whole family,’ said Lady Starmouth confidentially, ‘was most odd. In addition to the peculiar father there was a very strange Swedish stepmother and two sisters, one of whom went mad –’
‘This sounds like a Jacobean tragedy.’
‘No, they didn’t all kill each other – unfortunately – but you’re right to relate it to literature. It was like a novel by Gissing about the ghastliness of genteel poverty.’
‘Were the Jardines so genteel? What did the peculiar father do for a living?’
‘Nobody knows. In fact I’ve never plumbed the depths of Jardine’s lurid family background because he prefers not to talk about it, but the sister – the one who didn’t go mad – was painfully genteel, poor thing, a very refined accent and a ghastly way with a teacup – and my guess is that they were all upper-working-class but trying to be lower-middle. God, how crucified so many people are,’ said the aristocratic Lady Starmouth carelessly but with genuine feeling, ‘by the English class system.’
‘Did the whole family accompany Jardine to Mayfair?’
‘No, the peculiar father and the mad sister were dead by that time, but Jardine moved into the vicarage with his surviving sister and his sinister Swedish stepmother and immediately began to cast around for a wife –’
‘– whom you obligingly provided for him!’
‘Not quite! But I did go to the dinner party where he and Carrie met for the first time. The meeting was wildly romantic, love at first sight, and four days later he proposed.’
‘Four days?’
‘Four days,’ said Lady Starmouth, enjoying my astonishment. ‘Carrie’s family were in a tremendous tizzy, of course, because of Jardine’s odd background, but on the other hand he had this stunning position as Vicar of St Mary’s and that made it hard to object to him as a suitor.’
‘Did the family make trouble?’
‘They somehow managed to restrain themselves. I suspect it was because Carrie wasn’t so young any more and the family had begun to worry that she might wind up on the shelf.’
‘It’s hard to imagine someone as pretty as Mrs Jardine winding up on the shelf.’
‘True, but one of the cruellest facts of life, Dr Ashworth, is that men prefer pretty women to be under thirty. After that women need to rely more on other resources.’
I sensed the implication that Mrs Jardine had no other resources on which to rely, but all I said was, ‘So nothing impeded Dr Jardine’s stampede to the altar?’
‘On the contrary, the Swedish stepmother then made a scene and said she wouldn’t live in any house where Carrie was mistress. So she retired with the poor plain sister to a flat in Putney – which Jardine had to pay for, of course.’
‘But surely wasn’t this a good thing? Isn’t it better for a woman to start married life without a stepmother-in-law breathing down her neck?’
‘Of course. Carrie was thrilled. But Jardine was dreadfully upset. He adored this stepmother, although God knows why – she was twenty years older than he was and she weighed sixteen stone and she had very pale eyes and a very thin mouth and she spoke with a very heavy foreign accent – oh, she was sinister, she really was! After the row I thought she’d refuse to come to the wedding but she turned up looking wrathful – what a deathshead at the feast! The poor sister was hardly cheerful either – she wept throughout the service, but at least she was only crying out of sentimentality. I liked the sister. Poor thing, what a wretched life she had! She died of cancer eventually, of course. I say “of course” because she was the sort of person who inevitably dies of something beastly … But I must stop digressing. You’re being wonderfully patient, Dr Ashworth, but I really am getting to the baby now, I promise –’
‘Don’t apologize, Lady Starmouth. I’m enrapt by the sinister stepmother.’
‘Well, after the wedding she sank into darkest Putney, thank God, and the Jardines floated off on their honeymoon. When they came back Carrie immediately started planning the nursery, so of course we all thought … But nothing happened. However finally the baby started. We were all so relieved, and no one was more relieved than Jardine – apart from Carrie herself, of course. He started talking to Henry about which schools the child should go to and Carrie started adding the finishing touches to the heavenly nursery – oh, what a mistake it is to count one’s chickens before they’re hatched! Eventually the worst happened and the baby – a boy – was born dead.’
Lady Starmouth paused as if to choose her next words with care. ‘I wonder how I can convey to you how dreadful this was for the Jardines. Of course a dead baby is always a tragedy, but in this case … You see, Carrie was so absolutely sure that her one talent was for motherhood. It’s not easy for any woman to be married to a brilliant man and Carrie thought that motherhood would give her the chance to excel in a way which would command Jardine’s very special respect. And Jardine himself was longing for a family. He wanted to recreate the family life which he could remember existing before his mother died – a life which he’d almost certainly idealized but which represented to him some intensely desirable goal of domestic bliss. So both he and Carrie were united by these very urgent and powerful dreams – and that was why it was so terrible when the stillborn child tore those dreams apart.’
She paused again and I allowed the silence to lengthen to signal my sympathy before I asked, ‘There were no other children?’
‘No, and in a way that was the ghastliest part of all because no doctor could tell her why nothing happened. So she went on hoping and so did he – in fact Alex once told me he went on hoping until … well, until no hope was possible any more. There! I’m calling him Alex – very improper, isn’t it, to call a man by his Christian name when he’s not a member of one’s family, but I’ve known him so long now and we’re such good friends and Henry doesn’t mind if I call Jardine “Alex” occasionally … I expect you’ve wondered about my friendship with the Bishop, haven’t you!’ she added, giving me an indulgent smile. ‘Perhaps you’re even a little shocked!’
‘Not at all, I’m deeply envious! I’ve heard about Dr Jardine’s so-called Lovely Ladies, and obviously you’re the Lovely Ladies’ Leader!’
She laughed. ‘I simply must add you to my clerical collection!’ she said. ‘You’re such an exceptionally charming listener!’
‘I could listen to you indefinitely, Lady Starmouth. Tell me more.’
She sighed. ‘It really is too dreadful how little encouragement I need … But what shall I tell you next? I’ve told you about the ghastly background and the romantic marriage and the stillborn child –’
‘Strike a lighter note,’ I said, ‘and tell me about Dr Jardine’s Lovely Ladies.’
V
‘Of course Alex has numerous acquaintances among the opposite sex,’ said Lady Starmouth, adding another line to the obscure pattern on her sketchpad, ‘but there are only three of us who could truly be described as friends. We all met him in 1916 during his first year as Vicar of St Mary’s.’
I was immediately intrigued. ‘Why was he so prone to friendship
