‘Just a little short cut,’ he said, as we made our way past barns and stationary farm vehicles. There seemed to be no persons present anywhere, and at one point, when we were confronted by a closed gate, the doctor said: ‘Sorry, old chap, but if you wouldn’t mind doing the honours.’
Getting out, I went to the gate, and as soon as I did so, a furious chorus of barking erupted in one of the barns near by, so that it was with some relief that I rejoined Dr Carlisle again in the front of his Rover.
We exchanged a few pleasantries as we climbed a narrow road between tall trees, he inquiring after how I had slept at the Taylors and so forth. Then he said quite abruptly:
‘I say, I hope you don’t think me very rude. But you aren’t a manservant of some sort, are you?’
I must confess, my overwhelming feeling on hearing this was one of relief.
‘I am indeed, sir. In fact, I am the butler of Darlington Hall, near Oxford.’
‘Thought so. All that about having met Winston Churchill and so on. I thought to myself, well, either the chap’s been lying his head off, or – then it occurred to me, there’s one simple explanation.’
Dr Carlisle turned to me with a smile as he continued to steer the car up the steep winding road. I said:
‘It wasn’t my intention to deceive anyone, sir. However …’
‘Oh, no need to explain, old fellow. I can quite see how it happened. I mean to say, you are a pretty impressive specimen. The likes of the people here, they’re bound to take you for at least a lord or a duke.’ The doctor gave a hearty laugh. ‘It must do one good to be mistaken for a lord every now and then.’
We travelled on in silence for a few moments. Then Dr Carlisle said to me: ‘Well, I hope you enjoyed your little stay with us here.’
‘I did very much, thank you, sir.’
‘And what did you make of the citizens of Moscombe? Not such a bad bunch, are they?’
‘Very engaging, sir. Mr and Mrs Taylor were extremely kind.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t call me “sir” like that all the time, Mr Stevens. No, they’re not such a bad bunch at all around here. As far as I’m concerned, I’d happily spend the rest of my life out here.’
I thought I heard something slightly odd in the way Dr Carlisle said this. There was, too, a curiously deliberate edge to the way he went on to inquire again:
‘So you found them an engaging bunch, eh?’
‘Indeed, Doctor. Extremely congenial.’
‘So what were they all telling you about last night? Hope they didn’t bore you silly with all the village gossip.’
‘Not at all, Doctor. As a matter of fact, the conversation tended to be rather earnest in tone and some very interesting viewpoints were expressed.’
‘Oh, you mean Harry Smith,’ the doctor said with a laugh. ‘You shouldn’t mind him. He’s entertaining enough to listen to for a while, but really, he’s all in a muddle. At times you’d think he was some sort of Communist, then he comes out with something that makes him sound true blue Tory. Truth is, he’s all in a muddle.’
‘Ah, that is very interesting to hear.’
‘What did he lecture you on last night? The Empire? The National Health?’
‘Mr Smith restricted himself to more general topics.’
‘Oh? For instance?’
I gave a cough. ‘Mr Smith had some thoughts on the nature of dignity.’
‘I say. Now that sounds rather philosophical for Harry Smith. How the devil did he get on to that?’
‘I believe Mr Smith was stressing the importance of his campaigning work in the village.’
‘Ah, yes?’
‘He was impressing upon me the point that the residents of Moscombe held strong opinions on all manner of great affairs.’
‘Ah, yes. Sounds like Harry Smith. As you probably guessed, that’s all nonsense, of course. Harry’s always going around trying to work everybody up over issues. But the truth is, people are happier left alone.’
We were silent again for a moment or two. Eventually, I said:
‘Excuse me for asking, sir. But may I take it Mr Smith is considered something of a comic figure?’
‘Hmm. That’s taking it a little too far, I’d say. People do have a political conscience of sorts here. They feel they ought to have strong feelings on this and that, just as Harry urges them to. But really, they’re no different from people anywhere. They want a quiet life. Harry has a lot of ideas about changes to this and that, but really, no one in the village wants upheaval, even if it might benefit them. People here want to be left alone to lead their quiet little lives. They don’t want to be bothered with this issue and that issue.’
