The English Tutor (20 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

OCTOBER was wet and cold, and turf fires burned in all the rooms, filling the damp old house with the scent of bog and heather. The hills were more often than not blotted out with mist, and a gentle melancholy seemed to settle on the loch.

“
We
’
ll have a long winter this year,
”
Kevin said,
“
and a hard one after Christmas, if I
’
m not mistaken. I
’
ve never seen the rowan so red.
”

Mark began unending skirmishes with Agnes, who would not let Brian go out in the bad weather, and although he won his point by insisting on daily exercise for the boy, even though it be brief and conducted in gum-boots and many wraps, it was Clancy who accompanied him on long tramps in the afternoons when they would both return wet and hungry and eat an enormous schoolroom tea, watched sulkily by Brian.

Once she had made up her mind to be sociable, Mark found Clancy a charming companion. Sometimes they walked in silence, thinking their own thoughts, but often she was full of inconsequent chatter embracing such a mixture of fact and fable that he was sometimes at a loss to keep pace with her. There was a truth and simplicity in Clancy which no one had ever bothered to appreciate, and he thought, too, that she had a capacity for suffering which had mercifully been denied to the rest of the O
’
Shanes.

“
Have you ever thought what you
’
re going to do with your life?
”
he asked her on one occasion.

“
The women of our house don
’
t think,
”
she replied gravely.
“
Kilmallin arranges things.
”

“
But that
’
s a very old-fashioned idea,
”
he said indulgently.
“
Most girls today have their own ideas of what they eventually want to do.
”

She walked beside him, the wind in her face, and her eyes looked steadily ahead.

“
But what is there for me to do,
”
she asked simply,
“
except get married?
”

“
Have you ever thought,
”
he asked a little impatiently,
“
what would happen if you didn
’
t get married?
”

“
I
’
d just stay on here at Kilmallin, I suppose.
”

“
And become in time like your aunt? Keeping house for Brian when he
’
s grown up and perhaps married?
”

She turned towards him, and her lifted face was pinched with dismay.

“
But what could I do?
”
she said.
“
I
’
m not fitted for any job. I haven
’
t any brains, as you ought to know, Mark.
”

“
On the contrary,
”
he retorted,
“
you
’
ve got quite a good brain when you like to use it. You should get your father to let you train for something.
”

She smiled, and the tension went out of her face.

“
Oh,
Kilmallin
would never hear of that,
”
she said, and started to walk on again.
“
No,
I’ll
just wait and get married like Aunt Bea says I will—some neighbour possibly. Kilmallin will arrange it.
”

Mark wondered if she was thinking of Conn. He never felt too happy about the girl
’
s attachment to Conn. She was only a child still in many ways, but it often struck him that it was a one-sided affair. He walked on in silence, but resolved to speak to Kevin at the earliest opportunity.

Kevin, however, was adamant and quite genuinely astonished.

“
You seriously ask me to consider giving the girl some training in order to leave home?
”
he said.

“
Yes
,
”
Mark replied gravely,
“
I do. In these days all girls should be fitted to earn their own living if necessary. I understood you to say that the estate will go to Brian eventually. Clancy should have some opportunity to make her own life.
”

“
And what should her life be if not here at Kilmallin? The girl will no doubt marry, but if she doesn
’
t, then her home is here. She can run Brian
’
s house for him when I
’
m
gone, just as Bea runs mine, only I hope she
’
ll do it more efficiently.
”

“
That won
’
t be enough. You should know your own daughter better than to suppose she
’
s made in the same mould as your sister. Besides, I think you owe it to her.

“
Ah, stop your blethering! She
’
ll have a home and a little money. What more can you ask? Girls in England may drive their parents daft with crazy notions of independence, but we don
’
t bring our daughters up like that over here, and I
’
ll not have you putting such ideas in the child
’
s head. You
’
re here to take charge of my son, and I
’
m not concerned with anything else.
”

“
It was you who insisted in the first place, Kilmallin, that I took charge of your daughter too,
”
Mark reminded him.

Kevin
’
s face relaxed in an
unwilling
smile.

