Snare of Serpents

by Виктория Холт

  “Davina, for weeks I have thought of little else.”

  “But have you considered what this would mean?”

  “I have considered it.”

  “You, a rising figure in law, married to someone who has been tried for murder … the case Not Proven …”

  “Believe me, I have considered all that.”

  “It would be very bad for your career.”

  “To be with you will be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “I should have expected you to show more calm common sense.”

  “I am doing so. I know what I want and I am doing my best to get it.”

  “Oh, Ninian, how foolish you are, and how I love you for your folly! But it could not be. I should go back to Edinburgh … the place where it all happened. How could I? Everyone knows me there. It is bad enough here to be aware that Mrs. Prost knows who I am. But back there … they would all know. And if you married me … it would all be brought back. They would suspect me, Ninian. We have to face the truth. There will always be those who believe that I killed my father. It would ruin your career.”

  “If I couldn’t stand up to that I don’t deserve much of a career.”

  “I should prevent your rising. I could not do it, Ninian. But I shall never forget that you asked me.”

  He took me by the shoulders and shook me gently.

  “Stop talking nonsense. We’re going to do it. We’re going to defy them all. I know that you love me … and I love you. That is at the root of the matter. The rest … well, we’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

  “I couldn’t let you. It’s wonderful … it’s quixotic … it’s noble …”

  He laughed. “It indulges my own wishes. I want to marry you. I shall never be happy again if you refuse me. Listen, Davina, there will be difficulties. I know that. There may be unpleasantness now and then. But we shall be together. We’ll face it together … whatever it is. I want that, Davina, more than anything in the world. I cannot explain to you what these last months have been like for me. All the time I have been thinking of you in this place … here … under siege. It was more than I could endure. And then I learned about Roger Lestrange … I thought of his efforts to get you here. I could not imagine what his motives were. I had to come out here … I had to see you … I had to explain my feelings … and now I am not letting you go again. I am going to be with you for the rest of my life.”

  “It is wonderful to contemplate,” I said sadly. “But it cannot be … I know …”

  “You do not know. Whatever there is to face, it is better for us to face it together.”

  “But there is no need for you to face it at all. You should go back to Edinburgh … carry on your successful career … become Lord Justice …”

  “Without you? Certainly not. I am going to sweep away all your excuses.”

  “But you know they are … sensible.”

  “Maybe, in some respects. But we are talking about love. Now, Davina, will you marry me?”

  “I want to say yes … more than anything I want to.”

  “Then that is enough.”

  So I gave myself up to dreaming.

  Lilias returned with John Dale. There had to be introductions and explanations. There was a great deal of talk about the war and the feeling about it home in Britain.

  Ninian said there were some enthusiastic and some dissenting voices. But there was always great rejoicing at the victories; and Kitchener and Roberts were the heroes of the day. He explained the difficulties of travel in wartime and how he had been trying some time to get a passage.

  The men left together—John Dale to his home and Ninian to his hotel. He said he would see me tomorrow morning. There was a great deal to discuss.

  When they had gone Lilias looked at me questioningly.

  “That was a surprise,” she said. “He’s come out here to see a client. What does that mean? He’s come out here to see you, hasn’t he?”

  “Yes,” I said. “He has confirmed a great deal of what we thought about Roger Lestrange. He had another wife in Australia who died by drowning.”

  Lilias stared at me.

  “And,” I went on, “I think our theory about what my role was to be in his scheme was the correct one.”

  She closed her eyes and clenched her hands together.

  “What an escape!” she murmured. “So Ninian found this out.”

  “Yes, there was some court case over his first wife’s money and Ninian had some records.”

  “So he thought you might be in danger. It was a long way to come. I suppose he thought he’d defend you … if necessary.”

  “He has asked me to marry him.”

  “I see. And … ?”

  “How could I accept? How could I go back to Edinburgh … his wife? It would ruin his career.”

  “Well?”

  “Lilias, how could I accept?”

  “He’s asked you. My goodness, he’s come right here to tell you this. That gives you some idea of the depth of his feelings, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I said happily. “It does. But all the same, I can’t accept.”

  “Yes, you can,” she said. “And you will.”

  How COULD I HELP this feeling of intense happiness which had gripped me? I could not suppress my true feelings. I was happy. Ninian loved me. He had come all this way at this most difficult time because he feared I was in danger.

  What could I do? I could never escape from my past … nor would Ninian, if he shared it. He knew this. None could know it better. And yet he chose it … it was what he wanted.

  So I was going home.

  Ninian was making plans. We were to be married in Kimberley. Then we would travel home together as husband and wife.

  There was no point in delay. The journey home might be long and difficult. We should have to get to Cape Town and wait for a ship. But we knew where we were going and it did not matter as long as we were together.

  I had wondered about leaving Lilias, but everything seemed to be working out neatly. With one wedding in view it seemed only natural that there should be another. I had known for a long time that there had been a special relationship between Lilias and John Dale. He asked her to marry him—and how delighted I was when I heard the news.