I was surprised by the tone of disgust that had entered the doctor’s voice. But he recovered himself quickly with a short laugh and remarked:
‘Nice view of the village on your side.’
Indeed, the village had become visible some way below us. Of course, the morning sunshine gave it a very different aspect, but otherwise it looked much the same view as the one I had first encountered in the evening gloom, and I supposed from this that we were now close to the spot where I had left the Ford.
‘Mr Smith seemed to be of the view,’ I said, ‘that a person’s dignity rested on such things. Having strong opinions and such.’
‘Ah, yes, dignity. I was forgetting. Yes, so Harry was trying to tackle philosophical definitions. My word. I take it it was a lot of rot.’
‘His conclusions were not necessarily those that compelled agreement, sir.’
Dr Carlisle nodded, but seemed to have become immersed in his own thoughts. ‘You know, Mr Stevens,’ he said, eventually, ‘when I first came out here, I was a committed socialist. Believed in the best services for all the people and all the rest of it. First came here in ‘forty-nine. Socialism would allow people to live with dignity. That’s what I believed when I came out here. Sorry, you don’t want to hear all this rot.’ He turned to me cheerily. ‘What about you, old chap?’
‘I’m sorry, sir?’
‘What do you think dignity’s all about?’
The directness of this inquiry did, I admit, take me rather by surprise. ‘It’s rather a hard thing to explain in a few words, sir,’ I said. ‘But I suspect it comes down to not removing one’s clothing in public’.
‘Sorry. What does?’
‘Dignity, sir.’
‘Ah.’ The doctor nodded, but looked a little bemused. Then he said: ‘Now, this road should be familiar to you. Probably looks rather different in the daylight. Ah, is that it there? My goodness, what a handsome vehicle!’
Dr Carlisle pulled up just behind the Ford, got out and said again: ‘My, what a handsome vehicle.’ The next moment he had produced a funnel and a can of petrol and was most kindly assisting me in filling the tank of the Ford. Any fears I had that some deeper trouble was afflicting the Ford were laid to rest when I tried the ignition and heard the engine come to life with a healthy murmur. At this point, I thanked Dr Carlisle and we took leave of each other, though I was obliged to follow the back of his Rover along the twisting hill road for a further mile or so before our routes separated.
It was around nine o’clock that I crossed the border into Cornwall. This was at least three hours before the rain began and the clouds were still all of a brilliant white. In fact, many of the sights that greeted me this morning were among the most charming I have so far encountered. It was unfortunate, then, that I could not for much of the time give to them the attention they warranted; for one may as well declare it, one was in a condition of some preoccupation with the thought that – barring some unseen complication – one would be meeting Miss Kenton again before the day’s end. So it was, then, that while speeding along between large open fields, no human being or vehicle apparent for miles, or else steering carefully through marvellous little villages, some no more than a cluster of a few stone cottages, I found myself yet again turning over certain recollections from the past. And now, as I sit here
in Little Compton, here in the dining room of this pleasant hotel with a little time on my hands, watching the rain splashing on the pavements of the village square outside, I am unable to prevent my mind from continuing to wander along these same tracks.
One memory in particular has preoccupied me all morning – or rather, a fragment of a memory, a moment that has for some reason remained with me vividly through the years. It is a recollection of standing alone in the back corridor before the closed door of Miss Kenton’s parlour; I was not actually facing the door, but standing with my person half turned towards it, transfixed by indecision as to whether or not I should knock; for at that moment, as I recall, I had been struck by the conviction that behind that very door, just a few yards from me, Miss Kenton was in fact crying. As I say, this moment has remained firmly embedded in my mind, as has the memory of the peculiar sensation I felt rising within me as I stood there like that. However, I am not at all certain now as to the actual circumstances which had led me to be standing thus in the back corridor. It occurs to me that elsewhere in attempting to gather such recollections, I may well have asserted that this memory derived from the minutes immediately after Miss Kenton’s receiving news of her aunt’s death; that is to say, the occasion when, having left her to be alone with her grief, I realized out in the corridor that I had not offered her my condolences. But now, having thought further, I believe I may have been a little confused about this matter; that in fact this fragment of memory derives from events that took place on an evening at least a few months after the death of Miss Kenton’s aunt – the evening, in fact, when the young Mr Cardinal turned up at Darlington Hall rather unexpectedly.
