The fit was not too bad. It was a little large for me, but it served its purpose and I was equipped for the exercise.
I must say I enjoyed it. Round the paddock we went. Zillah and my father walked in the gardens and came to watch us for a few minutes. They seemed very pleased.
At the end of the lesson, Alastair said: “You’re a wonderful pupil. We must have another lesson tomorrow.”
“I think we are leaving tomorrow.”
“I’m hoping to persuade your father to stay another day. Why not? We can travel back together on Tuesday.”
And so it was arranged and the next morning I spent in the paddock with Alastair.
At luncheon Alastair said to my father: “Your daughter will soon be a champion rider.”
I laughed. “You exaggerate. Besides, I shall not have the opportunity for all the practise I should need.”
“You must come again … soon, before you forget what I have taught you. We’ll arrange something.”
“That is most hospitable of you,” began my father.
Alastair raised a hand. “Please … the pleasure is all mine. What about the weekend after next?”
My father hesitated. Zillah gave him a sideways glance. He turned to her and said: “What do you say, my dear?”
“It seems delightful,” she answered.
“Well, Alastair, if you are sure we shall not be encroaching …”
“Encroaching, my dear fellow! As I have told you, the pleasure is all mine.”
“Not all surely,” said Zillah with a little laugh. “David dear, you know we should love to come. The week after next, is it?”
“That is settled then,” said Alastair.
We travelled back to Edinburgh on the Tuesday.
When I was unpacking Zillah came into my room. She sat on the bed regarding me slightly sardonically.
She said: “The McCrae affair progresses with speed. What a charming gentleman he is. Is he beginning to wean you from the impecunious but oh so charming Jamie?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, just is it going to be Papa’s choice or yours?”
I was alarmed. It was obvious, of course, but I had refused to think of it too seriously.
Alastair McCrae would be a suitable husband. He had wealth and standing in the city. Jamie was a humble student. He had his way to make and there was the question as to whether he would make it.
I had been stupid, while I was enjoying my riding lessons under the benevolent eyes of my father, not to accept the fact that this was part of a well-laid scheme.
How incredibly innocent I was! My father disapproved of Jamie, whose existence had brought home the fact that it was time I married and settled in life out of the path of penniless students who in his view were in all probability grasping adventurers.
There would be no questioning that with Alastair McCrae; he was probably more wealthy than my father.
Zillah was watching me through half-closed eyes. There was a smile about her lips.
I should be grateful to her. She was making me see life through her somewhat cynical but highly sophisticated eyes.
IT WAS SOON AFTER OUR RETURN that my father was taken ill. It happened during the night, but I did not hear about it until the morning.
Zillah said he had awakened her at about three o’clock feeling very sick. She had been up with him half the night. She had given him a powder to settle his stomach, she said. It was a well-known recipe for that sort of trouble. It had not been effective immediately, but after a while he had felt better; and now he was sleeping peacefully.
“Shall I send for the doctor, Madam?” asked Kirkwell.
“I think we might wait awhile,” said Zillah. “You know how he hates the thought of the doctor coming. He kept saying he didn’t want him. He’d be better soon. I’ll watch him carefully. And if there is a return of the symptoms … yes, certainly we’ll get the doctor. It’s just that he hates a fuss and we don’t want to upset him. It’s something he’s eaten most likely, so … let’s wait awhile.”
She kept him in bed all day.
I heard Mrs. Kirkwell mutter something about old men’s marrying young wives. Sometimes it was too much for them. “A man’s as old as his years and it’s not going to do him much good to fancy he’s a young one … when he is not. He’s going to pay for it … sooner or later.”
I think everyone was surprised by how assiduously Zillah played the nurse; and he had recovered the next day, except that he felt a little weak, which was natural.
“You were wonderful, my dear,” he told Zillah. “I’d never thought of you as a nurse, but you played the part perfectly.”
“I’m good at playing parts,” she replied lightly. “There’s a lot you have to discover about me, my dear husband.”
The next day I met Jamie.
He was working hard, he said. He had had to forget the thesis for a while. He had to think of passing his exams with honours and setting out on his career as soon as possible.
He asked about the weekend and I told him of the riding lessons.
He was somewhat gloomy.
“What castle was this?”
“It belongs to Alastair McCrae, a friend of my father.”
He wanted to know about Alastair; and I told him we should be going to the castle again the weekend after next.
“If my father is well, of course,” I added. “He has been ill.”
“He’ll recover in time for this visit, I daresay. What is the man like?”
“Alastair McCrae? Oh, he’s quite pleasant. He’s old, of course.”
“Your father’s age?”
“Oh … not quite. Late thirties, I imagine.”
“Oh,” said Jamie with relief. “Some twenty years older than you.”
“About that, I imagine.”
That seemed to satisfy him. I did not tell him of Zillah’s hints and what was becoming more and more obvious to me.
