The Destinies of Darcy Dancer, Gentleman

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 blasted 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.

‘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.

‘Now madam, would you mind just standing over there close to tears.’

And in fact she did do that very thing. Proceeding, her shoulders hunched over to the chimneypiece. Bending her head slowly into her hands and good lord releasing suddenly a cascade of sobs which made me jump up so fast and rush to her that I knocked over a side table stacked with tomes on lineage. To take her as best I could in a comforting embrace, which seemed to make her sob even louder. I was really getting scared. Saying, what’s the matter, please tell me and was nearly in tears myself, when she then burst into laughter.

‘Why you absolute dirty rotter to do that. I feel quite that you have made an absolute fool of me.’

I was in fact now standing there in actual tears of rage. And I gave her a good damn sock of my fist right on the shoulder. And she convulsed in laughter even harder. Till I really let her have a thundering hard punch on her thigh when she smacked me back with a bone painful blow to my own shoulder and sooner than soon we were grabbing, pulling, tripping, wrestling and crashing all over the place. God she is strong. Every time I thought I had her pinned down she twisted right up again out of my grasp. And threw me over. And she didn’t appear to be in the least concerned with the upheaval of pillows and crashing furniture. But I finally managed to get her in a scissor grip with my legs. And although she agreed to give up she had me bloody well twisted by my fingers and demanded I surrender first. And not being a ruddy bounder I naturally consented.

‘You are being absolutely unladylike madam fighting like a man.’

‘But of course what would you expect, for me to fight like a woman. You would then have your eyes scratched out.’

‘That is a most chilling thing to say.’

‘Ah but perhaps I should suggest some, warmer way of expending our energy that we ought really to try. But I think it must wait till a little later. Just in case there are inquisitive eyes and ears still awake.’

I was quite flushed in the face and I was amazed at her sudden indifference to her appearance and getting her dress mussed. And I brushed her off especially about the bosoms. And the white brilliance of her teeth as she smiled. We picked up the books and replaced other disturbed furnishings. Put logs on the fire and I lay my head back on her lap sitting on the floor. And just looking up into her eyes. The wind rattling outside. The crackling fire. So wonderful to have this conspiracy of love between us. Even if it was sometimes breached when we actually tried to kill each other in a fight, to only be, in just a matter of seconds later enraptured in writhing passion, flesh to flesh embraced. Our smells making one fume. If one could get that hot on such an extremely cool evening. And if too, of course she had let go of my badly twisted fingers. And climbing up the stairs her hair loosed from her combs and falling down her back I was going to ask her. Of what would happen if we ever had a baby. And if our love made another born, would it change anything between us. Then reaching the landing I couldn’t summon my voice to speak such words. And instead I asked, had all the war, all the death, destruction, made matters of who was better and more esteemed than another, any different. As when her shoes were worn through and broken and her clothes threadbare and she had no butter bacon or eggs. Did not the lack of such things then make her feel all dismally the same as everyone else. And did that make her feel glad and relieved that her elegances and superiorities need no longer trouble her.

‘Ah my grand fellow. You have got everything so arsey versy. My elegancies, they have never troubled me. But in matters of distinctions nothing changes. No cannon, no bomb is enough to shatter rank. But even if everybody suffers, your own suffering does not seem less. And there are always those for whom superiorities are dearly and bitterly important. Who still care so much about their privileges and distinctions. Either gained or lost. Either hoped for or disappointed. And they would wear their crowns and medals on their deathbeds. It is sadly an unchanging fact of life. That everyone does like to feel esteemed in the eyes of everybody else. No matter who they are.’

‘Even a king.’

‘Of course, even a king. He feels important in the eyes of God.’

‘I am an atheist.’

‘Only because you are nobody important. Except to me.’

We parted kissing. And I said I will return quickly. And as she tapped me on the tip of my nose with her finger she said, and I hope quietly and discreetly. And I checked every direction and especially for sounds on the staircases before proceeding in darkness in pyjamas, slippers and dressing gown, to Miss von B’s room. And who minds being no one important if I am important to her. Lock the door behind me as I enter into her pleasant smells.

‘Hello my little potato digger.’

‘I’m not speaking to you if that is the attitude you are adopting.’

‘But it is my term of endearment for you. Then I shall call you my prince.’

‘Yes, I do far prefer that.’