Mr Cardinal’s father, Sir David Cardinal, had been for many years his lordship’s closest friend and colleague, but had been tragically killed in a riding accident some three or four years prior to the evening I am now recalling. Meanwhile, the young Mr Cardinal had been building something of a name for himself as a columnist, specializing in witty comments on international affairs. Evidently, these columns were rarely to Lord Darlington’s liking, for I can recall numerous instances of his looking up from a journal and saying something like: ‘Young Reggie writing such nonsense again. Just as well his father’s not alive to read this.’ But Mr Cardinal’s columns did not prevent him being a frequent visitor at the house; indeed, his lordship never forgot that the young man was his godson and always treated him as kin. At the same time, it had never been Mr Cardinal’s habit to turn up to dinner without any prior warning, and I was thus a little surprised when on answering the door that evening I found him standing there, his briefcase cradled in both arms.
‘Oh, hello, Stevens, how are you?’ he said. ‘Just happened to be in a bit of a jam tonight and wondered if Lord Darlington would put me up for the night.’
‘It’s very nice to see you again, sir. I shall tell his lordship you are here.’
‘I’d intended to stay at Mr Roland’s place, but there seems to have been some misunderstanding and they’ve gone away somewhere. Hope it’s not too inconvenient a time to call. I mean, nothing special on tonight, is there?’
‘I believe, sir, his lordship is expecting some gentlemen to call after dinner.’
‘Oh, that’s bad luck. I seem to have chosen a bad night. I’d better keep my head low. I’ve got some pieces I have to work on tonight anyway.’ Mr Cardinal indicated his briefcase.
‘I shall tell his lordship you are here, sir. You are, in any case, in good time to join him for dinner.’
‘Jolly good, I was hoping I might have been. But I don’t expect Mrs Mortimer’s going to be very pleased with me.’
I left Mr Cardinal in the drawing room and made my way to the study, where I found his lordship working through some pages with a look of deep concentration. When I told him of Mr Cardinal’s arrival, a look of surprised annoyance crossed his face. Then he leaned back in his chair as though puzzling something out.
‘Tell Mr Cardinal I’ll be down shortly,’ he said finally. ‘He can amuse himself for a little while.’
When I returned downstairs, I discovered Mr Cardinal moving rather restlessly around the drawing room examining objects he must long ago have become familiar with. I conveyed his lordship’s message and asked him what refreshments I might bring him.
‘Oh, just some tea for now, Stevens. Who’s his lordship expecting tonight?’
‘I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid I am unable to help you.’
‘No idea at all?’
‘I’m sorry, sir.’
‘Hmm, curious. Oh, well. Better keep my head low tonight.’
It was not long after this, I recall, that I went down to Miss Kenton’s parlour. She was sitting at her table, though there was nothing before her and her hands were empty; indeed, something in her demeanour suggested she had been sitting there like that for some time prior to my knocking.
‘Mr Cardinal is here, Miss Kenton,’ I said. ‘He’ll be requiring his usual room tonight.’
‘Very good, Mr Stevens. I shall see to it before I leave.’
‘Ah. You are going out this evening, Miss Kenton?’
‘I am indeed, Mr Stevens.’
Perhaps I looked a little surprised, for she went on: ‘You will recall, Mr Stevens, we discussed this a fortnight ago.’
‘Yes, of course, Miss Kenton. I beg your pardon, it had just slipped my mind for the moment.’
‘Is something the matter, Mr Stevens?’
‘Not at all, Miss Kenton. Some visitors are expected this evening, but there is no reason why your presence will be required.’
‘We did agree to my taking this evening off a fortnight ago, Mr Stevens.’
‘Of course, Miss Kenton. I do beg your pardon.’
I turned to leave, but then I was halted at the door by Miss Kenton saying:
‘Mr Stevens, I have something to tell you.’
‘Yes, Miss Kenton?’
‘It concerns my acquaintance. Who I am going to meet tonight.’
‘Yes, Miss Kenton.’
