The Destinies of Darcy Dancer, Gentleman

by J. P. Donleavy

  Darcy Dancer, the brown and green flecks of colour in his tweeds. Boots up over his stockings, stepping lightly. Deer stalker set square on his head. Hear the sound of the saw. Makes one’s feet hurry to save every chip of wood. Were Mr Arland here he could have written one of his marvellously threatening letters. You rogues desist. Or something to that effect. And I must try to convey the distinct or indistinct appearance of a landowner who does not intend to be trifled with. And is capable of giving a good account of himself to anyone attempting to get too tiresomely tricky or impertinent. Pop them with a fisticuff or two on the jowls. Use footwork. To avoid them grabbing me. Some of these workmen are deucedly strong and can lift the weight of a weanling as they would a kitten. And just over there, and when I was just a tiny boy. Sean the arm, he was called, because of all his strength, went sawing a branch high up an oak broken in a storm. And sawed it off under himself to go crashing down swinging into a tree where he was impaled by the spoke of a broken branch going right through his heart and out of his back. Just like one of my grandfather’s butterflies in his trays stacked in the back of the cupboards in the ballroom.

  Darcy Dancer moving up along the edge of parkland. And past a wild growth of rhododendrons. Approaching the grove of tall straight oaks. Where they grew on a gently rising ground. Wheel ruts criss crossing the mud. Three draught horses and a big heavy cart. A ramp and poles. A man smoking a cigarette. Wearing a grey weather beaten trilby hat. And long black coat. Two men with long staves levering a log towards the cart ramp. Two men at the foot of an oak. Each on the end of a great long saw. Their backs and shoulders swaying back and forth. At the foot of this majestic tree. Two great oaks already with branches smashed and their long boughs prostrate on the ground. And now another one nearly sawn half way through. As Sexton says. You can hear the screaming.

  ‘Stop that. Stop that sawing at once. And get off this land.’

  ‘Now who in heaven’s name might you be. As if I didn’t know.’

  ‘I am the owner of this land.’

  ‘Ah I didn’t know that now is that so.’

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘Is it the son of the house himself who would be telling me to stop sawing and to get off this land.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Ah me is it. Sure I’ve bought these trees. And having bought them, I will saw them down. And having sawn them down I’ll take them away. And not a soul will stop me.’

  ‘You’ll get back your money you paid.’

  ‘I will not have my money back. I’ll have me trees, that’s what I’ll have.’

  ‘You’ll have a sudden stream of swan shot tickling your bloody damn nose my good man.’

  ‘What. What are you about at all. Threaten me. With a firearm. You damn buckeen. I’ll put you across me knee and give your pelt a good hiding with the palm of me hand.’

  Bang. All five men ducking. And just above your sixth man’s grey trilby, a branch severed cleanly from the tree. And falling crashing upon his head. Aside from crushing his already battered hat it made his knees buckle. As he angrily tried to knock it away with his arm.

  ‘What are you mad. Kill me is it. You madman. Fire at me. I’ll have the guards.’

  ‘You’ll have yourself, your tools, men, horses and cart off my land or the next barrel will, I regret to say, travel close enough to save you shaving your whiskers off for a lifetime.’

  ‘It’s assault with a deadly weapon. Grevious bodily harm and attempted murder. Sean, Billy, Mick you saw by god what happened.’

  ‘And if you have to be told again to clear off you’ll see more of what will happen. And not one more piece of insolence out of you.’

  ‘By Jesus, what are you Darcy Thormond Kildares coming to. Raising little maniacs. I’ll report this to the guards. You can bet on that. I’ll have you in the courts. And put in prison. You can bet on that too.’

  ‘Shut up you gombeen bastard. And get off my land.’

  ‘I’ll shut up alright but you haven’t heard the end of this don’t you worry. You’ll hear from me.’

  ‘And if I do I’ll come and blow your fucking head off.’

  ‘Hear him. There are witnesses here. I know my rights. I have it in writing, I’ve got it down in black and white with the agent. And no buckeen is going to deprive me of my rights. You wouldn’t be that bold without a gun.’

  Somewhere high above the oak tree tops a crow was squawking. And the bright blue of sky was closing over with clouds. The smell of gun powder out on the air. Foxy said it was always good to use the word fucking in your threats. Then they always fucking well knew.

  That you

  Fucking well

  Meant it

  18

  With black darkness closing down on a rainswept countryside, Crooks this day later came with the message into the front parlour where Miss von B and I were taking tea. Following a game just played of chess. In which I literally crushed her. By casually abiding her overconfident reckless attacks during the middle game and then exercising a blistering positional cross fire of my bishops with a knight and castle overseeing the plunging blade of my queen into the heart of her king.

  ‘Master Reginald. There are two gentlemen from the Garda Siochana in the hall. I did say that I did not know whether you were receiving but they say it regards urgent and serious matters.’

  ‘Show them in Crooks. And do fetch some whiskey.’

  ‘Very good Master Reginald.’

