Susan Howatch - Glittering Images

Lang’s will immediately became as unimportant as my own. I felt comforted, and rising to my feet at last I left the chapel to find Gerald Harvey hovering in the side-aisle.

‘Waiting for the Bishop?’ I enquired with a smile.

‘No, for you.’

I was impressed by this courtesy and at once I felt guilty that I had written him off as ineffectual. ‘How nice of you,’ I said. ‘Sorry I’ve kept you hanging about.’

‘Oh, you mustn’t apologize for taking extra time for prayer!’ said Harvey shocked. He was so young and ingenuous that he made me feel old and world-weary. ‘How did you like the service?’

I paid the Bishop a suitable compliment and was glad I did not have to be insincere for the sake of politeness. We walked through the porch on to the sward. Beyond the wall of the churchyard the houses of the Close basked in the sun and a horse was drawing a milk-cart slowly along the North Walk. I could hear the birds singing in the cedar tree nearby.

‘I must confess the Bishop intrigues me,’ I said idly at last. ‘What would you say was the fundamental nature of his belief? God-centred? Christ-centred? Rooted in the Trinity?’

‘Well, it’s all those things,’ said Harvey, ‘but I suppose he’s fundamentally Christocentric. He has an overriding belief not just in Christ’s compassion and forgiveness but in Christ’s honesty and truth, and that’s why he can’t bear hypocrisy – he sees it as a re-enactment of the Pharisees’ behaviour in the Gospels and he feels called to attack it just as Our Lord did.’ He shot me a shy glance. ‘Please forgive him for last night,’ he said rapidly. ‘He didn’t mean to hurt you. He just misjudged your sincerity – I think he suspected you’d only adopted your point of view out of loyalty to Dr Lang and of course he was wrong, but anyone can make a mistake, can’t they, and he really is the most wonderful man, absolutely the best, believe me.’

I realized belatedly that he had sought my company in order to defend his hero, and I knew I should signal that I was willing to be convinced of Jardine’s heroic qualities. I said with interest, ‘He’s been good to you?’

‘That’s an understatement!’ In his enthusiasm Harvey became confidential. ‘When I was at the Cathedral School at Radbury my parents died and Dr Jardine – he was Dean of Radbury then – simply took me over, paid my school fees, had me to stay in the holidays – and it wasn’t as if I was one of those appealing children who look like angels and win all the prizes. Then later when I wanted to be ordained I wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to pass the exams but Dr Jardine just said, “Nonsense, of course you can!” and when he offered to coach me in his spare time I knew he really believed I could do it. I’d never have passed if it hadn’t been for him, and afterwards when he asked me to be his chaplain … Well, you can imagine how I felt! Of course I was terrified I’d be no good and in fact I’m sure he could get someone better, but I try very hard and I seem to muddle through somehow.’

‘I’m sure you do very well.’ It was impossible not to be touched by his honesty, and suddenly I knew why he had appealed to Jardine.

Meanwhile our conversation had taken us through the palace gateway and I was rapidly framing some questions which would take advantage of his confidential mood. ‘Tell me about life at the palace,’ I said. ‘Miss Christie evidently has an important role in the household – she seems very close to Mrs Jardine.’

‘Oh, Mrs Jardine thinks of her as a daughter, I know she does.’

‘How does she get on with the Bishop?’

‘People always want to know that,’ said Harvey, pausing to extricate his latchkey as we approached the front door, ‘and they’re always surprised by my reply which is: “Better than they used to” and not the expected “Magnificently well”.’

‘There’s been friction?’

‘Well, not exactly friction … but they’ve had their cool spells. The first was after she came to Radbury – that was around the time I started staying with them in the holidays – and then there was a second cool period after they arrived in Starbridge five years ago. I remember saying to Lady Starmouth once that I was afraid Lyle might leave if the Bishop became much cooler, but Lady Starmouth told me not to worry. She said it’s not always easy for a married couple to live in close proximity to a third party, and of course Lyle’s much more involved with both the Jardines than I am. I’m fairly peripheral in their private life, even though I see so much of the Bishop in his professional role.’ He finally found his latchkey but when the front door swung open it became wedged against a pile of envelopes. ‘Heavens above, look at all this post!’

‘Is this abnormally substantial?’

‘Yes, we’re still dealing with the correspondence on the A. P. Herbert Bill. We even had to engage additional secretarial help last week,’ said Harvey, becoming flustered at the memory, and bustled away into the library as if he feared the envelopes might multiply in his hands.

I made a mental note to ask Lady Starmouth about the difficulties of a married couple obliged to live in close proximity to a young and attractive third party. Then I retired to the dining-room in pursuit of breakfast.

I was early. I found no one in the dining-room, but the morning papers were laid out on a side-table and I began to browse among the cricket reports in the Daily Telegraph. I was still digesting the unfortunate news that Oxford had defeated Cambridge by seven wickets when Jardine walked in.

‘I was glad to see you at the service,’ he said after we had exchanged greetings. ‘I was glad to be there myself. Sometimes one so strongly needs to wipe the slate clean in order to come fresh to a new day.’

There was a pause while we both thought of the dinner party, its unhappy memory now purged from our consciences, and before either of us could speak again the Starmouths entered the room. They were followed by Miss Christie, immaculate in a navy-blue skirt and white blouse, and at once I noticed the discreet, perfectly proportioned curves of her figure above the waist; I even found myself toying with the erotic image of a pair of empty champagne glasses.

‘Good morning, Dr Ashworth,’ she said formally, while I was grappling with these most unclerical thoughts, but the next moment she was turning to Jardine. ‘Carrie’s decided to stay in bed for a while, Bishop, and she’s asked me to have breakfast with her.’

The Bishop showed no surprise but Lady Starmouth inquired in alarm if Mrs Jardine were unwell. Miss Christie, however, had already retreated to the hall and it was left to Jardine to answer idly as he turned a page of The Times , ‘It’s merely the aftermath of insomnia. At two o’clock this morning, acting out of a strong sense of self-preservation, I was obliged to retire to my dressing-room in order to resume the bliss of unconsciousness. The chief disadvantage of Carrie’s insomnia is that she’s always overcome with the urge to share it with me.’

My immediate reaction was to reflect that Jack had been right in assuming that the Jardines still shared a bedroom. My second reaction was to accuse myself of becoming more prurient than any reporter from The News of the World , and in an effort to beat back all thoughts which were unbecoming to a clergyman I began to consider how I should spend my morning. I would have to go to the library; it would look too odd if I postponed my encounter with the St Anselm manuscript, but I thought I could use the fine weather as an excuse not to linger indoors. During breakfast the Earl announced his intention of fishing in the river at the bottom of the garden while the Countess confessed an urge to paint a watercolour of the long herbaceous border, and I thought both of them might be in the mood for a little casual conversation about our host.