The Sea, The Sea - Iris Murdoch [158]
I decided on reflection that it did not too much matter what time Ben got back, as he would probably make no move tonight. He would wait, at first expecting Hartley and Titus to turn up, and then grinding his teeth. I imagined him even finding a dark satisfaction in his own mounting rage. Not a nice man.
I finished the sherry and went inside. The murmur of voices in the little red room continued. I thought then that really the longer they talked the better. Every minute that passed could bind them closer to each other, and also would use up more of the dangerous time. When they got hungry they might come out. But more likely they were too agitated to feel hunger.
In spite of my fears I was not. I sat for a while eating biscuits and olives, then I scraped the remains of the kedgeree onto a plate and took it outside again, together with a glass of white wine, and resumed my sea view. I felt very odd, excited, nervous, a bit drunk, but clear in the head.
Almost at once however I heard Titus shouting. He evidently could not bring himself to shout either ‘Charles!’ or ‘Mr Arrowby! ’ but called out several times, ‘Hello there!’ followed by various urgent owl hoots.
I considered ignoring these cries, but decided I had better not, even though it was far too early to expect Ben. I returned precariously to the lawn with my plate and glass.
Titus and Hartley were standing outside by the door, she wearing that distraught frightened look which I now knew so well.
Titus said, ‘Look, Mary thinks she’d better go. I’ve told her there’s lots of time but she wants to go now, OK?’
Hartley said, ‘Could I have the car at once, please?’ She spoke in a hard almost angry tone.
Titus said, ‘I looked out the front, I couldn’t see it. She’s getting very bothered.’
‘Nothing to bother about,’ I said. I went into the kitchen and they followed me. ‘Won’t you have some supper?’
‘I must go,’ said Hartley. Her moment, whatever it had been, with Titus, was now over, and the cruel husband-dominated time whose slave she was had driven even Titus out of her head. The old panic was back. How I detested that fierce almost relentless look of fear upon her face. It made her ugly. While in the wood, when she kissed my hand, she had looked beautiful.
Titus said, ‘Come on, where’s the car, she’s got to go home.’
Titus had evidently forgotten that his task was to keep Hartley at Shruff End. Or more likely, he had been infected by her fear. I had been too tactful in my explanations to Titus, too vague. I had not told him everything that I had in mind, partly because I did not know how he would react. I had told him that my idea was that Hartley would want to stay, and that he should add his persuasions. But I now saw that I ought to have been more explicit.
‘There’s no need to go,’ I said.
‘I’ve stayed much longer than I meant to already,’ said Hartley. ‘He said he’d be back about half past nine, but he could be sooner. So please I must go now, this very minute.’
‘There’s no need to. I’ve sent Opian round with a note saying you’re here with Titus, so he won’t worry, he’ll come here. Then Gilbert can run you all back.’
Titus whistled. He saw at once the enormity of what I had done.
Hartley was a moment taking it in. ‘You mean—you mean you’ve told him, deliberately told him—oh, you wicked—oh, you fool—you don’t know—you don’t know—’ Tears of rage and despair sprang into her eyes and her face blazed at me. I stepped back.
I said, pursuing the role that I had adopted, but also speaking sincerely, ‘Hartley, you mustn’t be so frightened of him! I’m absolutely fed up with your attitude to that bloody man. Why should you feel you have to lie to him all the time? Why the hell shouldn’t you be here with Titus, it’s perfectly natural and proper!’
Titus looked at Hartley with interested concern and at me quizzically. ‘And did you invite him here? Jesus!’ He added, ‘Of course he won’t have seen the letter