The Masters (29 page)

Someone whistled again as Despard-Smith finished. There were glances at Roy Calvert, who was looking serious. A rustle went round the table. The only person who stayed quite still was Winslow; he had been gazing down in front of him throughout the reading of the letter, and now he did not move.

‘This is the largest benefaction the college has ever had,’ said Chrystal, who could contain himself no longer. ‘I call this a day.’

‘I foresee grave difficulties,’ said Despard-Smith. ‘I am positive that it will need the most serious consideration before the college could possibly decide to accept.’

‘Somehow, though, I rather think we shall,’ said Crawford, with the only trace of irony I had ever seen him show. ‘I must say this is a one achievement, Chrystal. I suppose we owe this to you, and you deserve a very hearty vote of thanks. Speaking as a man of science I can see this college taking the biggest jump forward it’s ever made.’

‘Good work, Chrystal,’ said Francis Getliffe. ‘It’s going to make a terrific difference. Good work.’

‘I can’t accept all these congratulations for myself,’ said Chrystal, curt but delighted. ‘There’s one man who’s been more responsible than I have. That’s Brown. He nursed young Timberlake. He looked after Sir Horace. It’s Brown you ought to thank. Without him, we shouldn’t have come within shouting distance.’

‘I’m afraid that I’m compelled to disagree,’ said Brown, settling himself comfortably to enjoy passing a good round compliment to Chrystal. ‘The sense of the college is absolutely right in thinking that we owe this magnificent endowment to the Dean, as no one is in a better position to appreciate than I am. If other fellows had been able to witness the time and trouble, the boundless time and trouble, that the Dean has bestowed upon securing this benefaction, I can assure the college that its sense of indebtedness to him would be even more overwhelming than it is. For his untiring devotion and unparalleled skill, I believe we ought to rank the Dean himself among the great benefactors of this society.’

‘I associate myself wholeheartedly with those remarks,’ said Crawford. Francis Getliffe and others said hear, hear.

‘I feel we also owe the deepest gratitude to our other colleague Brown,’ said Jago. I joined in the applause, even Nightingale said an amiable word. Roy Calvert grinned.

‘The old boy has unbelted to some purpose,’ he said. ‘I wonder how many free meals he could have taken off us before we gave him up.’

‘You’re not in a position to complain,’ said Chrystal severely, provoked because Roy did not seem weighed down by his obligation.

‘Certainly not.’ Roy was still grinning. ‘But it would have been beautiful if the old boy’s patience hadn’t given out.’

‘It will make your subject, young man,’ Crawford reproved him.

‘Just so. We’ll polish it off,’ said Roy.

Winslow had not yet spoken. Words went to and fro across the table, expressing gratification, mild misgivings, disapproval from some that Roy Calvert had been singled out, triumphant emphasis from Brown, Jago, and myself. In all of these exchanges Winslow took no part, but went on sitting with his head bent down – until at last, when the table happened to fall silent, he looked up from under his lids.

‘I confess that I am not particularly confident of disentangling the sense of this remarkable letter,’ he said. ‘The style of our worthy friend is not apparently designed to reveal his meaning. But correct me if I am wrong – I gather some members of the college have been discussing this benefaction with Sir Horace?’

‘In the vaguest terms you can possibly imagine,’ said Brown, prompt and emollient. ‘Put it another way: Sir Horace asked me among others one or two questions, and it wouldn’t have been ordinary decent manners not to reply. I imagine the Dean was placed in the same rather embarrassing position.’

‘It must have been most embarrassing,’ said Winslow. ‘I take it, my dear Tutor, you were forced most unwillingly to discuss the finances of the college?’

Roy Calvert was scribbling on a piece of paper. He passed it to me along the table: it read ‘
Winslow will never recover from this
.’

‘Naturally we shouldn’t consider ourselves competent,’ said Brown. ‘No one’s got a greater respect for the Dean’s financial acumen than I have – but, if either of us had had the remotest idea that Sir Horace was going to make a definite proposition without giving us time to look round our first thought would have been to go straight to the Bursar.’

‘That doesn’t need saying,’ Chrystal joined in.

‘I recall very vividly,’ said Brown, ‘one evening when the Dean asked me what I thought was the point of Sir Horace’s questions. “I suppose it can’t mean money,” he said. “If I had the slightest hope it might” – I think I’m remembering him properly – “our first step would be to bring the Bursar in”.’

‘I’m very much affected by that reminiscence,’ said Winslow, ‘I’m also very much affected by the thought of the Dean expending “countless time and trouble” without dreaming for a moment that there would be any question of money.’

