The Sea, The Sea - Iris Murdoch [186]
Peregrine Arbelow was standing outside holding a suitcase.
‘Hello, Charles, what a funny place.’
‘Perry!’
‘I wish you’d call me “Peregrine”. How many times have I said that to you? A thousand?’
‘What on earth are you doing here?’
‘What on earth am I doing here, he says. You issued an invitation, I accepted it. It’s Whit weekend, remember? I have had a very long and tiring drive. I have been looking forward to open arms and cries of joy for the last hundred miles.’
I could now see Peregrine’s white Alfa Romeo parked where James’s Bentley had lately stood.
‘Peregrine, I’m terribly sorry, you can’t stay here, there aren’t any beds and—’
‘Look, may I just push my way in?’ He did so.
Peregrine’s loud voice had alerted the conspirators in the kitchen.
‘Peregrine!’
‘Gilbert! What a pleasant surprise. Charles, I can have Gilbert’s bed.’
‘You bloody won’t, I shall defend my sofa.’
‘Introduce your charming boy friend, Gilbert.’
‘This is Titus Fitch. Not my property alas.’
‘Hello, Titus. I am Peregrine Arbelow. Gilbert, get me a drink, will you, there’s a good fellow.’
‘OK, but there’s nothing but wine and sherry here, you know. Charles doesn’t drink spirits.’
‘Oh, fuck, I’d forgotten, I should have brought a bottle.’
‘Peregrine,’ I said, ‘you won’t be happy here. There’s nothing for you to drink and nowhere for you to sleep. I’m sorry I forgot the date and I don’t actually think I invited you at all. There’s an excellent hotel just down the road—’
At that moment the front doorbell ran again. Peregrine turned to open the door and over his shoulder I could see my cousin James.
‘Hello,’ said Peregrine, ‘welcome to Hospitality Hall, proprietor Charles Arrowby, there’s nothing to drink and nowhere to sleep but—’
‘Hello,’ said James. ‘I’m sorry to come back, Charles, but the Raven Hotel is full up, and I wondered—’
‘I imagine that’s the place where he wanted to park me,’ said Peregrine.
‘Let’s go into the kitchen,’ said Gilbert.
Gilbert went first, then Titus, then Perry, then James. I stood for a moment, then picked up the wine glass from the stairs and followed.
‘I am Peregrine Arbelow.’
‘I think I’ve heard of you,’ said James.
‘Oh goodie—’
‘This is my cousin, General Arrowby,’ I said.
‘You never said he was a general,’ said Gilbert.
‘I never knew you had a cousin,’ said Peregrine. ‘Hello, sir.’
I took James by the sleeve of his immaculate white coat and pulled him back into the hall. ‘Look, you can’t stay here, I suggest you—’
At that moment I saw James’s eyes widen, looking behind me, and I realized that Hartley was standing on the stairs.
At our sudden silence the other three emerged. We all stood there looking up at Hartley.
She was still wearing my black silk dressing gown with the red rosettes. It reached to her feet and with the collar turned up to frame her hair it had something of the effect of an evening dress. Her eyes, startled and large, had their violet tint; and although, with her disordered grey hair she looked old and mad, she seemed in that arrested moment like a queen.
I recovered in a second or two and made for the stairs. As she saw me move Hartley turned and fled. I saw the flash of a bare ankle, a bare foot. I caught her at the curve of the stairs and hurried her towards the upper landing.
We almost ran together along the landing and I pushed her in through the door of her room. She went at once and sat down on the mattress, like an obedient dog. I do not think that in the whole period of her incarceration I ever saw her sit upon the chair.
‘Hartley, darling, where were you going? Were you coming down to look for me? Or did you think that Ben had come? Or were you going to run away?’
She pulled the dressing gown closer about her and simply shook her head several times. She was breathless with agitation. Then she peered up at me with a sad timid sweet look which suddenly reminded me of my father.
‘Oh, Hartley,