They surveyed each other for a full minute while Dennison’s heart leapt within his body. Here was his long lost brother, only taller and broader. The face was as he remembered it; yet, not quite. The eyes looking at him had not the soft quality of Tim’s: these eyes were dark and brooding and sending towards him something that his own answered.
His voice was a growl as he said, ‘What do you want here? You’re trespassing. Get out!’
‘It is you who are trespassing, sir.’ The lips were drawn back from the teeth. For the moment David’s face took on the ferocious look of a wildcat; then the words were hissed through his teeth. ‘This is my property, as from yesterday. Now, Mr Harpcore, sir, I have pleasure in telling you to get out, off my property.’
My God! My God! No, not him! So he was the Mather that had bought the place. He recalled the name from dim memory: the servant girl’s name had been Mather. He had paid nine thousand for it. Where had he got the money? Yes, yes, he remembered now rumours that he wouldn’t listen to, conversation that broke off in the middle. The boy that had been brought up in his service had gone to Australia and had made his fortune. He had an uncle out there…yes, the uncle, that man who had confronted him, blackmailed him.
He appealed to something outside himself now, crying, Oh, no, no, not this, not this too. I can’t stand this. And because he couldn’t stand it he flung himself round and out of the door, across the yard and onto the path that led its twisting way back to the house. And he didn’t stop until he was in sight of it, when he seemed to stagger towards a tree, against which he leant back, gasping as if he had been running hard. His head was bowed and so deep did he feel his humiliation that he imagined it was touching the ground …
When he reached the house Robertson, meeting him in the hall, thought for a moment that he was drunk, though knowing he couldn’t be. And his master’s sobriety was confirmed when he said, ‘Tell your mistress I wish to see her in the library.’
A few moments later Nancy Ann entered the room, and immediately he rounded on her, crying, ‘Did you know of this?’
Thinking what now, she instinctively shook her head before she said, ‘Know what? What are you talking about?’
‘The farm.’
‘The farm? No. Only that you said the matter was closed yesterday.’
‘And who to? Who to?’ His voice was almost a scream now.
‘I don’t know who has bought it.’
‘You mean to stand there and tell me you don’t know?’
She stiffened and, her own voice also ringing now, she cried, ‘Yes, I do. I don’t know who has bought the farm.’
‘Then it will be news to you that your protégé, your fair-haired boy is now the owner of it.’
She put her hand up to her to mouth and muttered through her fingers, ‘No, no.’
‘But yes, yes. Just one more humiliation for me to suffer. Do you know I would rather have burnt the place down.’
She stood quietly now, her hands joined at her waist, staring at him, and then she said, ‘Would you? Would you have rather burnt the place down than your nephew have bought it?’
‘Don’t, woman. Don’t aggravate me at this time, because I can’t stand any more. He is no nephew of mine.’
‘He saved your son, or at least attempted to and risked his own life.’
She watched his cheekbones push out against his mottled skin and, his words low now, and even appearing as a plea, he said again, ‘Don’t, woman, don’t.’
‘I will. I will. Someone has to say it. You’ve let that boy be an obsession with you all your life, whereas he could have been a comfort to you.’
The crash of his fist as it hit the sofa table and bounced oddments on to the floor caused her to jump back and clutch her throat. Then they were staring at each other across the space in silence.
She could stand no more. She turned and ran from the room and almost into the arms of Robertson who, halting her with his attentive touch on her arm, said, ‘Ma’am, there are two men’—he did not say gentlemen—‘waiting in the hall. They…they wish to see the master.’ His voice was low, and there was meaning in his words which she did not comprehend at the moment, and she muttered, ‘Then tell him, tell him,’ before she rushed along the corridor and into the hall and passing two waiting men whose sombre appearance caused her to pause momentarily before running on upstairs and into her room.
