Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell (83 page)

Several houses in the neighbourhood of Great Hitherden had recently been improved and elegant new cottages built for ladies and gentlemen with rustic inclinations and so - partly because it was impossible for Henry to keep any thing connected to his parish to himself - and partly because he was intending to be married soon and so his mind rather ran upon domestic improvements - he was quite unable to refrain from giving Strange advice upon the matter. He was particularly distressed by the position of the stable yard which, as he told Strange, "One is obliged to walk through to get to the southerly part of the pleasure-grounds and the orchard. You could very easily pull it down and build it again somewhere else."

Strange did not exactly reply to this, but instead suddenly addressed his wife. "My love, I hope you like this house? I am very much afraid that I never thought to ask you before. Say if you do not and we shall instantly remove elsewhere!"

Arabella laughed and said that she was quite satisfied with the house. "And I am sorry, Henry, but I am just as satisfied with the stable-yard as with everything else."

Henry tried again. "Well, surely, you will agree that a great improvement could be made simply by cutting down those trees that crowd about the house so much and darken every room? They grow just as they please - just where the acorn or seed fell, I suppose."

"What?" asked Strange, whose eyes had wandered back to his book during the latter part of the conversation.

"The trees," said Henry.

"Which trees?"

"Those," said Henry, pointing out of the window to a whole host of ancient and magnificent oaks, ashes and beech trees.

"As far as neighbours go, those trees are quite exemplary. They mind their own affairs and have never troubled me. I rather think that I will return the compliment."

"But they are blocking the light."

"So are you, Henry, but I have not yet taken an axe to you."

The truth was that, though Henry saw much to criticize in the grounds and position of Ashfair, this was not his real complaint. What really disturbed him about the house was the all-pervading air of magic. When Strange had first taken up the profession of magic, Henry had not thought any thing of it. At that time news of Mr Norrell's wonderful achievements was only just beginning to spread throughout the kingdom. Magic had seemed little more than an esoteric branch of history, an amusement for rich, idle gentlemen; and Henry still somehow contrived to regard it in that light. He prided himself upon Strange's wealth, his estate, his important pedigree, but not upon his magic. He was always a little surprized whenever any one congratulated him on his close connexion with the Second Greatest Magician of the Age.

Strange was a long way from Henry's ideal of a rich English gentleman. He had pretty well abandoned those pursuits with which gentlemen in the English countryside customarily occupy their time. He took no interest in farming or hunting. His neighbours went shooting - Henry heard their shots echoing in the snowy woods and fields and the barking of their dogs - but Strange never picked up a gun. It took all Arabella's persuasion to make him go outside and walk about for half an hour. In the library the books that had belonged to Strange's father and grandfather - those works in English, Greek and Latin which every gentleman has upon his shelves - had all been removed and piled up upon the floor to make room for Strange's own books and notebooks.
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Periodicals concerned with the practice of magic, such as
The Friends of English Magic
and
The Modern Magician
, were everywhere scattered about the house. Upon one of the tables in the library there stood a great silver dish, which was sometimes full of water. Strange would often sit for half an hour peering into the water, tapping the surface and making odd gestures and writing down notes of what he saw there. On another table amid a jumble of books there lay a map of England upon which Strange was marking the old fairy roads which once led out of England to who- knows-where.

There were other things too which Henry only half-understood but which he disliked even more. He knew for instance that Ashfair's rooms often had an odd look, but he did not see that this was because the mirrors in Strange's house were as likely as not to be reflecting the light of half an hour ago, or a hundred years ago. And in the morning, when he awoke, and at night, just before he fell asleep, he heard the sound of a distant bell - a sad sound, like the bell of a drowned city heard across a waste of ocean. He never really thought of the bell, or indeed remembered any thing about it, but its melancholy influence stayed with him through the day.

