Остаток дня / The Remains of the Day - страница 48

There was a stunned silence and no one moved. Mr Lewis shrugged, raised his glass to all the company, drank and sat back down. Almost immediately, Lord Darlington stood up.

‘I have no wish,’ his lordship said, ‘to enter into a quarrel on this our last evening together which we all deserve to enjoy as a happy and triumphant occasion. But it is out of respect for your views, Mr Lewis, that I feel one should not simply cast them to one side as though they were uttered by some soap-box eccentric. Let me say this. What you describe as “amateurism,” sir, is what I think most of us here still prefer to call “honour”.’

This brought a loud murmur of assent with several ‘hear, hear’s’ and some applause.

‘What is more, sir,’ his lordship went on, ‘I believe I have a good idea of what you mean by “professionalism.” It appears to mean getting one’s way by cheating and manipulating. It appears to mean serving the dictates of greed and advantage rather than those of goodness and the desire to see justice prevail in the world. If that is the “professionalism” you refer to, sir, I don’t much care for it and have no wish to acquire it.’

This was met by the loudest burst of approval yet, followed by warm and sustained applause. I could see Mr Lewis smiling at his wine glass and shaking his head wearily. It was just around this stage that I became aware of the first footman beside me, who whispered:

‘Miss Kenton would like a word with you, sir. She’s just outside the door.’

I made my exit as discreetly as possible just as his lordship, still on his feet, was embarking on a further point.

Miss Kenton looked rather upset.

‘Your father has become very ill, Mr Stevens,’ she said. ‘I’ve called for Dr Meredith, but I understand he may be a little delayed.’

I must have looked a little confused, for Miss Kenton then said:

‘Mr Stevens, he really is in a poor state. You had better come and see him.’

‘I only have a moment. The gentlemen are liable to retire to the smoking room at any moment.’

‘Of course. But you must come now, Mr Stevens, or else you may deeply regret it later.’

Miss Kenton was already leading the way, and we hurried through the house up to my father’s small attic room. Mrs Mortimer, the cook, was standing over my father’s bed, still in her apron.

‘Oh, Mr Stevens,’ she said upon our entry, ‘he’s gone very poorly.’

Indeed, my father’s face had gone a dull reddish colour, like no colour I had seen on a living being. I heard Miss Kenton say softly behind me:

‘His pulse is very weak.’

I gazed at my father for a moment, touched his forehead slightly, then withdrew my hand.

‘In my opinion,’ Mrs Mortimer said, ‘he’s suffered a stroke. I’ve seen two in my time and I think he’s suffered a stroke.’

With that, she began to cry. I noticed she reeked powerfully of fat and roast cooking. I turned away and said to Miss Kenton:

‘This is most distressing. Nevertheless, I must now return downstairs.’

‘Of course, Mr Stevens. I will tell you when the doctor arrives. Or else when there are any changes.’

‘Thank you, Miss Kenton.’

I hurried down the stairs and was in time to see the gentlemen proceeding into the smoking room. The footmen looked relieved to see me, and I immediately signalled them to get to their positions.

Whatever had taken place in the banqueting hall after my departure, there was now a genuinely celebratory atmosphere amongst the guests. All around the smoking room, gentlemen seemed to be standing in clusters laughing and clapping each other on the shoulder. Mr Lewis, so far as I could ascertain, had already retired. I found myself making my way through the guests, a bottle of port upon my tray. I had just finished serving a glass to a gentleman when a voice behind me said: