Someone Wishes to Speak to You (10 page)

On the other hand, Mathew found that while the decanter of port was being circulated and the cigars were lit, the men’s conversation was rather limited. ‘Do you think the heather will be right for the grouse? We want them to be ready for us on the Glorious Twelfth!’ ‘Last winter it was so cold, the moat froze – I don’t remember that happening since ’47 and ’63. Unlucky, what?’; and some more detailed discussion about the different types of feathers some of them had chosen to fish for brown trout in the nearby River Wharfe. Discussions had concluded by the fox-hunters among the guests having spoken about how well the new whippers-in of the Bramham Moor Hunt had controlled the hounds during the last season, and how many fox kills each of them had witnessed.

Half an hour later, the men rejoined the women in the drawing room to take coffee, and to have a choice of either one of the Earl’s fine cognacs, or a liqueur. To Mathew, the evening had gone off surprisingly well and being seated next to Antonia had proved to be an unexpected pleasure. The
back-slapping, red-faced, jovial Earl had been in cracking form and could not have been a more welcoming and generous host. The Countess had been as gracious as ever, but always managed to maintain the formal decorum of her considered social status. No doubt as far as she was concerned she had performed her duty ably by providing her husband with four children, particularly by producing a son and heir. Young Alistair was about to go to his father’s old school, Winchester College; a second son, Philip, (whom she always referred to as a ‘spare’) had just entered the Pilgrims Preparatory School; and Antonia’s younger sister, Penelope, had just entered Benenden School in Kent at the age of eleven.

When Mathew had been enthusiastically telling the Countess, Antonia and her siblings about his gorilla studies, he could not help feeling that the last thing this aristocratic lady would wish would be for a man whose only evident ambition in life was to study different types of monkeys in ‘Darkest Africa’ to become betrothed to her eldest daughter. Also, as Mathew was the younger son, it would be Sebastian who would inherit the Duncan baronetcy.

When the evening came to an end just after midnight, Antonia mentioned that the annual summer tennis tournament at Bardon Towers was soon due to take place. ‘What would you say to partnering me in the doubles? I know you’re rather handy with a racket . . . It’s always such fun.’ ‘That sounds like an excellent suggestion, I would be delighted to accept,’ replied Mathew, although he could not help wondering what Lucienne would have to say about it. He had always rather prided himself on his skills as a lawn tennis player, and he knew how well the grass court at Bardon Towers was maintained.

Fond farewells were bade, with additional superlatives from all to the Earl and Countess as to how wonderfully enjoyable the whole party had been. When Antonia said goodbye to Mathew, she gave him a gentle kiss on both cheeks. ‘I’m
looking forward to playing tennis with you, I’m sure we’ll make a formidable partnership. You know, you could always come to visit me in Cambridge when you have time,’ she whispered with a mischievous smile. ‘Anyway, if you’re back in England by the New Year, I would love an invitation to be your partner at the Bramham Moor Hunt Ball. I seem to remember we had lots of fun at the last one . . .’

During the drive back to Hartington Hall, with Mathew’s mind well lubricated from imbibing an agreeable amount of vintage wine followed by the Earl’s fine 1963 Dow’s port, he reflected just how convivial, alluring, desirable and seductive members of the fairer sex can be. In comparison to his kingdom of gorillas, how was it that Western civilisation had adopted monogamy as its
status quo
? He reminded himself how jealous he was when Lucienne had appeared far more interested in Patrice Daman than him as they were leaving the research institute near Bukavu. Remembering those feelings of possessiveness helped Mathew come to the conclusion that perhaps in the long term, monogamy would be by far the most sustainable path for him.

The following morning, having been concerned about the conflicting emotions he had experienced in his dreams during a rather turbulent night, he wrote what he hoped would be a philosophical and tactful letter to Lucienne. He apologised for not having responded to her most welcome letter before, but emphasised how extremely tied up he had been in working on the analysis of his field notes. He mentioned how very much he had appreciated receiving her loving sentiments, and he had reciprocated to these by saying that he too had been missing her greatly and how much he was looking forward to seeing her again in Atlanta, in just over two months time.