He found relief for all his various disappointments and dis- satisfactions in drawing numerous comparisons between the way things were done in Great Hitherden and the way they were done in Shropshire (much to the detriment of Shropshire), and in wondering aloud that Strange should study so hard - "quite as if he had no estate of his own and all his fortune was still to make." These remarks were generally addressed to Arabella, but Strange was often in earshot and pretty soon Arabella found herself in the unenviable position of trying to keep the peace between the two of them.

"When I want Henry's advice," said Strange, "I shall ask for it. What business is it of his, I should like to know, where I chuse to build my stables? Or how I spend my time?"

"It is very aggravating, my love," agreed Arabella, "and no one should wonder if it put you out of temper, but only consider . . ."

"My temper! It is he who keeps quarrelling with me!"

"Hush! Hush! He will hear you. You have been very sorely tried and any one would say that you have borne it like an angel. But, you know, I think he means to be kind. It is just that he does not express himself very well, and for all his faults we shall miss him greatly when he is gone."

Upon this last point Strange did not perhaps look as convinced as she could have wished. So she added, "Be kind to Henry? For my sake?"

"Of course! Of course! I am patience itself. You know that! There used to be a proverb - quite defunct now - something about priests sowing wheat and magicians sowing rye, all in the same field. The meaning is that priests and magicians will never agree.
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I never found it so until now. I believe I was on friendly terms with the London clergy. The Dean of Westminster Abbey and the Prince Regent's chaplain are excellent fellows. But Henry irks me."

On Christmas-day the snow fell thick and fast. Whether from the vexations of recent days or from some other cause, Arabella awoke in the morning quite sick and wretched with a headach, and unable to rise from her bed. Strange and Henry were obliged to keep each other company the whole day. Henry talked a great deal about Great Hitherden and in the evening they played ecarte. This was a game they were both rather fond of. It might perhaps have produced a more natural state of enjoyment, but halfway through the second game Strange turned over the nine of spades and was immediately struck by several new ideas concerning the magical significance of this card. He abandoned the game, aban- doned Henry and took the card with him to the library to study it. Henry was left to his own devices.

Sometime in the early hours of the following morning he woke - or half-woke. There was a faint silvery radiance in the room which might easily have been a reflection of the moonlight on the snow outside. He thought he saw Arabella, dressed and seated on the foot of the bed with her back towards him. She was brushing her hair. He said something to her - or at least thought he said something.

Then he went back to sleep.

At about seven o'clock he woke properly, anxious to get to the library and work for an hour or two before Henry appeared. He rose quickly, went to his dressing-room and rang for Jeremy Johns to come and shave him.

At eight o'clock Arabella's maid, Janet Hughes, knocked on the bed-chamber door. There was no reply and Janet, thinking her mistress might still have the headach, went away again.

At ten o'clock Strange and Henry breakfasted together. Henry had decided to spend the day shooting and was at some pains to persuade Strange to go with him.

"No, no. I have work to do, but that need not prevent your going. After all youknowthese fieldsandwoods as well as I. I can lend you a gun and dogs can be found from somewhere, I am sure."

Jeremy Johns appeared and said that Mr Hyde had returned. He was in the hall and had asked to speak to Strange on a matter of urgency.

"Oh, what does the fellow want this time?" muttered Strange.

Mr Hyde entered hurriedly, his face grey with anxiety.

Suddenly Henry exclaimed, "What in the world does that fellow think he is doing? He is neither in the room nor out of it!" One of Henry's several sources of vexation at Ashfair was the servants who rarely behaved with that degree of ceremony that Henry considered proper for members of such an important household. On this occasion Jeremy Johns had begun to leave the room but had only got as far as the doorway, where, half- hidden by the door, he and another servant were conducting a conversation in urgent whispers.

Strange glanced at the doorway, sighed and said, "Henry, it really does not matter. Mr Hyde, I . . ."

Meanwhile Mr Hyde, whose agitation appeared to have been increased by this delay, burst out, "An hour ago I saw Mrs Strange again upon the Welsh hills!"

Henry gave a start and looked at Strange.

Strange gave Mr Hyde a very cool look and said, "It is nothing, Henry. Really it is nothing."

