Snare of Serpents (22 page)

“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,

D
IANA

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.”

“But the case is over for you.”

“A case such as this would never be over for me. I don’t like the verdict. In my heart I know it should have been Not Guilty. I shall always hope that someday the truth will come to light.”

“You do not think my father really killed himself?”

“It’s the most likely possibility, but there remains that shadow of a doubt.” He lifted his shoulders. “However, let me have that address.”

I gave it to him and he put it into his wallet.

“So the governess was dismissed,” he went on, “and the new one came: the beautiful Miss Zillah Grey whose surname you are going to use.”

“Yes.”

“And in a very short time she was married to your father. That’s very interesting.”

“I suppose it is. I believe governesses occasionally do marry the widowed fathers of their charges.”

“It comes about in … a natural kind of way,” he said slowly.

Then Zillah came into the room.

He rose and I said: “You remember my stepmother.”

“But of course.” He had taken her hand and was smiling warmly at her. “We met in court.”

She returned the smile dazzlingly, and in spite of the fact that I was accustomed to her beauty it struck me forcibly. She seemed to blossom in the society of men—like a flower in the rain.

“You were wonderful,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did for …”

“I was grateful to you. Your evidence was vital to our case.”

She sat opposite him, rather carefully, I thought, placing her back to the light as though she did not want to be seen too clearly. She was deferential, as though displaying admiration for him. He liked it obviously and did not appear to question the fact that it might be a little false.

She immediately engaged him in conversation.

“Has my stepdaughter been telling you her plans to go away for a while? Do tell me. Do
you
think it’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s an excellent idea. I was just saying so to Miss Glentyre.”

“And did she tell you … ?” she began anxiously.

“About changing her name? Yes. I think that might be a good idea, too.”

“I am so glad. It was my suggestion. I was a little worried. I do so want …”

“To do the best for Miss Glentyre, of course. Yes, I am sure it is a good idea, both to get away and to ensure a little anonymity.”

“Then I shall feel happier about it now. Davina, my dear, did you offer our guest refreshment?”

“No, we were talking and …”

She looked at me with indulgent reproof.

“It’s very kind of you,” said Ninian quickly. “But I must be on my way. I just called in to see how Miss Glentyre was faring.”