Robertson delivered his message, held open the door for his master to pass him, then followed him into the hall. He stood to the side and watched one of the men hand his master a paper. He saw him scan it, then look at the men before turning his gaze towards the stairs; then, like a man in a daze, his glance swept the hall, and there was a pause while he wetted his lips, cleared his throat, before he said, ‘Show these gentlemen into…into the kitchen. Give them the assistance that they need.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Robertson stepped forward now and beckoned the men to follow him, leaving Dennison alone and standing quietly staring down at the floor. Slowly he walked across the hall and along the corridor again to the far end and into a room. After a while he emerged, took his hat and coat from the hallstand and paused for a moment before a mirror, then went out.
The bums were in. The staff had been expecting them for days, but nevertheless it caused great consternation. Most of them had already arranged their future life and service. Robertson was to take over Mister David’s new home. He had impressed upon the staff that the ‘Mister’ was, from now on, compulsory for all of them. Cook was to take up her place in the smaller kitchen accompanied by Sarah Brown. Jane Renton was leaving to get married. But Annie Fuller, the second housemaid, was to be housemaid at the farm. Jimmy Tool the workhouse boy, now a young man and courting, was to be given the place as stable lad under Shane McLoughlin, and set up house in two of the rooms above the stables. Shane and his brother were to have the other two. It had all been worked out during the past three weeks. The remainder of the staff had applied for and had found positions elsewhere. This wasn’t including Mary or Agnes, for it was understood that wherever the mistress went they would accompany her. And as they all knew, she was for the Manor, for…well, where else would she go?
As Mister David had said he had no intention of living in the farmhouse permanently for his business was in Australia, why then, they had asked each other, had he bought it? It was rumoured there had been numbers of people after it, real farmers, but he had outbid them. Was it to spite the master?
Aye, very likely, very likely. It was also rumoured that he had enough money to buy the House, too, if he liked. But that surely would have finished the master. It would be bad enough when he got to know who the new owner of the farm was, because they knew only too well he would never recognise him. Altogether a queer business, they said.
And that’s what Shane McLoughlin said to David when he made a point of running across the grounds to the farm to tell him the latest news. Standing before David in the farmyard, he said, ‘I just thought I’d tell you. The end has come, the bums arrived a while ago. ’Tis a queer business that the House should end like this.’
It was no surprise to David that the bums were in. He remained silent until Shane, looking hard at him said, ‘Could you do anything, Davey?’ when he answered with a question, ‘What would you expect me to do?’
‘Nothin’. If justice was to be observed, nothin’, ’cos, God himself knows you’ve had a rotten deal right from the start through him. But…but it’s her I’m thinkin’ about, the mistress. God only knows what she’s had to put up with since the child went. He’s been like a maniac at times. Yet, I’ve got to say this word for him, as masters go you couldn’t have found much better.’
‘As long as you kept your place, eh?’
‘Aye, yes, well, I suppose so, as long as I kept me place, as long as we all kept our places. But that’s in the scheme of things.’
‘Damn the scheme of things! And you know, inside you, you say the same.’
‘Perhaps. Aye, you m
ay be right, but looking at you I ask meself, and I say this to your face, Davey, if you had been born into that house would you have acted any differently. It’s the way things are. Money an’ position set the standards, they pattern a man’s life. Anyway, I thought I’d come and tell you…’
‘And ask me to go back there and offer to bail him out, is that the idea?’
‘Aye, perhaps. Aye, somethin’ of the sort.’
‘Well, we’ve met up already this morning, and for your information, Shane, I’ll tell you that he ordered me out of the house. I was an intruder trespassing.’
‘No.’ The word was soft and low.
‘Yes, yes. Anyway, there’s one thing he and I share and in equal measure, and that’s hate. I’ve always hated the sight of him, and it’s never lessened; nor has it in his case, although I don’t think he’s set eyes on me for years, not since the encounter in the wood when I was a boy; or, for that matter, given me a thought. But he must have seen my father in me in that kitchen there’—he thumbed back over his shoulder—‘for by God, wasn’t he startled! That was some satisfaction anyway. No, Shane, I appreciate your motive, but to go back there and have my offer thrown in my face, as it would be, I couldn’t attempt it.’
