Snare of Serpents

by Виктория Холт

  I was very worried about her. I talked of it to Lilias. It was a change from the perpetual topic of the war, but, to me, it was almost as alarming.

  “She must be losing her mind,” said Lilias in her practical way. “They used to say in the village that Myra was a little simple.”

  “She’s not simple … just nervous. She has never been confident in herself. That’s quite different.”

  “You don’t think she is secretly drinking, do you?”

  “I did wonder that. It could give her fancies.”

  “It might well. It looks to me as though that’s the answer.”

  “But there is no doubt that the figures were there. Roger saw them.”

  “I must admit this is an odd business.”

  “You see, first there was a figure lying at the bottom of the staircase, and now these more intricate ones of a man holding a woman and preparing to throw her down.”

  “I can only suggest one thing.”

  I nodded.

  “That he pushed her down the stairs.”

  “Or someone did.”

  “Well, she did have that diamond which was worth a fortune. And he had married her rather promptly. Someone may have a grudge against him.”

  “I wonder who?”

  “Well, there are more important things to occupy us at the moment. I was wondering how long we can go on like this. They are all around us. Oh yes, we certainly have other things to think about than little carved figures.”

  THE NEWS which filtered in to us continued to be disquieting. The quick and easy victory expected by the British was not forthcoming.

  There was an old music hall song which I remembered from my youth and at the start of the conflict it had been revived again. I had heard people singing it in Kimberley when there was talk of war.

  We don’t want to fight

  But by Jingo if we do

  We’ve got the men, we’ve got the ships

  We’ve got the money, too.

  Somehow now it had a hollow ring. The stark realities of war were different from the dreams of glory.

  Depression was descending upon us. The war had started in October and December had come; so far there had been no news of any success. Rather it had been the other way.

  I sensed an air of triumph among the Boers in Kimberley.

  We did not communicate with them; there was suspicion between us, for how did we know who among us were not spies?

  Those were difficult weeks. Several people were leaving the towns—young men who wanted to go and fight.

  One day when I went to Riebeeck House I saw Njuba in the gardens.

  I said to him: “Is anything wrong?” for there was a look of abject misery on his face.

  “My boy … he gone,” he said.

  “Umgala!” I cried. “Where has he gone?”

  “I do not know, Missee. He just gone. He not home all night.”

  “He can’t have gone far. What could a boy like Umgala want to leave home for?”

  “He good boy. No speak … no hear … but good boy.”

  “I know,” I said. “How long has he been gone?”

  “Only one night … one day.”

  “Has anyone tried to find him?”

  “I ask Massa. He say we try find. But many go now … say Massa. Perhaps Umgala, too.”

  “I am sure he will come back, Njuba.”

  “I know …” He tapped his chest. “I feel here, Missee. He gone. He no come back.”

  I left the poor man shaking his head.

  When I saw Paul he was very upset. He said: “Umgala’s run away.”

  “His father told me he’d gone.”

  “Where could he go to? He can’t speak. Besides, who would he fight for? Whose side would he be on?”

  “He’s a strange boy, Paul. He may have had some reason for going.”

  “I know him. He didn’t want to run away.”

  “Well, it seems he has. There are lots of people slipping out of this town, Paul. We live in strange times.”

  “I wish they’d stop this silly old war.”

  “I am sure most people feel the same,” I said.

  It was the next day when Roger talked to me. I was coming to the house to see Myra when he intercepted me in the garden.

  “I wanted to talk to you, D-Diana,” he said. “Things’re coming to a climax. The Boers are doing well. They’ll be taking over the town soon.”

  “Surely it can’t go on? There must be change soon.”

  “In time perhaps … but not yet. I wanted to tell you that I am leaving tonight.”

  “Leaving? For where?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “You mean … some secret mission … ?”

  “We need more reinforcements. The Boer commandos are getting close. We’ve got to get help. I’m going to see what can be done.”

  “So … you leave tonight?”

  He nodded. “I want you to look after Myra. I’m so worried about her. She is really in a nervous state.”

  “I know.”

  “I wonder if you would mind staying with her some nights. You know … when she is not so well. With things as they are …”

  “Of course, I will do what I can.”

  “I’ve spoken to the doctor. He thinks it’s largely in the mind. She’s finding it difficult to adjust. He’s given her that tonic.”

  “It doesn’t seem to be doing her much good.”

  “Dr. Middleburg said it would take time. This … er … upheaval has been too much for her.”

  “You mean … marriage?”

  He smiled at me. “Oh no. I didn’t mean that. God knows, I’ve done my best to make her happy. It’s the strange country … leaving home … and just as we were settling down, all this blows up. Will you persuade her to go on with the tonic? I think she hasn’t been taking it regularly and that is why it hasn’t been as effective as we hoped. Would you see that she takes it as prescribed?”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Good. I am sure this will soon be over, and we can get back to normal.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Before long we shall have them on their knees. It’s inevitable. It’s just at first that there are difficulties to overcome. The Boers are a stubborn race; and they think they have God on their side.”

