J. Donleavy - Leila - Further in the Life and Destinies of Darcy Dancer, Gentleman

Who the hell does he bloody well think he is. Expecting me to hand her over like a sack of oats, just because his damn decent kindly prick’s been recently rigid over their lofty cultural conversation. All he is, is just a bloody Marquis. And all she is, is just a bloody servant. O god. How the hell do I tell him to fuck off to mid Sahara. And there having erected the appropriate scaffolding go and cohabit with a camel. I even see her face when I stare at the wall across this room. Every damn place I look. Outside on the stones. Her eyes, lips, teeth. Gems in the moss. While I think of her. And am so desperate to know. If she thinks of me.

‘Sir, you rang.’

‘Yes. Bring a bottle of champagne. His Lordship and I also require a sabre.’

Of course Crooks, returning cobwebbed from the gunroom was half an hour finding the latter and nearly jumped through the ceiling as the Marquis sent the blade whistling through the air knocking off the champagne bottle’s top and cork with a single cut.

‘Forgive me your grace for me jump.’

‘That’s alright Crooks. I’m not a duke yet but I’m a bloody good swordsman, what.’

‘You are indeed and no mistake sir.’

‘Bring some to the ladies Crooks, please. Tell them we’ll be joining them.’

‘Very good sir.’

‘No on second thoughts, wait. They may drink it all.’

‘This is a fairly big damn room you know, Kildare. What you need down that end either side of the window are a couple of Regency carved giltwood girandoles. Just happen to have a pair collecting dust. Commemorating Nelson’s victory at the battle of the Nile. As you scoop up your pudding, you contemplate his sterling triumph knocking any of those wogs for a loop. Don’t want to be a spiv about it, but I could let you have them at a decent price if you’ve a mind. Damn decent price in fact. Bit of decorative ornate gold leaf would cheer this place up. And you ought to have a Kingwood parquetry commode right there. Also happen to have one which would suit. Or is that damn presumptuous of me.’

‘O no. Not at all. I like people to come into my house and cast their eyes around and comment freely upon one’s shortcomings. Especially when they appear to have a warehouse full of exactly the items necessary to correct one’s poor taste. Gives one, how shall I say it, a certain confidence that one day in the future, provided I avail of the splendid bargains being offered, my house will be properly furnished. Nice to have something like that to aspire to.’

‘You know Kildare. I like you. Think we could be damn good friends as a matter of fact. Ah, and I deserve that. Damn it. Quite right. You Thormonds always did know how to grasp the nettle. As if it were some pulchritudinous lady’s limb. And, as I understand from quite a few voices, you were indeed trying to do out hunting today. That Baptista dear boy. Bit of a trollop. Don’t look at me in all innocence. As if your eyes are going to fall out. And don’t turn your nose up at my girandoles. Sixteen hundred quid, the pair. Seven fifty for the commode. No. Let’s make that thirteen for the girandoles, five for the commode. Both cheap at the price.’

‘I haven’t seen them yet.’

‘See. Are you doubting their middle eighteenth century authenticity.’

‘Well they could be falling to bits.’

‘Well as a matter of fact they are but it’s a damn bloody reasonable price I’m asking. Good carpenter put them right.’

And finally on the way to join the ladies in the east parlour. Heading along the hall to the slow military clomp of his Lordship’s riding boots.

‘By the way Kildare how are you off for shotguns, have a pair of side lock ejector Purdeys.’

‘I’m fine for shotguns at the moment, but there wouldn’t be a bend in the barrels.’

‘You’re cheeky Kildare. Very cheeky. Offer you a bargain and you riposte with a bloody slander on Purdeys.’

Crooks following his tray held much higher than he usually manages bearing the champagne and glasses. And patiently waiting for his Lordship to sell me a few more console tables for bare spots along the hall wall. I’m not sure that the damn man is not trying to unload all his castle junk and take more than a few quid from me at the same time. This house must give him the impression I have more money than my ancestors had taste. And if that’s his conclusion, instead of in his trees, the Marquis must have had put in the baldest part of his head a bloody copper nail which is killing off his excess spivvy brain cells. Dear me, who knows, but just like me, he may not, for all his land presently have a jade pot to piss in. Although his ruddy father the Duke owns enough to start a couple of small nations. But one does have the impression seeing him standing there that he is utterly happy and utterly contented puffing on his cigar. Just as must be his horse utterly uncomplaining presently out in the stables munching up my hot bran, beetroot, hay and oats. Of course Dingbats did rather heap whipped cream in place of mayonnaise on his salmon. And then of course in one’s bonhomie inebriation of winy bliss to make up for it, as one does, and to make matters even worse for oneself, one did do the unbelievably stupid thing. And offer the Marquis a bed.

‘Kind of you Kildare but my hunter Rapscallion will take me home. Can fall asleep on that old fellow, and wake up on my front steps. But hold on why not, now that you mention it. I think I would damn welcome a bed. Just as my poor old tired horse would welcome not to have to hack miles in the dark.’

And now Crooks is going to any second collapse with his Lordship going off on another tack.

‘But by god, what’s this Kildare, a Tiepolo. Surely not. But by jove, it is, is it. No. Not. Maybe from the school at best. Want to sell. Good price.’

Poor Crooks his arms beginning to waver under the weight of the tray. When one thinks of it, Crooks is sometimes a real dedicated servant. When he is not goosing another member of the staff. My god when one does think of it, poor sod is up there in his celibate cell for years on end. Of course one would mercifully hope that he was past it at his age. And not poking plaster out of the walls in search of self satisfaction. As one is nearly doing oneself except that any fervent attempt would certainly crash this whole place to the ground. Crooks does seem to take pleasure from the Marquis remarking on furnishings and paintings. And is shaking his head up and down in assent at even ms bloody wheeling and dealing, as if he knew the girandoles were the answer to our prayers.

Darcy Dancer and his Lordship followed by Crooks entering the north east parlour. Lavinia and Christabel purple with cold huddling forward over the fire. And would you believe it, both now wearing what to my eye looks like my mother’s evening slippers. Indeed they are. Bloody, bloody nerve. Must have gone into my apartments and bloody rummaged around in my mother’s closets. And as his Lordship and I nearly fall in the door cigar first, Lavinia plumping down on the settee swinging up her dress with her pasterns showing. Two of them holding open copies of Tatler and Sketch . Clearly they must have been straining their eyes reading in the light of two candles.

‘Good gracious me. I did think we had been abandoned.’

‘Ah my lovely ladies. It is I who have I fear been transgressing good manners with a too long prolonged talk on politics and furniture and pictures to your more than tolerant brother.’

‘O dear, you were both being brainy.’

‘Well, attempts. Attempts. At best.’

Of course one does take one’s dinner and always awakes next morning not remembering a single topic or word of conversation one had the entire previous and agreeable evening. Proof that the exercise of one’s intellect is not needed to aid one’s pleasant digestion. But dear me, what ladies won’t hysterically do when sniffing even the vaguest hopes of becoming a Marchioness, not to mention ultimately a Duchess. If of course the Mental Marquis’ equally dotty father, the present Duke, demises. Astonishing how women size men up. Not quite like they would the best cut of beef in a butcher’s. But by memorizing every ruddy line of lineage in Debrett. Don’t care if your hair is falling out of your head and growing in profusion on your arse. Or if you’re wobbling along like a frog on two flat feet providing you’re doing it on your own endlessly extensive acreage. Or even if your toes are webbed. Which of course is awfully nice if you’re intending to beget children who shall wish to go fast as swimmers.