He asked after Zillah. She had clearly made a great impression on him.
I told him how she had looked after my father when he was ill … not seriously ill, of course, only mildly so, but it had left him a little weak. It seemed she had been very efficient in the sickroom.
“There’s something very nice about her,” he said.
“Yes, I’m beginning to think so. I resented her, of course, when she first came. It was because I was so fond of Lilias …”
And then I was telling him about Lilias’ departure.
He listened intently. “Do you really think that someone put the necklace in her room to incriminate her … deliberately?”
“I have to think that because I know Lilias would never have stolen anything. She had been brought up in a religious way. Similar to your upbringing, I should say. She came from an English vicarage … you from a Scottish manse. People like Lilias don’t steal, do they?”
“People do strange things … unexpected things. You can never be sure what anyone will do.”
“Well … she did say something about the necklace’s being a nest egg for me. I keep remembering that. What she wanted desperately was a nest egg for herself, for she was always worried about the future.”
“Most people whose future is insecure worry about it. You mean that perhaps in a moment of temptation she took it? It had not all that material value to you. Sentimental, of course, because it had belonged to your mother. But you were not in need of a nest egg.”
“All that has occurred to me, but nothing will make me believe that Lilias stole the necklace.”
“If she did not, the implication must be that there was someone in the house who did this terrible thing. Ruined her life to a large extent, you could say. Who could have done that?”
“Why should anyone? There seemed to be no reason.”
“Reasons can often be obscure.”
“I can think of nothing. But at the same time I am convinced that Lilias did not take the necklace.”
“It has to be one thing or the
other. Either she took it or someone put it there.”
“Oh, Jamie, I can’t bear to think of it. I can’t get anywhere … Don’t let’s talk of it. One just goes over and over the same ground. But I had to tell you. I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”
“I wish that I were two years older,” said Jamie.
“They say it is foolish to wish your life away.”
“Well, I can’t help wishing the next two years away. If they were over I should be in a different position. I wish we could be at least officially engaged.”
“You mean announce it?”
“I do not think your father would approve. I think he would try to stop us.”
“Zillah is on our side.”
“She knows?”
“She guessed. She’ll help us.”
“I daresay she has a great deal of influence with your father.”
“He dotes on her. I have never seen him with anyone as he is with her. What of your family?”
“I’ve written to tell them.”
“And what do they say?”
“My father has sent me a long letter. He wishes me all that is good. They want to meet you, of course. I am sure you will like them. The manse is a bit shabby.”
I turned to him indignantly. “You think I would care about that?”
“Well, your home is rather grand … and you visit castles …”
“There was only one castle, and that was quite a small one. But tell me about your father.”
“They are all delighted. I told them about our meeting and they enjoyed hearing about that. I said that I had dined at your house. I may have given the impression that I have been accepted by your family.”
“Zillah thinks it better if we don’t say anything just yet.”
“She’s probably right. Oh, how I wish everything was settled. You see now why I wish I were two years older.”
“Are you working very hard, Jamie?”
“Yes, burning the midnight oil. Trying not to think too much of you because that is very distracting.”
“Isn’t it wonderful that we have met? If I hadn’t happened to be in the wynds that day … lost … you would have gone on with your walk and we should not have known each other.”
“You haven’t any regrets?”
“What a foolish question! Everything is going to work out well for us, Jamie. I believe that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I believe it. I’m sure of it … because we are going to do everything to make it come right. And because of that we can’t fail.”
WE WENT TO CASTLE GLEESON for another weekend as we had arranged and the second visit was as successful as the first. I had some riding lessons and Alastair said that during our next weekend he would take me out hacking. If he were with me I should have nothing to fear.
I must say that I did enjoy being in the saddle. He was a wonderful teacher and it gave me a sense of security to have him riding beside me.
“You’re doing amazingly well,” he told me. “You must come down again very soon so that we can continue.”
My father smiled indulgently when he heard this. He said he could think of no way of spending a weekend more agreeably than at Castle Gleeson.
And, of course, when we were in Edinburgh Alastair was frequently asked to dine with us.
Zillah watched it all with an amusement which bordered on the cynical.
“We are working up to an interesting situation,” she said. “I have no doubt of the worthy Alastair’s intentions, have you?”
I was afraid she was right.
“Do you think I ought to let him know that I am secretly engaged to Jamie?” I asked.
“Oh no. That would be most unmaidenly. It would suggest you knew to what he was leading. Society’s rules demand that you, an innocent young girl, know nothing of what is in his mind. Remember the approved surprise of the well brought up young lady when she is confronted with a proposal of marriage. ‘La, sir, but this is so sudden.’ “
She could always make me laugh.
“Perhaps I should not accept invitations …”
“My dear, it is for your papa to accept invitations. We all know they are offered because of you, but modesty forbids you to betray you know.”