  Two uniformed damp looking guards. Hats in hands. One had to dip his head to walk in the door. And the other nearly to turn sideways. Both massive apparitions standing there in the shadows. Who nod greeting. And to which one must present one’s very best dazzling entitlements.

  ‘Guards, allow me to present you to Her Royal Highness.’

  ‘Sorry your majesty to disturb you at your tea.’

  ‘It is quite all right.’

  ‘Now guards do please. Come in. Sit down.’

  ‘We’ll stand for the moment. As you never know that what we might have to say may not be welcome. And I’ll get to the point. We have had a complaint of a serious nature from a certain timber merchant. And I’m sure you know now to what I refer. He claims this morning that sometime in the vicinity often o’clock, that you let fly a shot gun at him while he was in pursuit of his lawful right cutting down some trees.’

  ‘Please, gentlemen, sit. Ah. Crooks. Good. Now will you gentlemen have a drink.’

  ‘Not while on duty. There are a couple of very serious matters. The first concerns yourself and is a serious charge. Discharge of a firearm in a fashion so as to endanger life.’

  ‘Well as a matter of fact, it was all a complete reflex action and horrid accident. I in fact was shooting a pigeon. That happened to be flying out over this gentleman’s head. Quite high above it you know. They’re the devil in the summer with our oats and barley. The sight of one instantly put me in mind to shoot it. But I do think I rather gave him a fright when it knocked a branch out of the tree which fell on him. For which I was very sorry.’

  ‘The timber merchant said nothing about a pigeon. If you don’t mind now, we’ll take that statement down.’

  The sergeant, his cap tucked under an arm as he held open his notebook. While Miss von B miraculously captivated both of them with utterly devastating smiles. A good bit of scribbling was done. With the sergeant requesting me to pause until his pencil caught up. Of course one spouted out a lot of old rubbish. Of a quality however, which did not make the guards look too foolish pretending to believe it. Yes. I was of course, telling them to vacate my lands. Of which I was the absolute freehold owner in trust perhaps. But still no one has a right to take property without my leave. Yes all guns in the household were properly licensed. And indeed if either of the guards enjoyed a shoot now and again. Do please let me know. Plenty of snipe down on the edge of the bog, pheasant, plover, duck. Anything in fact a sporting man likes to see on the wing ripe and ready for later delectation and needing only to be blast
ed out of the sky.

  ‘Now Mr Kildare, we’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. That there was no threatening language up there at the time of the discharge of the firearm which was in every way unintentional. But it wouldn’t do for the good look of things for persons who live in big houses using firearms on persons who live in small houses.’

  ‘I quite understand Sergeant.’

  ‘But sure you’re bound to hear great exaggeration. But we’re duty bound to listen to both sides of a story. Your man says he has rights, and if he has the courts of course are waiting to uphold them. And in a similar fashion the courts is the proper place if a man is trespassing and doing damage on a man’s land. So we don’t want to hear any more of shot guns just letting fly in pursuit of a pigeon and then just happening to blow a branch off just above your man’s head.’

  ‘Of course guard. No one would dream of doing such a thing deliberately.’

  ‘Well now to the other matter and then we’ll go off duty. And maybe a bit of that whiskey will do the trick to kill the chill on the wet way back in the darkness to the station. It’s every bit a cold journey.’

  ‘And what is the further difficulty guard.’

  ‘Ah well now it involves a personality that you might say has become familiar to all of us over the years. Now we are aware that Foxy Slattery is an employee upon the estate. And we have reason to believe he can help in our inquiries. First regarding a sacrilegious theft of wine and other divine divers artefacts including priestly vestments and the wearing of same with the intention of impersonating the clergy.’

  ‘But Foxy is most devout and I am sure would never do anything so unfortunate.’

  ‘Well he left his fingerprints all over the face of a witness to such act. And occasioned him actual bodily harm as well. And further. In regard to the unlawful taking of a horse, the property of a Master of Foxhounds. And again occasioning that gentleman actual bodily harm. And connected with that incident. There is the damage done to property in the act of trespass and being in charge of a horse in a dangerous manner.’

  ‘Good lord, how heinous.’

  ‘Which also involved charging the same horse at two dismounted members of the hunt and then jumping over their heads. Particulars of this latter matter are still being pursued as witnesses have been reluctant to come forward.’

  ‘Upon my word. How irredeemably wretched. And especially to thieve clerical clothing. Dreadful. But Foxy has impeccable references.’

  ‘No need to get alarmed now Mr Kildare. Sure the reverend Father in question is a humane man. Not to say a cultured gentleman of the very highest order and indeed is an habitué of this very house.’

  ‘Yes indeed he is, and a noted collector of fine art.’

  ‘Well he would not be pressing charges. And we are likely to consider that in the case of a person with too much drink taken that they might in such a state, on occasion, behave in a bizarre manner. And not be meaning in the least to impersonate a member of the clergy. And we are proceeding upon that assumption. He could be let off with a caution and small fine. But it is the Father’s robes, tailor made in Paris of the greatest kind of cloth and blessed by the Pope, that we want to recover. And we would earnestly solicit the help of all here in so doing.’

  ‘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.