However, Mathew was careful not to over-emphasise any of his deep-rooted intimate romantic thoughts about her, in spite of feeling that he loved Lucienne more than anybody else in the world. This reserve was due to his understanding
that when they met again, the environment would be quite unlike that of Bukavu; things might turn out to be very different. Should their relationship fail to blossom, Mathew would hate to let her down. He had genuine concern for her ultimate future happiness, and wanted to avoid damaging her self-confidence and self-respect at all costs.

Just under a month before Mathew was due to return to the USA, he received a letter from a Professor Carl Benirschke of the Centre for Interdisciplinary Research at the recently established Bielefeld University, Germany. The Professor had been given Mathew’s details by his old academic friend and colleague Osman Hill, who had highly recommended Mathew as an ideal person to step in to present the keynote address at a forthcoming symposium on ‘Captive Propagation and Conservation of Primates’. A sudden illness had caused the previously nominated academic to have to withdraw. All travel and accommodation expenses were to be paid by the university and, if Mathew was able to accept, he had been asked if he could highlight in his address the significance of facial signals and vocalisations of the eastern lowland gorillas he had studied at Kahuzi-Biega, and their particular relevance to human communication. Mathew was quick to accept the invitation; he was honoured Osman Hill had put his name forward and the subject matter was ideal for him. It would also make an excellent addition to his CV.

Ten days later, Mathew flew to Hanover, then travelled by train for the 110 km onward journey to Bielefeld. ‘Mathew Duncan?’ asked an earnest-looking young man waiting on the station platform. ‘That’s right,’ replied Mathew, putting his cases down to shake hands. ‘My name’s Michael Lamb, I’m a student of Professor Benirschke – he’s asked me to, you know,
look after you and help you with things while you’re here. My car’s right outside, let me take you to your hotel.’

While Michael drove, he told Mathew a little more about himself. ‘I graduated from the University of Durham and went straight into the British Diplomatic Service. They sent me here to learn German – I’m doing a one-year crash course at Bielefeld.’

‘Is it working? A year is such a short time – I’ve always found German rather a tricky language.’

‘Oh, so do I, absolutely, but Professor Benirschke is an excellent teacher and actually living in Germany makes all the difference so I feel as though I’ve quite got the hang of it. In fact, they’ve asked me to translate the abstract of your paper so it can be circulated tomorrow morning, before the presentation.’

Michael dropped Mathew at his hotel, promising to pick him up in good time in the morning.

The next day, everything went according to plan and Mathew delivered what was a very engaging and well-received presentation. Michael had done an excellent job in translating the abstract and keywords of the paper, also carrying out some valuable interpretation during Mathew’s speech as there was no simultaneous translation. When Mathew had projected various mugshots of his gorilla study group, Michael had been able to emphasise how much Mathew had to depend upon his sketches and photographs of each individual’s nose-print for identification purposes. Just as George Schaller had recorded during his epic year studying the gorilla kingdom, whereas no two humans have exactly the same finger-prints, no two gorillas have the same ‘nose-print’ – the shape of their nostrils and the outstanding troughs on the bridges of their noses.

Over a much-needed cup of coffee after the presentation,
Michael said, ‘I found it absolutely fascinating what you said about how gorillas interact with each other and how there’s often a family likeness in both looks and aspects of behaviour. I never would have considered it before – nor what you said about how their interaction could be relevant to human communication.’

‘I’m so glad to hear that, I hope you’re not the only one!’ Mathew laughed.

‘Oh I shouldn’t think so! I’ve also made a note of your point about not staring at gorillas directly when you’re making observations, that it can constitute a threat – as it can with humans. That may come in very useful.’ Michael reflected on how the study of such cognitive skills could well benefit his long-term ambition to work under cover for British Intelligence.

On Mathew’s return from Germany, he was delighted to hear from his elder brother in Belfast that he had arranged to take some leave in order to spend a week at Hartington Hall with him prior to his return to the USA. Mathew’s disciplined weekly work routine had resulted in having completed the analysis of his gorilla field notes and he was free to relax.

