Snare of Serpents

by Виктория Холт

Lilias and I were sitting in the garden going over, for at least the hundredth time, all the things we had to do before we left, asking ourselves if we had packed all we needed in the little luggage we were taking with us. We were to leave the vicarage the day before we sailed, spending a night in a hotel near the docks which Mrs. Crown had arranged for us. Zillah had been helpful and had sent those possessions which I had wanted to take with me straight to the docks; this was a great help and it had meant that I had not had to return to Edinburgh which would have been very painful for me.

  Now everything was settled and there was nothing to do but wait.

  As we sat there Jane came out.

  “There’s a young man who has called to see you, Diana,” she said. “His name is Mr. Grainger.”

  I felt myself flush. I was tingling with pleasure. All I could say was: “Oh … so he’s come …”

  Lilias, to whom I had talked of him and confessed something of my feelings for him, and who, perhaps, guessed a little more, said: “He’ll want to talk to you. I’ll go in.” Then: “Bring him out, Jane. They can talk in the garden. It’s pleasant out here.”

  Ninian came to me and, taking both my hands in his, held them firmly.

  “I felt I had to come and see you before you left,” he said.

  “That is very good of you.”

  “It’s a big step you are taking.”

  “Let’s sit down. A big step? Yes. But we have thought a good deal about it and in the circumstances it seems a good thing.”

  “I’m so glad Miss Milne is going with you.”

  “Yes, that is a great piece of luck for me.”

  “Tell me about this Mr. Lestrange.”

  “He’s a friend of the Ellingtons who live in the big house here. He’s engaged in big business and I think Mr. Ellington has some connections in it. I don’t really know much about it. But I expect it has something to do with diamonds. He lives in Kimberley, you see, and when he came over Myra Ellington and he fell in love and married.”

  “It sounds like a whirlwind romance.”

  “It was. He was a widower. I gathered his wife died … not long ago. He probably came to England to get away from it all … and he met Myra Ellington.”

  “So it all turned out well for him.”

  “The fact of the matter is that they are going back to Kimberley. I believe they will actually be sailing on the same ship.”

  “I’d like to meet Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange.”

  “I don’t suppose you will. Are you going back tomorrow?”

  “I thought I’d come and see you off.”

  “Oh!” I was amazed but inordinately pleased. I kept thinking how strange it was that he should continue to show such interest. I had told myself many times that it was because I was still smarting from Jamie’s rejection … but it was something beyond that. I hated to confess it, but one of the reasons why I regretted leaving England was because I should never see him again. That was quite foolish, I knew; I constantly reminded myself that all I meant to him was an interesting case which had brought him quite useful success.

  “I’ve booked in at the Royal Oak,” he said. “I thought I could travel down to Tilbury with you and be of some help.”

  “What a lovely idea! But can you spare the time?”

  “Just about,” he said.

  “Are you comfortable at the Royal Oak?”

  “Very comfortable.”

  “That’s good, because it is the only hotel around here.”

  “I’m glad it’s so near. Tell me about the school.”

  “I don’t know much except what I have told you already. I am sure we shall be able to manage all right. Lilias is a wonderful teacher, and I shall try to follow in her footsteps.”

  “And this has all come about through Mr. Lestrange. What do you know of him?”

  “Only what I’ve told you. He’s engaged in the diamond business; he’s apparently wealthy; he’s a widower with a son named Paul; he is considered to be very attractive and is a good match for Myra Ellington.”

  “What about Myra herself?”

  “I don’t know much about her either. She is very pleasant and quiet … not like her mother. She’s very good at … doing what she is told. I could never understand why she has not married long ago. I should not have thought Mrs. Ellington would have been the sort of woman to allow her daughter to remain unmarried. But I suppose most of them want to ensure their daughters’ financial security … and with Myra, Mrs. Ellington does not have to consider this. It seems that she is quite well off in her own right.”

  “Perhaps I shall meet them.”

  “Perhaps. But everyone’s very busy. Mrs. Crown has been very good. She has arranged everything for us. We are spending our last night in England in a hotel called Harbour View, which speaks for itself, and we shall be right on the spot for the day we sail.”

  “I’ll book in there.”

  I must have shown my surprise, for he said: “I feel responsible for you! After all, I introduced you to Mrs. Crown.”

  “It was the best thing you could have done.”

  “I do hope so,” he said fervently.

  Daisy came out with some coffee.

  “Miss Jane thought you could do with this,” she said.

  There was a small table under a tree and she set the tray on this; and we drew up our chairs.

  “This is delightful,” said Ninian.

  I was happier than I had been for a long time—just for a moment; then the thought hit me: I am going right away … out of the old life … out of his life.

  He watched me as I poured out the coffee. I wondered what he was thinking and what had really prompted him to come so far to see me before I left.

  He said suddenly: “If this should not work out … if you should want to come home for any reason … let me know. I’ll do what I can to arrange it.”

  “You are so good. And all because you defended me. There must be so many …”

  He shook his head. “It was unfair, that verdict. It rankles.”

  “I see.”