The candle burning on her dresser and moonlight coming in the window. Her riding clothes neatly laid over a chair. Not like my room where everything was strewn until someone else picked it up. And the top of her pair of boots crowned with her bowler. And together we will have many more hunting days soon. I may even keep my own pack of hounds. Jog the jolly doggies up and down dale. For the greater glory of their fine fettle. Invite only those with the proper social credentials who were also consummate masters of equitation to join one. Then as M.F.H. with her royal blonde beauteous highness just behind me, we would together set the entire hunting world astir with great rampages across the pastures of Thormondstown. Show those select few, sport of such majesty and magnificence that all would gladly die in satisfied joy following the close of day as they took their final sips of after dinner port. And of course I would have the field obey me as slaves. And any gentleman who mounted a lady or even pulled down their breeches to examine her bruises and scratches would be banned. Till next hunting season. Vets of course would come fully equipped with the necessary splints and bandages and would have handy their amputation knives. But be forbidden to fight with these. Especially with another of this profession as was frequently the case, due to their conflicting opinions given various clients on their ailing horses for whose costly demise one vet promptly blamed the other. So much squalor permeates the hunting field these days perpetrated by those who would attempt to make hunting history by their signally bizarre behaviour. Ruffians most odious. Of course anyone with the gall to even mildly flaunt my wishes in the field would succeed in making me immediately take the hounds home. But for those of the true spirit I would indeed provide such wild blood inspiring sporting gaiety that nothing in anyone’s life would succeed in vying with it.

‘And what my prince have you so intently on your mind that you should stand there like that.’

‘I am going to form my own pack of hounds.’

‘Ah, in your scarlet coat you will be master.’

‘Yes as a matter of fact.’

‘My prince. My master. How sad. I did so like you as my dear little bog trotter.’

Instead of taking off my pyjamas I just wish I had enough self discipline to deny my randy desperation and to just turn in my slippers and depart when she makes fun of me so. But dear me she is so attractive as she lies waiting there for me in bed. Her eyes look out, just looking. Somewhere there in the dark. The side of her face in moonlight and her smile just smiling. As I fold my pyjamas and gown, both in my mother’s racing colours which really I shouldn’t keep on wearing. And certainly not as I take a hurdle in Miss von B’s direction. Tingling all over. As one might do in the roar of hooves in a point to point race. Crashing over and through the willow branches of the jumps. Turf and leather flying. To be a haughty winner. Just as one seems to be so awfully proud standing here barefoot and rudely pointing one’s penis. And I must confess I did dally there centre carpet wanting her to see and I hope to admire it because the thought of her looking at it really made it glow. Lit up like a bicycle lamp. And her smile got bigger. She winked and pulled an edge of the bedcovers back. Her hand bringing out the yard stick which to my absolute astonishment was the same one Mr Arland used in the schoolroom. Good god she is going to hit me. Just like her previous slap. And I am indeed stepping right back the hell out of here.

‘Ah my darling. Ah my dear little darling. It is your rudder. Your weathercock. I am only going to measure. Not to strike you.’

‘Well thank god for that. I honestly thought you were going to give me a thwack. And you do, you know at times, really confuse me so that I hardly know what to expect next.’

‘Ah but this time. All is different. Come up close now.’

‘I won’t actually. Not till you absolutely promise this isn’t just a trick.’

‘It is not believe me. We shall see how many inches long it is. I promise. No trick.’

‘You promise.’

‘But of course my sweet. Once we have your measurement then when I make for you your social recommendation we will put how long it is and I will sign it. Hold still. My it is very stuck up and extremely upper class, according to both the width and the length. Ah you see, that is how long it is. Clearly you qualify for the Almanach de Gotha. Alright get me paper.’

Of course how was one to know Miss von B was again only joking. She is so very good at pretending. But damn. I did stupidly get her a piece of Andromeda Park notepaper. Upon which she drew an extremely risqué silhouette of one’s personal part thereon. Writing in big letters underneath. BOGTROTTER. Which when showing it to me she laughingly pulled away.

‘But my sweet do you not now know that with this important paper you may enter the very best of social circles.’

I promptly pushed the offending document right up into her face. Promptly starting another fight. Grabbing her hands. As she strove again exerting all her strength to throw me over. But this time I had her half trapped under the thick pile of bedcovers and she just suddenly gave up and I fell an easy winner on top. To then climb in bed beside her. That wonderful feeling of feeling her touching all up and down me. And we kissed each other everywhere. Rolling about locking and unlocking our arms. I adored the way her head arched back on the pillow and the sinews stretched along her throat out to her shoulders as her jaw opened and her head turned back and forth and a frown came above her eyes as she groaned. One cannot imagine this activity ever being called impurity. As Foxy said it was preached from every altar in Ireland. Sins of the flesh. And hers so smooth on her long stemmed body. Beneath me. That I entwine open armed. Once full of hunger. Once fleeing saving her life. Her voice quiet and soft. When telling her tales of fear. Without a sorrow. Or regret. You want so much to live. When all around you want you to die. She speaks with her greyest, her bluest her greenest of eyes. Press lips on the soft cheeks. See her now. As I will last remember her. If ever I go away. And no longer can gather up. All her white tall body. Her bones. Her eyes. Lay with them held. By every soft pressure of flesh. If this makes me a sinner. Here I am then god. Blackened in joy under your celestial blue.

