Snare of Serpents by Victoria Holt Page A

father had been there in all the years of their friendship. That was significant, of course.
    I enjoyed being shown the castle and listening to the history of the place and the part the family had played in the conflicts between Regent Moray and his sister Mary, of the troubles with the English enemy. I was fascinated by the hardy Highland cattle I saw in the fields. The country was grand, majestic and awe-inspiring.
    But everything was particularly cosy within the castle. I had a room in a turret and there was a fire in the grate in spite of the fact that it was summer.
    “The nights can get cold,” the housekeeper told me. I learned that she had been born in the castle; her parents had been servants to the McCraes; now her son worked in the stables, her daughter in the house. There was an air of serenity about the place. I was not surprised that Alastair was proud of it.
    Dinner was served in a dining room which led from a hall which must have been the same as it had been for centuries, with stone flagged floor, whitewashed walls on which ancient weapons hung. It was darkish, for the windows were small and set in embrasures.
    “When we are a large company we eat in the hall,” Alastair explained, “but this dining room is more comfortable for small parties.”
    “What a pity,” I said, “that you are not here more often. I suppose the greater part of your time is spent in Edinburgh.”
    “That has been the case. Business, you know. But I escape on every opportunity.”
    “I can understand that.”
    He looked at me intently. “I’m so glad you like the old place. I enjoy playing the laird when I can, but mostly the affairs of the estate have to be left to my manager.”
    “You have the best of both worlds,” said my father. “It’s a very pleasant house of yours in Edinburgh.”
    “But I always think of this as my home.”
    Over dinner he asked me if I rode.
    I said I greatly regretted that I did not. “There would not be much opportunity in Edinburgh.”
    “One needs a horse in the country.”
    “It must be wonderful to ride,” I said. “Galloping over moors and along by the sea.”
    He smiled and leaned towards me. “Would you like me to teach you?”
    “Well, I think that would be most exciting, but I couldn’t learn in one lesson.”
    “One can learn the rudiments. It takes practice, of course, before you are able to handle a horse properly. But somehow I think you would be a receptive pupil.”
    I laughed. “Well, one lesson will not take me very far.”
    “It would be a beginning.”
    “What are you two concocting?” demanded Zillah.
    “Miss Davina and I are arranging a lesson in riding.”
    “What a wonderful idea! An excellent opportunity for you, Davina dear.”
    “Miss Davina is protesting that she cannot get very far in one lesson.”
    “You never know,” said Zillah slyly, “there might be more.”
    The next morning I was in the paddock, seated on a small horse on a leading rein, chosen for its gentleness, with Alastair beside me. He looked very distinguished in his riding coat. The housekeeper had found a riding habit for me. It belonged to Alastair’s sister, who visited the castle occasionally but hadn’t worn it for some time.
    “She used to ride all the time,” the housekeeper told me. “The family has always been one for the horses. But since she had her children she doesn’t ride so much. I’m sure she’d be glad for you to use her old habit.”
    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