Snare of Serpents (23 page)

“How very good of you! So sympathetic and understanding. I often think how lucky Davina was to have you to defend her.”

“I don’t really deserve so much praise.”

“You do!” She added almost archly: “And I shall insist on giving it to you.”

I smiled. I felt he was very pleased that she had joined us. There was a little more chat—mostly between him and Zillah —then he rose to go.

I felt disappointed in him. He had been so obviously impressed by Zillah’s charms. Of course, I had always known they were considerable, but I would not have thought that he would succumb to them so easily.

Zillah’s mood changed abruptly when he had gone.

“Why on earth did he want to come here like that?” she demanded.

“He said he just wanted to know how I was getting on.”

“Does he go round visiting all his ex-clients?”

“I think he regards this as a rather special case.”

“/ think he is rather inquisitive. He got you off … and that is where the case ends for him.”

“He very much wanted a verdict of Not Guilty.”

“Didn’t we all?”

“Well, he seemed to get on well with you.”

She allowed a self-satisfied smile to cross her face.

“Oh well, it’s all over now, and what we have to do, dear, is forget about it.”

As if I ever could!

L
ILIAS’ ANSWER
had arrived.

I am expecting you. We understand about the name. So from the moment you arrive you will be Diana Grey. Don’t worry. No one will know except my father, my sister Jane and myself. We all want to do what we can to help. Dear
Davina—but I suppose I must start thinking of you as Diana —rest assured that I have convinced my family that you have been as wrongly suspected as I had. We are a closely knit family and trust one another absolutely.

It has occurred to me that it is a rather strange coincidence that we have both been wrongly accused. It is almost as though there is some malignant spirit in the house. That’s nonsense, of course, but it does seem odd. Oh, what a lot we shall have to talk about! I am so looking forward to seeing you.

It’s going to be a long journey for you. You’ll have to come to London first and then take the train to the west country. We’re about three miles from Tinton Crawley, but I’ll be at the station with a dogcart to meet you.

I can’t wait. With love,

LlLIAS

P.S. I am enclosing instructions about the journey, together with the address of the London hotel where I spent the night. It’s small, quiet and near the station.

I started at once to make my preparations.

I
T WAS WITH GREAT RELIEF
that I set out and even as the train steamed out of the Edinburgh station I felt as though a great burden had dropped from me. I believed that I had, to some extent, made a gap between the present and the nightmarish past.

As we speeded to the Border I looked anxiously at my fellow passengers, for I had the sudden fear that one of them at least might know me. My picture had been in the papers; and there had been one in particular, an “artist’s impression,” which had horrified me. The sketch had been sufficiently like me to be recognisable, but the artist had managed to twist my features into a mask of cunning. At that time the world had made up its mind that I had murdered my father and the artist was fitting the face to what he believed were the facts.

There was a young couple opposite me, perhaps going on
their honeymoon; they seemed entirely absorbed in each other and gave me no qualms; nor did the man intent on his newspaper. But there was a rather garrulous woman in the far corner who was determined to talk to someone, and as the others were obviously engrossed, she turned to me. She was going south to visit her married daughter and was longing for the reunion with her grandchildren. She asked me a few questions about my destination, but rather perfunctorily, I realised. Her thoughts were clearly for her coming visit, and I breathed more freely.

I need not have worried. My confidence returned. I was just nervous. I must stop imagining that people would recognise me. I was escaping to Lilias, that refuge to which she had returned, confident of love and understanding.

I spent a night in the London hotel near the station, just as Lilias had explained. It was not a very restful night, but I did not mind. I was on my way.

The following morning when I caught the train from Paddington Station the sense of relief was growing with every minute. Settling in a corner of the railway carriage, I looked out on the green countryside, noticing that the plants and trees were a little more advanced here than they were in the harsher north. My fellow passengers were agreeable, and there was a little general conversation. I knew that none of them had the faintest idea who I was, and that I had been oversensitive on that score.

The train steamed westwards; the country had grown even more verdantly lush. I caught a glimpse of the sea. I had seen little villages clustering round churches such as Lilias had often described to me in the old days; I saw the rich red soil of which she had talked, and I knew that we were in the county of Devonshire.

At last I had arrived. As we came into the station I saw Lilias on the platform and I was happier than I had ever been since the nightmare began.

We ran together and clung for some seconds. Then she held me at arm’s length. “It’s wonderful to see you. And you are looking better than I expected to see you. Oh, my dear, what a
time! But it is over now. Come on. The dogcart is waiting. We’ll get the luggage out.”

The stationmaster was standing by, smiling at us.

“Oh, Jack,” she said. “Could you get Jim to put the luggage into the dogcart?”

“Right you be, Miss Lilias. Jim, Jim! Hi, Jim! Luggage for Miss Lilias.” He smiled at me. “And you be come to Lakemere, Miss. You be staying long?”

“I … er …”

“We’re hoping Miss Grey will stay for a long time. There it is, Jim.”

She took my arm.

“They are waiting impatiently at home,” she said. “Longing to meet you.”

Then we were gambolling along lanes so narrow that the hedges almost brushed against us as we passed.

“I’m so glad you came,” she said.

“I feel so much better since I left Edinburgh.”

“Of course. You wanted to get away. It’s the right thing. It’s the only thing. And we can talk. It will be just like the old days.”

I was overwhelmed by emotion as I sat beside her. She talked animatedly, stressing every now and then how delighted she was that I had decided to come. It was a wonderful welcome.