  “One day perhaps …”

  I waited and he shrugged his shoulders. “It has happened, you know. The truth comes out, even after years.”

  Then we talked of those young women who, as Lilias and I were doing, had left their homes to go away and work in foreign countries. I told him about the letters we had read in the Society’s offices. He was very interested, but he kept bringing the conversation back to Roger Lestrange.

  He stayed to dinner. It was clear to me that he had made a good impression on the vicarage family.

  Lilias said, after he had left for the Royal Oak: “What a charming man! It is so kind of him to care about what happens to you.”

  I was very happy that night. I dreamed that I was sailing away from England, and Ninian Grainger was standing on the dock watching. Then suddenly he lifted his arms and cried loudly: “Don’t go! Don’t go!”

  I knew that I must not go, that it was wrong for me to go. I tried to leap overboard, but someone was restraining me, saying: “You can’t go back. None of us can go back. It’s too late … once you’ve started.”

  And that was Roger Lestrange.

  THE NEXT DAY my pleasure in Ninian Grainger’s care was dampened.

  It was in the morning. Daisy came to my room and said: “There’s a visitor for you, Miss Grey. In the sitting room.”

  I went down, expecting to see Ninian. It was Zillah.

  She looked even more beautiful than I remembered. She was dressed in a black silk dress with a big green bow at the neck and a black hat with a green feather which tipped down to her eyes, calling attention to their colour.

  “My dear!” she cried, embracing me. “How wonderful to see you! I had to come. I’m going to see you off. I’m staying at the Royal Oak.”

  “Oh,” I said blankly.

  She laughed almost coyly. “Who do you think is staying there? Your Mr. Grainger. Well, it’s the only one, isn’t it? And I
couldn’t expect to be put up at the vicarage. I hope you’re pleased to see me. I’m not really very happy about all this, you know. You’ll be so far away. I had hoped we could be together. Oh, I do hope this is going to be the right thing for you.”

  “I had to get away,” I said. “And this seems as good a method as any.”

  “It’s so sad. But I mustn’t go on about it. We’ve got to make the best of things, haven’t we? How have you been getting on in this place? I’m longing to meet your friend, Lilias. I wonder what she’ll feel about me. I took her place, didn’t I … in the house, I mean.”

  “You’ll like her. She’s a wonderful person.”

  “Oh, I do hope this is going to be all right.”

  She meant well, and it was good of her to take the trouble to come. But she had shattered an illusion.

  I did not realise until then how deeply I had been affected by “Ninian’s coming here.

  I had been very foolish. I had been so stimulated, so happy because I had thought he had been so apprehensive on my account that he had come down to see for himself what was happening. I had had a ridiculous feeling that he was regretting having introduced me to Mrs. Crown and that he was going to beg me to relinquish the project and go back with him to Edinburgh so that we could fight together to prove I had played no part in my father’s murder.

  I was naive. I was reaching out for someone to care for me … someone to fill that bitter void left by Jamie.

  Face facts, I admonished myself. You are going away … right away from the old life, from everyone you ever knew— except Lilias.

  He came because she was coming. You were misled by Jamie once. Be on your guard that it does not happen again.

  I saw a good deal of Ninian during the next day. We talked a good deal. I felt that he knew as much about the place to which I was going as I did. Zillah was there, too.

  On the morning before the day we were due to leave for Tilbury, I went down to the village to buy a few oddments which I had found I needed and Ninian had said he would accompany me.

  Zillah, who happened to arrive at that moment, said she would join us.

  It was on our way back from the village that we met Roger Lestrange. He was riding a big grey horse from the Ellington stables and he lifted his hat as we approached.

  “Miss Grey. Ah, the last-minute shopping. All ready to sail?”

  I introduced them. I could sense Ninian’s interest. He had always wanted to hear all he could about Roger Lestrange.

  I noticed that the latter was surveying Zillah with appreciation while she put on that especially seductive air she used for attractive men.

  “We are going to see the dear child off on her travels,” said Zillah. “It is going to be very sad for me.”

  “I am sure it will be.” He spoke soothingly.

  Ninian said: “I understand you are from South Africa.”

  “Yes, it’s my home now. I shall be returning to it on the Queen of the South.”

  “Oh yes. I understood you would be sailing on her.”

  “Shall you be glad to go home?” asked Zillah.

  He looked at her almost slyly. “Well, there are temptations to stay, but alas …”

  “And you sail … the day after tomorrow, is it? So it is hail and farewell. How sad.”

  “I agree … wholeheartedly. Well …” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll see you on board, Miss Grey.”

  “So that is Roger Lestrange,” said Ninian when he had ridden off.

  “He seemed to be a most interesting man,” added Zillah.

  Then we rode back to the vicarage and the next day we left for London, Tilbury and the Queen of the South.

  As SOON as I stepped on board I felt a sense of irreparable loss. Melancholy took hold of me and I was sure that no exciting new experience could dispel it. This was largely due to having said goodbye to Ninian. I had taken this step and there was no going back.

