Glittering Images. Susan Howatch

he would consider accessible as far as the ultimate intimacies are concerned.’

      I was again much intrigued. ‘I’m not sure I understand you,’ I said, wondering how I could lure her on over such delicate ground, but Lady Starmouth had no need to be lured. I had forgotten that the aristocracy, unlike the middle classes, fail to find the subject of sex embarrassing.

      ‘When Alex was growing up,’ she said, ‘the women in his life were – at most – lower-middle-class. Then his years up at Oxford gave him enough confidence to marry an upper-middle-class girl like Carrie Cobden-Smith. But I think if he’d been offered the chance of deep intimacy with someone from the aristocracy, he’d have backed away. He’d have found the prospect too intimidating.’

      I knew at once that this was a vital detail in the portrait I was constructing of Jardine. The Bishop was safe with his Lovely Ladies, not necessarily because of any indestructible virtue on his part, but because there was a psychological barrier keeping him in check. Jardine would be aware of this; a clergyman is taught to know himself well so that he may learn the best way to control his weaknesses and Jardine, liking the company of the opposite sex, would only have trusted himself with women whom he felt were ultimately beyond his reach.

      ‘Talking of lovely ladies,’ said Lady Starmouth, adding another line to her sketch, ‘have you fallen in love with Miss Christie?’

      ‘Miss Christie!’ I was so startled that I sat bolt upright.

      ‘I saw the smouldering looks you were giving her in the drawing-room last night. My dear Dr Ashworth, will you allow me to take advantage of my numerous years of seniority by giving you some friendly advice? Don’t bother with Miss Christie. She’s spent the last decade proving she’s quite uninterested in men.’

      I said lightly, ‘She doesn’t nurse a secret passion for the Bishop?’

      ‘I suspect it’s much more likely she nurses a secret passion for Carrie.’

      I exclaimed appalled, ‘But that’s impossible!’

      ‘My poor Dr Ashworth, you are smitten, aren’t you! Of course I’m not implying the passion’s reciprocated – Carrie adores Alex. But you tell me this: why is an attractive intelligent girl like Miss Christie content to remain as a companion when she’s had numerous proposals, some of them from very eligible men?’

      I said suddenly, ‘How do the Jardines explain Miss Christie’s continuing spinsterhood?’

      ‘Well, the official story is that she suffered a broken engagement before she met them, and that this left her perpetually disenchanted with the opposite sex. But I find that hard to believe – Miss Christie strikes me as the sort of woman who would consider it a matter of pride to recover completely from a broken engagement.’

      ‘Does Dr Jardine ever talk to you about her?’

      ‘Her name comes up occasionally, but not as much as it used to. Of course there have been moments in the past when he’s found the situation a bore.’

      I sensed we were approaching the difficulties of a married couple who had to live in close proximity to a third party. ‘A bore?’ I repeated, anxious to lure her on again. ‘Why was that?’

      ‘Oh, I’m afraid it’s class again! Alex didn’t grow up in a house where certain employees lived en famille and the presence of a third party tended to grate on his nerves, but fortunately the move to Starbridge seems to have solved that particular problem. There’s more space here for third parties than there was in the Deanery at Radbury – and besides, when all’s said and done the Jardines’ marriage is quite successful enough to withstand the presence of a stranger … Dr Ashworth, my husband’s waving at you. I expect he’s getting bored with the fish and wants to be diverted – but come back and see me again after you’ve entertained him!’

      We exchanged smiles. I said, ‘Am I securely in your collection now?’ and when she laughed I scrambled to my feet, dusted some flecks of grass from my trousers and strolled off down the garden to interview my next witness.

      VI

      ‘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