Authors: Iris Murdoch

Jackson's Dilemma (29 page)

BOOK: Jackson's Dilemma

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When she had gone and he was alone with his pain, he thought suddenly, she will not come, she will be killed, she will be run over, I shall never see her again. However
this,
though it was somewhere and hurtful, was not the great pain which overcame him as he left the closed door and knelt down, and then prostrated himself on the floor. Why had he sent her away? Moreover, how had she ever come? But oh the pain, he was overtaken, constituted, it was this which made him into some other thing, some broken form of being. And yet he also knew that he could not even die, he had
thus
to live. I am ill, he thought as he lay on the floor, I am a different thing, I should lie quiet, but I cannot, will this last forever? Will there ever be
reason
again? The word ‘reason’ seemed to glow above him like a red-hot poker, so close it was to searing him. He could not later remember how long he lay there with his face upon the floor, or if his face were simply being burnt away by the pain of the heat or was it the heat of the pain.

He sat up at last, still sitting on the floor, and drawing his hands rapidly again and again over his face. He thought, and this perhaps was ‘reason’ at last, I cannot marry this girl! Tilting himself over he began to crawl, then to kneel, at last holding onto the edge of a chair, he stood up, then sat down upon the sofa. He spent some time simply breathing deeply. He found himself wishing that he might eat or drink, but it was impossible. Should he go to bed? Impossible. What time was it? Did that matter? His watch had come off somewhere. Was it not rather dark? He managed to stand up and stagger to the wall and put a light on. He walked back to the sofa and sat down again. He was aware of his more quiet breathing, some presence of reason, or was it reason itself. He wondered if he could eat and drink. He went out into the kitchen and sat down. An open bottle of wine and a wine-glass stood before him. Why was that there? Oh of course. He drank a little wine, then a lot of water. He returned to the other room where he found his watch which was lying on the sofa. It was eleven o’clock. What time had it been when he had sent her away? Had she felt the beginning of his horror, and run away in fear? No, he concluded, he had been rational and loving when he sent her, and she had understood - but could she
really
understand? That could not be, she had gone away quietly just to please him.

He got up and went to his bedroom and looked at his bed. Had they been there, in that chaos? If only he could put his mind in order. He went back to the kitchen and sat down and drank some more wine, he could not eat. He thought, what does all that struggling and confusion amount to? It amounts to this. I cannot marry a woman who is not Jewish. My father did, but I cannot. Why is that? I know why but I cannot think or tell it at this time. Indeed I cannot marry any woman. My father’s sufferings, my grandfather, my grandmother, the whole of that indelible sorrow, all that is
forever,
I must carry, not sharing it with any other being. Oh my God, my God -

The door bell rang. Tuan thought it is Rosalind, how
terrible.
He moved out into the sitting room and stood there trembling. The bell rang again. He thought, it is her, I must
not
go to the door. The bell rang a third time. He went to the door and opened it. Jackson came in.

NINE

Dearest Benet, do forgive me! You will, won’t you? You
must
! I never really wanted to marry Edward, he was very reticent and awkward with me, sometimes it was as if he were just doing it to please you! I did care for Edward, but rather as a sister, no not really as a sister, I was sort of sorry for him, or perhaps it was really all because of Hatting! Anyway, I did not feel properly in place in the English country scene! It was all, what was happening to me, becoming increasingly unreal! I am so sorry, I keep on saying that, I prostrate myself (that’s a saying of Cantor’s!), I mean I am truly very sorry for the confusion which I brought about, not that it was very long, thank heavens! In the end it was Jackson who really helped us out (I don’t know how much you know), I ran away from Edward in that
awful
way because I had become so sure that I did
not
want to marry him and I
did
want to marry Cantor, I was with Cantor in Australia, you know, all the reality was
with him,
and Edward was just make-believe, and then Cantor
turned up
before the wedding and he was so noble, he carried that message (you know) and carried it in his mouth like a dog and pushed it through the door at Penn at night, it was a real romantic rescue! Then there was a bit of confusion when I felt sort of guilty and I wanted to think and Cantor and I were apart, and I wanted to discuss things with Ros and Tuan and then Jackson came and he brought me to Cantor, and Cantor and I fell into each other’s arms, and it was suddenly
heaven
! Jackson was
wonderful,
Cantor now calls him his brother! We are going to be married very very soon, with a lovely wedding, we have bought a lovely house in Sydney, and we are often out on his brother’s huge sheep farm, and we are to have a cottage out in the Bush! We go riding ever so often. His brother and wife are
angels
— the brother runs a very large business, not just farming, and Cantor helps (and I may be a secretary!). They are half Norwegian you know (well why should you know!) and Cantor is going to buy us a house in Norway too, and that will be easier for you to come and see us, and of course we’ll visit England too. I have written to Ros, but got no reply, no doubt because I hadn’t sent her my address! But I have sent her one now and you too can see the address above. By the way, Mamma is
thrilled
and may be coming over! Oh dearest Benet, you have been so
kind
to me during years -
forgive me
my trespasses! - Much much love from your devoted Marian.

