Snare of Serpents Read online

  What could I say? It was hard enough not to shout out the truth. I shall never marry you. I am engaged to Jamie and as soon as he is able to marry me he will. But I must not say that. There was so much at stake. Jamie needed time and my father in his rage might turn me out. I must prevent that at all costs.

  I steeled myself to say: “I can’t … not yet … please.”

  “Of course I understand. This has been thrust on you. You need time to consider. My dear Davina, of course you shall have time. And while you are thinking I shall be patient. I shall try to persuade you what a blessing it would be for us both … to marry.”

  “You are very kind and understanding, Mr. McCrae.”

  “Oh, Alastair, please—and kind and understanding is what I intend to be for the rest of our lives.”

  It had been easier than I imagined although I could not help despising myself for what I was doing.

  Alastair went up to my father’s study and as I made my way to my room I heard his first words before the door shut on them.

  “Davina was a little taken aback. I’m afraid I have been rather hasty. It’s going to be all right. She just needs time.”

  I could imagine the look of satisfaction on my father’s face.

  I soon discovered that he was not displeased. It was not out of place for a young girl to show a certain amount of hesitancy; and although I must have proved to him that I was not quite the docile innocent daughter he had previously imagined me to be, he did regard me with a little more favour.

  My outburst and the fact that I had caught him in a compromising situation could not be forgotten and it would always be there between us; but if I gave in to his wishes and married Alastair McCrae, he would be mollified to a certain extent.

  ZILLAH INSISTED that he rest. She made a great show of forbidding him to go out when she considered he was not fit to do so. He protested but obviously liked her attentions.

  “You’re making an invalid of me,” he grumbled in mock irritation.

  “No. No. I’m nursing you back to the strong man you really are. Give it a little longer. Don’t be impatient like some naughty little boy and I tell you you will soon be quite well again.”

  It was extraordinary to hear someone talk to him like that, but he enjoyed it … from Zillah.

  She took to going out more frequently, sometimes with me and sometimes in the carriage driven by Hamish. She talked vaguely about shopping or just going for a drive round the wonderful old city. She said she thought Hamish was rather amusing.

  One day I went to the kitchen on some pretext. Mrs. Kirkwell was there talking to Ellen when Hamish came in.

  He said: “Rats.”

  “What’s that?” demanded Mrs. Kirkwell.

  “Rats in the mews. I saw one … black it was and nigh on as big as a cat.”

  “Get away with ye,” said Mrs. Kirkwell, sitting down and looking shocked.

  “Running round the stables,” said Hamish, “having a rare old time. Bold as brass. Saw me and just looked at me … brazen like. I threw a stone at it and it just glared at me.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” said Mrs. Kirkwell. “I hope they don’t start coming into my kitchen.”

  “Dinna fash yeself, Mrs. K. I know how to get rid of the little beggars.”

  “How will you do that?” I asked.

  “Arsenic, Miss.”

  “Arsenic!” cried Mrs. Kirkwell. “That’s poison.”

  “You don’t say! Well, that’s what I’m giving to the rats. I’m going to poison the lot of them. That’s what.”

  I said: “Where will you get the arsenic?”

  He grinned at me and winked. “I can get it from Henniker’s.”

  “Will they sell it over the counter?” I asked.

  “Yes. You tell them what you want and put your name in a book. That’s it.”

  “You can get it from flypapers,” I said unguardedly.

  “Flypapers!” cried Mrs. Kirkwell. “Oh, yes. I remember that case. Forgotten who it was. Woman murdered her husband. Soaked flypapers or something like that. It was what gave her away. She said she soaked the flypapers to get stuff for her complexion.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” I said. “Some ladies do that.”

  “I’m surprised you know about such things, Miss Davina. As for you, Hamish Vosper, you get those things away from me. Rats indeed! I wouldn’t want to see the likes of them in my kitchen, I can tell you.”

  “I heard,” said Hamish, touching his forehead. “You leave the rats to me.”

