Snare of Serpents (13 page)

“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.”

W
E WENT TO
C
ASTLE
G
LEESON
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.

E
VER 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.”

“Well, didn’t you let me into yours? How is Jamie? Don’t you dare tell him about my aids to beauty. I shouldn’t have confessed to you, but we’re such good friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes, good friends. Jamie’s all right. He’s getting impatient. He doesn’t like those weekends at Castle Gleeson.”

“I’m not surprised. Oh, Davina, I hope it will all come right for you and Jamie.”

“If you were in my place you would marry Alastair McCrae if he asked you.”

“Why should you think that?”

“You would think it was wise.”

“I’m a romantic at heart, dear. That’s why I’d do anything I could for you and Jamie.”

“I think you would have a lot of influence with my father.”

“In some ways, yes. I’m not sure about this matter. He’s a stickler for conventions, you know.”

“Not always,” I said.

She laughed again. “Well, hardly anyone is … always. Sometimes it suits them not to be and then they forget how important they’ve always thought them. But never mind. Trust me. I’ll do my best for you and Jamie.”

S
HORTLY AFTER THAT
my father was ill again. This time Zillah had a mild form of the illness. She recovered first and gave herself up to the task of looking after my father with my help.

“It must have been something we ate,” said Zillah.

Mrs. Kirkwell was indignant.

“Does she mean something which came out of my kitchen?” she demanded.

I reminded her that they had both dined at the home of one of my father’s business colleagues on the night when they had been taken ill. “It couldn’t have been here,” I added, “because I dined at home on that night and I was all right.”

That mollified her. She said: “I think Mr. Glentyre ought to see a doctor. This is not the first time he’s been taken ill in a little while.”

“I’ll suggest it,” I told her.

When I did, Zillah said: “It might not be a bad idea, although I’m sure it was something we’d eaten, and that sort of thing soon passes. Moreover, I was ill, too. Admittedly I was not
very
ill, but I eat a good deal less than your father. I think it was the veal we had at the Kenningtons. Veal, I’ve heard, can be a little tricky. I’ll see what he says about seeing a doctor.”

He was firm in his refusal at first, but she managed to persuade him.

When Dr. Dorrington called my father was back to normal. The doctor came at about eleven-thirty and was asked to stay to
luncheon. He had been a friend of the family for years. He must have been quite sixty and we had been wondering for the last year when he would retire. There was a young nephew in the offing who was just passing through the last stages of his training and was at the time working in one of the hospitals in Glasgow. It was an understanding that in due course he would take over his uncle’s practise.

I heard my father greeting the doctor in the hall.

“Oh, come on in, Edwin. This is all very unnecessary. But I’ve at last given in to my wife … for the sake of peace.”

“Well, it can’t do any harm to have a little check.”

They went upstairs to the bedroom.

When I went down to lunch, the doctor greeted me warmly. He had, as he was fond of saying and did so almost every time we met, brought me into the world. This seemed to give him a kind of proprietary interest in me. He had attended my mother through her illness and had been very upset when she died.

I could see that he was a little fascinated by Zillah.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

The doctor replied: “Oh yes … yes.” But he did not sound altogether convincing.

However, it was a very pleasant luncheon. Zillah was in good spirits and made much of the doctor. She flirted with him mildly, which he seemed to like, and my father looked on with amusement.

Afterwards I talked to her.

“Is anything wrong with him?” I asked.

“Well, he’s not a young man, is he? But there’s nothing to worry about.”

“You don’t seem very certain.”

“Well, I made old Dorrington tell me the truth … the absolute truth. I made sure he knew that this was the second attack your father had had. It must have been the food the second time … because I had it, too. He said your father should take care. There could be a weakness … an internal weakness. His heart’s all right, but the doctor kept stressing his age.”

“He’s not so very old.”

“He’s not so very young either. People have to be careful as they advance in years.” She laid a hand on my shoulder. “Never mind. I’ll look after him. I’m discovering a hidden talent. Do you think I’m rather a good nurse?”

“My father seems to think so.”