FIVE
‘It is in his chapter on the "New Morality" that Catholics would feel themselves unable to go far with Dr. Robinson.’
ANONYMOUS
The Honest to God Debate
ed. DAVID L. EDWARDS
I
I looked away.
I stared at my mangled fish. I stared at my sculpted spinach. I stared at the shining cutlery and the snow-white table-cloth and the champagne bottle in the ice-bucket and the carnation in the vase.
There was a long, long silence.
Then Eddie spoke again. He spoke quietly, and as I listened I noticed that a small potato remained on his plate. It’s strange what the mind registers in moments of overpowering horror and fear.
Eddie said: ‘Marry me.’
The outline of the dinner-plate began to blur.
He said: ‘It’s all right. I understand. It’s all right.’
My hands were twisting my napkin into a lump in my lap. I was unable to reply.
‘We’ll have fun,’ he said. ‘I know we would. We’d be good friends. It would work. And we’d live in London, not just because you wouldn’t want to live permanently in the provinces, but because ... well, I could no longer work in Starbridge, and London’s the place where I’d be most likely to land a good job. I’ve worked there before and my curriculum vitae’s excellent.’
I managed to nod but still I could not speak.
‘You could share in my career or you could be quite independent. I’m used to coping with the work on my own so I wouldn’t insist that you converted yourself into a clerical wife.’
My voice said with difficulty: ‘Sounds reasonable.’
‘Think it over,’ said Eddie as the waiter removed our plates. ‘Of course I hardly need add that you have the complete freedom to say no — this isn’t a bizarre attempt to blackmail you into marriage — but I honestly do think that you and I —’
‘Quite.’ I reached for my glass but it was empty. ‘The trouble is,’ I said, ‘I can’t imagine ever leaving Starbridge.’
‘It’ll be horrifically difficult for both of us. But even if you don’t marry me, something’s got to be done, Venetia. Things can’t go on as they are.’
‘Oh, I quite see that.’ I fidgeted with my glass before adding: ‘I don’t love you.’
‘I think you could. I’ll take the risk.’
‘All these scandalous risks —’
There’s nothing scandalous about marrying a girl one’s loved for a long time, and I think it’s a gamble that’ll come off. We like each other, we get on —’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Happy ending. Soaring violins. Golden sunset.’ I started to cry.
‘Darling Venetia — my dear, I’m so sorry, don’t cry — please — everything’s going to be all right —’
‘Not for him. That Bishop —’
The Bishop as yet has no proof. No witness has identified you as the girl in the Dean’s car, and as you pointed out a moment ago, that girl could have been one of Malcolm Lindsay’s daughters. The Bishop may suspect you — although in fact I can’t think why he should — but if you now leave Starbridge he’ll never know for certain.’
I tried to wipe away my tears with my napkin. At last I said: ‘Does Dido suspect, do you think?’
‘I’m sure of it. She never mentioned your name but I’m convinced she must know.’
‘But how could she?’ I was appalled. ‘He was always so careful!’
‘Yes, but Dido’s so shrewd about personal relationships, and there was a lot of evidence lying around.’
‘What evidence?’
The sort of evidence which I can now clearly see with the wisdom of hindsight but which Dido would have picked up much earlier. I’d guess she suspected as soon as you stayed on in Starbridge but severed yourself from Primrose. It was all so odd, so mysterious ... and you looked so stunning, so radiant, yet there was apparently no man in your life. I myself had no trouble swallowing the theory that you’d undergone a religious conversion — it’s a well-known phenomenon and it does result in both radical change and enhanced vitality — but I doubt if Dido would have swallowed it so easily. Then there was the fact that Stephen was so buoyant at a time when he should have been bowed down by the Cathedral crises. This would have been glaringly obvious to Dido — it was glaringly obvious to me, but because I was wrapped up in the wrong theory I never actually connected you with Stephen until —’
‘The quick thousand for the west front.’ I dragged my napkin across my aching eyes.
‘It just seemed such a coincidence that you should have used that same raffish phrase. And then as soon as the truth occurred to me everything seemed blindingly obvious.’
I realised I had ruined my make-up as usual. Black streaks marred the white napkin.
Mumbling an excuse I groped my way to my feet and stumbled to the cloakroom.