  ALASTAIR MCCRAE came to dine with us and we went to dine with him. He had a fine town house in a quiet square similar to our own. It was very comfortable, tastefully furnished and contained the requisite number of servants.

  My father was pleased and, I think, becoming a little reconciled to the fact that I knew something of his private life, though of course he would much rather have kept it secret. He believed that I was, as he would say, “coming to my senses.”

  The same thoughts were in Zillah’s mind, I guessed from the looks she gave me. I felt ashamed of myself for continuing with this farce. I felt I was betraying myself, Jamie, Alastair … everyone.

  I kept reminding myself that I had to do so. Jamie had suggested it. I had to think of our future together. That was more important than anything.

  Jamie had changed. Some of the joy had gone out of our relationship. He was thoughtful, a little melancholy. He told me that he hated to think of my meetings with Alastair McCrae and the subterfuge I was forced to practise.

  “But what can we do?” he demanded. “It’s this wretched poverty. If only I were as rich as Alastair McCrae.”

  “Perhaps you will be one day, Jamie, and we shall laugh at all this.”

  “Yes, we will, won’t we? But this happens to be now, when I am as poor as the mice in my father’s kirk. Does he talk to you … about marriage?”

  “No. He is very kind really. He thinks that in time I shall agree to marry him. He thinks of my being young … younger than I really am. He wants to wait until I am ready. He is sure that in time I will agree. He’s trying to tell me how good he will be to me. I feel terrible really. It’s all such deceit. How I wish I could get away. I don’t want to stay in the house anymore. I don’t know what it is, but …”

  “You get on very well with Zillah, don’t you?”

  “Yes. She is a comfort in a way, but … I don’t always feel that I know her very well. I think she’s an actress at heart, and I never quite know when she is acting.”

  “She’s a good sort.”

  “My father dotes on her.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Oh, Jamie, what are we going to do?”

  “Just wait. Something will happen. We’ll think of something.”

  We tried to cheer ourselves by talking of what we would do as soon as we were able, but the joy had gone and had been replaced by a deep apprehension; and we could not shake it off, however much we pretended to.

  THE NEXT DAY I was on my way to see Jamie and as I came into the hall I met Ellen.

  She said: “Oh, I’m glad I’ve seen you, Miss Davina. Are you going out? I don’t like to ask you, but I wonder if …” She hesitated, frowning.

  “What is it, Ellen?”

  “I’d go myself, but I can’t get out just now, and I don’t want Mrs. Kirkwell to know. It will upset her. She’ll be in a real panic. I did ask Hamish … but he’s run out of it and he asked me to get it. He’ll show me how to use it, he said.”

  “What is it you want, Ellen?”

  “Well, this morning when I went to the dustbin which you know is just outside the kitchen door, I lifted the lid and a rat jumped out.”

  “Oh dear!”

  “Yes. I’m glad I was the one who saw it … not Mrs. Kirkwell. I told Hamish and he said he can’t get to the shop today. Mr. Glentyre wants him on duty. But he said it ought to be seen to right away. He’s killed two or three in the mews already and he thin
ks they are trying elsewhere. He said rats are clever things.”

  “Mrs. Kirkwell will be horrified.”

  “Yes, Hamish said you have to take prompt action; otherwise they’ll be in the house and they multiply quickly. I thought … as you are going out … you might drop in at Henniker’s and get some of that arsenic.”

  “Is that what you ask for? Arsenic … just like that?”

  “Yes. Sixpenny worth of arsenic. They’ll ask you what it’s for and you can tell them it’s for the rats. Lots of people use it for that. Then you have to sign a book, I think. That’s what Hamish said.”

  “Of course I’ll get it.”

  “Oh thanks. Don’t tell anyone. People get so panicky about rats and if it got to Mrs. Kirkwell’s ears she’d be hysterical.”

  “All right. Don’t worry. I’ll get it and say nothing.”

