Читать книгу Glittering Images - Susan Howatch - Страница 33

‘I was hoping a little conversation would disturb the fish,’ said the Earl as I approached. ‘They all seem to be either asleep or dead.’

Beyond the river the herd of cows was grazing again in the meadows. It was a very English scene which the Earl in his country clothes enhanced, and as I leant against the trunk of the nearest willow I was once more aware of the subtle allure of Starbridge as the morning melted into a shimmering afternoon. It was a day conducive to mirages. I was conscious not only that I was a clergyman pretending to be a spy – or was I a spy pretending to be a clergyman? – but that the Earl was a great landowner pretending to be a humble fisherman. The Earl himself, with his open countenance, looked as if he were a stranger to play-acting, but the atmosphere of that Starbridge noon was reminding me how hard it was to know the truth about even the simplest individuals.

‘I daresay my wife’s been chatting to you about the Bishop in an effort to ensure you weren’t put off by last night’s glimpse of the rough diamond,’ the Earl was saying. ‘He was undoubtedly a rough diamond when we first knew him, but he’s got plenty of gentlemanly polish nowadays when he puts his mind to it.’

‘He certainly put his mind to it over the port … Were you disconcerted, Lord Starmouth, when a rough diamond turned up at St Mary’s in 1916?’

The Earl smiled. ‘I was more intrigued than disconcerted.’

‘You hadn’t met him before?’

‘No, but I’d heard of him. He was always writing letters to The Times. However I had little idea what sort of man he was until I came home from my club one night and my wife told me the new Vicar had called. She said, “He’s got beautiful yellow eyes and a harsh ugly voice and he’s not sure how to behave and I’m mad about him!” Well, my wife’s always had a soft spot for clergymen so I didn’t take her too seriously, but then next Sunday when he preached his first sermon I suddenly saw what all the fuss was about. I was used to dozing during the sermons, but this time I stayed awake all the way through – and in fact at the end I was sitting on the edge of my pew. Damn it, I can even remember the text! It was: “I am not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance”, and when he was hammering home his message his voice seemed to make the church vibrate and his eyes glowed like a cat’s. Extraordinary. Of course I saw at once he was going to go a long way.’

‘What did you think when you had the chance for a private conversation with him?’

‘I was surprised how shy he was – shy and awkward. He spoke all right; Oxford had ironed out any suburban accent, but he had the trick of either talking too much and too aggressively or else not talking at all. However that was just nervousness. Once my wife took him up and petted him and tried to marry him off he very quickly blossomed. All he needed was a bit of social self-confidence.’

‘Perhaps Oxford had given him a chip on his shoulder.’

‘More than likely, yes. The Varsity can be hard going for someone who doesn’t have the right background – well, I must admit to a bit of prejudice against him myself during the early days of our acquaintance, but then one day he spoke up to me; it was a criticism, a justifiable criticism too, I might add, and suddenly I thought: it took courage to say that. And I respected him for it. He was no sycophant. He was willing to accept a bit of patronage in the form of my wife’s kindness but he wasn’t going to let that stop him speaking the truth as he saw it. Very exceptional. A man of high moral principle. He’s deserved his great success.’

‘How very gratifying it must have been for your wife to see her protégé go all the way to the top of the Church of England!’

‘Yes, I always say she made a small but significant contribution to his career. He needed someone who would invite him to the right dinner parties and ensure he developed the essential poise his position required. Mrs Welbeck and Lady Markhampton also helped him in that way, but Evelyn was the one who did the most.’

‘Your wife’s just been telling me about Dr Jardine’s devoted band of Lovely Ladies – I must say, I’m deeply envious!’

The Earl laughed. ‘I have moments of envy myself! Do you know either Mrs Welbeck or Lady Markhampton?’

‘I’m sorry to say I don’t.’

‘They’re both charming. But to tell you the truth the Lovely Lady I really fancied in the old days was Loretta Staviski. No doubt my wife mentioned her. She’s arriving from America next weekend to stay with us, and I’m greatly looking forward to seeing her again.’

There was a silence. The river went on flowing and in the meadows the cows continued to graze. I looked at the Earl, who was still peering into the water for a glimpse of a fish; I looked back at the Countess who was still sketching by the herbaceous border, and at last I heard myself enquire in the most casual voice I could muster: ‘No, your wife didn’t mention her. Who is she?’