J. Donleavy - The Destinies of Darcy Dancer, Gentleman

‘O dear. What a botheration for you gentlemen. But I’m sure Foxy would not impersonate a priest.’

‘Well the witness on interview said and I’m quoting now, that the culprit shouted that he was setting off in the direction of the town to hear midnight confession and that no one, and forgiving your presence your majesty, would effing well stop him. He then suggested to the witness that he should kneel behind a gravestone and he’d start by listening to the dirty old deeds of his black old soul. Or words to that effect. Now if that is not impersonating a priest I don’t know what is.’

Following two glasses of whiskey each, and a comment or two about the low price of cattle, Miss von B and I conducted the guards in a quick tour of the salon, dining room and library. While both of us made suitable descriptive remarks upon the furnishings, architecture and embellishments. All of which they seemed to appreciate as they appraised the gold velour, green damask, embossed bindings, chamfered square supports and cabriole legs. With Her Royal Highness pointing out highlights and distinguishing marks. The only difficulty occurring when the heavier of the two guards put his foot crashing through two floorboards, and grabbing a drape for safety, brought both it and the curtain rail down on top of his head. Causing what one can only describe as a brief moment of consternation, especially as he wildly threw his arms about attempting to unearth himself from the confines of the extremely dusty drape.

‘Ah god now, I’m very sorry I did that.’

‘That’s quite all right guard. One likes to know where a possible extensive dilapidation is brooding and your departure briefly downwards, although giving you a fright does also give us a jolly good hint as to an area that needs repairing.’

Of course one also knew that such minor embarrassments would have a way of absolving one from major prosecution. And back on the terra firma quality of the front hall tiles it was apparent that the guards were quite satisfied that they had successfully conducted their business and with all kinds of cheery words to the princess from whom they hardly ever removed their eyes, they departed down the front steps to their bicycles.

‘Cheerio now.’

‘Cheerio.’

Watching their red tiny back lights go disappearing round the rhododendrons along the drive, both Miss von B and I stood willingly chilled and battered by the little moistures out of the black above. Certainly it was, with the number of accusations flying round advisable to at least see them off in some style. And Foxy wearing the elegant Father’s best Sunday cassock, soutane and biretta, could be out somewhere right now in the fields trying to convert my Protestant cattle to being papish minded in preparation for heading to a good Catholic abattoir.

‘O dear madam, the eyes of the world are upon us.’

‘Ah you handled it very well. I was very impressed.’

‘Were you really.’

‘Yes. You perhaps here and there might have been a little too enthusiastic in your outrageous lies. But it was not bad.’

It was staff tea time so arm in arm we carelessly danced together across the tiles. She was so splendid reeling off her descriptions of furnishings to the guards. Of the bombe front of a drawer. And they ooed and ahhed as she pointed to a George Fourth silver mounted fluted glass mustard pot on the dining room table. As Miss von B recited a litany of its characteristics.

‘You will perhaps notice its simple but attractive plain reeded rim and also notice especially the shell thumb piece to the flat cover.’

‘Ah now your majesty that would do as a great yoke for mustard on any man’s table.’

There in the echoing front hall in the sight of one’s glum faced ancestors on the wall I grabbed up close to Miss von B and she turned to nibble me on the neck. And with indecent swiftness one’s trousers were sticking out frontally as I hugged and kissed her.

‘Madam I do so adore you sometimes.’

‘Ah only sometimes.’

‘Yes. Other times you cause me considerable discomfort. About my pedigree especially.’

‘Ah you should not worry. I will whenever you should require, be glad to give you a social recommendation.’

‘Now that’s exactly the demeaning kind of thing I mean. You can make one feel such an awful commoner.’

‘But surely, isn’t that what you are.’

‘You’re just angry because you can’t bear losing to me at chess.’

‘I would much prefer to lose at chess than I would at love. And at love I have lost so many times.’

‘But it is only at chess you lose to me. And if I were assured that I would not again be slapped in the face I would suggest that this evening might be appropriate for us to imbibe the claret and d’ Yquem still on the sideboard.’

‘Of course you will, my sweet, not be slapped if you behave and perhaps later I will teach you to jitterbug.’

Dressing for dinner I chose a purple silk hanky for my breast pocket and brushed my hair to a sheen. And made the best neat bow I possibly could of my tie. She seemed to have a courage did Miss von B. And that she would take risks despite her zealously careful ways about the house. Although she still complained that the dust, smears of hands and marks everywhere did get her down. And they even appeared on the few places where she had scraped, prepared and painted herself. I tried to reason with her that it gave it a natural ageing effect.

‘Ah my god. This place is too much naturally aged already.’

To her, I was dying to make love. Looking upon her face even beautiful when distorted through my wine glass. We had trifle pudding to end our most marvellously pleasant supper. Crooks clean shirted although noisily slippered was only really clumsy once. Dropping and then trodding in the butter which of course Miss von B insisted we all clean up. Can you imagine. Gentry on their knees. I could see she was aggrieved that Crooks was of course traipsing this grease all the way back and forth cross eyed into the pantry. But he did at least try hard to avoid further disaster by two handedly laying down the remaining plates. This also got at Miss von B but she was most good to hold her tongue. Poor old Crooks had so obviously made such an effort. With most of the more conspicuous of his frontal stains removed from his livery. Norah too, with her belly bulging pronounced in her white apron, was rushing attentive to our every little table need. And except for a bat flying round the dining room and a resounding crash of glass in the pantry, the whole meal was carried off without a hitch. Even though it was just cold slices of beef in hot gravy with boiled cabbage and potatoes. Which of course required one to indulge in lofty conversation in order to elevate the elegance of the fare.

‘I do so like the lyricism in Mozart’s bassoon concerto in A major, don’t you madam.’

‘Yes. I do. But it is in B flat major.’

Of course that was immediately the kind of thing which reminded one of eating potatoes and cabbage again. However with port we repaired to the ballroom and opening the doors through to the library we listened to the gramophone. Miss von B leading me through the most god awful gyrations. It was surely fast and best described as a leg busting gavotte sending limbs out every which bloody way. And I must confess I soon steered reluctant Miss von B from these maniac paroxysms towards honeymoon bridge on the fur on the floor in front of the firelight in the library. I was feeling so pleasant and physically improved that I could not really give too much of a damn of what damn key Mozart was composing in nor indeed concerning my privileges and distinctions previously so dearly and bitterly debated. And I had much fun in F major when Miss von B lost also at cards. And I made much of it while pointing haughtily with my finger.