  “Don’t they all think that?”

  “I suppose so, but there is a fervency about these commandos.”

  “Perhaps that is because it is their home and this is where they live. They don’t want anyone to take it from them.”

  “As they took it from others?”

  “Oh yes, of course. Well, that was a long time ago and the place where people have lived for generations means something special to them. To us it is a gold mine … a country worthy of development … another jewel in the Crown of Empire.”

  “You are very eloquent, but we all agree on one thing: we want this war over so that we can return to our normal way of life. Please … look after Myra for me.”

  “I will do everything in my power.”

  “Thank you. Now I can feel more at peace.”

  He left Kimberley that night, and two days later we were a town under siege.

  CHAOS REIGNED for the next few days. Rumours flew round the town. The Boer commandos were a mile away and advancing on us. They had decided not to take Kimberley and were surrounding the place. We did not know what to believe.

  People came out into the streets and stood in little groups huddled together … watchful, fearful. They went into their houses … gathering their families together. Then the streets were deserted. It changed from hour to hour, and nobody knew what was really happening.

  Then the refugees from the outlying districts came straggling into the town … exhausted … some needing medical attention as they stumbled in with more tales to tell. Soldiers from the garrison patrolled the streets. Everyone was alert for the approach of the Boers.

  The town w
as well defended, said some.

  Siege

  It would never stand up to an onslaught, said others.

  Under the cover of darkness several men who had managed to break through the commando forces arrived. Some of them were wounded and the hospitals were full and all the doctors of the town were working there.

  Life had changed completely.

  It was during those first days that, in spite of what was happening in the town, my mind was completely diverted from the uncertainty which hung over us all by the events at Riebeeck House.

  A messenger came from Mrs. Prost. She was sorry to bother me at such a time when we were all so worried, but Mrs. Lestrange was very ill and she was asking for me. Could I come to the house?

  I went at once.

  Mrs. Prost greeted me eagerly. “She’s in a terrible way,” she said. “I’ve sent for the doctor, but he’s not there. I expect he’s at the hospital. I thought I’d better wait a bit … things being as they are. I don’t know … she seems to me to have lost her senses.”

  “Take me up to her.”

  “Yes … of course. I thought I’d better warn you.”

  In spite of the warning I was deeply shocked. I hardly recognised Myra. Her eyes were wild, her pupils dilated. She stared up when she saw me.

  “Who are you?” she said. And then: “Oh yes … yes. It’s Diana. Diana, send her away … send her away.”

  I looked at Mrs. Prost who nodded her head towards the window. Myra was staring straight at it.

  “She sees something there,” whispered Mrs. Prost.

  I said: “It’s all right, Myra. There is no one here except Mrs. Prost and me.”

  “Stay,” she begged. “Don’t go. Or … she’ll come back.”

  I went to the bed and put my arm round her.

  “You’ll stay with me?” she pleaded.

  “I will. Of course I’ll stay.”

  She lay back against me and closed her eyes. She was murmuring something which I could not hear.

  Mrs. Prost looked at me. “I’ll leave you with her. I’ll send for the doctor again. Let me know if you want me.”

  She went out.

  Myra lay still, her eyes closed. She was breathing heavily.

  She opened her eyes suddenly. “Diana,” she said.

  “I’m here. I’m going to stay, Myra. As long as you want me, I’ll stay.”

  That seemed to please her. She took my hand and gripped it.

  “She was there,” she murmured. “She kept looking at me. She beckoned.”

  “Who was there?”

  “Margarete,” she said.

  “She’s dead.”

  “I know. She came back.”

  “It must have been someone else you saw.”

  “No. It was Margarete. She was jealous, you see. She had lost him. He was mine now. She couldn’t bear it. She wanted me to die.”

  “Margarete is dead, Myra. And you are here.”

  “But I am going to die.”

  “Of course you are not.”

  “Who’ll stop me?”

  “I shall,” I said. “I’m going to look after you.”

  “Roger looked after me. He was so good … so kind. I wasn’t good enough for him, but he never showed it. I was always afraid …”

  I said: “I know.”

  “He wanted me to be well. He said: ‘Take your tonic. Make sure you take it. It’ll do you good.’ And I did. I didn’t miss …”

  Her eyes went to the little table at the side of the bed. The bottle was there. It was about half full.

  “So you have been taking it regularly?”

  “I promised him I would.”

  “He asked me to impress on you the need to take it regularly while he was away.”

  “He cares for me. He really does. It shows …”

  “Well then, Myra, you are a lucky woman. And you must get better.”

  “I try. I do take my tonic … just the same as though he were here.”

  “I’m sure you do. Myra, suppose you try to sleep a little.”

  “If I sleep you’ll go away … and if you go away she’ll come back.”

  “I shall not go away and she will not come back. Myra, she isn’t here. She’s something you’ve dreamed about and she doesn’t exist except in your imagination.”