  There would be two marriages on the same day which would be appropriate as we had come out together.

  Myra was sad at the prospect of my going. She did not know everything about her husband. We did not speak of him. The murder of the deaf-mute was revealing, for there was the indisputable evidence of the button from one of Roger Lestrange’s coats to prove the case against him. Umgala had obviously witnessed the crime and was attempting to reveal what he knew— so he had had to die. And now Roger himself was dead and Myra was no longer a wife. She had been fascinated completely by her husband—but at the same time she had been fearful of him. She could not be aware that she had come close to death herself.

  But we did not speak of it. She had been bemused and bewildered, but gradually she seemed to realise that she must start a new life. Strangely enough she turned to Paul. Together they made Njuba their concern. They looked after him and Luban and it brought them close together.

  I had thought she might want to come back with me and for a time I think she considered doing so. But as her new relationship with Paul began to ripen they both decided that he would be better if he stayed in his native land; and she decided to stay with him.

  So Ninian and I were married, and in due course we were able to set sail for England.

  Edinburgh

  Proven

  I HAD NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY in my life as I was during those first months after I became Davina Grainger. There was a tacit agreement between us that we should not think beyond the immediate future.

  Ninian knew as well as I did that when we reached Edinburgh there would be certain difficulties to be faced; but for the time being we must forget about them.

  This we did very successfully. W
e were close companions by day and passionate lovers by night. It was an idyllic existence, if one did not look ahead.

  But, of course, it was impossible not to and there were moments when I thought with apprehension of what it would be like when we returned home. People would remember and, even if they had the good manners not to speak of it, it would be in their minds. We must be prepared for the little moments of unpleasantness … the moments of distress.

  All the difficulties of travel at such a time became amusing to us because we were together. We laughed at them.

  We managed to get down to Cape Town where we spent a week waiting for a ship; and when it did come, we had a wonderful voyage home. The storms at sea were fun to us; and we revelled in the long hot days when we sat on deck and talked of our good fortune in being together. But as we came nearer to home, I felt I wanted to hold back the days to make them last longer. I knew that Ninian felt the same. But there was no holding back time, but I kept reminding myself that I was going back with Ninian and that made all the difference.

  We arrived in due course at Southampton, said goodbye to the friends we had made on board and spent a night in London before making the long journey to Edinburgh.

  The city looked cold and unwelcoming. Ninian had lived with his parents, but now that we were married he would buy our own house. It would be near the courts for convenience. But at first we must go to his home where we should stay until we found our house.

  I felt uneasy about meeting his parents, and as soon as I did I realised they did not approve of the marriage.

  Mrs. Grainger was a gentle lady with greying hair and bright dark eyes. His father was not unlike Ninian himself, tall, of rather commanding appearance, with an aquiline nose and bright shrewd blue eyes.

  “Ninian, how wonderful that you are back,” said Mrs. Grainger. “And this is Davina …”

  She had taken my hands and was kissing me on the cheek, then looking at me, trying to hide the fact that she was assessing me. But of course she would, I told myself. I was her new daughter-in-law. Naturally she would sum me up. I must stop thinking that when people met me they immediately asked themselves: did she or did she not kill her father?

  Mr. Grainger was less inclined, or less able, to hide his feelings. His attitude towards me was cool. It was clear to me that he thought his son was foolish in marrying me.

  I tried to be reasonable. Their reaction was natural. Of course, they were disappointed. Mr. Grainger, Senior, had risen high in his profession and he would wish his son to do the same; and none could realise more than I that I should be a hindrance rather than a help in his career.

  Ninian assured me again and again that his parents would grow accustomed to the marriage. People always regarded their offspring as children throughout their lives. The fact was they objected to his marriage … not to me.

  I could not expect them to be pleased that their son had married a woman who had been on trial for murder and was only free because the case had not been proved against her. What parents would? I understood them thoroughly, and I knew that the halcyon days were over.

  Ninian said: “We’ll soon find our house.”

  And I thought, we must.

  Ninian’s parents entertained frequently and most of their guests were connected with the law. They were all extremely well-bred and, although they would have been well acquainted with my case, they took pains not to mention anything that might lead to it. Indeed, there were times when they seemed to make studied efforts to avoid it, for they often discussed cases which were of particular interest to their profession.

  But there was one occasion when an old friend and his wife, whose daughter and her husband had recently come home from India, came to dine and brought the daughter and her husband with them.

  The conversation was mainly about some new statute which had recently come into force and the company was expressing views for and against it.

  The young woman said: “All these laws about stuffy old cases which no one is interested in …”

  “My dear,” interrupted her father. “This matter has engendered tremendous interest throughout the profession.”

  She replied: “Well, / think it’s boring. You ought to tell us about some of your more interesting cases. Murder, for instance. You must have had some of those.”

