Miss von B and I went on and on about our various lists of embellishments. I nearly punched her when she just laughed in a superior manner when I told her of the vine my grandfather had trained to grow from the greenhouse through a hole in his bedroom wall so that he could eat grapes in bed. I thought it a jolly good damn idea even though the grapes never ripened. And then she spoke of all manner of architectural accoutrements, formal gardens and water works. I did somehow think that she was rather putting it on. Assuming graces to which she was not entitled. With her princes, princesses, dukes, duchesses, counts and I may as well say it, cunts and their seemingly endless castles and palaces to which she was privy. In order that I should feel that Andromeda Park was not quite grand enough. Nor my blood royal blue. However I made it quite clear that the Thormonds had not descended to squalor and we could easily claim to be a minor dynasty with a standing in society quite assured. And for many miles about one was still accustomed to locals giving way on the roads. Fortunately, when finished viewing her album we only kept on earnestly discussing that kind of thing for another few hours till perhaps well past midnight. And I was nearly hoarse. When she finally said.
‘You take it all so seriously. I am not saying you do not live here in some refinement.’
‘You are. If you are not directly saying we have descended to squalor then you most certainly infer a distinct lack of stylishness.’
‘Ah. In that, there is far more than a lack. There is none.’
‘What. How dare you. My sisters are ladies of rank and my mother bought her better things from the very leading London shops across the water. And I say damn you.’
‘Ha ha. You sweet little man. Do not upset your lovely dark curls or your vivid marvellous eyes. What matter is it, a little lack of as you say, stylishness.’
And I did so want to kiss her. To put my lips on her soft smooth skin. O god I was nearly dying to. Utterly mad to. And to undo that belt around her waist. And then replace it with my arms squeezing her tight. Her slight aloofness these past few days was most irritating. Not to say inciting to sheer blatant lust. And I felt she might be heeding the attentions of other men. Some perhaps as odious as the agent with whom she admitted she sat for more than just the cursory moment in the parlour.
‘Are you not going to allow me to touch you.’
‘No.’
‘Why.’
‘It is that time of the month when ladies don’t.’
‘But you would otherwise.’
‘Ah, who knows.’
‘Are you no longer in love with me.’
‘Love. My god. Love.’
‘Yes. Love. Or are you now frightened that we may be spied upon.’
‘Love. That is such a silly word.’
‘Why.’
‘Because love is a future and what future is there. For me. For you. Ladies must think always of the future. Her beauty is her future. It is that which makes men want you. When it is gone all is but beautiful memories. You must then have things which replace the attentions of men. It is most important.’
‘Like doing embroidery you mean.’
‘Yes.’
‘You will always be beautiful. My mother was. And I could hire you forever. Then you could go and sit with Edna Annie down in the laundry and do embroidery. It’s warm there mostly.’
‘You want a sock in the jaw.’
‘No please.’
‘Anyway you would not want me around forever, I assure you. As every little lady in the countryside is beaucoup busy counting your acres, your horses and grooms. Even already I notice how they are riding at your back at every hunt. Keeping close and following you like the hounds do the fox. Just waiting for the moment when she can toss her head and attract your eye and procure you.’
‘Your English madam has improved marvellously but procure, I think is hardly the word.’
‘Ah perhaps the word is then conquer, snare, make a grab. Catch you. I practise my English. But two hours every day is not enough. And I will need to be expert to find another job.’
‘Are we now discussing the down to earth probability that you and I shall be departing soon.’
‘I think so, yes. I mean but a day or so ago you were gone.’
‘But I am here. And I may be deeply in love with you.’
‘You would be certain if you were.’
‘Well perhaps I yet will be. When I’ve thought extensively enough about it. But I could be already. Other men are attempting to befriend you I suppose.’
‘Ah of course, there are always men. Who are maybe bored trying putting it up the sheep. There is the Major, the agent, Murphy the farmer. There is hardly a shortage. Even the Mental Marquis.’
‘You are sometimes a little brutally blunt madam. But what did the Marquis do.’
‘O he let me know when he saw my long magnificent legs that how do you say, that he fancies me.’
‘That does not become you to brag like that.’
‘Ah you are angry.’
‘He fancies Baptista.’
‘Dumb minded little bitch.’
‘Well she may be quite stupid in brains but the Marquis it would appear was quite happily content to ravish that part of her body not containing them. The whole of the Moonhound Mad Hatters hunt came upon them in the woods. Stark naked on top of one another.’
‘I do not believe it.’
‘It is absolutely true, ask Sexton.’
‘Ah then who was on top. Baptista or the Marquis.’
‘The Marquis as a matter of fact. And you may think it’s all a joke but there are many witnesses should there be any doubt as to the accuracy of the matter.’
‘How very unsporting. The Marquis crushing such a small girl into the grass. And how indiscreet of the Marquis in front of people. But how typical of the little bitch. To choose to open her legs in such a theatrical place where the hunt would find them. And how very inclement and how very unfastidious to know no better than to be on the wet ground. It serves her right.’
‘And now madam, it is you who is angry.’
‘Certainly not. But the hunting field is not the proper situation for the parting of a lady’s lower limbs other than upon her saddle. And even then it is not preferable for her to be mounted astride.’
‘Do you not agree that their blood, madam, must have been up. Or if they were leisurely doing gates together, I do believe they may have grown rather familiar. And then as often happens in our mild wintry countryside, a lady and gentleman so delegated, are pausing also to build back up walls, with the lady bending over and her behind flattened by tight breeches, does thereby give a gentleman the opportunity to take an unpremeditated fancy and that the parties then promptly, even in the deep mud, disrobe, and there entangled go splashing and sloshing.’
‘Sweet one I do wish the time of the month for me were different and then I would have you do more than to pull my leg.’
‘Madam honestly I do not pull your limb as enchanting as that should be to do. Quite seriously often when one is jumping a wall in chasing a backtracking fox one does find that there, sheltering in the lee of the boulders, there are pumping pairs of nude bottomed hunt members absolutely lust embroiled out of their minds and crazed with a lasciviousness that would be hard to believe.’
‘And how would you Master Kildare, like if I should give you a nice bath before you try to tell me any more tall stories. If you do not mind the little smell the water has of dead mice who rot in the water tank.’
‘Dead mice tend to sweeten the water madam. But do you really mean that madam. You will give me a bath.’