. I expect I’m like this because I haven’t been very well. Roger got a tonic for me from the doctor.”

“So the doctor has been to see you?”

“He came to dinner … he and his wife. Roger told him that I wasn’t as well as he would like me to be. I was listless and homesick. It was all natural, of course, but he wondered if the doctor could give me something to ‘buck me up.’ Well, the result was he sent round this stuff. It’s something mixed with wine … and something else, I suppose. It’s not very pleasant to take.”

“Is it doing you any good?”

“I haven’t felt much different. Your visits do me more good than the doctor’s tonic, I think.”

“Then we must continue with that medicine.”

“I’m so pleased Roger asked you to come.”

“Yes, he was really concerned about you.”

“He’s always so good to me.” She hesitated and I waited for her to go on. She bit her lips slightly and said: “He wants me to settle down, I know. I try to. You like it here, don’t you?”

“Yes. Lilias is delighted with it. It’s such a change from the village. She always wanted to teach.”

“We wondered why she gave it up.”

I thought then how difficult it was to throw off a part of your life which you wanted to forget. It kept coming back to hurt you.

“Perhaps she needed a rest,” she went on. “She had just come to the end of one post and maybe did not like the prospect of facing another—though I should have thought Lilias would always be ready to face what she had to. Oh well, I’m glad it is turning out so well for her.” She paused and went on: “What were we saying about the house? Do you know I avoid going to the part where it happened?”

“You mean … ?”

“The staircase. I always feel there is something … haunted … about it.”

“That’s your imagination.”

“Maybe, but I want you to come there with me. I want to make you understand what I feel.”

“Now, you mean?”

“Why not?”

She rose and led the way, looking over her shoulder, as though to reassure herself that I was with her.

We reached that part of the house and stood at the top of the staircase. I could see what she meant. In the first place it was dark and shadowy. There was only one small window which gave little light, even in the afternoon. It might have been due to that that one felt it was gloomy, plus the knowledge that someone, not so very long ago, had plunged to her death down that staircase.

“There,” said Myra. “I see you can feel it.”

“I was just thinking that there was so little light here.”

“It’s more than that.”

“It’s because you are thinking of what happened here.”

She moved away and said: “Come and look at the Model House. I always do when I’m in this part of the house. I find it fascinating to see the house … just as it is … though on this small scale.”

As we came up to the house she stopped short and gave a gasp of dismay. “Oh … look!” she said.

I looked. A small carved figure, which was clearly meant to represent a woman, was lying at the foot of the staircase. I thought she was going to faint … and I caught her.

“It’s only a piece of wood,” I said.

“Who put it there?”

I said: “Would you like to go to your room? You really look shaken.”

She allowed me to take her there. She was trembling visibly. I suggested she lie down and when she did so I sat beside her. She held my hand and I was sure there was something she wanted to say to me but could not bring herself to do so.

“Stay with me,” she said. “Don’t go back to the schoolhouse tonight. There’s plenty of room here. Stay.”

I was astonished. “But …” I began.

“Please … please. I want you to. It’s important to me.”

“Myra … why?”

“I just feel …” She looked so earnest, her eyes pleading more than her words. I thought: she is afraid of something. I have to help her. If I did not and something happened …

I was romancing again. What was it about this house … the staircase … the Model House? She was making me feel, as she probably did, that there were evil forces at work.

I could not leave her.

I said: “I’ll send a note to Lilias. I’ll tell her I’m staying the night.”

“Oh, thank you. Will you really? Ring the bell … please ring the bell.”

I did so and a woman arrived.

“Luban,” she said. “Will you prepare a room? On this floor please. Miss Grey is staying the night.”

Luban was a lithe youngish woman; her skin was black as ebony and her large dark eyes seemed to hold some tragedy. I remembered that she was the mother of the deaf-mute I had seen on my previous visit, and I guessed that her air of sadness might have something to do with that poor boy.