“What am I going to do?”
“That is for you to decide. Do you want to be the wife of a doting older husband with a castle in the north of this land and comfortable house in this city? Or do you want to be the wife of a young man who is not yet a struggling lawyer, hungry for briefs which might not come his way with great speed, even when he first sets out for a career at the bar? It lies in your hands.”
“You know I am going to marry Jamie.”
“And renounce the bawbees?”
“Of course. I love Jamie. It’s love that is important, isn’t it?”
“Providing you have the roof over your head to cover you and food to sustain you that you may enjoy it.”
“If there is any difficulty … you’ll help me, won’t you, Zillah?”
She put her hand on my shoulder and, drawing me towards her, kissed my cheek.
“That’s what I want to do, my dear,” she said.
EVER SINCE Zillah had discovered Jamie’s existence she and I had grown closer together. I was getting more and more worried. It was clear now that my father looked upon Alastair McCrae as a suitable husband for me and was delighted that Alastair was paying such attention to me in accordance with the accepted custom. I was sure Alastair would conform as rigorously as my father to the rules and this could only mean that a proposal of marriage was imminent.
My father knew of my friendship with Jamie. Had he not been invited to the house? And after that … nothing. Did my father think the friendship had ceased because I, as a dutiful daughter, recognised his wishes for me? In his opinion we were now waiting for Alastair to make his proposal … and then we should go on from there.
It would all seem so predictable and so suitable to my father. He would dispose of his daughter to a man in a position similar to his own; and she could be expected to continue in that state to which she had been accustomed. What more could any father do or any daughter ask? It was all natural, convenient and traditional.
So I was pleased to have Zillah in the house because she understood my feelings, laughed at the conventions and could advise me what to do.
She often came to my room to talk to me and would sit where she could see herself in the mirror, finding, I was sure, her image of immense interest. I would watch her as she talked.
I said to her one day: “You are very beautiful, Zillah. I am not surprised that you like to see yourself reflected there.”
She laughed. “I am really just looking to make sure everything is all right. You could say that I am conscious of my appearance and not confident about it—that is why I have to keep looking to check up.”
“I don’t believe that. I think you like to look.”
“Well, a little bit of both, I daresay.”
“I think you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”
She patted her hair complacently. “I work hard at it,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you don’t think all this is quite what Nature bestowed on me, do you?”
“Well, yes. How else … ?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Mind you, I will say that Nature was kind to me. I came into the world rather well endowed in that respect. But when you have been given special gifts you have to cherish them … cultivate them.”
“Well, naturally. But your hair is a glorious colour.”
“There are means, you know, of keeping it so.”
“Means?”
“My dear, a little something out of a bottle when it is washed.”
“You mean it’s not naturally that colour?”
“It’s not far-off. Inclined more to the ginger. I keep it up to standard, you might say.”
“Oh, I see. And your skin … it is so
white and beautiful. What are you laughing at?”
“You are an adorable little innocent, Davina. But I do have a wonderful secret to keep my skin clear and beautiful. It’s daring, but it works.”
“What do you mean … daring?”
“You won’t believe it, but it’s due to arsenic.”
“Arsenic? Is that a poison?”
“In large doses it kills people … but a lot of things if taken to excess are dangerous. In small doses it is beneficial.”
“Where do you get it? Don’t you have to go to a chemist?”
“Well, yes … but there’s a bit of fuss about buying it over a counter. I resort to other methods. Ellen is wonderful at that sort of thing. She gets it from flypapers.”
“Flypapers? Those sticky things you hang up to trap the flies?”
“The very things. She soaks them in boiling water. The result is a liquid which looks a little like weak tea.”
“And you drink that?”
“Only in very small quantities.”
I was looking at her in horror.
She said: “You see what people will do for beauty. But beauty is a weapon. If you’re beautiful people do things for you. It’s a gift, like being born wealthy. You see what I mean?”
“I do. But I believe that without the arsenic and that stuff which makes your hair brighter, you’d still be beautiful.”
“Do you know, I rather imagine I would … but slightly less so.”
“And you think it worth it?”
“If God gives you a gift, He expects you to make the most of it. Isn’t there a parable of the talents or something?”
“Yes,” I said. “I see what you mean.”
“Don’t you start trying things,” she cautioned. “I shouldn’t want you to start soaking flypapers and drinking the solution. It could be dangerous.”
“Perhaps for you, too.”
“I’m wise. I know what I’m about. Ellen’s a bit of an old witch. She knows a lot about this and she’s become an ally of mine. They don’t like her very much belowstairs … and in a way that makes two of us. I know they tolerate me because I don’t bother them, but your father did step out of line when he married the governess. Now you’ve got a nice skin as it is. Yours is untouched … perfect. It won’t need any attention for some time.”
“I’m glad you let me into the secret.”
Snare of Serpents Page 9