  “And as soon as you come back, I’ll put it in the dustbin. Thanks so much, Miss Davina.”

  I went straight to the drug shop. There was a young man behind the counter. He smiled at me.

  “I want sixpennyworth of arsenic,” I said.

  He looked at me, faintly surprised. “Oh … er … Miss, I have to ask you what you want it for. It’s a sort of rule … if you know what I mean.”

  “Of course. We have rats in the garden. They have been round the mews quarters and seem now to have come closer to the house.”

  “It will do the trick,” he said. “But as it’s poison, I have to ask you to sign the book.”

  “I understand that.”

  He went to a drawer and brought out a book with a red cover. A label had been stuck on it which stated: “Henniker’s Sale of Poisons Registration Book.”

  “Do you sell a lot of arsenic?” I asked.

  “No, Miss. But people use it for vermin and things like that. It’s very effective. One lick and that’s the end of them. They do say it does something for the complexion and that ladies use it for that. I couldn’t say. Men take it, too.” He looked at me slyly. “They say it has powers.”

  “Powers?”

  “When they are not so young, you know.”

  He opened the book, and wrote the date and my name and address which I spelt out for him. “Sixpennyworth of arsenic for vermin in garden. Now you sign here, Miss.”

  I did and came out of the shop with a small packet in the pocket of my skirt.

  I found Jamie waiting for me, and we talked as usual and I felt frustrated, for I knew it would be a long time before he could take me out of this difficult situation.

  When I came back to the house Ellen was waiting for me. Surreptitiously she took the packet.

  “I haven’t seen any more yet,” she said. “I’ll use this right away.”

  A FEW DAYS LATER when I saw Ellen she told me that it had worked beautifully, she was sure. She had not seen anything since and Mrs. Kirkwell had no idea that the rats had been so close. She impressed on me not to mention it to her.

  It was later that afternoon. Zillah had gone out in the carriage as she often did. She enjoyed going to the shops and sometimes, she told me, Hamish took her for a tour of the town. Listening to my talk of it she had become interested and was finding it fascinating.

  Usually she was home before five o’clock when she would change for dinner—by no means a short operation with her.

  I fancied my father had been weaker since his last bout of illness. Zillah thought so, too. Sometimes when he came home he seemed very tired and needed little persuasion to have his meal in his own room. Zillah would, of course, take hers with him.

  “It makes him feel less of an invalid and he likes me to be there,” she said.

  On this particular occasion it was getting late and Zillah had not returned.

  I went over to the mews. The carriage was not there. Mr. and Mrs. Vosper were in. They told me that Hamish had taken Mrs. Glentyre out as he often did and they expected him to be back at any moment.

  Mrs. Kirkwell was wondering whether to serve dinner. The master was having his in his room, but he would expect Mrs. Glentyre to have it with him there.

  “He’ll have to be told,” said Mrs. Kirkwell. “You’d best tell him, Miss Davina.”

  I went to his room. He was dressed for dinner and was sitting in a chair.

  “Is that you, my dear?” he said with relief.

  “No,” I replied. “It is I.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Zillah has not returned.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I thought she went shopping.”

  “In the carriage?”

  “Yes.”

  “She wouldn’t be shopping at this hour surely?”

  “No.”

  “Then where is she?”

  He was clutching the sides of his chair arid had half risen. I thought how ill he looked. He had lost weight and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

  I remembered Mrs. Kirkwell’s saying how he had changed and repeating her conviction that it was not good when old men married young women.

  It was just at that moment when I heard the sound of carriage wheels. I rushed to the window.

  “It’s the carriage. She’s here.”

  “Oh, thank God,” said my father.

  In a few moments Zillah rushed into the room.

  “Oh, my dears, what an adventure! Were you wondering where I was? The carriage broke down. We had driven out to take a look at Arthur’s Seat. I wanted to see it—hearing you talk about it, Davina …”

  “Didn’t Hamish know what was wrong?” asked my father.

