Tamar had recovered from her obsessive guilt about the lost child. Magic against magic, she had been cured, relieved of evil pain, as her wizard put it, left with good pain. She had also stopped worrying about whether Jean had told Duncan or Oinican had told Jean. What did remain with her was a courious shudder which occurred whenever she saw a teapot. It was a strange feature of their recent tribulations which would have impressed her, and the priest even more, if they had known it, that Tamar, like the others, like Rose, like Gerard, like Jean, as well as of course like Duncan, felt that she had been responsible for Jenkin's death. Each one of his friends could enact responsibility. Tamar, the last of them to see him Alive, a fact known only to her confessor, could not forget that when she arrived Jenkin had been about to leave the house. If die had not come he would not have received that mysterious wlephone call. But what impressed her more was the idea that she had unloaded some sort of fatal evil onto Jenkin. She recalled an awful satisfaction it had given her to 'tell all' to ean, and spatter her with her own misery, and hatred, and then to run to 'tell all' again to Jenkin. But she had not been estined to receive the hoped-for absolution. It was as if she ad spread out all that evil filth before him and as he took it up and took it upon himself, she had made him vulnerable to some force, perhaps wicked, perhaps simply retributive, hick had struck him instead of her. Her priest of course ound the idea interesting, but condemned it as superstitious; and her persisting grief for Jenkin gradually ceased to terrify y as she recalled the long day during which she had waited for him to come back. Tamar did not believe in God or a supernatural world and Father McAlister, who did not b in them either, had not troubled her with these fictions. What he had, in his fierce enthusiasm, wrestling for her soul, intended to give her, was an indelible impression of Christ as Saviour. Tamar was, in her privileged interim, prepared to wait and see what later on this radiant presence might do for her. She prayed, not exactly to, but in this reality, which turned evil suffering into good suffering, and might in tillit even enable her to reach her mother.
Patricia was taking pleasure in telling Rose about how Gideon had rescued Violet and Tamar.
`You mean Violet is here, and Tamar is going back it, Oxford?'
`Yes! Gideon and Father Angus together were irresistible!'
Rose, who had never heard her parish priest called 'Father Angus' before, could not help feeling at once that it was all a conspiracy against Gerard! But of course it was wonderful `It's wonderful!' she said. Her aching tooth, which had beco grumbling, suddenly set a sharp throbbing pain down into her lower jaw. Rose instinctively raised her hand, closing her fist two inches from her chin, as if to catch it. 'Pat, I think I must go, I've got a beastly toothache.'
`Can I give you an aspirin?'
Conrad Lomas was telling Tamar how awfully sorry he was that he had lost her at the dance, how he had searched and searched, now she owed him a dance, they must find one to go to, he would be in London till the fall.
Tamar, leaned over by the tall American, stepped back a little and cast an almost flirtatious glance in the direction of Father McAlister. They had not attempted to approach each other. The priest, looking grave, made a very faint movement of his head and eyes, as he had done to Gideon in Violet's flat, in the direction of her mother.
Francis Reckitt was now telling Rose that Neville, whom he had admired, had decided to go into Parliament. 'He's a radical, you see,' Francis, a little drunk, kept repeating.
Gideon was saying to Reeve, 'It's quite easy really, you get some dry white wine and mix it with bitters and not too little rum and some white port and pile in the peel of the tangerines.'
Violet, who had drunk quite a lot of the tangerine mixture, had decided it was time for her to go upstairs and rejoin the dark figure who waited for her up there, herself. She was alone for the moment leaning against a wall, looking about with an assumed air of amused contempt. Leonard Fairfax, who of course knew 'all about it', was feeling it was his duty to go and talk to her. He was forestalled however by Father McAlister. The priest, with a flurry of dark skirt, as if he had just noticed Violet, advanced. He took hold of her hand and held it, while uttering a flow of talk. Tamar watched this. The priest had, in all their encounters, never touched Tamar except at their first meeting and at the rite of baptism. This had impressed her. She watched his hand holding her mother's, wondering how long it would last. How handsome he looks today, she thought, perhaps he can put on handsomeness when he wants to! Gideon, looking over the shoulder of Rose, to whom he was now talking, also saw the hand-holding, and thought about animal magnetism. Gideon couldn't quite make Father McAlister out – a cynical fake, a charlatan, a mad saint or what? He's certainly a wizard, thought Gideon, I'll keep him around, he could be useful.
`Rose, don't go, I want to tell you my new idea, a Tamargesellschaft!'
`A what?'
`I met Joel Kowitz in New York, we were talking about Crimond's book, and I thought, well now that's over, why not let's have a regular whip-round for Tamar, to see her through Oxford, Joel said he'd contribute, she can't live on that grant, she must have money to travel, to sail to Byzantium -'
`Oh I'll join,' said Rose, 'she must – yes – sail -'
Gideon, happy, was at his prettiest in a strawberry pink shirt, his dark curly hair cut short, shining with bronze and golden lights, his girlish complexion glowing with health and youth, his finely manicured fingers moving appreciatively over his delicately flushed cheeks and exquisitely smooth chin. He looked as young as his tall athletic son.
There was a sudden commotion near the door, laughter and something like a cheer. Lily had arrived accompanied by Gulliver Ashe. Lily, dressed in blue silk trousers and a golden jacket, was explaining to Conrad, and now to Gideon who had pushed his way towards her that, yes, Gull was back and he'd got a job, he'd met a man. 'Oh Rose, Rose, dear, he's back, tie's back, it's all all right, I was such a misery about it, I'm so sorry, but everything is all right now!'
Rose kissed her and held her hot clutching hands, she kissed Gull. So Lily had got her man back after all.
`Rose, we're going to get married.'
`Oh, I'm so glad!'
`They're going to get married,' shouted Gideon.
Tears were in Lily's eyes. Tears flooded into Rose's eyes. Others pressed forward and she stepped back still sidling toward the door. Suddenly Reeve and Neville and Gillian were beside her. 'What's that about?' said Gillian.
`We haven't fixed about tomorrow,' said Reeve. 'We're off too actually, we'll take you.'
`They're going to get married,' said Rose, 'I always hoped they would.' Fumbling for her handkerchief she couldn't stop the tears. She said to Reeve, `Oh, it's so touching, I'm so happy for them!' She felt, thinking of their joy, such a great shaft of sorrow which came down on her as if she had been struck from above, she almost reeled, she dropped her handbag. She had found her handkerchief and put it to her mouth.
Reeve held on to her, Gillian picked up her bag, and Neville patted her shoulder. 'Here's a map,' said Reeve, 'I've written it all down. We'll meet you at the flat at twelve thirty, and then we can have lunch after. Gillian, put it into Rose's bag.'
It was at that moment that Gerard appeared. The triumphant rout surrounding Gull and Lily had moved further into the room, leaving Rose at the doorway surrounded by her family. For a second Gerard found himself confronted by the Curtland phalanx.
He had left his coat outside near the front door and was neat in a dark suit, but he looked to Rose's eye very strange, very tired, a little mad. His hair hung in limp ringlets, his mouth drooped sulkily, his face looked puffy and soft, his glittering blue eyes glared down almost fiercely upon the group before him. At the next second all was adjusted. Reeve removed his hand from Rose's arm, Neville his from her shoulder, Gillian handed her her handbag into which she had thrust the instructions for tomorrow. Gerard's face reorganised itself into its usual set of hard surfaces and expression of pensive irony, and then relapsed into his usual inane disconcerting grin. They all moved out into the hall.