Brideshead Revisited(61)

There was trouble about the marriage settlement with which Julia refused to interest herself. The lawyers were in despair. Rex absolutely refused to settle any capital. ‘What do I want with trustee stock?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know, darling.’

‘I make money work for me,’ he said. ‘I expect fifteen, twenty per cent and I get it. It’s pure waste tying up capital at three and a half’

‘I’m sure it is, darling.’

‘Those fellows talk as though I were trying to rob you. It’s they who are doing the robbing. They want to rob you of two thirds of the income I can make you.’

‘Does it matter, Rex? We’ve got heaps, haven’t we?’

Rex hoped to have the whole of Julia’s dowry in his hands, to make it work for him. The lawyers insisted on tying it up, but they could not get, as they asked, a like sum from him. Finally, grudgingly, he agreed to insure his life, after explaining at length to the lawyers that this was merely a device for putting part of his legitimate profits into other people’s pockets; but he had some connection with an insurance office which made the arrangement slightly less painful to him, by which he took for himself the agent’s commission which the lawyers were themselves expecting.

Last and least came the question of Rex’s religion. He had once attended a royal wedding in Madrid, and he wanted something of the kind for himself.

‘That’s one thing your Church can do,’ he said, ‘put on a good show. You never saw anything to equal the cardinals. How many do you have in England?’

‘Only one, darling.’

‘Only one? Can we hire some others from abroad?’

It was then explained to him that a mixed marriage was a very unostentatious affair.

‘How d’you mean “mixed”;’ I’m not a nigger or anything.’

‘No, darling, between a Catholic and a Protestant.’

‘Oh, that? Well, if that’s all, it’s soon unmixed. I’ll become a Catholic. What does one have to do?’

Lady Marchmain was dismayed and perplexed by this new development; it was no good her telling herself that in charity she must assume his good faith; it brought back memories of another courtship and another conversion.

‘Rex,’ she said. ‘I sometimes wonder if you realize how big a thing you are taking on in the Faith. It would be very wicked to take a step like this without believing sincerely.’

He was masterly in his treatment of her.

‘I don’t pretend to be a very devout man,’ he said, ‘nor much of a theologian, but I know it’s a bad plan to have two religions in one house. A man needs a religion. If your Church is good enough for Julia, it’s good enough for me.’

‘Very well,’ she said, ‘I will see about having you instructed.’

‘Look, Lady Marchmain, I have the time. Instruction will be wasted on me. Just you give me the form and I’ll sign on the dotted line.’

‘It usually takes some months — often a lifetime.’

‘Well, I’m a quick learner. Try me.’

So Rex was sent to Farm Street to Father Mowbray, a priest renowned for his triumphs with obdurate catechumens. After the third interview he came to tea with Lady Marchmain.

‘Well, how do you find my future son-in-law?’

‘He’s the most difficult convert I have ever met.’

‘Oh dear, I thought he was going to make it so easy.’

‘That’s exactly it. I can’t get anywhere near him. He doesn’t seem to have the least intellectual curiosity or natural piety.

‘The first day I wanted to find out what sort of religious life he had till now, so I asked him what he meant by prayer. He said: “I don’t mean anything. You tell me.” I tried to, in a few words, and he said: “Right. So much for prayer; What’s the next thing?” I gave him the catechism to take away. Yesterday I asked him whether Our Lord had more than one nature. He said: “Just as many as you say, Father.”

‘Then again I asked him: “Supposing the Pope looked up and saw a cloud and said ‘It’s going to rain’, would that be bound to happen?” “Oh, yes, Father.” “But supposing it didn’t?” He thought a moment and said, “I suppose it would be sort of raining spiritually, only we were too sinful to see it.”

‘Lady Marchmain, he doesn’t correspond to any degree of paganism known to the missionaries.’

‘Julia,’ said Lady Marchmain, when the priest had gone, ‘are you sure that Rex isn’t doing this thing purely with the idea of pleasing us?’

‘I don’t think it enters his head,’ said Julia.

‘He’s really sincere in his conversion?’

‘He’s absolutely determined to become a Catholic, mummy,’ and to herself she said: ‘In her long history the Church must have had some pretty queer converts. I don’t suppose all Clovis’s army were exactly Catholic-minded. One more won’t hurt.’

Next week the Jesuit came to tea again. It was the Easter holidays and Cordelia was there, too.

‘Lady Marchmain,’ he said. ‘You should have chosen one of the younger fathers for this task. I shall be dead long before Rex is a Catholic.’

‘Oh dear, I thought it was going so well.’