‘What my darling, what is that.’

‘It’s I think a carriage. On the drive.’

‘Who could it be.’

‘No one this time of night. It’s gone past to the servants’ entrance. It could be Luke or anyone coming back from the pub.’

‘O god you are so sweet. That you have made love for me beautiful once more. That our bodies should touch so natural and just be as they should. If only you were not so young.’

‘I am lord of the manor madam.’

‘But you are young too.’

‘I am a man.’

‘Yes. O well. Perhaps I shall just take some young hours of your life and in exchange I shall give you the rest of mine.’

‘Would you.’

‘No I would not. For nothing can win my sweet in a race against age. This is all we can ever have. It is not wise to seek more. But I would be so proud to walk at your side. If we were together in life. But we have, even for such a short a time, we have lived. What more can there be but to just make it as long as we can. There was the swallow bird who last summer fly in my window. He sit up there on the big brass curtain rod. And all his family, they sit all seven out on the drain along the roof making a white path shitting down the wall. And first when he come in, his little breast was beating in such fear as to how he could get out again. And his terror was so sad. But he swoop and swerve. His flight so brave. Till he find the space to fly free. And then he was gone. And he, that swift graceful bird, my little sweet, is what I think of whenever I think of you.’

Sleep coming. Quietly to my eyes. Miss von B and I. Side by side. Rest my head back across her outstretched arm. The sweet smell up in under her hair. When the whole world goes and fades away. Right up into the little plaster trio of feathers in each cornice of the room. If I lie absolutely still Miss von B may not chuck me out till morning. And may just let me fly around like the swallow under her covers. One has had rather a fine day. I might even record all the details in my diary just as my great grandfather did for the sake of his heirs. And perhaps even make as he did some philosophical observations. Except not even once did he make a saucy comment. Seemed only to care for hunting, shooting and fishing. Or in the case of the agricultural, of making improvements. Which he would do by periodically convening the estate workers to make known information recently obtained by scientists. Which he said thus put the knowledge of an educated class at the disposal of a class who derived little information from reading. He had his own remedies for cattle disease. With all kinds of mixtures either boiled or cold. Of oil, turpentine, sulphur, permanganate of potash. And gave his annual address to the tenantry, servants and staff of the estate. When he spoke of his great delight. To go in and out among you, not as a stranger but an old familiar friend. And he would end by saying. I trust that with god’s help I shall not be found an unworthy descendant of the old stock. And be assured it is my most earnest desire to promote the well being of my tenantry and to deserve in my own person their respect and attachment.

Feel Miss von B’s toe wiggling against mine. Probably to appreciate the splendid pedicure she gave me. Tasted milk out of her breast. The lush salty silky sweetness between her legs. The gunman I clonked on the head and if he never woke up. I’m a murderer. Be accused as an arsonist. If the school burned all the way to the ground. In any event Awfully Stupid is certainly never going to be stupid enough again to let someone walk away with his box of fudge. Even when they swear hysterically on three stacks of bibles that they’ll bring it back in just a moment. The sounds. The corridors of that school. The feet. That walk. So lonely along a hall. And get louder and louder as they approach.

‘Mein Gott, who’s at the door.’

‘Open this.’

‘O my darling who is it. Who is out there.’

‘This is Reginald Kildare. And you have madam, I believe that little bastard in there with you. Do you agree. Or must I have this door broken down to see for myself.’

‘No. You do not have to break it down. No. You do not have to.’

‘And I’ll see you, you little bastard, first thing in the morning in the library.’

The footsteps walking away. And my great grandfather’s words. That the prosperous state of the tenantry was due to a just and considerate agent which had added to the reputation of a noble name handed down through a long line of ancestors and had placed him on high vantage ground. And he trusted that by such esteem he should do his duty to all who stood before him. And I had dreamt that I had made an annual address to the staff. As they all stood stark naked in the front hall applauding me with huzzas. As I stammered out some feeble apology for my erection. Now I must begin saying something to Miss von B. Whose tight grip on my arm is squeezing even tighter. And from her there came just a strange little sound. Like an animal out in the dark woods when a predator tears life from them and they let out their squeal of death. And Miss von B sat up. In the moonlight so pale and white. Her splendid breasts shadowly trembling on her chest. Upon the softness I so cherished to lay my cheek. Hands now to her eyes making fists at the side of her face. Which shook each time she brought her arms up and the breath stuttered into her lungs. Her whole back bending and shaking as she sobbed. Her voice. Begging. O please please please, don’t let it happen. I beg of you don’t let it happen. Please please please. And I did not have to tell her to stand over there close to tears. The whole of her. Inside and out. Weeping. Anguish pleading in her eyes. And I listened. My own deepest sorrow stirring.

And

I loved

Her