Cashelmara (96 page)

She went paler than ever. “I know nothing about that, but if there was such an arrangement I’m sure Maxwell did it just to please Mr. Gallagher. Mr. Gallagher was the only one who could get him the pardon, you see, and of course we both wanted to please him. But, Ned, you don’t truly imagine I ever wanted you to marry into a family like the Gallaghers, do you? Naturally I’m quite opposed to you marrying anyone when you’re no more than a child, but even later I could hardly approve of you marrying Kerry! She’s so far beneath you socially, so—so totally inadequate to be the wife of a man in your station of life! I know she can’t help coming from such a vulgar, shoddyite family, but—”

“I see,” I said. “You and Mr. Drummond cultivate the Gallaghers for their money and their influence and then once you have what you want you conveniently forget about a bargain you never had any intention of keeping. You do all this and yet still you have the incredible audacity to tell me it’s the
Gallaghers
who are vulgar and shoddy!”

“Ned!” The color flooded back to her face as she stood up. “Apologize at once! How dare you be so insolent!”

“I think you should apologize to me,” I said. “You’ve lied to me, concealed the truth from me, allowed your lover to auction me as if I were no better than a stick of furniture—”

She slapped me twice across the face. I stopped. My skin was smarting and I reached up to touch it with my fingers. When I looked at her again I saw she was breathing hard, as if she had been running, and her eyes were the eyes of a stranger.

A lump formed in my throat. I turned away.

“Listen to me,” she said in a low voice that shook with rage. “You’re not marrying that girl either now or at any time in the future. I absolutely forbid it, and later you’ll look back and be grateful to me. Meanwhile you’d better go away to school. I’ll write to Thomas and ask him to arrange your admission to Harrow immediately.”

“I’m not leaving Cashelmara.”

“You’ll do as you’re told!” Before I could reply she flung open the door. “Maxwell!”

Her voice echoed strongly down the corridor and reverberated along the curved walls of the gallery.

I moved, bumping into a table, knocking an ornament to the floor. “Mama, I’ve nothing to say to Mr. Drummond.”

“Get back into the room!”

Drummond’s footsteps rang in the hall. “Sarah, did you call me?”

“Yes—please come and help me for a moment”

He ran up the stairs. I had backed into the boudoir before he reached the gallery.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I’m having the most dreadful time with Ned. He seems to have gone completely insane.” She lowered her voice, but I still heard snatches of the conversation. “All that wretched girl’s fault … wants to get married … no, not later—now! Rude, hurtful and disagreeable … at my wits’ end … please speak to him … needs a man, someone who can speak to him as a father would …”

I had to resist the urge to escape through the door into my mother’s bedroom. It would never do to look as though I were running away. Pausing instead beside a chair, I rested my hands stiffly on the upholstered ridge of its high back.

Drummond came into the room. He wore a gentleman’s suit, one of several he had ordered for Phineas Gallagher’s visit, and in the pocket of his velvet waistcoat was the gold watch he had won at poker. He had slicked back his hair, trimmed his whiskers and even grown a small mustache. I tried to remember the ugly, untidy but joyous Irishman who had flung his hat in the air and bought the violets for my mother, but the memory had blurred until it seemed no more than a dream of long ago.

“Well, Ned,” he said, smiling at me as he closed the door, “it’s a fine fuss your mother’s making and no mistake. What’s all this tarradiddle about getting married?”

“It’s not a subject I care to discuss with you,” I said.

“Nor I with you,” he answered, still smiling, “but since your mother’s given the royal command it seems we’ve no choice but to try. Listen, you mustn’t mind your mother. She never did care for the Gallaghers, and what’s more she can’t help herself, not after being brought up in that palace on Fifth Avenue. But if it’s my opinion you’re wanting, I think you’ve got good taste. The Gallaghers are a fine happy family, and those girls have been brought up properly and sure Kerry’s the sort of girl who would make any man sit up and blink twice. So you see, I’m not agreeing with your mother when she says you shouldn’t marry Kerry. Indeed you should marry her—when you’re past twenty-one and your own master, when you’ve seen a little of the world and learned more of what there is to learn. But don’t be marrying before you’re twenty-one, Ned. I did, and I often regretted it. If you’re smart enough to learn from other people’s mistakes, I hope you’ll not be too proud to learn from mine.”