‘No, perhaps you’re right. It was just a thought.’ Shane grinned. ‘It’s the Irish in me. Me ma used to bring tears to me eyes tellin’ me of the folks being turned out of their cabins by the agents of them English landlords.’ He stressed the words, then added soberly, ‘Now it’s the landlord’s turn an’ I’m not cheering…When are you proposin’ to leave?’
‘I’ve booked my passage for the nineteenth, that’s eleven days’ time. I hope you’ll be all settled in by then.’
‘Aye. An’ you can rely on me. I’ll see things are kept shipshape: you’ll find everythin’ as you expect it even if you arrive on the hop.’ He smiled, then added, ‘I’ll say it, Davey, your buyin’ this place has been a godsend to us all, for we’d have been scattered to the four winds, an’ most of us have worked together for years, an’ you get used to people, like a family, so we’re all grateful.’
‘How’s your mother these days?’
‘Oh, pretty fit considerin’. As long as she has her pipe and her porter she’ll go on for many a long year. It’s funny about families. You know, Davey, a nephew turned up from nowhere the other day. She had forgotten she had him. It was her youngest brother’s son, and he had his son with him, a thirteen-year-old lad, and you know something, Davey?’ Shane now poked his head forward. ‘Believe it or not, her nephew is an accountant. Did you hear that? An accountant connected with our family, and he’s sendin’ his son to a private school. We fell about laughin’ after he’d gone. The McLoughlins are surely comin’ up. An’ you know what his name is, his surname? Flannagan. The McLoughlins an’ the Flannagans. Talk about little Ireland.’
David found himself laughing for the first time in days. He had always liked Shane. Shane had been his friend since he had first come into the yard. The others in the stables had just been men, but Shane had been different. He put out his hand to grip Shane’s and, still laughing, said, ‘Long live the McLoughlins and the Flannagans.’
‘Amen to that. Amen to that, Davey.’ They nodded at each other. Then, seemingly embarrassed at his emotion, Shane rubbed his hands together as if chaffing corn and said, ‘Well, you’ll be going straight back to Durham, I suppose.’
‘Not yet a while. I brought a hamper over with me, I’ve got a lunch in there. I’ll walk around a bit…around my land.’
Shane said nothing, but after lowering his head and biting on his lip, he turned away muttering an unintelligible word of farewell.
And David did survey his land. All afternoon he walked through the fields, jumped drystone walls, passed through gates, all known ground to him until he came to the river. And there, standing on the bank, he stared at the arch of the bridge, the water flowing calmly through it today. He should hate this river. It had taken his father; it had taken his cousin; and, in a way, it had taken his mother, for she had never recovered from the cold she had developed through plunging into the icy water on that fatal day. She had died of consumption, but she had never had consumption until after she had rushed into the river to save him. And it was a fact he had faced a long time ago: she had saved him, for he couldn’t have held on much longer, when he too, with the child, would have swept to his death.
He turned and walked along the stretch of the river bank that was now his, until he came to where the brush had been cleared and where the white posts with wire attached denoted the limit of his property. He walked up by the side of this fence which now ran through a belt of trees beyond which the pastureland would start. It was pleasant walking for there was a wind blowing that tangled the branches and caused a singing in the tops of the trees.
He was about to emerge from the woodland and into the light of the open field when he glanced sideways to where, beyond the overgrown pathway, was a mass of brushwood that hid the boles of a number of trees. And he saw what he imagined at first to be a boot sticking out, an old boot.
He had moved forward two or three steps when he stood stock still, turned his head slowly and looked again in the direction of the boot. It wasn’t an old boot, the light on it from this angle showed it to be a polished boot.
No, no. The words were deep but quiet in his head.
