Glamorous Powers by Susan Howatch

Author:Susan Howatch [Howatch, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Published: 2011-09-15T03:30:02+00:00

III

I spent the night in one of the guest-rooms of the Fordite headquarters but the sober masculine atmosphere, which I had looked forward to sampling for a few hours, seemed so bleak in contrast to the glowing aura surrounding Starrington Magna that on the following morning I was relieved to depart. Francis, who perfectly understood that I could hardly wait to return to Miss Barton-Woods, remarked that at least he was spared the worry that I might be pining for the cloister.

‘And how was London?’ enquired Miss Barton-Woods when we met that evening; as usual she had been out all day at the estate-office. ‘Did you see much evidence of the bombing?’ I described my fleeting visit to Westminster Abbey, where the great west window had been destroyed, and told her how the nocturnal air-raids murdered sleep. ‘It’s not just the bombs,’ I said. ‘It’s the guns. My friend Father Ingram — who incidentally was looking just like one of Shakespeare’s wicked cardinals — said that one got used to the noise after a while, but I suspect he was merely putting a brave face on what must be a tedious as well as a nerve-racking ordeal.’ Exasperated by the tenacity of the RAF, Hitler had recently turned aside from his efforts to destroy the fighter bases in Kent and had unleashed his fury on the capital. But although hundreds of barges had been accumulated along the coasts across the Channel, although the tide had favoured the enemy, although the Home Guard had even been called to stand to arms, the long-awaited invasion had never come.

‘Thank goodness you’re safely back in Starrington!’ Miss Barton-Woods was saying. ‘But what happens next? Did Father Ingram approve of your plan to help out at the village church?’

‘Yes, he did — and that means, I’m afraid —’ I allowed myself the luxury of a deep sigh ‘— that I must leave the Manor. If I’m to work in Starrington in a pastoral capacity I must live in the village among my flock.’

‘Ah yes, of course,’ said Miss Barton-Woods without hesitation, but just as I was wondering in alarm if her alacrity indicated relief she stooped to pick up her tabby-cat and said: ‘But what a pity you have to leave! William will miss you so much when you’re gone.’ At once I said: ‘I hope I’ll still have the opportunity to see him regularly,’ and I reached out to stroke William behind the ears.

As our chaperon purred loudly between us Miss Barton-Woods murmured: ‘Call whenever you like.’ But then she added, steering the conversation back on course as if she feared the atmosphere were becoming too impregnated with confusing possibilities: ‘Are you sure you’ll be allowed to work here? Supposing the Bishop thinks you could be more useful somewhere else in the diocese?’ I realized startled that this was a valid point. In my arrogance I had been so confident of getting my own way when I sought the episcopal permission to work in

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