Benet, now in the drawing room at Penndean, read Marian’s letter through twice. It made him utterly miserable. This misery was, he was aware, totally selfish. He believed, did he not, that Marian would probably be happy, perhaps very happy, with her Norwegian-Australian. ‘Visit England’ — was that likely? There would be the house in Norway. Perhaps
he
might come on business! Surely Benet was glad for Marian, whom he had for so long treated as a much-loved daughter. Now he had meddled in her life, and she had shaken herself free. Well, she had always loved horses when she was a girl! But what also now disturbed him, paining him so, was Jackson. Perhaps he might have consoled himself by reflecting that Jackson had no right to interfere with the problems of others and might even, in doing so, make all sorts of serious mistakes. Jackson, a servant, should not, leaving his post, have run away to sort out chaotic love affairs, and in doing so dabble in impertinent deceptions! So, Rosalind and Marian, and even the upright Tuan, had deceived him! Why had not Jackson come straight to him, Benet, when he had discovered Marian with Tuan? Were they all laughing about it, making a fool of everyone, making a fool of Benet? No wonder Jackson dared not now show his face. He would vanish — perhaps leave England, become a butler to Cantor, or else simply disappear in London, careful not at any point to touch the circle of Benet and his friends! Herein Benet was conscious of a particular painful ‘loss of face’ —
they
knew that we would never speak of Jackson now! Owen had already made a fool of him. But perhaps Owen was right, perhaps Jackson had killed himself out of pique, or of grief. This was conceivable, but surely not likely. He hates me now, Benet thought. Why, oh why, had I written that horrible letter! Everyone would now regard me with embarrassment, with politeness, with pity. They used to say, ‘Where is Jackson?’ Now they would avoid the subject, perhaps, avoid Benet. But even all this was not that which hurt him the most deeply. He felt as if he had ruthlessly shot down a beautiful incomparable bird, fatally wounded a gentle affectionate animal - no, not quite that. He had just wantonly missed a chance, and simply, carelessly, lost the affections of a most valuable friend.

It was morning. The sun was shining. He left the drawing room and wandered to his study. His work on Heidegger lay there neglected, unfinished, the sheets covered with his handwriting, piled in confusion. He thought, as he put the sheets roughly together, this is a sort of nemesis. Looking randomly at what he had written, he thought: I am indeed rushing in where angels fear to tread! Sitting down he scanned half a page. No good, just no bloody good! He sighed and picked up the poems of Holderlin, which had always accompanied him upon his journey into Heidegger. ‘
Wo aber Gefahr ist, wächst das Rettende auch.
’ ‘But where danger is, rescue is ready too.’ He closed the book quickly which he had opened at random. Not for me, he thought. And he thought then of late words of Heidegger: ‘
Nur ein Gott kann uns retten
’
.
‘Only a God can save us’. Was
he
not then in despair? Benet got up and went into the library. Who can be my companions, he thought, in the years to come? He felt the presence of Uncle Tim, and in a vivid picture recalled that scene, Tim at the door at Tara, and visible over his shoulder, Jackson. It was the first time he had seen Jackson clearly by daylight. Uncle Tim
knew
at once. But
what
did he know, and what was it now that Benet was yearning for? He recalled the tears which he and Jackson had shed when Tim was dying. Now near to tears again, he wandered around the library, caressing the books.

The telephone rang. Benet cursed. Of course he did not dare to switch it off in case there were some good news or some kind of
miracle.
He lifted the receiver.

‘Oh Benet — hello!’

It was Edward.

‘How kind of you to ring up.’

‘I’ve got some news.’

‘What?’

‘I’m getting married!’

‘Oh — good heavens - who - ?’

‘You’ll be surprised!’

‘Oh — ?’

‘I am marrying Anna Dunarven!’

‘You — marrying Anna - oh Edward, how - how splendid - I —’

‘Yes, you are surprised, but it is really so, and we are to be married very soon, just as soon as possible, not anything grand, just quickly in a Register Office, and a party of course soon after at Hatting—’

‘Edward, I am so happy for you! And for Anna! What absolutely marvellous news — !’

‘Listen, we’re at Hatting now. I wonder if we could come over and see you?’

‘You mean—’

‘Now, immediately - is that possible? We’ll drive over, we won’t keep you long, we just want you to be the first to know—’

‘Yes, yes, dear Edward, come over at once, of course!’

Benet put down the receiver. He sat down shuddering in the nearest chair. He leaned forward holding his head in his hands. His head was full of sudden clattering chaos.
Edward
marrying
Anna
? How could that be? Surely Edward had not seen Anna for years, he had nothing to do with her, after all he was a child, was he not, when Anna left after Lewen died? No, not a child, but very young. Were there secret meetings in France, was he her lover there? Surely not. He took Marian instead, took her as a second best - perhaps Marian
found out
and that was what the last-minute message meant — but was she not already tied up with Cantor? Then Edward must have gone back to courting Anna - But when I talked to Anna when we met at the house she never mentioned Edward, nor did Edward ever mention her. Oh how
confusing
!

‘But how wonderful!’ said Benet.

They were sitting in the sunshine on the terrace, where the little plants which had so cheerfully pressed themselves up between the paving stones were now wilting in the perpetual sunshine. Edward and Anna were side by side on a old long teak seat, and Benet was sitting opposite to them, with his back to the sun, upon a wicker chair. In the distance Bran was capering between the Wellingtonias, perhaps hoping that his gaiety might be visible. Benet wondered - what does
he
think about it? Anna was wearing a green dress streaked with red and a big white straw hat. Edward had doffed his linen jacket and had laid it across his knees, and had opened the neck of his shirt. They were, it seemed, dazed in some sort of ecstasy, leaning their shoulders together, holding hands, frequently looking at each other and laughing. It was as if they could scarcely hear what Benet was saying! In fact, taken by surprise, Benet was finding it difficult to say anything suitable.

‘So,’ he said, ‘were you meeting in France?’

‘Oh sometimes,’ said Edward, who was doing more of the talking, ‘but in England too, and of course Anna was travelling—’

‘Oh — where were you going to?’

‘I used to go to Ireland.’

‘Oh of course - and you saw Edward—’

‘Oh in London,’ said Edward, ‘but also in other places - Anyway
now—
’

‘Now, of course you know—’

‘It has all worked out very well,’ said Edward. ‘Is it true Jackson has left you?’

BOOK: Jackson's Dilemma

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