‘He has asked me to marry him. I thought you had a right to know that.’
‘Indeed, Miss Kenton. That is very interesting.’
‘I am still giving the matter thought.’
‘Indeed.’
She glanced down a second at her hands, but then almost immediately her gaze returned to me. ‘My acquaintance is to start a job in the West Country as of next month.’
‘Indeed.’
‘As I say, Mr Stevens, I am still giving the matter some thought. However, I thought you should be informed of the situation.’
‘I’m very grateful, Miss Kenton. I do hope you have a pleasant evening. Now if you will excuse me.’
It must have been twenty minutes or so later that I encountered Miss Kenton again, this time while I was busy with preparations for dinner. In fact, I was half-way up the back staircase, carrying a fully laden tray, when I heard the sound of angry footsteps rattling the floorboards somewhere below me. Turning, I saw Miss Kenton glaring up at me from the foot of the stairs.
‘Mr Stevens, do I understand that you are wishing me to remain on duty this evening?’
‘Not at all, Miss Kenton. As you pointed out, you did notify me some time ago.’
‘But I can see you are very unhappy about my going out tonight.’
‘On the contrary, Miss Kenton.’
‘Do you imagine that by creating so much commotion in the kitchen and by stamping back and forth like this outside my parlour you will get me to change my mind?’
‘Miss Kenton, the slight excitement in the kitchen is solely on account of Mr Cardinal coming to dinner at the last moment. There is absolutely no reason why you should not go out this evening.’
‘I intend to go with or without your blessing, Mr Stevens, I wish to make this clear. I made arrangements weeks ago.’
‘Indeed, Miss Kenton. And once again, I would wish you a very pleasant evening.’
At dinner, an odd atmosphere seemed to
hang in the air between the two gentlemen. For long moments, they ate in silence, his lordship in particular seeming very far away. At one point, Mr Cardinal said:
‘Something special tonight, sir?’
‘Eh?’
‘Your visitors this evening. Special?’
‘Afraid I can’t tell you, my boy. Strictly confidential.’
‘Oh dear. I suppose this means I shouldn’t sit in on it.’
‘Sit in on what, my boy?’
‘Whatever it is that’s going to take place tonight.’
‘Oh, it wouldn’t be of any interest to you. In any case, confidentiality is of the utmost. Can’t have someone like you around. Oh no, that wouldn’t do at all.’
‘Oh dear. This does sound very special.’
Mr Cardinal was watching his lordship very keenly, but the latter simply went back to his food without saying anything further.
The gentlemen retired to the smoking room for port and cigars. In the course of clearing the dining room, and also in preparing the drawing room for the arrival of the evening’s visitors, I was obliged to walk repeatedly past the smoking-room doors. It was inevitable, then, that I would notice how the gentlemen, in contrast to their quiet mood at dinner, had begun to exchange words with some urgency. A quarter of an hour later, angry voices were being raised. Of course, I did not stop to listen, but I could not avoid hearing his lordship shouting: ‘But that’s not your business, my boy! That’s not your business!’
I was in the dining room when the gentlemen eventually came out. They seemed to have calmed themselves, and the only words exchanged as they walked across the hall were his lordship’s: ‘Now remember, my boy. I’m trusting you.’ To which Mr Cardinal muttered with irritation: ‘Yes, yes, you have my word.’ Then their footsteps separated, his lordship’s going towards his study, Mr Cardinal’s towards the library.
At almost precisely eight thirty, there came the sound of motor cars pulling up in the courtyard. I opened the door to a chauffeur, and past his shoulder I could see some police constables dispersing to various points of the grounds. The next moment, I was showing in two very distinguished gentlemen, who were met by his lordship in the hall and ushered quickly into the drawing room. Ten minutes or so later came the sound of another car and I opened the door to Herr Ribbentrop, the German Ambassador, by now no stranger to Darlington Hall. His lordship emerged to meet him and the two gentlemen appeared to exchange complicit glances before disappearing together into the drawing room. When a few minutes later I was called in to provide refreshments, the four gentlemen were discussing the relative merits of different sorts of sausage, and the atmosphere seemed on the surface at least quite convivial.