I said nothing, and when he saw I intended to remain silent he lighted a cigarette to give himself time to think. I remembered the time when this gesture had given me confidence. Now it seemed no more than a cheap trick.

“I’ve no wish to quarrel with you, Ned,” he said at last. “We’ve been friends too long. Let me suggest a compromise which could suit us both better than any quarrel. Marry Kerry, but postpone it. Wait at least a year.”

“I refuse to wait,” I said.

“For what? For marriage? Or for a willing woman and all the pleasure you can take?”

I turned aside. “I see no point in discussing this further.”

“You don’t have to wait for that, you know, Ned. Wait for marriage and wait for Kerry, but there’s no need to wait for anything else.”

“I’m not interested in anything else. If you’ll excuse me—”

“You only say that because you hate to admit that any advice I give you might possibly be the best advice you ever had! Come, Ned, grow up a little—be honest with yourself!”

He was standing in front of the door that led into the passage, so I moved toward the door that led into my mother’s bedroom. But he stopped me. He put his thick, coarse fingers on my arm and pushed me back very smoothly against the wall.

“Don’t lose your temper with me,” he said, still speaking evenly though I knew he was very angry. “You’re surely not that much of a fool. I’m on your side, can’t you see? I’m trying to help you. Listen, there’s a woman called Mrs. Costelloe who lives beyond Clonareen. I used to visit her sometimes long ago. She’d be far too old for you, of course, but I hear her niece who lives with her is all hospitality if she sees a young man she fancies. Ride with me to Clonareen tomorrow, and I’ll see the two of you are introduced.”

I was conscious of nothing except an overpowering longing to escape.

“Yes, sir,” I said, staring at the carpet.

His fingers relaxed on my arm. He gave me a pat on the back. “I always knew you were a smart boy,” he said. “I’m glad you’re going to be sensible.”

I escaped. I ran all the way down the passage to my room and just managed to reach the washstand before I vomited. I had no idea why I felt so ill, but I told myself it was because his suggestion of substituting a prostitute for Kerry was so revolting to me.

It was only later that I could admit to myself how frightened I was of him, and it was only when I admitted my fear that I could ask myself if I still believed my father had died a natural death.

“We’re going out,” I said immediately after lunch the next day.

“Ned, your ma’ll be furious! We’re going to start a new needlepoint design!”

“Never mind my mother. You’re coming with me.”

“Where to?”

“The cabin. I’ve got a flask of milk and five currant buns.”

As we hurried uphill through the woods I told her about the scene with Drummond. Until then I had merely told her that my mother was against the idea of us marrying so young.

“It’s just shocking the muddle old people get into!” She was appalled. “How can it be wrong for you to get married and yet right for you to visit a scarlet woman? I’d never have thought Mr. Drummond would have been so wicked. Ma and Pa would have a fit if they knew.”

“Do you think so? Are you sure? Wouldn’t your father simply say it was the way of the world?”

“I’m beginning to wonder what sort of world Pa lives in. Maybe I’ll retire from it and be a nun after all. I wanted to be a nun when I was ten, you know.”

I paused to show her how unsuited she was for the cloistered life. “We’re still getting married on my birthday as far as I’m concerned,” I said when she was convinced.

Now it was her turn to be scared. “Ned, Mr. Drummond’ll be furious!”

“He can have an apoplectic fit for all I care. He’s not my father, and if he tries to behave as if he is I won’t have it. I’m nearly sixteen years old, and I’m damned if I’ll let anyone dictate to me any more.”

“Oh, you’re so brave!” exclaimed Kerry admiringly.

But I wasn’t. I couldn’t even eat a currant bun.

“I could write to Ma and say I’ve lost my virginity,” offered Kerry, munching thoughtfully. “They’d have to let you marry me then, wouldn’t they?”

“You’ll do no such thing,” I said. “I’m going to marry you with everyone’s consent and your reputation intact. I’m going to do things properly and no one’s going to stand in my way.”

I hoped I would feel braver after those bold promises, but by the time we crept back to Cashelmara at five o’clock my heart was pounding like a piston and my hands were so clammy that I could barely open the side door into the house.

“What happens next?” whispered Kerry.

