‘I’m not giving up hope yet,’ said Brown, robust against disappointment. ‘I can’t believe he’d lead us up the garden path.’
‘It would be funny if he did,’ said Roy. ‘And took a series of dinners off us. Never getting to the point.’
‘I don’t call that funny, Calvert,’ Chrystal said irritably.
‘I believe it may come right,’ said Brown. He added, in a hurry: ‘Mind you, I shan’t feel inclined to celebrate until I see a cheque arrive on the bursary table.’ He said aside to Chrystaclass="underline" ‘We’ve just got to think of ways and means again. I should be in favour of letting him lie fallow for a month or two. In the meantime, we shall have time to consider methods of giving him a gentle prod.’
The sky was cloudless and china-blue, there was scarcely a breath of wind. The sun was just perceptibly warm on the skin, and we thought of taking a turn round the garden before lunch. Roy Calvert and Chrystal went in front. They were talking about investments. Roy was the only child of a rich man, and Chrystal liked talking to him about money. Brown and I followed on behind. Our way to the garden was overlooked by the windows of the tutor’s house, and as we walked I heard my name called in Jago’s voice.
I stayed on the path, Brown strolled slowly on. Jago came out from his house — and with him was Nightingale.
‘Can you spare us a moment, Eliot?’ Jago cried. His tone was apologetic, almost hostile.
‘Of course.’
‘Nightingale and I have been discussing the future of the college. Naturally, we all think the future of the college depends on the men we attract to college offices.’ Jago’s words were elaborate, his mouth drawn down, his eyes restless. ‘So that we’ve been speculating a little on which of our colleagues might consider taking various college offices.’
‘These things have a way of being settled in advance,’ said Nightingale.
‘I hope it doesn’t embarrass you to mention your own future,’ Jago had to go on.
‘Not in the slightest,’ I said.
‘I know it’s difficult. No one can pledge themselves too far ahead. But I’ve just been telling Nightingale that, so far as I know, you wouldn’t feel free to think of a college office in the next few years.’
‘I shouldn’t. I can be ruled out,’ I said.
‘Why? Why can we rule you out?’ Nightingale broke out in suspicion.
I had to give a reason for Jago’s sake.
‘Because I don’t want to break my London connection. I can’t spend two days a week in London and hold an office here.’
‘Your two days must be exceptionally well paid.’ Nightingale smiled.
‘It’s valuable for the college,’ said Jago with an effort to sound undisturbed, ‘to have its young lawyers taught by a man with a successful practice.’
‘It seems to be rather valuable for Eliot,’ Nightingale smiled again. But his suspicions had temporarily abated, and he parted from us.
‘Good God,’ muttered Jago, as Nightingale disappeared at the bottom of his staircase.
‘I hope you contained yourself,’ said Brown, who had been waiting for us to join him. We all three walked towards the garden.
‘I was very tactful,’ said Jago. ‘I was despicably tactful, Brown. Do you know that he doubted my word when I said that Eliot here couldn’t take a tutorship if it was offered him? He said he might believe it if he heard it from Eliot himself. I ought to have kicked the man out of my study. Instead of that, I inflicted him on Eliot, so that he could have the satisfaction of hearing it. I am so sorry, Eliot.’
‘You had to do it,’ I said.
‘I call it statesmanlike,’ said Brown.
‘I call it despicable,’ said Jago.
The garden was quiet with winter, the grass shone emerald in the sunlight, the branches of the trees had not yet begun to thicken. In the wash of greens and sepias and browns stood one blaze of gold from a forsythia bush. Roy and Chrystal were standing under a great beech, just where the garden curved away to hide the inner ‘wilderness’.
‘God forgive me,’ said Jago bitterly, as we stepped on to the soft lawn. ‘I’ve never prevaricated so shamefully. The man asked me outright what my intentions were. I replied — yes, I’ll tell you what I replied — I told him that it might put us both in a false position if I gave a definite answer. But I said that none of those I knew best in the college could possibly take a tutorship. That’s where your name came in, Eliot. He insisted on discussing you all one by one.’
‘I hope you let him,’ said Brown.
‘I let him.’
‘I hope you didn’t give him the impression that you’d never offer him the job,’ said Brown.
‘I should be less ashamed,’ said Jago, ‘if I could think I had.’
Jago was angry and anxious. He was angry at what he had been forced to do: anxious that it might not be enough. But, most of all that morning in the sunny garden, he was angry, bitterly angry, at the insult to his pride. He had lowered himself, he had thrown his pride in front of his own eyes and this other man’s, and now, ten minutes later, it had arisen and was dominating him. He was furious at the humiliation which policy imposed: was this where ambition had taken him? was this the result of his passion? was this the degradation which he had to take?
Brown would not have minded. A less proud man would have accepted it as part of the game: knowing it, Jago looked at his supporter’s kind, shrewd, and worldly face, and felt alone. The shame was his alone, the wound was his alone. When he next spoke, he was drawn into himself, he was speaking from a height.
‘I assure you, Brown, I don’t think you need fear a defection,’ he said, with a mixture of anxiety, self-contempt, and scorn. ‘I handled him pretty well. I was as tactful as a man could be.’
17: ‘We’re All Alone’
After lunch that day Roy Calvert stopped me in the court. His lips twitched in a smile.
‘Everyone was worried whether we should have the feast, weren’t they?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘Just so. Well, I heard a minute ago that it wasn’t necessary. Joan and her mother never intended to tell him before the feast. They’d marked down the date weeks ago. They knew the old boy was coming down to unbelt — which he didn’t — and they decided that we mustn’t be disturbed. Isn’t that just like the appalling sense of women?’
I could not help laughing.
‘We’ve been sold,’ said Roy. ‘Not only you and me — but all those sensible blokes. We’ve been absolutely and completely and magnificently sold.’
But, though he was smiling, he was already sad, for he had guessed what was to happen that day. I did not see him again all afternoon and evening. His name was on the dining list for hall, but he did not come. Late at night, he entered my room and told me that he had been with Lady Muriel for hours. She had broken the news to the Master early in the afternoon.
I was distressed not only on their account, but on Roy’s. He was beginning to have the look and manner which came upon him during a wave of depression. And I was not reassured when, instead of telling me anything that had been said in the Lodge, he insisted on going to a party. For, as he and I knew too well, there was a trace of the manic-depressive about his moods. I was more afraid for him in a state of false hilarity than in sadness.
However, he was genial at the party, although he did not speak of the Master until we had returned to college and were standing in sight of the Lodge windows. It was well into the small hours, but one light was still shining.
‘I wonder,’ Roy said, ‘if he can sleep tonight.’
We stood looking at the window. The court was quiet beneath the stars.
Roy said: ‘I’ve never seen such human misery and loneliness as I did today.’