Clive Lewis - That Hideous Strength

She was roused from this state by noticing that it was lighter. She looked ahead: surely that bend in the road was more visible than it ought to be in such a fog? Or was it only that a country fog was different from a town one? Certainly what had been grey was becoming white, almost dazzlingly white. A few yards farther and luminous blue was showing overhead, and trees cast shadows (she had not seen a shadow for days), and then all of a sudden the enormous spaces of the sky had become visible and the pale golden sun, and looking back, as she took the turn to the Manor, Jane saw that she was standing on the shore of a little green sunlit island looking down on a sea of white fog, furrowed and ridged yet level on the whole, which spread as far as she could see. There were other islands too. That dark one to the West was the wooded hills above Sandown where she had picnicked with the Dennistons; and the far bigger and brighter one to the North was the many-caverned hills-mountains one could nearly call them-in which the Wynd had its source. She took a deep breath. It was the size of this world above the fog which impressed her. Down in Edgestow all these days one had lived, even when out of doors, as if in a room, for only objects close at hand were visible. She felt she had come near to forgetting how big the sky is, how remote the horizon.

Before she reached the door in the wall Jane met Mr. Denniston and he guided her into the Manor, not by that door but by the main gate which opened on the same road a few hundred yards farther on. She told him her story as they walked. In his company she had that curious sensation which most married people know of being with someone whom (for the final but wholly mysterious reason) one could never have married but who is nevertheless more of one’s own world than the person one has married in fact. As they entered the house they met Mrs. Maggs.

“What? Mrs. Studdock! Fancy!” said Mrs. Maggs.

“Yes, Ivy,” said Denniston, “and bringing great news. Things are beginning to move. We must see Grace at once. And is MacPhee about?”

“He’s out gardening hours ago,” said Mrs. Maggs.

“And Dr. Dimble’s gone into College. And Camilla’s in the kitchen. Shall I send her along?”

“Yes, do. And if you can prevent Mr. Bultitude from butting in--”

“That’s right. I’ll keep him out of mischief all right. You’d like a cup of tea, Mrs. Studdock, wouldn’t you? Coming by train and all that.”

A few minutes later Jane found herself once more in Grace Ironwood’s room. Miss Ironwood and the Dennistons all sat facing her so that she felt as if she were the candidate in a viva voce examination. And when Ivy Maggs brought in the tea she did not go away again, but sat down as if she also were one of the examiners.

“Now!” said Camilla, her eyes and nostrils widened with a sort of fresh mental hunger-it was too concentrated to be called excitement.

Jane glanced round the room.

“You need not mind Ivy, young lady,” said Miss Ironwood. “She is one of our company.”

There was a pause. “We have your letter of the 10th,” continued Miss Ironwood, “describing your dream of the man with the pointed beard sitting making notes in your bedroom. Perhaps I ought to tell you that he wasn’t really there: at least, the Director does not think it possible. But he was really studying you. He was getting information about you from some other source which, unfortunately, was not visible to you in the dream.”

“Will you tell us, if you don’t mind,” said Mr. Denniston, “what you were telling me as we came along.”

Jane told them about the dream of the corpse (if it was a corpse) in the dark place and how she had met the bearded man that morning in Market Street: and at once she was aware of having created intense interest.

“Fancy!” said Ivy Maggs. “So we were right about Bragdon Wood!” said Camilla. “It is really Belbury,” said her husband. “But in that case, where does Alcasan come in?”

“Excuse me,” said Miss Ironwood in her level voice, and the others became instantly silent. “We must not discuss the matter here. Mrs. Studdock has not yet joined us.”

“Am I to be told nothing?” asked Jane.

“Young lady,” said Miss Ironwood, “you must excuse me. It would not be wise at the moment indeed, we are not at liberty to do so. Will you allow me to ask you two more questions?”

“If you like,” said Jane, a little sulkily but only a very little. The presence of Camilla and Camilla’s husband somehow put her on her best behaviour.

Miss Ironwood had opened a drawer and for a few moments there was silence while she hunted in it. Then she handed a photograph across to Jane and asked,

“Do you recognise that person?”

“Yes,” said Jane in a low voice, “that is the man I dreamed of and the man I saw this morning in Edgestow.”

It was a good photograph and beneath it was the name Augustus Frost, with a few other details which Jane did not at the moment take in.

“In the second place,” continued Miss Ironwood holding out her hand for Jane to return the photograph, “are you prepared to see the Director . . . now?”

“Well-yes, if you like.”

“In that case, Arthur,” said Miss Ironwood to Denniston, “you had better go and tell him what we have just heard and find out if he is well enough to meet Mrs. Studdock.”

Denniston at once rose.

“In the meantime,” said Miss Ironwood, “I would like a word with Mrs. Studdock alone.” At this the others rose also and preceded Denniston out of the room. A very large cat which Jane had not noticed before jumped up and occupied the chair which Ivy Maggs had just vacated.

“I have very little doubt,” said Miss Ironwood, “that the Director will see you.”

Jane said nothing.

“And at that interview,” continued the other, “you will, I presume, be called upon to make a final decision.”

Jane gave a little cough which had no other purpose than to dispel a certain air of unwelcome solemnity which seemed to have settled on the room as soon as she and Miss Ironwood were left alone.

“There are also certain things,” said Miss Ironwood, “which you ought to know about the Director before you see him. He will appear to you, Mrs. Studdock, to be a very young man: younger than yourself. You will please understand that this is not the case. He is nearer fifty than forty. He is a man of very great experience, who has travelled where no other human being ever travelled before and mixed in societies of which you and I have no conception.”

“That is very interesting,” said Jane, though displaying no interest.

“And thirdly,” said Miss Ironwood, “I must ask you to remember that he is often in great pain. Whatever decision you come to, I trust you will not say or do anything that may put an unnecessary strain upon him.”

“If Mr. Fisher-King is not well enough to see visitors . . . ,” said Jane vaguely.

“You must excuse me,” said Miss Ironwood, “for impressing these points upon you. I am a doctor, and I am the only doctor in our company. I am therefore responsible for protecting him as far as I can. If you will now come with me I will show you to the Blue Room.”

She rose and held the door open for Jane. They passed out into the plain, narrow passage and thence up shallow steps into a large entrance hall whence a fine Georgian staircase led to the upper floors. The house, larger than Jane had at first supposed, was warm and very silent, and after so many days spent in fog the autumn sunlight, falling on soft carpets and on walls, seemed to her bright and golden. On the first floor, but raised above it by six steps, they found a little square place with white pillars where Camilla, quiet and alert, sat waiting for them. There was a door behind her.