“Of course I do. He’s right to be practical. But I thought he might have been carried away by the romance of it.”
“I am sure you would always be most practical.”
“In such circumstances?” she said, as though questioning herself.
“In all circumstances,” I insisted, and I told her what Jamie had said about not giving Alastair McCrae a positive answer.
“It’s a wise plan,” she said. “Alastair will understand. He’ll say he’ll wait. Your father will be mildly placated. He’ll think you’re coming to heel and want to save your pride by taking a little time over it. I’ll drop a little whisper of this into his ear. And in the meantime we’ll go on as normal, hoping something will turn up.”
“I suppose I shall have to see what I can do,” I said.
“You will,” she told me.
And when the time came I did.
Alastair was charming, and I hated deceiving him. He proposed marriage in a dignified manner.
He began by saying: “I have been a widower for over six years, Davina, and never thought to marry again, but when I saw you at Gleeson, I said to myself, ‘It is time I took another wife.’ And I knew that there she was. Will you marry me?”
It was difficult. I drew away and he looked at me tenderly. He went on: “You think I have spoken too soon.”
“We have not really seen a great deal of each other.”
“For me it is enough.”
“I hadn’t thought that you … felt like this,” I forced myself to say untruthfully.
“No, of course not. My dear Davina, forgive me for speaking too soon, but I wanted you to know in what esteem I held you. What do you say?”
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 …”