The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro [91]
‘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