“We shall soon be there,” she said. “Oh, look down there! You can see the church tower. Our church is just about one of the oldest in the west country. More than seven hundred years old—a perfect example of Norman architecture, as it says in the guide books. Oh yes, we get visitors. There’s some lovely stained glass, too. My father is very proud of it. I must make sure he doesn’t bore you about it. Jane and I tell him he gets obsessions, and one of them is his dear old church.”

As we drew nearer I saw the grey stone walls of the church, the graveyard with the old stones leaning a little askew in some places among the yews and the cypresses.

“Some of those trees have been here for centuries,” Lilias told me. “They have seen many vicars come and go. Aren’t the cypresses lovely? Someone told me they represent eternity and
that is why they are so often planted in graveyards. Country lore! I’m preparing you. You’ll get plenty of that from my father. And here we are … the vicarage.”

It was a largish house, grey stone like the church; before it was a well-kept lawn with flower beds surrounding it. And there at the door was a man whom I knew at once was Lilias’ father—and with him a woman, clearly sister Jane.

They came towards us as Lilias brought the dogcart to a halt.

“Here we are,” cried Lilias. “The train was on time, for once. This is … Diana.”

My hands were clasped in a firm grip and I was looking into the smiling, benign face of the Reverend George Milne.

“Welcome, welcome, my dear,” he said. “We are so pleased that you have come. Lilias has been so happy since you said you would.”

“And this is Jane,” said Lilias.

Jane was rather like Lilias and I knew I was going to like her for that reason alone.

Her greeting was as warm as that of her father had been. I said how glad I was to meet them and what a peaceful spot it was. The flowers were lovely.

“You’ve won Jane’s heart,” said Lilias. “She has an obsession with the garden.”

“It’s a good thing that I have,” retorted Jane. “Someone has to do it. It would be like a wilderness left to you. Come along in. I expect you’re hungry. Dinner’s almost ready. We hoped the train wasn’t going to be late and took a chance on that. So … in half an hour? Lilias can show you to your room and Daisy will bring up some hot water.”

“Thank you. That would be lovely,” I said. “One gets grimy travelling.”

I felt at home immediately. I had slipped into a new role. I must get accustomed to my new name, and when I had I should be able to believe I really had stepped away from the past.

We went into a hall. I noticed the highly polished furniture; on a hall table was a large bowl of flowers, colours exquisitely blended and beautifully arranged.

Lilias noticed my glance. “That’s Jane,” she said. “She fills the house with flowers.”

“They are so lovely,” I said. “Oh, Lilias … I am going to be happy here.”

“We are going to do our best to make you,” replied Lilias.

I followed her up the staircase to a landing.

“We’ve put you on the first floor,” said Lilias. “You have to mind your head when you enter some of these rooms. I think people must have been smaller at the time places like this were built.” She opened the door of a room and I followed her in. It was large but rather dark and there was only one window and that was leaded. There was a bed in one corner, and a dressing table and a mirror and a wash hand stand. A large cupboard almost filled one wall.

“There you are,” she said. “I’m afraid it’s not like your home in Edinburgh, but …”

“It’s lovely,” I said, “and I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here with you … and your family.”

I went to the window. I was looking over the graveyard. I had a view of the tottering gravestones, the ancient yews and cypress trees. It was fascinating.

Lilias came and stood beside me. “I hope you don’t think it’s a little morbid? I chose this room for you because it is a little bigger than the other spares and the graveyard has a kind of friendly feeling when you get to know it. At least, that’s what my sister Emma used to say. She’s married now, you know. I have a niece and nephew through her and two nephews through Grace who married a clergyman. Emma used to say that if there were ghosts they were nice ones.”

At that point the door was opened by a middle-aged woman who came in carrying a can of hot water. Lilias introduced her as Daisy.

“It’s nice to see ‘ee, Miss,” she said to me. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.”

“We’re going to make sure of that, Daisy,” Lilias told her.

“That we be,” said Daisy.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

When she had gone Lilias said: “Daisy has been with us all
our lives. She came when my father and mother were married and this is her home as it is ours. We just have a girl coming in some mornings to help with the cleaning. Jane is an excellent housekeeper though. Otherwise I don’t know how we’d manage. I’m rather a poor replacement for Alice.”

I remembered that Alice was the sister who had left the household to become a governess when Lilias had been forced to return home.

“No,” went on Lilias, “I’m not much of a help in the house. My father calls Jane and me his Mary and Martha.”

“I daresay you have your uses.”

“I shop and help with the local good works … bazaars and so on … everything that goes with the routine of a country vicarage.”

“Which is very important, I’ve no doubt.”

“Well, I suppose I could say I am of some use.”

“What strikes me so forcibly about the place is the peace of it.”

“I’m glad you find it so. It’s what you need.”

“Oh, how I wish that I had come in different circumstances! But it’s no use wishing you can change what’s gone before.”

“No good at all. But it is going to get better. We’re going to put the past behind us. We both have to do that. We’re just going to forget it all happened. It’s the only way.”

“But can we?”

“We can try. Now, I am going to leave you to wash and change if you want to. Can you find your way down?”

“I’m sure I can.”

She was gone and I was alone. I washed and changed. I felt elated. I knew I had been right to come here.

As
THE DAYS PASSED
I became more sure of this. I had slipped into a new identity and was no longer startled when I heard myself addressed as Diana. I was caught up in a new way of life. I was becoming very friendly with Jane who was quite different from Lilias. Jane was no dreamer; she was practical in the extreme which was very necessary in running the vicarage household on what I imagined was by no means a large stipend.