Mr Hyde flinched a little at this, but there was a sort of stubbornness in him that helped him bear it. "It was upon Castle Idris and just as before, Mrs Strange was walking away from me and I did not see her face. I tried to follow her and catch up with her, but, just as before, I lost sight of her. I know that the last time it was accounted no more than a delusion - a phantom made by my own brain out of the snow and wind - but today is clear and calm and I know that I saw Mrs Strange - as clearly, sir, as I now see you."

"The last time?" said Henry in confusion.

Strange, somewhat impatiently, began to thank Mr Hyde for his great good nature in bringing them this . . . (He was not quite able to find the word he wanted.) "But as I know Mrs Strange to be safe within my own house, I dare say you will not be surprized, if I . . ."

Jeremy came back into the room rather suddenly. He went immediately to Strange and bent and whispered in his ear.

"Well, speak, man! Tell us what is the matter!" said Henry.

Jeremy looked rather doubtfully at Strange, but Strange said nothing. He covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes went this way and that, as if he were suddenly taken up with some new, and not very pleasant, idea.

Jeremy said, "Mrs Strange is no longer in the house, sir. We do not know where she is."

Henry was questioning Mr Hyde about what he had seen on the hills and barely giving him time to answer one question before asking another. Jeremy Johns was frowning at them both. Strange, meanwhile, sat silently, staring in front of him. Suddenly he stood up and went rapidly out of the room.

"Mr Strange!" called Mr Hyde. "Where are you going?"

"Strange!" cried Henry.

As nothing could be done or decided without him, they had no choice but to follow him. Strange mounted the stairs to his library on the first floor and went immediately to the great silver dish that stood upon one of the tables.

"Bring water," he said to Jeremy Johns.

Jeremy Johns fetched a jug of water and filled the dish.

Strange spoke a single word and the room seemed to grow twilit and shadowy. In the same moment the water in the dish darkened and became slightly opaque.

The lessening of the light terrified Henry.

"Strange!" he cried. "What are we doing here? The light is failing! My sister is outside. We ought not to remain in the house a moment longer!" He turned to Jeremy Johns as the only person present likely to have any influence with Strange. "Tell him to stop! We must start to search!"

"Be quiet, Henry," said Strange.

He drew his finger over the surface of the water twice. Two glittering lines of light appeared, quartering the water. He made a gesture above one of the quarters. Stars appeared in it and more lines, veinings and webs of light. He stared at this for some moments. Then he made a gesture above the next quarter. A different pattern of light appeared. He repeated the process for the third and fourth quarters. The patterns did not remain the same. They shifted and sparkled, sometimes appearing like writing, at other times like the lines of a map and at other times like constellations of stars.

"What is all this meant to do?" asked Mr Hyde, in a wondering tone.

"Find her," said Strange. "At least, that is what it is supposed to do."

He tapped one of the quarters. Instantly the other three patterns disappeared. The remaining pattern grew until it filled the surface of the water. Strange divided it into quarters, studied it for a while and then tapped one of the quarters. He repeated this process several times. The patterns grew denser and began more and more to resemble a map. But the further Strange got, the more doubting his expression grew and the less sure he seemed of what the dish was shewing him.

After several minutes Henry could bear it no longer. "For God's sake, this is no time for magic! Arabella is lost! Strange, I beg you! Leave this nonsense and let us look for her!"

Strange said nothing in reply but he looked angry and struck the water. Instantly the lines and stars disappeared. He took a deep breath and began again. This time he proceeded in a more confident manner and quickly reached a pattern he seemed to consider relevant. But far from drawing any useful information from it, he sat instead regarding it with a mixture of dismay and perplexity.

"What is it?" asked Mr Hyde in alarm. "Mr Strange, do you see your wife?"

"I can make no sense of what the spell is telling me! It says she is not in England. Not in Wales. Not in Scotland. Not in France. I cannot get the magic right. You are right, Henry. I am wasting time here. Jeremy, fetch my boots and coat!"