Glittering Images

‘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?’

FOUR (#ulink_52ad5c59-75ce-5c82-99d0-8d00b1b2660e)

‘Who does not know that no clergyman, however hard-working and devoted, can maintain his spiritual influence if his domestic life be ill-ordered and unhappy?’

HERBERT HENSLEY HENSON

Bishop of Durham 1920–1939

The Bishoprick Papers

I

When I returned to Lady Starmouth I found her looking critically at her sketch. ‘I’m afraid this is no good,’ she murmured. ‘I seem to have lost my touch … How were the fish?’

‘According to your husband they’re all either asleep or dead.’ For a moment I remained motionless, watching her. Then I said casually, ‘Lady Starmouth, I hope you won’t think me impertinent, but may I ask why, when you were telling me about Dr Jardine’s Lovely Ladies, you failed to mention Professor Staviski?’

Lady Starmouth’s reaction was swift. ‘Loretta?’

‘Your husband’s just mentioned her. There were four of you, weren’t there? Not just three.’

‘Only for a short time, during the War.’ Lady Starmouth tore the sketch from the pad, crumpled the paper into a ball and put her pencil away in a wooden box. She said nothing else, and her silence was in such stark contrast to her earlier fluency that I felt obliged to say, ‘I’m sorry – obviously I’ve given you offence.’

‘My dear Dr Ashworth –’ Lady Starmouth spoke in the voice of one who finds herself in the most tiresome of dilemmas ‘– of course you haven’t given me offence! I’m merely annoyed with myself for not mentioning Loretta because, of course, it’s only natural that you should wonder why I left her out when I was prattling so freely about the Bishop’s past. However the truth’s very simple. I didn’t mention her because Alex hasn’t seen her since she returned to America in 1918 so she hardly qualifies now as one of his Lovely Ladies.’

‘She hasn’t visited England since then?’

There was another silence.

‘Forgive me, I’m being intolerably inquisitive –’

‘Pardonably inquisitive, you mean. Of course you’re wondering why I’m tying myself up in such knots.’ Suddenly and most unexpectedly she laughed. ‘Good heavens, anyone would think I had a guilty secret to hide whereas all I want to cover up is a little private embarrassment!’

‘Lady Starmouth, please don’t feel obliged to say another word! I’m only sorry that I –’

‘My dear young man, now you’re the one who’s behaving as if there’s a guilty secret to hide! I can see that the most sensible thing I can do is to enlighten you before you’re tempted to exercise a colourful imagination, but you must promise me you’ll be discreet. The story’s not scandalous, just sad, and I don’t want it repeated.’

‘I give you my word I shall hold everything you say in the strictest confidence.’

‘Very well, then let me say that Loretta has indeed returned to England for visits since the War, but she and Alex no longer have any communication with each other. I’m sorry to say that although Alex always treated her with absolute propriety Loretta fell in love with him and their platonic friendship went very disastrously wrong.’

II

‘Forgive me. Lady Starmouth,’ I said, ‘but in fact I’d been unable to resist wondering if Dr Jardine’s platonic friendships were just a little too good to be true. I still say that any clergyman who dabbles in close friendships with the opposite sex is playing with fire.’

‘Well, in this case I have to admit he got singed … Dr Ashworth, do sit down again – I find you disconcerting when you tower over me like this. It makes me feel I’m being interrogated.’

I sat down at once on the grass but she cut short my apology. ‘No, I know you’re not really interrogating me – it’s all my fault for encouraging your questions earlier, but before I close up like a clam let me just say a little more about Loretta so that you can see why for her sake I prefer to treat the incident as closed. She and I first met in 1917 but I’d heard about her for years because my mother, who was American, had been friends with her mother in childhood and they’d always kept in touch. When Loretta finally came to England she was in a terrible mess. She’d been married young to this man Staviski who was a diplomatist; when America entered the War he was transferred from Washington to London, and almost as soon as he and Loretta arrived in England the marriage went to pieces.’

‘He left her?’

‘She left him. But she was the innocent party – he’d made life quite impossible for her, so I had no hesitation in coming to her rescue. She stayed with us while she recovered, and of course she soon met Alex. Well, to cut a long story short I’ll just say that she was so successful at concealing her true feelings that for a long time neither Alex nor I had any idea she was in love with him, but eventually the truth surfaced and Alex was obliged to end the friendship. Loretta was dreadfully upset. I felt so sorry for her. It was all horribly awkward and pathetic, just as any unreciprocated attachment always is, and later we agreed never to speak of it again.’

‘What happened to her afterwards?’

‘When she returned to America she embarked on an academic career and now she teaches history at some college on the Eastern Seaboard. She’s never remarried but I still wonder if she might one day. She’s much younger than me, perhaps only a few years older than you, and although by fashionable standards she’s plain she’s by no means unattractive … However a lot of men don’t like a woman to be too clever.’

But I thought of Jardine, enjoying with Loretta Staviski all the intelligent conversation he was unlikely to encounter at home, and I was unable to resist saying: ‘Dr Jardine must have been sorry to lose her friendship – was he never tempted to see her again during her later visits to England?’

‘How could he? How could he possibly have renewed a friendship which had been so painful to her and so potentially dangerous for him?’

‘But was she herself never tempted to –’

‘This is an interrogation, isn’t it! My dear Dr Ashworth, aren’t you taking rather too much advantage of your very considerable charm?’