When it came to the weekend of the tennis party at Bardon Towers, Mathew was ready for the opportunity to unwind and meet up with a number of his old hunting and grouse-shooting friends, as well as to be introduced to a variety of the Drysdale’s rather eccentric house guests. On such occasions it was mandatory for all participants to wear immaculate white tennis gear, more often than not enhanced by tennis or cricket club sweaters.

The provision of ice-cold jugs of Pimms, platefuls of smoked salmon and cucumber sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam was
de rigueur
for a weekend tennis gathering at a British stately home. Antonia and Mathew had won the doubles and, in the singles, Mathew was only just
beaten in the semi-finals by the person who had gone on to win the contest. As Mathew relaxed on the veranda of the thatched summer house, under the shade of two century-old oak trees, he considered how much the setting contrasted to the small veranda in front of his rodent and insect-infested hut near to the entrance to Kahuzi-Biega. An environment that he very much doubted any of his fellow tournament players would have enjoyed or even survived in.

Comparing the two lifestyles, he had found it almost impossible to come out in favour of one against the other, and considered the possibility of merging them both. It had been whilst sitting in this agreeable environment that he attempted to understand the depth of his freshly kindled fondness for Antonia, and how such feelings had contributed to the emotional dilemma and moral contradictions that had now started to haunt him. He also deeply regretted that since he had been back in England, he hadn’t mentioned anything to either his parents or his closest friends about his deep love and intimate relationship with Lucienne.

The arrival of Captain Sebastian Duncan back at Hartington Hall was greeted with great warmness by everybody, including the staff. Even Sid Stockdale, an ex-National Service trooper in the Household Brigade, was quick to act as if he was the Captain’s batman by proudly unloading his brown leather monogrammed suitcase from the Daimler, and carrying it personally up to Sebastian’s bedroom, This would have been conveyed by a lesser mortal under normal circumstances. Although Lady Sally wanted to arrange a number of social events while she had her two sons back at home again, Sebastian and Mathew had managed to persuade her to confine such visits to just close family members; neither of them wished to become involved with the intricacies of their mother’s matrimonial match-making.

Much of the family conversation during Mathew’s final few days at Hartington Hall revolved around the future running of the 1,800-acre estate, and the financial constraints that would be required during the next decade on the two estate farms in order to make them more economically viable. However, Sir Colin had highlighted the financial viability of both the annual four-month grouse and five-month partridge shoots.

‘The estate has recently become an integral part of the Yorkshire Dales National Park,’ Sir Colin told his sons. ‘Do you know, nearly the whole park is under private ownership? We’re all extremely fortunate to have Hartington Hall as our ancestral home – we’ve all benefited from the magnificent scenery of the Fells, grouse moors, hill farms, dry-stone walls . . . the streams that tumble down from the hills . . .’ As if their father were working on behalf of the Yorkshire Dales Tourist Board, he highlighted how the rain, wind, fog, frost and snowfalls that regularly occurred throughout the winter months contrasted so magnificently with the beautiful, bright, clear days that they were currently experiencing and how such significant changes had always contributed so much to the Dales’ rich biodiversity.

While their father was painting such an idyllic picture, Sebastian and Mathew knew only too well that was leading up to a matter of major importance to him. ‘In seven years time I’ll be celebrating my seventieth birthday. . . I’m no longer in the best of health and I sincerely doubt that after 1980 I’ll be in a position to carry on running the estate successfully, with its best interests at heart. In order to safeguard the long-term financial viability of Hartington Hall and it environs, would either of you be interested in stepping into the breach, as it were?’

Sebastian was the first to speak up. ‘You know how important Hartington is to me, Father, and I want to help, but I’ve been told by my commanding officer that by the end
of the year I’ll be gazetted as a major in the Life Guards – my future responsibilities will be split equally between the regiment’s ceremonial mounted duties, and the Household Cavalry’s armoured reconnaissance operational activities. I’ve been given the chance to lead the Life Guards’ half of the Sovereign’s Escort at the next Trooping of the Colour.’ Sebastian looked down. ‘I don’t want to give it up. It’s my life, it suits me and to tell you the truth, I don’t think I’m cut out to run this place, much as I love it.’