  Silence across the table. I found myself staring at my plate.

  “I was very interested in what the Lord Chief Justice was saying,” began Ninian’s father.

  “Like Madeleine Smith,” went on the young woman. “Do you remember that case? Oh, it was ages ago. She got off … though I’m sure she did it. Not Proven, they said. Is it true that they have that verdict only in the Scottish courts? They say she went to the United States of America to start a new life. It’s the only thing she could have done really …”

  I felt the embarrassment round the table. The girl who had spoken was, I supposed, the only one who did not know who I was.

  The subject was immediately changed. She looked bewildered. It must have been clear to her that she had said something indiscreet. I was sure that afterwards she would be told who was present.

  I felt very upset about that. When we were alone, Ninian tried to comfort me. But it was not easy.

  “You should never have married me,” I said. “This sort of thing should never have happened to you. You have been drawn into it. And it will go on for ever. It will be there all our lives.”

  “No … no … people will forget.”

  “She didn’t forget Madeleine Smith and that must be nearly fifty years ago.”

  “That was a notorious case.”

  “So was mine, Ninian.”

  “We’ll get our own house.”

  “People will still talk.”

  “If only we were not here … in the city.”

  “It would be the same wherever I was. I couldn’t escape in Kimberley.”

  Ninian tried to shrug it off, but I could see that he was as upset as I was.

  I suppose that was why he decided on the house the very next day.

  It was a pleasant house in one of the squares of grey stone houses. We were close to Princes Street and, in spite of everything there to remind me, I could still find pleasure in it. I passed the garden and thought of Jamie, and Zillah who had found us there.

  When we told Ninian’s parents that we had found a house which would suit us, they could not hide their relief; and I felt that the shadow which was overhanging my life was spoiling Ninian’s, too.

  The house was not very far from my father’s, where I had spent my childhood, where the terrible tragedy had happened. I could not bring myself to call on Zillah, which would have meant going back there. I wondered if the Kirkwells and the Vospers were still there; and I asked myself if Zillah would have heard that I was in Edinburgh.

  We moved into the house and I felt a little better. Shortly afterwards I discovered that I was pregnant.

  That made a great deal of difference. I stopped brooding and ceased to think that everyone was remembering. My joy was intense; so was Ninian’s. Even his parents softened towards me. They were delighted at the prospect of a grandchild.

  One day I received a note. It came by hand. It looked like Zillah’s handwriting, but it was slightly less bold than it used to be; and when I opened it I found that it was from her.

  My dear Davina,

  I believe that you have reverted to your true name now, and I hear that you are in Edinburgh. My dear child, why did you not come to see me?

  Things have not gone very well with me. I am wretchedly ill. It smote me suddenly and here I am … more or less an invalid. I don’t know how these things happen. I was hale and hearty one day and ill the next. It is very annoying. I just had a horrid cough at first, which I could not shake off. It’s consumption, they tell me. It’s a bore. I sometimes feel quite ill and at others my jaunty self. I make plans and then can’t act on them.

  Do come if you can bear with a poor invalid.
<
br />   My love as always,

  ZILLAH

  After receiving such a note there was nothing I could do but call immediately, though I had to steel myself to do it.

  Mrs. Kirkwell opened the door. I guessed she had been warned that I was coming.

  “Oh, good afternoon, Mrs. Grainger,” she said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Kirkwell. How are you?”

  “As well as can be expected, thank you.”

  “And Mr. Kirkwell?”

  “He’s all right. And you look just the same. My word, you did get caught up in that awful place. Siege, don’t they call it? You should have seen the people in the streets when we heard it was relieved. Mafeking and Ladysmith, too. Mr. Kirkwell knows all about it. He was watching for news all the time and telling us what was going on. And of course … you being there … well, we wanted to know. I couldn’t get it out of my mind, our Miss Davina out there with all them savages.”

  “They weren’t savages, Mrs. Kirkwell.”

  “Well, near enough … foreigners. And you shut up in that place … And I remember you when you was a little thing no higher than my knee … and then to be stuck in that place. Mrs. Glentyre is waiting for you.”

  “Is she very ill, Mrs. Kirkwell?”

  “Up and down. She’s right as a trivet one day. You’d never guess. Of course, she passes it off. Last person you’d have thought would get caught like that. She’s that pleased you’re coming to see her. I’ll take you right up. That was her orders.”

  I went up the familiar stairs to the familiar room.

  She was sitting in a chair by the window. I was amazed at the sight of her. She was so much thinner, but her hair was as bright as ever, but somehow it did not match her rather gaunt face.

  I went to her and took her hands in mine.

  “Oh, Davina … my sweet Davina. It was wonderful of you to come.”

  “I’d have come before if I had known.”

  “Just because I’m a poor old thing?”

  I said: “It was difficult for me to come back here. I’m afraid I put it off.”

  She nodded. “So you married your Mr. Grainger. How is that going?”