Виктория Холт - Snare of Serpents

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.

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. We 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.”