“Let’s go up to the nurseries. Nothing awful can happen there, and I promised John I’d help rebuild his farmyard. But I’ll just go to my room first and change my shoes. These ones are falling to pieces and my stockings are wet.”

“Shall I go on ahead?”

“Yes, I’ll see you in the nurseries.”

I sped noiselessly up the back stairs, ran like the wind down all the corridors and finally reached the sanctuary of my room. With a sigh of relief I dived inside.

“Welcome home,” said Maxwell Drummond.

He had been standing behind the door, and when I spun around he slammed the door to cut off my retreat. There was something odd about his appearance, but it took me several seconds to realize he was in his shirt sleeves. He had tossed his jacket across the bed and taken off the heavy leather belt he always wore with his working clothes. I looked for the belt but couldn’t see it. It was only when I glanced back at him that I saw it was coiled neatly in his right hand.

“Where were you?” he said. He spoke in a soft, low voice without any particular expression.

“I went for a walk,”

“With Kerry? Your mother said she was missing too.”

“Yes, I was with Kerry.”

“I thought we had an appointment.”

“You were mistaken,” I said. “I changed my mind. Forgive me for not informing you.”

“I’ll be damned if I’ll forgive you anything. What did you do to that girl?”

I stared at him. I suddenly found I couldn’t speak.

“Jesus Christ!” he said, white-hot with rage. “I might have known what sort of foolishness I could expect from a spoiled young bastard like you! Your trouble is that your mother and I have been so busy handling you with kid gloves that we’ve allowed you time and again to get away with behavior no child should be allowed to get away with. Well, you’ve gone too far this time! I’m going to teach you a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry.”

I managed to say, “I’ve done nothing wrong. I didn’t touch her. I want to do everything properly.”

“You goddamned liar,” he said and told me in the vilest possible language how he thought I had spent my afternoon.

Something snapped inside me. The room spun in a red mist before my eyes, and all fear was wiped from my mind. I stopped cringing against the wardrobe and rushed him. I moved so fast that I took him by surprise, and all my pent-up hatred spilled into violence as I slammed my fist into his face. He dodged but not quickly enough. My fist caught him a glancing blow, and he reeled back against the door. Closing in, I swung my fist again. I was shouting at him, but I hardly knew what I said. I called him names, terse, ugly Saxon names, and I told him to get out of my house. But then he caught my wrist, bending it back so that I cried in pain, and twisted my arm in such a way that I had to sink to my knees, and the next moment I was on the floor, unable to move, my face pressed against the worn carpet. He dragged at my jacket. I should have been able to wriggle free then, but he had me in such a grip that I dared not move for fear my arm would break.

“Let … me … go!” I twisted my body away from him, but he put a harder lock on my arm so that for a second I couldn’t breathe for the pain. The carpet smelled of dust and damp. I choked. My eyes smarted with tears. I was crying even before he hit me, but I tried not to because I didn’t want him to see my tears.

He hit me nine times. He had dragged up my shirt and vest so that the belt could bite my skin. When he had finished hitting me he stood up, shoving me away from him, and said he hoped that would teach me a lesson. He said that was just a taste of what I would get if I ever laid a finger on Kerry again and just a taste of what I would get if I ever breathed a word of my dishonorable behavior to anyone. He said he had been more patient with me and more liberal than any father would have been, and it was about time I realized it. He said I had better mend my ways pretty damned quickly if I wanted to avoid further trouble with him.

He left

I got up at once. I knew it was very important for my self-respect that I shouldn’t lie sobbing on the floor like a little boy in the nursery. Taking off my clothes, I tried to wash my cuts with cold water from the ewer and then I found fresh clothes and dressed with care. I knew I had to wear my best suit, but it no longer fitted me, and when I raised my arm to comb my hair the material closed upon my burning shoulders like a leaden cape. It was only then that I allowed myself to sit down.

The pain was so bad that I even wondered if my arm was broken, but I could still move my fingers, so it seemed unlikely that the bone was injured seriously.

Before I could start to feel sorry for myself I went downstairs.

I went straight to the library. He was slumped comfortably in a chair with his feet up on the great desk by the window. He had a glass of whisky at his elbow, and he was smoking one of Phineas Gallagher’s big cigars.