Hearing Secret Harmonies - Anthony Powell [37]
The news of Widmerpool’s indifference to whatever Gwinnett might have written, unanticipated in its comprehensive disdain of the whole Trapnel – and Gwinnett – story, certainly made the position of the Prize committee easier. It looked as if the publishers had already cleared the matter with Widmerpool. They seemed to have no fear of legal proceedings, and Delavacquerie’s letter gave the impression that his interview might not have provided Widmerpool’s first awareness of the book. Even so, without this sanction, there could have been embarrassments owed to the Donners-Brebner connexion. I wrote to Gwinnett (with whom I had not corresponded since his Spanish interlude), addressing the letter to the English Department of the American college named at the beginning of his book.
The recipient of the Magnus Donners Prize was given dinner at the expense of the Company. A selection of writers, publishers, literary editors, columnists, anyone else deemed helpful to publicity in the circumstances, was invited. Speeches were made. It was not an evening-dress affair. Convened in a suite of rooms on the upper floor of a restaurant much used for such occasions, the party was usually held in the early months of the year following that for which the book had been chosen. As a function, the Magnus Donners Memorial Prize dinner was just what might be expected, a business gathering, rather than a social one. Delavacquerie, who had its arranging, saw that food and drink were never less than tolerable. When he and I next met for one of our luncheons together I asked what had been Widmerpool’s condition for showing so easygoing an attitude.
‘That he should himself be invited to the dinner.’
‘Did he make the request ironically?’
‘Not in the least.’
As a public figure of a sort, although one fallen into comparative obscurity, issue of an invitation to Widmerpool would in no way run counter to the general pattern of guests; even if his presence, owing to the particular circumstances, might strike a bizarre note. It was likely that a large proportion of those present would be too young to have heard – anyway too young to take much interest in – the scandals of ten years before.
‘No doubt Widmerpool can be sent a card. You were right in thinking the stipulation would amuse me.’
‘You haven’t heard it all yet.’
‘What else?’
‘He wants to bring two guests.’
‘Donners-Brebner can presumably extend their hospitality that far.’
‘Of course.’
‘Who are to be Widmerpool’s guests?’
‘Whom do you think?’
The answer was not so easy as first appeared. Whom would Widmerpool ask? I made several guesses at personalities of rather his own kind, figures to be judged useful in one practical sphere or another. In putting forward these names, I became aware how little I now knew of Widmerpool’s latest orientations and ambitions. Delavacquerie shook his head, smiling at the wrongness of such speculation.
‘I told you Lord Widmerpool had greatly changed. Let me give you a clue. Two ladies.’
I put forward a life peeress and an actress, neither in their first youth.
‘Not so elderly.’
‘I give it up.’
‘The Quiggin twins.’
‘The girls who threw paint over him?’
‘The same.’
‘But – is he having an affair with both of them?’
Delavacquerie laughed. He was pleased with the effect of the information he had given.
‘Not, I feel fairly sure, in any physical sense, although I gather he has no objection to girls who frequent his place – boys too, Etienne assures me – being good to look at. If the weather is warm, undressing is encouraged. I doubt if he contemplates sleeping with either sex. You know Widmerpool is not far from making himself into a Holy Man these days, certainly a much venerated one in his own circle.’
‘What will Gwinnett think of this, if he comes to the dinner himself? I imagine it is quite possible he will. Have you heard from him about getting the Prize? I wrote a line of congratulation, but have had no reply.