An Accidental Man by Iris Murdoch Page A

came, not of course as a suitor, that idea never entered her head, he was much too old and generally hopeless, but because he was Matthew’s brother and she was sorry for him. Dorina was sorry for him too. Being sorry for Austin was a sort of occupation for both of them. Austin, who had a general talent for inspiring pity, had officially ‘gone to pieces’ after Betty’s death. Unfortunately this was just the sort of thing likely to interest a young girl.
    Of course Dorina had, because of Matthew, another source of interest in Austin. Matthew had been one of Mavis’s earliest admirers and something had happened between them. Mavis had chosen the nunnery. Matthew had left the country. What exactly had happened was now utterly shadowy even in Mavis’s own mind. It had been a muddle. Matthew had vanished forever and communication had ceased. Mavis never spoke of it or even thought of it except when she occasionally realized with irritation how fascinating it had all been to Dorina. Of course it was never discussed. And now here was the nemesis.
    Later on it seemed inevitable that Austin and Dorina should want each other. Mavis accepted the situation with a smile but she could not like Austin and this sort of false relation with Matthew was distasteful to her although the marriage occasioned no communication between them. There was something for which she could not forgive Matthew and of which she did not wish to be reminded: perhaps his ineffectual suit, perhaps the fruitlessness of her own choice. Sometimes she thought that her own failure to marry Matthew was actually the cause of Austin’s marrying Dorina. It was not just that Austin was an object of interest because of the Matthew legend. Austin’s relations with his brother were obscure and intense. Might not this repetition be a highly determined event in some fraternal drama? If so, so much the worse for Dorina. Mavis was not surprised when there were difficulties, though she could not quite see what they were. They never quarrelled , it seemed. Mavis was pleased when things broke down. She would not ever have been wholly pleased if Dorina had married happily. What could she have been to a fulfilled Dorina except an ageing maiden aunt? She had never seen herself in that light in relation to her younger sister. As it was she could now be useful to Dorina with a full heart. These unmagnanimous frailties in herself Mavis saw with a cool eye. And in general she welcomed the possibility of perhaps getting rid of Austin altogether.
    Not that it was at all clear that this was what was envisaged. Dorina used to come and stay fairly often, relapsing when she came into her old dependence on Mavis. She kept her little room still unchanged at the top of the house. Once she came and said to her sister, ‘I think I’m not going back to Austin, at present at any rate. We are better apart for a while. We both have to sort things out. We need a little holiday from each other.’ She added, ‘He’s glad I’m here.’ Mavis could understand that. Austin was an intensely jealous and possessive man. He probably felt that his young wife was, at Valmorana, almost literally cloistered. Further, Mavis did not ask and Dorina did not tell.
    Mavis was at this time distracted by an outburst of problems about the future of her enterprise. The house was still her property. The convent suddenly wished to transfer the whole thing to the local authority. The rich Catholic families objected. The local authority offered to buy the house at a figure Mavis would not consider. Meanwhile the roof needed repairing, the whole house needed rewiring, everything wanted painting. The local authority now offered a grant in return for a short lease. The convent agreed to carry on the old régime pending negotiations. A Catholic businessman said he would pay for repairs. These were now almost finished. The place was empty, the old smell was gone, the welfare