Читать книгу Glittering Images - Susan Howatch - Страница 28

I awoke violently at seven. Naturally I had been dreaming of Miss Christie. I wanted to smoke a cigarette, but I decided that I had no excuse for breaking any of the minor rules by which I achieved self-discipline, and one of those rules was that I never smoked before breakfast. With an effort I read the morning office. Then making another random dip into the Bible I eventually encountered the appropriate words: ‘Seek and ye shall find’.

As I dressed it occurred to me that I still had to seek and find a great many facts about Jardine before I could report convincingly to Lang that the Bishop’s private life was as pure as driven snow; my impression of innocence would carry little weight unless it were supported by a thorough understanding of Jardine’s psychology, and I could hardly establish a psychological portrait without much more information about his past. Apart from gauging Miss Christie’s ability to become a furnace of passion my main task was clearly to talk to as many people as possible about the Bishop without making them suspect they were being interrogated, but I doubted that this would prove difficult. People always enjoy a gossip about a famous man, and when a famous man is personally known to them the temptation to reveal how much they know is all the greater.

Leaving my room, I padded downstairs. I met no one, although I could hear the distant rattling and banging of servants pursuing their early morning rituals. Opening the front door I stepped out into the porch, and the brilliant sunlight flooded into my eyes so that for a second I saw only a shimmering green pattern of beech leaves and grass. Beyond the drive the pale stone of the Cathedral soared into a cloudless sky, and after opening the white gate which was set in the wall of the churchyard I headed along the north side of the building to the porch.

A passing verger directed me to St Anselm’s Chapel where the weekday Communion services were held. There was no time to gape at the glory of the nave; I wanted to clear my mind in preparation for worship, and as soon as I had chosen my seat in the chapel I knelt to sharpen my concentration. However I had instantly noted Miss Christie’s absence.

This failed to surprise me. Weekday Communion is seldom attended by hordes of laymen, and in fact I saw no one I knew from the palace in the small congregation. Then Gerald Harvey hurried into the row behind me, and seconds later at eight o’clock the Dean and the Bishop appeared, preceded by the verger.

As the service progressed I thought how preposterous it was to imagine a bishop administering the sacrament when he was not in a state of grace, and again I remembered the integrity which had emanated from Jardine during our private conversation over the port.

My moment came to receive the sacrament. Erasing all thought of my commission I focused my mind on the spiritual reality confronting me and it was not until I had returned to my seat that I allowed myself to think again of Jardine. I vowed to remember that my first duty was not to the Archbishop of Canterbury. I asked for the strength to overcome my weaknesses. And at the conclusion of the service I let the familiar prayer of Christ echo in my mind: Let thy will, not mine, be done.

Lang’s will immediately became as unimportant as my own. I felt comforted, and rising to my feet at last I left the chapel to find Gerald Harvey hovering in the side-aisle.

‘Waiting for the Bishop?’ I enquired with a smile.

‘No, for you.’

I was impressed by this courtesy and at once I felt guilty that I had written him off as ineffectual. ‘How nice of you,’ I said. ‘Sorry I’ve kept you hanging about.’

‘Oh, you mustn’t apologize for taking extra time for prayer!’ said Harvey shocked. He was so young and ingenuous that he made me feel old and world-weary. ‘How did you like the service?’

I paid the Bishop a suitable compliment and was glad I did not have to be insincere for the sake of politeness. We walked through the porch on to the sward. Beyond the wall of the churchyard the houses of the Close basked in the sun and a horse was drawing a milk-cart slowly along the North Walk. I could hear the birds singing in the cedar tree nearby.

‘I must confess the Bishop intrigues me,’ I said idly at last. ‘What would you say was the fundamental nature of his belief? God-centred? Christ-centred? Rooted in the Trinity?’

‘Well, it’s all those things,’ said Harvey, ‘but I suppose he’s fundamentally Christocentric. He has an overriding belief not just in Christ’s compassion and forgiveness but in Christ’s honesty and truth, and that’s why he can’t bear hypocrisy – he sees it as a re-enactment of the Pharisees’ behaviour in the Gospels and he feels called to attack it just as Our Lord did.’ He shot me a shy glance. ‘Please forgive him for last night,’ he said rapidly. ‘He didn’t mean to hurt you. He just misjudged your sincerity – I think he suspected you’d only adopted your point of view out of loyalty to Dr Lang and of course he was wrong, but anyone can make a mistake, can’t they, and he really is the most wonderful man, absolutely the best, believe me.’

I realized belatedly that he had sought my company in order to defend his hero, and I knew I should signal that I was willing to be convinced of Jardine’s heroic qualities. I said with interest, ‘He’s been good to you?’

‘That’s an understatement!’ In his enthusiasm Harvey became confidential. ‘When I was at the Cathedral School at Radbury my parents died and Dr Jardine – he was Dean of Radbury then – simply took me over, paid my school fees, had me to stay in the holidays – and it wasn’t as if I was one of those appealing children who look like angels and win all the prizes. Then later when I wanted to be ordained I wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to pass the exams but Dr Jardine just said, “Nonsense, of course you can!” and when he offered to coach me in his spare time I knew he really believed I could do it. I’d never have passed if it hadn’t been for him, and afterwards when he asked me to be his chaplain … Well, you can imagine how I felt! Of course I was terrified I’d be no good and in fact I’m sure he could get someone better, but I try very hard and I seem to muddle through somehow.’

‘I’m sure you do very well.’ It was impossible not to be touched by his honesty, and suddenly I knew why he had appealed to Jardine.

Meanwhile our conversation had taken us through the palace gateway and I was rapidly framing some questions which would take advantage of his confidential mood. ‘Tell me about life at the palace,’ I said. ‘Miss Christie evidently has an important role in the household – she seems very close to Mrs Jardine.’

‘Oh, Mrs Jardine thinks of her as a daughter, I know she does.’

‘How does she get on with the Bishop?’

‘People always want to know that,’ said Harvey, pausing to extricate his latchkey as we approached the front door, ‘and they’re always surprised by my reply which is: “Better than they used to” and not the expected “Magnificently well”.’

‘There’s been friction?’

‘Well, not exactly friction … but they’ve had their cool spells. The first was after she came to Radbury – that was around the time I started staying with them in the holidays – and then there was a second cool period after they arrived in Starbridge five years ago. I remember saying to Lady Starmouth once that I was afraid Lyle might leave if the Bishop became much cooler, but Lady Starmouth told me not to worry. She said it’s not always easy for a married couple to live in close proximity to a third party, and of course Lyle’s much more involved with both the Jardines than I am. I’m fairly peripheral in their private life, even though I see so much of the Bishop in his professional role.’ He finally found his latchkey but when the front door swung open it became wedged against a pile of envelopes. ‘Heavens above, look at all this post!’

‘Is this abnormally substantial?’

‘Yes, we’re still dealing with the correspondence on the A. P. Herbert Bill. We even had to engage additional secretarial help last week,’ said Harvey, becoming flustered at the memory, and bustled away into the library as if he feared the envelopes might multiply in his hands.

I made a mental note to ask Lady Starmouth about the difficulties of a married couple obliged to live in close proximity to a young and attractive third party. Then I retired to the dining-room in pursuit of breakfast.