  Ninian and Zillah had travelled to the ship with us. So, Zillah had said, that she could spend every possible moment with me. She constantly expressed her sorrow at my departure, but I could not get rid of the notion that she was rather relieved. Perhaps she was thinking what was best for me and was fully aware that while I remained in England I should be constantly on the alert for someone to recognise me. That was no way to live and a sacrifice was worthwhile to change it.

  I had to keep remembering that and then I could be reconciled to leaving everything that was familiar to me and going off into the unknown.

  I did have a short time alone with Ninian. I think Lilias helped to arrange this by making sure that she kept Zillah away. My spirits were lifted because I sensed that this was what Ninian wanted, too.

  He talked seriously about my future.

  “You don’t need to look on it as permanent,” he stressed. “You will come back. But for a time I believe this is the best thing to do. I want you to promise me something.”

  “What is that?”

  “That you will write to me and tell me everything … however seemingly trivial. I want to know.”

  “But surely … ?”

  “Please,” he said. “It may be important.”

  “Do you still regard me as ‘a case?’ “

  “A very special case. Please, I am serious. Give me your word. I know you will keep it.”

  “I will write,” I said.

  “I shall want to know about the school … and the Lestranges … and how everything works out.”

  I nodded. “And you will let me know what happens at home?”

  “I will.”

  “You sound so serious.”

  “It is very important to me. And there is one thing more. If you want to come home, let me know. I will arrange it.”

  “You … ?”

  “I shall see that you get a passage home at the earliest possible moment. Please remember that.”

  “It is comforting to know that you are so concerned about me.”

  “Of course I’m concerned about you … Davina.”

  I looked at him in alarm.

  “I can’t get used to that other name,” he said. “I always think of you as Davina.”

  “Well, no one can hear now.”

  “One day you will come back.”

  “I wonder’”

  “You will,” he insisted. “You must.”

  I remembered that conversation for days to come and it brought me comfort.

  We were on deck as the ship sailed out. The hooters were sounding all round us; the quay was crowded with the friends of passengers come to see the last of them. It was a moving scene. Some people were weeping, others laughing, as slowly the ship glided out of her berth and sailed away.

  Lilias and I stood there waving until we could no longer see Ninian and Zillah.

  I SHALL NEVER FORGET those first days on the Queen of the South. I had not dreamed of such discomfort. In the first place we had to share a cabin with two others. The cabin was little more than a large cupboard and there were four berths, two lower and two upper. There was one small cupboard for the use of the four occupants and there were no portholes. We were shut in with many other similar cabins and the noises around us never seemed to cease. We were at the after end of the ship and there were barriers to prevent our leaving that section.

  Meals were taken at long tables. I suppose the food was adequate, but eating in such conditions was far from pleasant and neither Lilias nor I had much appetite for it.

  Our section of the ship was overcrowded. Washing was not easy. There were communal quarters for this and little privacy.

  I said to Lilias: “Can you endure this till Cape Town?”

  “We must,” she answered.

  When the weather turned rough, as it did very soon, this was an added trial.

  The two women who shared our cabin were prostrate in their bunks. Lilias felt queasy, too. She could not decide whether to venture out on deck or withdraw to her bunk.

  She decided on the latter
and I went on deck. I staggered along as far as the segregating barrier and sat down. I looked at the grey heaving waves and wondered what I had let myself into. The future seemed bleak. What should I find in this country to which we were going? I had been a coward. I should have stayed at home and faced whatever I had to. People would say that if I were innocent I should have nothing to fear. I should have held my head high, faced whatever was coming and not hidden behind an assumed name.

  And now here I was, in a condition of acute discomfort, being carried over this turbulent sea to … I could not know what.

  I was aware of someone on the other side of the barrier.

  “Hello,” said Roger Lestrange. He was looking down on me over the top of the fencing which separated us. “Facing the elements?”

  “Yes … and you, too?”

  “You find this uncomfortable, do you?”

  “Yes, don’t you?”

  “Mildly. Nothing to what it can do, I assure you.”

  “Well, I hope it doesn’t attempt to show me.”

  “I didn’t see you when you boarded. You had friends to see you off, I believe.”

  “Yes.”

  “That was nice. How are you liking the trip … apart from the weather?”

  I was silent for a while and he said quickly: “Not good, is it?”

  “It’s hardly luxury.”

  “I had no idea you would travel in such a way.”

  “Nor had we. But we did want to do so as cheaply as possible. Miss Milne has a horror of debt. How is Mrs. Lestrange?”

  “Laid low. She does not like the weather.”

  “Who does? I am sorry for her.”

  “We’ll soon be out of this and then we’ll all forget about it.”

  I had been standing up while I was talking to him, and a gust of wind threw me against the deck rail.

  “All right?” he asked.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “I think you should go below,” he continued. “The wind can be treacherous and one really shouldn’t face the decks when it is like this.” He smiled wryly. “I’m sorry I can’t conduct you to your quarters.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “I’ll go down. Goodbye.”

  “Au revoir,” he said.

  And I staggered down to the cabin.

  LATER THAT DAY the wind abated. Lilias and I were alone in the cabin. The other occupants, feeling better, had gone out, as they said, for a breath of fresh air.