II
After I had finished vomiting I cleaned up my face, but my hands were trembling so much that I was unable to reapply my eye make-up.
I’ll take you home,’ said Eddie as soon as he saw my haggard appearance.
‘I’m terribly sorry —’
‘No need to apologise.’
Halfway down Whitehall I said: ‘I don’t know what you think he and I got up to, but —’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
— we didn’t —’
‘I don’t want to know.’
I started to cry again. ‘It’ll kill him if I break it off.’
‘No, it’ll save him. It’ll wake him from the dream.’
‘He’ll die of grief.’
‘No, that only happens in books. He’ll live. He’ll only be destroyed if you stay and wreck his career.’
‘But how terrible that it should be you — and I — who have to —’
‘Sometimes you have to shed blood in order to save lives. Think of surgeons.’
But I could not think of surgeons. I could only think of my doomed Mr Dean. I began to weep uncontrollably.
‘Lord North Street!’ pronounced the taxi driver glumly after we had remained stationary for some time.
‘Drive around Smith Square, please,’ said Eddie, ‘and drive slowly.’
As the car crawled on I succeeded in drying my eyes, but the realisation that I was almost home made me panic. ‘My God, what can I look like? If my parents see me —’
‘Shall I come in and create a diversion while you rush upstairs to bed?’
But I knew I could bear his company no longer. I told him I would manage.
‘Travel back with me tomorrow,’ he said. Tm getting the ten-fifteen.’
‘No, I’ve got to be alone, I’ve got to think.’
‘All right, but phone me if you change your mind. I’m staying at the Stafford.’
Having circled Smith Square at a funereal pace we wound up back in Lord North Street.
‘Darling ...’ He gave me such a brief kiss that I barely noticed it. ‘Remember: I love you. We’ll have fun. It’ll work.’
We parted. The taxi disappeared. Turning the key in the lock with shaking fingers I crept into the hall. Raucous laughter from the drawing-room upstairs indicated that a social gathering was in progress, but as I tiptoed past, praying that my presence in the house would not be immediately discovered, the door opened and my mother appeared. She exclaimed: ‘Ah, Venetia!’ But then her expression changed and she said no more.
I muttered: ‘Rather tired. Long day. ‘Night.’ And fled to my room.
Later my mother tapped on my locked door and said: ‘Anything I can do, darling?’ but I pretended to be asleep and she went away.
III
‘Darling Eddie, I’ve thought it over and concluded that you’re right. We’d have fun. It’d work. But don’t rush me. I’ve got to figure out how to tell him. That may take a little time and meanwhile please tell
no one
how things stand between us. Thanks for being so nice when I wrecked dinner. Lots of love, VENETIA.’
IV
‘My darling Neville, I can’t wait to see you — staying on an extra day in London was a big mistake. A party of us went to dine at the Savoy but I hated every moment and when I got home I lay awake all night longing for you. In fact I’ve missed you so much that I’ve felt quite ill, but at least these two days in London have proved to me beyond any doubt that I love you more than anyone else in the world, and I’m now utterly convinced that so long as you’re drawing breath on this earth I could never be happy with anyone else. My darling Mr Dean, I hardly know how to wait for Wednesday but meanwhile this comes to you with undying—yes,
undying —
love from your adoring and devoted V.’
V
I sent both letters from the post office in Tufton Street, and as soon as Eddie’s envelope slipped from my fingers I wanted to claw it back.
Yet even if I had been able to retrieve the letter I would have had no choice but to post it again. Unless I converted myself into a lost prize, Aysgarth would never let go of me and then without doubt he would be destroyed.
On my way home I reached the church in the centre of Smith Square. Round and round the church I walked, the church of St John the Evangelist. "In the beginning was the Word,’ Father Darrow had said, quoting St John’s Gospel, but it was a word I could no longer hear.
My head was throbbing. I could barely see. I hardly knew what I was doing.
‘Darling Eddie ... We’d have fun. It’d work ...’
‘My darling Neville, I can’t wait to see you ...’
Two people, I was being divided between two people, but no, I was dividing
into
two people, it was as if someone was hacking away with a meat cleaver and splitting my personality from top to bottom. I saw clearly then not only that I was mad but that we were all three of us mad, Aysgarth, Eddie and I — all mad and all in hell — and all the time the Great Pollutant was spewing its filth across our lives.
