Snare of Serpents (26 page)

“I am not sure how long my business will take. But I must not continue to encroach on the hospitality I have received in this house.”

“Oh, nonsense,” cried Mrs. Ellington. “It’s a pleasure to have you.”

“So kind … but I am afraid sometimes that I am imposing.”

“Nonsense. I would not hear of your leaving and going to some hotel. My husband would be most displeased … and so would I.”

He smiled at Lilias and me. “You see what a wonderful hostess I have. I consider myself most fortunate to be here.” He included us all in his smile.

Lilias was glancing at her watch. It was five-thirty, I saw from my own. I knew that visits with Mrs. Ellington were usually on village business and given a limited time.

And now it was clearly the time for us to depart.

We thanked Mrs. Ellington and said goodbye.

Mr. Lestrange, with Myra Ellington, accompanied us out to the dogcart.

As we turned out of the drive, Lilias said to me: “Well, what did you think of that?”

“Very interesting. I enjoyed hearing about South Africa. I think Myra Ellington is quite fond of him.”

“Exactly my impression. It would be nice for her if he married her. I think she would like a husband.”

“I wonder how she would feel about leaving home?”

“She was very eager to hear about Africa.”

“Well, we shall see.”

T
HE NEXT DAY
I had a letter from Zillah. She had written once before. She really seemed to care and to understand my feelings.

My dear, dear Davina,

I hesitated whether I should call you Diana, but somehow it seemed going a bit too far. But perhaps I should have, in case this falls into someone else’s hands. You will have to destroy it as soon as you have read it—which sounds rather dramatic.

How are you getting on? I think a great deal about you. But I’m sure you did right to go and become Diana. You’re going to feel better … calmer and all that.

It seems very strange here without you. People are different. Well, I fancied those round here never much approved of me—so I don’t miss them. I keep saying “I must tell Davina that” and then … you’re not there.

Do let me know how things are.

By the way, your Ninian Grainger has called twice. Really, it is most extraordinary! And, I think, a little indiscreet!

I hinted this but he shrugged it off. He gets me to talk about myself. He’s very inquisitive. I suppose he gets so used to asking questions that it’s a habit with him. He’s attentive. Perhaps I ought to ask him what his intentions are! Pretty obvious, I suppose. But I am rather surprised.

Well, it makes a diversion.

He took me out to dinner one evening. I am sure he thought I was going to ask him in when he brought me home. There’s men for you! I suppose I ought to send him about his business. Then I remember that he did get you off and I’m tremendously grateful to him for that.

I thought I might go to London for a little spell. I feel I want to get away.

Do write. I am thinking such a lot about you.

Lots and lots of love,

Z
ILLAH

I sat back, the letter in my hand. I was thinking of Ninian Grainger, and I was disappointed in him. I had thought he had some regard for me, but from the moment he had seen Zillah he had become bemused by her. I thought of those sessions together when we had talked so earnestly and the most important thing in the world to him seemed to be to prove me Not Guilty. I remembered that when the verdict had been given, he had held my hands and I had seen with emotion the joy in his face; and, smarting as I was from Jamie’s desertion, I had felt uplifted by it. At that moment I had seen so clearly what Jamie’s affection for me had really been. It had simply grown out of the meeting between two lonely people in the streets of Edinburgh; and so we had believed ourselves to be in love—but it was a love which had wafted away on the first harsh wind.

I had seen it then for what it was and I had allowed myself to believe that Ninian’s care for me—I might say his dedication— was of a very different calibre.

I must remember, of course, that I had been in a hysterical state of mind. I had just stood on trial for my life. I should have realised that my relationship with Ninian was that between an advocate and his client in a case which, if he won, could greatly enhance his reputation.

He had not had a clear win, but still he had triumphed to some extent.

That was all it was; and I had seen in it the beginnings of a deep friendship which might lead to something deeper. That was because I was naive, completely unworldly. As soon as my attractive stepmother had appeared he had lost interest in me.

And now he was actually pursuing her! I felt dismayed and bitterly disappointed.

I could not get the thought of him and Zillah out of my mind. It had affected me more deeply than I had thought possible.

Lilias was aware of my depression and tried hard to interest me in village affairs. I could now ride reasonably well and that provided a diversion. We went out often and I began to know some of the villagers quite well.

As the daughter of the vicarage, Lilias was expected to call
on the inhabitants from time to time—especially those who were infirm. She explained to me that Jane was well occupied in the house and this task naturally fell to her, Lilias. She had developed quite an aptitude for it and took the burden off her father’s shoulders.

“They’re all interested to see you. Some of them are confined to their houses and a new face in the village creates a lot of interest.”

That was how I came to be with her when she paid her periodical call on Mrs. Dalton.

She always explained to me a little about these people on the way to them so that I had some idea of what I was going to find.

As we rode along she said: “Mrs. Dalton is an interesting old lady. She must be all of eighty and has lived in this village all her life. She had six children—four girls and two boys. Two of them went abroad—one to America, one to New Zealand—and it is a sore point with her that she doesn’t see those grandchildren as well as their parents. They keep in touch and it’s a great day when she hears from them. The whole village soon learns the contents of the letter. She’s an inveterate gossip and a purveyor of scandal. It’s all she has to do. She can only just move about and she’s in her chair most of the day … just sitting … looking out of the window. Two of the daughters and a daughter-in-law live nearby, and take it in turns to come in and look after her—so there is no worrying on that score. But she loves to have visitors and there is usually a stream of them going in and out. One of the grandchildren goes in to read the paper to her every day; then she relates what she has heard to her visitors. She’s bright and uncomplaining as long as she can get plenty of people to talk to her.”

“I’ll be interested to see her. I like meeting them all. It’s a different way of life here from what I have ever known before.”

“Oh, you’ll be amused by Eliza Dalton.”

We walked across the green to the cottage. The door was on the latch, so Lilias knocked then opened it and walked in.

“Good morning, Mrs. Dalton. Is it all right if we come in?”

“Oh, it’s you, Miss Lilias? Yes … yes … come in. I’m all alone.”

“I’ve brought Miss Grey to see you. Remember, she is staying with us.”

“So you’re Miss Grey.” She peered at me intently. “Nice to meet you. A friend of Miss Lilias. I’ve heard all about you.”

I felt that uneasy qualm and immediately suppressed it.

“Bring up your chair close, so that I can see you.”

“And how are you, Mrs. Dalton?” asked Lilias.

“Well, it’s my rheumatics … come and go, they do. Some days worse than others. The weather don’t help, I can tell you.”

“No. I suppose not. Tell me about the family.”

“Charley’s doing well. Got his own bit of land. He had to go all the way to New Zealand to get it. He says he’s got on quicker out there than he could here. And his daughter’s getting married. My granddaughter and me not there to see her wed. What do ‘ee think of that?”

“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.

Overseas Assignment

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.