Ultimate Prizes. Susan HowatchЧитать онлайн книгу.
innocence of her own was now called for. ‘I’d heard a rumour that your wife doesn’t care much for social occasions.’
‘Really?’ I said surprised. ‘How extraordinary! She has a wide circle of friends and of course her parish duties – which she performs to perfection – require her to be very sociable indeed.’
‘How proud you must be of her! An excellent wife is so essential for a clergyman. I once knew a very unfortunate clergyman’s wife,’ said Lady Starmouth, again wielding her clerical memories with ruthless skill. ‘She spent her whole time weeping on a chaise-longue because she couldn’t cope with her responsibilities. The effect on the poor husband was quite devastating, but fortunately in the end he obtained the necessary domestic help – always so essential for a clergyman’s wife, don’t you think? – and I’m glad to say they lived happily ever after. More or less.’ She gave me yet another of her radiant smiles and rose to her feet. ‘I’m reminded of your sermon this morning,’ she added lightly. ‘“How very hard it is to be a Christian” – and how very hard, Browning might have added, it is to be a clergyman! But of course since you’re a clever devout man with an admirable wife who offers you every support, I’m sure you find life far easier than some of your less fortunate brethren.’ And having signalled to her new protégé that she was happy to lavish approval on him so long as he had the good sense to keep his private life in order, she drifted gracefully away from me across the rose garden.
VII
The immediate result of this scene was that I wanted to punch Alex on the nose for gossiping about me to his favourite ladyfriend, but then I calmed down and reflected that I had jumped to a conclusion which was most unlikely to be true. Devoted as Alex was to Lady Starmouth, he would hardly have disclosed to her details about my domestic troubles; any clergyman would have judged our conversation about my private life to be confidential. Reluctantly I was driven to assume that some other person – perhaps Mrs Ottershaw, commenting on Grace’s absence from the fatal palace dinner-party – had indiscreetly murmured that the Archdeacon’s wife seemed to be quietly fading away at the vicarage, and Lady Starmouth had consequently made her own shrewd deductions about what was going on in my marriage. I saw clearly that she liked Grace but doubted her stamina, that she liked me but worried that I might land up in a mess, and that she disliked Dido very much indeed but was prepared to tolerate her for a weekend in order to humour her husband.
Feeling considerably shaken by this benign but bruising encounter with my hostess, I put aside all thoughts of a chance encounter with Dido among the roses and withdrew to the house. No one was about. Padding upstairs I glided along a thick carpet past portraits of voluptuous Georgian ladies and quietly eased open the door of the bedroom in an attempt to avoid waking Grace. But she was not asleep. To my dismay, exasperation and – worst of all – anger, I found her sobbing softly into her pillow.
I shoved the door shut. Then making a belated effort to control my feelings I slumped down on the bed beside her and said in my most neutral voice: ‘So the truth is you hate it here. You were only pretending to enjoy it.’
I had thought such bleak statements might jolt her into a denial but she merely nodded her head in despair as she made a futile attempt to wipe away her tears.
‘And of course you’re missing the children.’
Another nod. More tears began to fall.
Rising to my feet I took off my jacket and hung it carefully over the back of the nearest chair; because of the heat I had changed from my archidiaconal uniform to a plain clerical suit immediately after lunch. Then I removed my collar and slumped down on the bed again. These trivial movements helped to calm me. My voice was still devoid of resentment when I said: ‘Well, it’s no good having anything but a candid talk, is it? We’ve got to try to solve this problem.’
Grace made yet another attempt to mop up her tears but by this time her eyes were red and swollen. I realized it was going to be impossible for her to go down to tea.
‘Now,’ I said, trying to take control of the situation by adopting a brisk sensible manner, ‘the first thing we have to do is to find out why you’re so unhappy. I’m not talking about your present misery. I’m talking about the more general unhappiness which I know has been afflicting you for some time. When exactly did it all begin? Was it when we found out Sandy had been conceived and you started to worry about how you were going to cope?’
I was, of course, busy laying the foundations for an unanswerable argument that we should employ a live-in nursemaid, so I was expecting her to reply ‘Yes’ to my question. It came as a considerable shock to me when she said: ‘No, this has nothing to do with Sandy. He simply complicated a situation which already existed.’
I stared at her. ‘You’re saying this unhappiness existed before Sandy was conceived in 1940?’
‘Yes, I first became aware of it when we moved to Starbridge in ’37, but now that I look back with the wisdom of hindsight I believe the seeds of my unhappiness were sown in 1932.’
‘At Willowmead? But that’s impossible! You were so happy there!’
‘Yes, but that’s when things started to go wrong.’
‘But what on earth happened at Willowmead in ’32?’
‘You met Alex Jardine. As soon as he started taking an interest in you he was a malign influence on our lives.’
I was speechless.
‘I’ve never liked Alex,’ said Grace in a rush. ‘Never. I know you were always ambitious, but I felt he stoked up your ambition so that it blazed in all the wrong directions –’
‘What on earth are you talking about? It was his sympathetic interest which gave me the confidence I needed to make the most of my God-given abilities!’ I was now very shocked indeed. ‘My dear Grace, I can hardly believe you feel like this about Alex! He’s always admired you so much and said what a perfect wife you were for a clergyman!’
‘Maybe that’s one of the reasons why I dislike him – I always feel he sees me as no more than an appropriate accessory, like a pair of gloves. Poor Carrie! No wonder they’re unhappily married.’
‘But they’re devoted to each other!’
‘I don’t think he’s devoted to her at all. Think of all the times we’ve heard him being sarcastic when poor Carrie makes one of her stupid remarks!’
‘Well, I agree there’s a large amount of surface irritation, but I’m sure that underneath he’s –’
‘Underneath I think he’s actually a rather nasty piece of work – and I’m absolutely convinced that his influence has had a disastrous effect on our marriage.’
‘But how can you possibly blame Alex for –’
‘Very easily. It was Alex who singled you out from all the other clergy in the diocese and gave you ideas above your station –’
‘Ideas above my station? Good heavens, Grace, which century are you living in? I’m not a Victorian servant!’
‘No, you’re a Yorkshire draper’s son on the make – and Alex has been constantly encouraging you, bringing you to Starbridge, giving you grand ideas by introducing you to people like the Starmouths, spoiling you with that glamorous preferment which I often think quite turned your head when you were too young to know better –’
‘Well, of course I know you’re a cut above me socially and entitled to look down on me if you please, but I must say I find your attitude offensive and your accusations insane. But then women are notoriously irrational when they’re upset and wives are notoriously peevish when they find they can’t keep up with their husbands any more –’
‘And who put us in a position where I can’t keep up with you any more? Who turned my gentle, sensitive, shy, romantic husband into someone else altogether?’