Snare of Serpents (27 page)

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Authors: Victoria Holt

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Parricide, #Contemporary, #Edinburgh (Scotland), #Stepmothers

BOOK: Snare of Serpents
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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,

N
INIAN
G
RAINGER

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,

N
INIAN
G
RAINGER

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.

L
OOKING 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.

It was all very agreeable.

Kitty came over to see me one morning. She was as excited as everyone else about the wedding. She thought Mr. Lestrange was ever so nice. “There is no side about him, Miss, if you know what I mean. He’s nice to us servants … just as though we were of importance. The family like him … from the mistress to the stable boys. I reckon Miss Myra’s lucky.”

Lilias and I often talked about Ninian Grainger’s suggestion. There were times when I thought it would suit me to follow the example of those young governesses; and there were others when I would swerve away from the notion. A terrible uncertainty would sweep over me. As Lilias had said, it was a step that should not be taken lightly.

While we were at breakfast one morning a message came from Lakemere House. Mrs. Ellington wished to see Lilias and me at eleven-thirty that morning. She could only spare a short time, but it was important and could we please be as punctual as possible?

Lilias grimaced at me. “The royal command. It’s a nuisance. I promised old Mrs. Edge that I’d take her some of the wine that Jane makes. She says it puts new life into her.”

“Couldn’t we take it another day?”

“Well, she’s so lonely. She’ll be watching for us. There’s time to take it and we can go straight from her to Lakemere.”

That was agreed.

We delivered the wine and chattered for a while, Lilias keeping her eye on her watch.

Mrs. Edge was disappointed, but Lilias explained that Mrs. Ellington wished to see her and me as well—and we all knew how busy Mrs. Ellington was at this time.

Mrs. Edge wanted to talk about the wedding so we indulged her for another five minutes, telling her all we knew, and then we departed.

We put our horses in the Ellington stables and were taken to Mrs. Ellington’s private sitting room. She was seated at her bureau with papers before her.

“Oh, Lilias,” she said, “and you, Miss Grey. So good of you to come. I’m so frightfully busy … guests and so on. Some will have to stay in the house. I shall see you both at the reception, of course. But you’ve no idea. It’s all so sudden. If only we had more time. But needs must.”

“I am sure you are very happy about it, Mrs. Ellington,” said Lilias.

“I should be if I could be sure everything will go well on the day.”

“You couldn’t fail to make it so,” said Lilias perfunctorily.

“No, of course not. I did want to speak to you both about the stalls at the fete. That’s why I asked you both to come. My big concern is the village drama meeting. As you know, they usually have it here, but I simply cannot have them. It’s tomorrow … short notice, I know, but could you possibly have it at the vicarage? You’ve plenty of room there and …”

“But, of course, we can,” said Lilias.

Mrs. Ellington beamed on her. “I knew you would, but I wanted you to call personally because there is the list of the cast for the Nativity play. It’s early yet, but they need lots of rehearsal … and they’ll be discussing it tomorrow. I wanted them to see my suggestions. They do need guidance; otherwise they select the most incongruous people … and then once it’s done … it’s awkward to change.”

“I’ll see that everyone knows it will be at the vicarage and I’ll give Miss Crew the list. She’s in charge of all that, isn’t she?”

“Thank you so much. I hope I have not dragged you away from something, Miss Grey.”

“Oh no, not at all.”

“We’ll talk about the fete later. Thank you so much for coming. Now … I have to get on.”

“We should be going anyway,” said Lilias.

“Thank you. Thank you for coming.”

We were graciously ushered out and made our way to the stables.

“There was no need to summon us to the presence,” said Lilias. “She could have sent a note with her cast of players.”

“I think she enjoys being frantically busy.”

Kitty was standing outside the stables chatting with one of the men. I was reminded of Hamish then and how she had fallen victim to his lust. I supposed some people never changed. Kitty had also reminded me of Zillah. They both seemed to sparkle in the admiration of men.

The man went into the stables when he saw us and brought out the horses. Just at that moment Roger Lestrange rode up.

“Oh, good morning, Miss Milne, Miss Grey. How nice to see you! Are you just coming to the house?”

“No,” said Lilias. “We are just leaving. We’ve been to see Mrs. Ellington.”

“Oh … what a pity!” He smiled at us warmly. He was a very attractive man. I could understand why people thought Myra lucky. Soon she would be going to a new country with this charming husband. I might be going away. But how different my departure would be.

“We must be getting on,” said Lilias, mounting her horse.

I was not sure what happened next. I had my foot in the stirrup and was about to mount when suddenly my horse turned abruptly. The next thing I knew was that I was on the ground, my foot caught in the stirrup. The horse began to move away, fortunately at only a slow pace. Nevertheless I was dragged along the ground.

“Miss Davina!” It was Kitty’s voice—shrill, loud, audible to all.

The incident was over in a few seconds. Roger Lestrange had seized my horse and brought it to a standstill. My foot was released and I stood up, unhurt.

He put an arm around me and looked at me steadily. “All right?”

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