‘I’m sure I’m speaking for the Dean as well as myself,’ said Brown, ‘when I say that nothing would distress us more than that the Bursar should feel in the slightest degree left out. It’s only the peculiar circumstances–’

‘I’ve never had much opinion of myself as Bursar,’ said Winslow. ‘It’s interesting to find others taking the same view. It looks at any rate as though my judgement remains unimpaired. Which will be a slight consolation to me in my retirement.’

Despard-Smith said: ‘I hope you’re not suggesting–’

‘I’m not suggesting, I’m resigning,’ said Winslow. ‘I’m obviously useless when the college goes in for money seriously. It’s time the college had someone who can cope with these problems. I should have a great deal more faith in the Dean or Mr Brown as Bursar than they can reasonably have in me.’

‘I couldn’t consider it,’ said Chrystal, and Brown murmured in support.

‘This is disastrous,’ said Despard-Smith.

There were the usual exclamations of regret, incredulity, desire that Winslow should think again, that followed any resignation in the college. They were a shade more hurried than usual, they were more obviously mingled with relief. Despard-Smith remembered that no resignation could be offered or accepted while the college was without a Master. ‘In that case,’ said Winslow, ‘the new Master will have a pleasant duty for his first.’ His grim sarcasm was more repelling than ever now, and there was no warmth in the attempts to persuade him back. No one dared to be sorry for him. Then suddenly Jago burst out: ‘This is a wretched exchange.’

‘I don’t follow you,’ said Crawford.

‘I mean,’ Jago cried, ‘that we’re exchanging a fine Bursar for a rich man’s charity. And I don’t like it.’

‘It’s not our fault,’ said Chrystal sharply.

‘That doesn’t make it any more palatable.’ Jago turned to his old enemy and his eyes were blazing. ‘Winslow, I want you to believe that we’re more distressed than we can say. If this choice had lain with us, you mustn’t be in any doubt what we should have chosen. Sir Horace would have had to find another use for his money. We can’t forget what you’ve done for us. In one office or another, you’ve guided this college all your life. And in your ten years as Bursar the college has never been so rich.’

Winslow’s caustic smile had left him, and he looked abashed and downcast.

‘That’s no thanks to me,’ he said.

‘Won’t you reconsider it?’ cried Jago.

Winslow shook his head.

The meeting broke up soon after, and Roy Calvert and I went for a stroll in the garden. A thick mist was gathering in the early evening, and the trees stood out as though in a Japanese print. We talked over the afternoon. Roy had enough trace of malice to feel triumphant; he imitated the look on some of their faces, as they heard of the bequest to him. ‘Sir Timberlake’s a bit of a humorist,’ he said. ‘Oh dear, I shall have to become respectable and stuffed. They’ve got me at last.’

We walked into the ‘wilderness’, and I mentioned Winslow. Roy frowned. We were both uncomfortable; we shared a perverse affection for him, we had not liked to watch his fall, we had admired Jago’s piece of bravura at the end. But we were uneasy. Somehow we felt that he had been reckless and indiscreet; we wished he would be quiet until the election. Roy showed an unusual irritation. ‘He will overdo things,’ he said. ‘He never will learn sense. All this enthusiasm about Winslow’s work as Bursar. Absurd. Winslow’s been dim as a Bursar. Chrystal would be much better. I should be an extremely good Bursar myself. They’d never let me be. They wouldn’t think I was sound.’

It seemed odd, but all he said was true.

Then we saw Winslow himself walking through the mist, his long heavy-footed stride noiseless on the sodden grass.

‘Hullo, Winslow,’ said Roy. ‘We were talking about you.’

‘Were you?’ said Winslow. ‘Is there much to say?’

‘Quite a lot,’ said Roy.

‘What shall you do, now you’ve got some leisure?’ I asked.

‘Nothing. I can’t start anything new.’

‘There’s plenty of time,’ I said.

‘I’ve never lacked for time,’ he said. ‘Somehow, I’ve never had the gift of bringing things off. I don’t know why. I used to think I wasn’t a fool. Sometimes, by the side of our colleagues, I thought I was a remarkably intelligent man. But everything I’ve touched has come to nothing.’

Roy and I looked at each other, and knew it was worse to speak than to stay silent. It would not have consoled him if we spoke. It was better to watch him, stoically facing the truth.