  “Oh yes. He tried to put it right. He discovered that he needed something … I don’t know what. He said he would get a cab for me to come back … but it was so difficult right out there to get one. Anyway … he managed to fix it up … enough to get us home. But it made this terrible delay.”

  “I have been so worried,” said my father.

  “Oh, how sweet of you!”

  “But of course I was worried.”

  “He’s only just heard that you hadn’t come back at the time,” I said.

  “I was wondering what could have happened to you,” went on my father.

  She ruffled his hair. “Well, here I am. And we are going to have our cosy little meal for the two of us. You’ll excuse us, Davina … I think that’s how it should be tonight.”

  “But of course,” I said.

  I left them together and went downstairs and ate a solitary meal.

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON Miss Appleyard called. Zillah had not gone out. I thought she was a little shaken by the carriage incident of the previous day. She and I were in the drawing room together when Miss Appleyard was announced.

  We knew her only slightly. In the old days my mother had exchanged a word or two with her after church. I had heard it said that she was a rather malicious gossip who thrived on scandal. My mother had once said that she was a person from whom one should keep one’s distance.

  Why should she come calling on us? I wondered.

  Bess said: “She’s asking for Mr. Glentyre. I was sure she said Mr.”

  “Doesn’t she know he is at the bank at this hour?” said Zillah.

  “I wouldn’t know, Mrs. Glentyre. But that’s what she said.”

  “I suppose you’d better show her in.”

  Miss Appleyard came into the drawing room and looked abashed when she saw us.

  “I asked to see Mr. Glentyre,” she said.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Appleyard,” I began.

  She nodded in my direction and then looked rather venomously, I thought, at Zillah.

  “I wanted to speak to Mr. Glentyre,” she reiterated.

  “Is it banking business? He’s at the bank at this time, you know,” said Zillah, regarding her coldly.

  “Well, I know he’s home quite a lot.”

  Now how did she know that? I wondered. But she was the sort of woman who would make other people’s business hers.

  “Can we help?” asked Zilla
h.

  For a few moments Miss Appleyard stood biting her lips as though making a decision.

  “I’ll have a word with Mrs. Glentyre,” she said, looking significantly at me.

  I said: “I’ll leave you.”

  Miss Appleyard nodded approvingly and I went out, wondering what this was all about.

  Some ten minutes later I heard her leave the house and I went back to Zillah.

  She was sitting in the sofa staring ahead of her. She looked troubled.

  “What was that all about?” I asked.

  “Oh, she was indignant about somebody’s ‘goings-on.’ I didn’t know what she was talking about half the time. Silly old fool!”

  “She seems to have upset you.”

  “Oh no. I just can’t stand that sort of person. They pry into other people’s affairs and try to make trouble.”

  “Why did she want to see my father?”

  “Oh, it was something about money … I don’t know. Somebody at the bank. I’m glad he wasn’t in. He wouldn’t have much patience with that sort of thing.”

  “She evidently thought it was too shocking for my ears.”

  “Silly old gossip! What’s the time? Your father will be home soon. I think I’ll go up and have a bath and get ready. Would you tell them to send up some hot water?”

  “Of course. You sure you’re all right?”

  “Certainly I’m all right.” She sounded a little irritated, which was unlike her. I wondered why Miss Appleyard’s visit had upset her so much.

  I left her then and did not see her again until we were at dinner, which we took together in the dining room that night.

  My father was unctuous. His anxiety of the previous evening over her late return to the house had no doubt made him feel how very important she was to him.

  She remarked that he was looking tired and if he were not better in the morning she was going to insist that he spend a day in his room.

  “Zillah!” he said.

  “But I shall,” she said firmly. “I shall keep you here … and dance attendance on you all through the day. It’s no use protesting. I shall insist.”

  He shrugged his shoulders and looked at her with great tenderness.

  I thought what a change she had wrought in him. He was a different man with her.

  TRUE TO HER WORD, she insisted on his staying home next day.