He didn’t move. Again came the words, ‘No! No!’ Loud now, yelling. Still he didn’t move. Something was telling him to walk on and ignore the boot. Something else was saying, Go and look, it mightn’t be. Yet, he knew it was. Even before he bent stiffly under the wire and crossed the path and parted the undergrowth, he knew what to expect.
The body was lying on its side. The face was bloody; the hand lying across the breast was bloody. The pistol was lying against his side. ‘Oh, my God! Oh, God Almighty!’ As he stared down onto the shattered form, there swept over him a feeling of aloneness such as he had never experienced in his life before, and he had had plenty of experience of aloneness. But this was so intense, so devastating, for there at his feet lay his one and only relative in this world. He had hated him with a deep abiding hate; but he had been a live thing, something, in a way, part of himself, or he part of it. The same blood running in their veins; no class or legality had been able to wipe out that fact. Oh, God, why hadn’t he gone and offered to help?
No, no. That would only have precipitated this just as likely his acquiring the ownership of the farm had done. He turned away and staggered now onto the path, and held his hand to his brow for a moment. Then he was running up the overgrown path, and not stopping until he reached the yard. And there he shouted, ‘Shane! Shane! Pollock!’
It was Shane who came from the stables, and David gripped him by the shoulders, crying, ‘Get a door! Fetch a door, he’s…he’s dead.’ He jerked his head to the side. ‘Shot. In the wood.’
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph. No! No!’
‘Yes. You’ll need another hand. Fetch Robertson quick.’ …
Before long the three servants were staring down on their master while David stood to one side, now unable to look. Then when they went to place the door near the body it was Pollock who said, ‘’Tis suicide. D’you think we should touch him? The police should be called.’
Shane looked across at the young fellow in silence for a moment; then, turning to David, he said, ‘He’s right. Pollock’s right. I don’t think we should touch anything.’ And to David, Shane’s words seemed to imply: You found him and it was well known you didn’t get on. Pollock’s right, although he doesn’t know how right.
Shane turned to the groom, saying, ‘Go on now, as fast as you can. You might find the constable in the village, he’s round about there at this time. If not, ride on to Chester-le-Street. But put a move on.’
After Pollock had left, Robertson said quietly, ‘Who’s to break it to the mistress?’ Then both he and Shane looked at David.
But David did not say anything, and Shane sa
id, ‘Robertson and me will stay here, if you would, sir.’ Not Davey any more, not Mr David even, but sir.
Slowly David turned away and, his step dragging, he made for the House …
He was standing before her and, his voice trembling, he muttered, ‘There’s been an accident. He’s in…in the wood…No it’s no use going.’ He put out his hand towards her but didn’t touch her, but when he saw the colour drain from her face and heard her whimper, ‘Oh, Dennison. Dennison,’ he pulled a chair forward and she sank into it and sat staring ahead for a moment; then she asked a question, seemingly of herself when she said, ‘Why? Oh, why?’
It was almost two hours later when they brought the body back to the House. David was holding one end of the door on which they had laid it, and his hand was within inches of the mangled head. How strange, he thought, that it was only in death he had become close to his kinsman.
Nor, probably, was the strangeness of the situation lost upon those who waited in the hall.
Five
‘Suicide while the balance of his mind was disturbed.’ Such was the verdict. ‘The body had been found by Mr David Mather who had only recently purchased part of the estate.’
That was what the newspapers said. But the villagers and those in the county houses for miles around were now aware of who this Mr Mather was, and the knowledge provoked many to think: Wasn’t it a strange coincidence that almost the same day he takes on part of the estate the man whom legally he could have called uncle had taken his own life. And wasn’t it more strange still that it should be this young man who had come into a fortune and who, in a way, had come back to flaunt it, should have found the body. Very strange. However, it had been verified as suicide, and that was that. And anyway, some of the wise ones said, what else could Harpcore have done? He wasn’t a man who could have earned his own living. And what was more, he was too high-handed and proud to go begging. No, it was indeed the best thing that could have happened. But what about her, his wife? …
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