Together the three of us walked in silence through the foggy twilight. Bushes and trees loomed at us, as we took another turn at the bottom of the garden. We had covered the whole length twice before Roy spoke again, to ask a question about Dick Winslow. He had just got engaged, said Winslow. ‘We scarcely know the girl,’ he added. ‘I only hope it’s all right.’

His tone was warm and unguarded. His son had been the bitterest of his disappointments, but his love glowed on. And that afternoon the thought of the marriage refreshed him and gave him pleasure.

While we were walking round the garden, Roy Calvert asked Winslow to go with him to the pictures. Winslow was puzzled by the invitation, grumbled that he had not been for years, and yet was touched. In the end, they went off together and I was left in search of Brown.

I wanted to talk to him alone, for I still thought it might be worth while for me to go round to Gay’s. But, when I arrived, Chrystal was just sitting down. He was smoking a pipe, and his expression was not as elated as it had been that morning. Even when Brown produced a bottle of madeira – ‘it needs something rather out of the ordinary to drink Sir Horace’s health’ – Chrystal responded with a smile that was a little twisted, a little wan. He was dispirited because his triumph, like all triumphs, had not been as intoxicating as he had imagined it.

He emptied his glass absently, and smoked away. He interrupted a conversation with a sharp question: ‘What was your impression of this afternoon?’

‘My impression was,’ said Brown, who sensed that his friend needed heartening, ‘that everyone realizes you’ve done the best day’s work for the college that anyone has ever done.’

‘Not they. They just take it for granted,’ said Chrystal.

‘Everyone was full of it,’ said Brown.

‘I believe they think we’ve treated Winslow badly. That’s the thought they’ve gone away with.’ Chrystal added, with hurt and angry force: ‘Jago is
amusing
.’

‘He wanted to soften the blow,’ said Brown.

‘There may have been a bit of policy in it,’ I suggested. ‘He may have wanted to make a gesture. He’s bound to be thinking of the election.’

‘Certainly. I was glad to see him showing some political sense at last,’ said Brown. He had followed my lead with his unceasing vigilance: he knew it was untrue, as well as I did: we were trying to take Chrystal’s attention away.

‘I don’t believe it, Eliot,’ retorted Chrystal.

‘He’s not a simple character,’ I went on.

‘I give you that,’ Chrystal said. ‘By God, I give you that. And there’s something I wouldn’t confess outside this room.’ He paused and looked at us. ‘There are times,’ he said slowly, ‘when I see the other side’s case against Jago. He’s too much up and down. He’s all over you one minute. Then he discovers some reason for getting under one’s skin as he did this afternoon. I say, I wouldn’t confess it outside this room, but there are times when I have my doubts. Don’t you? Either of you?’

‘No,’ said Brown with absolute firmness.

‘Some of what you say is true,’ I said. ‘But I thought it over when I decided on Jago. I didn’t believe it mattered enough to count against him. I still don’t.’

‘Not more than you did?’

‘No, less,’ I said.

‘I hope you’re right,’ said Chrystal.

Then Chrystal said, with a pretence of offhandedness: ‘Anyway, it doesn’t look as though we’re going to get him in.’

‘I don’t quite follow you,’ said Brown, but his eyes were piercing.

‘Has Pilbrow cabled back to you yet?’

‘Not yet.’

‘There you are. I shall expect him when I see him. Sometime next year.’

‘I’ve never known you rush to conclusions so fast,’ Brown said, ‘as you have done over this election.’ A deep frown had settled on his face.

‘I knew we shouldn’t get over it,’ said Chrystal, ‘the day I heard about Royce’s cancer. People still don’t know what we’ve lost.’

‘I can’t regard that as a reason,’ Brown said, ‘for not settling down to play our hand.’

Chrystal said: ‘You haven’t denied the facts. You can’t deny them.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, you’ve had no reply from Pilbrow. It’s a bad sign. And the votes are 6–6.’

‘There’s nothing at all sensible to be done.’

‘Nothing at all,’ I added.

‘Is that absolutely true?’ Chrystal was talking to Brown in a tone of great reason and friendliness. ‘Look, I’ll put up a case for you to knock down. We threatened those two prima donnas that if they didn’t play we’d settle on a third candidate. The other side were only too anxious to come in. Men like old Despard and Getliffe didn’t like this lamentable position any more than we did. And I don’t believe Crawford did. I’ve got some respect for their judgement. Did you notice that they were very forthcoming this afternoon? More than some of their own side. Well, I should like to know their line of thought tonight. What do they expect? They know it’s 6–6 as well as we do. Do you think they’ve heard about Pilbrow?’