Gaudy Night

Newland’s attempted suicide sends the governing body of Shrewsbury into a panic. Something must be done, but no one wants to call in the police for fear of a public scandal. Harriet once again suggests contacting Miss Climpson’s detective agency. This time, her suggestion is met with approval. Glad to be taking action at last, Harriet is flummoxed when she calls the detective but is informed that Miss Climpson is away on another case. Although annoyed, Harriet observes, “Other people do not sit with folded hands waiting upon the convenience even of our highly interesting and influential selves” (328).

Meanwhile, Miss de Vine has just received another poison-pen letter, which she shows to Harriet: “She held out a piece of paper; the sight of the printed letters was odiously familiar: YOUR TURN’S COMING” (331). Tempers are frayed among members of the common room. Fear and suspicion have supplanted the cordial atmosphere that once prevailed. To add to the tense situation, the university Vice-Chancellor has received a poison-pen letter insinuating that there are strange goings-on at Shrewsbury. He doesn’t take the threat seriously but passes the information on to the Dean in case she wants to investigate the matter further.

Frustrated with her own lack of progress in stopping the harassment, Harriet determines to contact Wimsey. Although she might once have resisted the idea of putting herself under further obligation to him, she’s prepared to make a deal with the devil if it means solving this case. She places a call to Italy, only to be told that Wimsey’s duties for the Foreign Office have taken him to Warsaw. Harriet has no idea how to reach him there. Rather than contacting the Foreign Office directly, she enlists one of Wimsey’s old friends to get a message to him, wherever he may be. In her letter, she asks for his advice about using Climpson for the case and concludes by saying, “‘We are all getting rather worked up, and I’m afraid something drastic may happen if we don’t cope with it quickly.’ She hoped that last sentence did not sound as panicky as she felt” (335).

On Sunday morning, no closer to solving the mystery, Harriet is persuaded to attend the University sermon with the Dean. Upon exiting the service, Harriet is shocked to see Wimsey, in cap and gown, engrossed in conversation with two academics. He explains that he received Harriet’s letter and immediately returned to England. He asks to call on her at Shrewsbury that afternoon so they can discuss the case.

When he arrives, Harriet inwardly feels some misgivings that she has invited an outsider to meddle in college affairs: “She had sold the breach to an alien force; she had sided with London against Oxford and with the world against the cloister” (351). Wimsey alleviates her anxieties by proving to be completely at ease in a university setting. Harriet is impressed to learn that he holds a master’s degree in history and graduated first in his class. She also feels embarrassed that she was too self-absorbed to have researched anything about him. She thinks, “If he had realized her thoughtlessness it must have hurt him. She saw herself as a monster of callous ingratitude” (349-50).

Rather than going into the details of the case, Wimsey proposes that the two of them declare a holiday and go punting on the Cherwell River. As he leaves the college to change clothes, he accidentally takes Harriet’s academic robe instead of his own. She thinks:

‘Bless the man, if he hasn’t taken my gown instead of his own! Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. We’re much of a height and mine’s pretty wide on the shoulders, so it’s exactly the same thing.’ And then it struck her as strange that it should be the same thing (358).

Harriet and Wimsey develop an easy rapport as they float down the river together. After a while, Wimsey suggests that they disembark and share a tea hamper on the banks. He then begins perusing Harriet’s case file. She finds herself studying his face affectionately. When he catches her, she blushes and finally admits the truth to herself: “So, thought Harriet, it has happened. But it happened long ago. The only new thing that has happened is that now I have got to admit it to myself. I have known it for some time. But does he know it?” (370).

Wimsey continues reading. When he finishes, he suggests that the two of them should try to frighten the culprit into hiding until they can determine her motives. Harriet has already concluded that the reason is sexual maladjustment. Wimsey mocks the Freudian interpretation of everything and points out that Harriet’s own decision to hold herself at a distance from personal relationships might be clouding her judgment in the case. He says, “Isn’t it a fact that, having more or less made up your mind to a spot of celibacy you are eagerly peopling the cloister with bogies?” (372).

Wimsey asks Harriet to give him some time to think about the case so that he can suggest a few useful lines of inquiry. Exhausted from weeks of travel, Wimsey falls asleep on the riverbank. Harriet regards him fondly. When he awakens, she suggests they make a day of it and go out for a proper dinner in a nearby village. They talk about Harriet’s current book, and Wimsey makes some helpful suggestions about troublesome plot points. At the end of the day, he escorts her back to the college but promises to return for dinner the following evening, at which time he hopes to have reached some conclusions about the case. Harriet thinks to herself, “As she got into bed she recalled the extempore prayer of a well-meaning but incoherent curate, heard once and never forgotten: ‘Lord, teach us to take our hearts and look them in the face, however difficult it may be’” (385).