VI
As I prepared to leave, my mother said again: ‘Is there anything I can do, darling?’ but I answered kindly: ‘No, you run along and attend to your plants.’ No point in bothering the old girl, particularly when she had just enjoyed such a splendid birthday with all her wonderful, glorious children.
My father said: ‘Goodbye, Venetia. I enjoyed meeting Hoffenberg again. A thoroughly nice chap,’ and patted me encouragingly on the shoulder, but of course he was always hopeless with women.
I caught the eleven-fifteen train and arrived in Starbridge ninety minutes later. At the flat I found a shoal of letters from Aysgarth. He was writing morning, noon and night, and suddenly the colossal weight of his love seemed suffocating; I felt as if not only all the breath but all the blood was being squeezed from my body. I couldn’t even open the letters. I could only sit on the edge of the sofa and clutch the envelopes.
Eventually I managed to phone Eddie. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘this morning I posted you a revoltingly graceless note saying I’d go ahead. I just want to say I’m sorry it was so revoltingly graceless. You deserve better.’
‘Venetia!’
‘I want very much to marry you and I’m quite sure it’s the right thing to do.’
‘But this is sensational! I –’
‘I’m seeing him on Wednesday. I’ll end it all then.’
‘Darling, I’m so happy, so –’
I got rid of him but just as I was reaching for the gin bottle the phone rang. Wretched Eddie no doubt wanted to rush to the flat and slobber over me. Wanting only to be alone I grabbed the receiver in a rage. ‘Yes?’
‘My darling.’
My rage was wiped out. All memory of Eddie was wiped out. Everything was wiped out except the sound of that voice. Blindly I sank down on the sofa.
‘I had to phone,’ he said. ‘Couldn’t stop myself. Had to hear your voice.’
‘Darling – oh Neville –’
‘I can’t wait till Wednesday, I’ve got to see you. Lady Mary after evensong?’
I agreed to meet him in the cloisters that evening.
VII
Well, of course, I couldn’t do it, could I? I couldn’t end the affair. I couldn’t end it in the cloisters that evening, I couldn’t end it on Wednesday at Castle Brigga, I couldn’t end it when I wrote to him every day. I couldn’t end it, and all the time Eddie was hovering in an agony of anxiety as I repeatedly promised him: ‘I’ll do it. I really will.’
At Castle Brigga I said idly to Aysgarth when he mentioned the subject of Primrose’s limp friendship with Tait: ‘Do you think Maurice has ever proposed?’ and when to my surprise I received an affirmative answer, I asked: ‘But do you think she’s right to turn him down?’
‘Of course!’ He was shocked. ‘No girl should ever marry a man she doesn’t love.’
‘But Maurice would nonetheless be a husband, wouldn’t he? He’d give her status and self-respect and a real life at last.’
‘Without love all that would be meaningless.’
‘But she’d probably come to love him later.’
‘That doesn’t necessarily follow at all. I told Primrose: "Never marry a man you don’t care for with passion," and she promised me she never would.’
‘But darling, Prim doesn’t exactly have the suitors queuing up, does she, and time’s ticking on –’
‘I’d rather she stayed a spinster than married without love.’
‘Isn’t that much too idealistic? Have you, a very masculine man, any real grasp of what spinsterhood actually means?’
But he only said stubbornly: ‘One must have one’s ideals; that’s what separates us from the animals. To marry without love is a crime.’
That was the moment when I should have said: ‘It’s a crime I’m about to commit,’ but I could only exclaim warmly: ‘Darling Neville, what a romantic you are!’ – and yet again poor Eddie slipped far to the back of my mind.
VIII
‘You’ve got to tell him, Venetia,’ said Eddie. ‘I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to be pushed but the time’s come when I don’t just have to push – I have to give you the biggest possible shove. He’s in greater danger with every day that passes. Tommy Fitzgerald said to me today: "I think the Dean writes letters to a lady-love during the staff meetings. When I put on my distance glasses I could see the words ‘My darling’ at the top of the page."‘
‘Oh my God —’
‘And if Tommy chooses to pass on
that
piece of information to the Archdeacon —’
‘I’ll end it tomorrow at Castle Brigga,’ I said.
But I didn’t see how I ever could.
I drank myself senseless with gin and passed out some time before dawn.