  She shook her head and I saw a tear seep out of her closed eyes.

  “Try to sleep,” I said.

  “Promise to stay.”

  “I will. I shall be here when you wake.”

  She smiled and I was surprised that she was soon asleep.

  I studied her face. It was pale and drawn. She was very different from the young woman I had first seen in Lakemere. True, she had been reserved, uncertain, overawed by her authoritative mother, but how different from the poor haunted creature in this bed.

  She was gripping my hand and I was getting a pins and needles sensation in it; I managed to release it without waking her.

  I went to the window and looked out. How peaceful it seemed. It looked just as it had when I had first seen it. It was hard to believe there was so much change all around us.

  What would happen to us within the next few months? I wondered. I thought of the great sieges of the past which I had heard of. The Siege of Orleans, when Joan of Arc had taken the city and brought it back to the French, putting new heart into them; the Siege of Paris which was not so very long ago. What was it like living under siege? Food grew short, of course. There would be no means of getting new supplies. People died of hunger. I had heard that some of them had been reduced to eating dogs and rats. The thought was nauseating. This was different. We were being besieged by a handful of commandos … guerrilla troops, not trained for fighting … farmers, most of them. They could not last long against the trained British Army. We should be relieved very soon.

  And Myra. Poor Myra. She had been happy. She had married a most attractive man; she had come to a new country; and now she was in this state. She had not believed that such happiness as she envisaged with Roger Lestrange could ever have been hers. She had not thought herself worthy of him. Her mother had made her feel her inferiority. Poor Myra, who was accepted because she was an Ellington … and because she had a fortune of her own.

  I went back to the bed and looked down on her sleeping face.

  A light tap on the door startled me. I moved too quickly and in doing so overturned the small bedside table. I tried to grasp the bottle, but it was too late. Myra’s tonic was running over the carpet surrounded by specks of glass.

  Mrs. Prost came into the room.

  “Look what’s happened,” I said.

  “Oh dear. I’ll send someone to clear it up. It’s Mrs. Lestrange’s tonic, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. We shall have to get some more. I thought perhaps you’d brought the doctor.”

  “There’s no hope of getting him just yet. The doctors are so busy at the hospital. A little party of men managed to get through last night and some of them are badly wounded. We’ll try again later. How is she?”

  “She’s sleeping.”

  “Poor lady.” Mrs. Prost shook her head.

  “I’m terribly sorry about the mess,” I said. “It was careless of me. And then there’s the tonic …”

  “Never mind. It’s just the tonic. The doctor will give her some more though … when we get hold of him.”

  “I hope she’ll be all right without it for a little while.”

  “Oh, it won’t be for long. I daresay we’ll be able to get that. Even if he can’t come … he can give her that. These are terrible times. You’ll be staying here for a while, I expect, Miss Grey.”

  “I promised I would. Could you send someone over to the schoolhouse to explain to Miss Milne that I may be here for a few days?”

  “I’ll certainly do that and I’ll send someone up to clear that mess. I don’t like broken glass lying about.”

  “I do hope she’ll be able to get some more soon.”

/>   “That’ll be all right, I’m sure. We’ll do our best anyway. Can’t do more than that.”

  I stayed with Myra all through the day. She slept a great deal of the time, and as soon as she opened her eyes she looked for me. I saw the relief when she was assured that I was still there.

  “I feel safe,” she said. “She can’t do anything when you’re there … because you can’t see her and you don’t believe she’s there, do you? She’s only there in my mind. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I said. “That’s it.”

  “Then please stay.”

  “I have promised I will.”

  “All night?”

  “Yes. I shall be here. I have sent a note to Lilias.”

  That comforted her.

  I spent the night in her room, sitting in a chair by the bed, dozing fitfully. Her looks had alarmed me so much that I wondered whether she would live through the night.

  I was relieved when the dawn came and I looked at her in the clear morning light.

  She was breathing more easily and she seemed more peaceful.

  Mrs. Prost brought me coffee and bread and butter.

  “Not very much,” she apologised. “But we have to go carefully. I don’t know what things are coming to. How is she?”

  “She’s had a quiet night.”

  “She’s better when you’re here. I’ll send something up for her if she wants it. She’s been turning away from food. A nice bit of porridge would be good for her. There are some oats left. Goodness knows when we’ll get the next.”

  “I’ll let you know when she wakes and we’ll see if we can get her to eat something.”

  “And I’ll send someone to see if we can get hold of that doctor. She’ll need her medicine.”

  “Oh yes. It was careless of me.”

  “Accidents will happen. Well, let me know when she wakes.”

  She left me. The coffee and food tasted good. I thought: we are beginning to appreciate food now that we realise we may not have it for much longer.

  It was about ten o’clock when Myra awoke. I had determined to be there when she did and I was glad, for her eyes alighted on me immediately, and she said: “Oh, Diana. I’m so glad you are here.”

  “How are you? You’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

  “Is it morning then?”

  “Yes, ten o’clock.”