“
So I did,
”
he said,
“
so I did, and you standing there all stiff and English and refusing to listen to me. Well, we
’
ll not discuss it any more. You
’
re doing a fine job, Mark, and I won
’
t be denying you your proper concern for both your pupils. It does you credit, but we won
’
t argue the point yet awhile.
”

They all called him Mark now. He was one of the family, and, as such, was privileged to speak his mind, even to Kevin. It often seemed to him that he had lived with the O
’
Shanes for a great deal longer than five months, so well had he come to know them all. That other life in busy England seemed so far away, and even Anne as he had last seen her, so cool and self-reliant as she bade him good-bye, could be remembered without pain.

On these autumn evenings, he sat alone in the tower room, liste
ning
to the rain on the windows, and thinking about these things and many others. He saw now that what he had felt for Anne all those years ago had been a natural outcome of frequent partings and the desire for stability. She would have made a good wife and mother only because convention, and not emotion, would demand it of her. And that, Mark realised now, would never have been enough for him.

He thought he would go back to teaching when he had finished with Kilmallin. The old desire to break away was less now than it had been, indeed, he thought that, at the time, Anne
’
s death had had much to do with his restless wish for change. For the first time he began to think seriously of that long-standing offer of a partnership in a small preparatory school in the west of England. Perhaps he would get in touch with his old friend, George Bishop, again. By the summer Brian would be fit for school, and by the summer he should be moving on again.

About the middle of October Clodagh came back for another visit. She said Dublin was dull now the summer festivities were finished, there would be no worth-while parties until Christmas, and she might as well be dull at Kilmallin as anywhere else.

“
Besides, I like your tutor,
”
she told Clancy, wrinkling her nose.
“
He
’
s very civilized.
”

“
What do you mean by that?
”
Clancy asked suspiciously, but Cloda
g
h did not know.

She said it might be amusing to try and lead him on a little because he was so self-contained and English and probably would not know how to flirt. Clancy did not think he would either, but it was entertaining to watch her cousin
’
s kittenish and very blatant attempts to get a rise out of him.

Privately, she thought Mark
’
s manner admirable. If he cherished a secret affection for Clodagh, he hid it very successfully, and his attentions held a polite amusement, which, Clancy thought, had she been Clodagh, would have made her want to slap his face.

Conn came over more often then. They had seen very little of him during September, for he had been busy at the autumn sales.

“
What did you buy?
”
Clancy asked, eager for the old confidence which had always made her the first to hear his news.

“
Nothing,
”
he said briefly,
“
I was selling.
”

“
You didn
’
t buy at
all
?
But you must replace what you
’
ve sold,
”
she said quickly.

“
I
’
m not replacing anything this winter,
”
he said.
“
I
’
m reducing my stock as much as possible. What
’
s the use of trying to rear youngsters on that poor ground? I lose more than I can afford as it is.
”

“
But you have our land—the south pasture.
”

“
And haven
’
t I yearlings already eating their heads off there? Don
’
t meddle, my good girl. You
’
d think you were running Slievaun, not me.
”

They were all in the schoolroom after tea, sitting round the fire. Clancy, crouched on the rug, looked up, and Mark saw the surprise in her face.

“
You sound quite cross,
”
she said.
“
You used to like my advice. You used to say I had a good head on me for business.
”

“
Ah, don
’
t keep reminding me of what I used to say,
”
he replied irritably.
“
No man wants advice from women. Kilmallin himself should have taught you that by now.
”

She was silent, but her face had a sensitive, dismayed look, as if he had slapped her.

“
Conn is so disagreeable these days, isn
’
t he, Mark?
”
Clodagh curled herself up more fi
rm
ly in the best chair.
“
But of course you didn
’
t know us in the days when he was the optimistic you
n
g horse-breeder with ideals like Clancy
’
s.
”

“
Ah, shut up, will you?
”
he said, and sent an apologetic glance to Clancy.

“
I will not, then,
”
retorted Clodagh.
“
You have no manners at all, Conn. You should be in the schoolroom with Clancy and Brian, and perhaps Mark might teach you something useful.
”

They were always bickering now, and it often seemed to Clancy there was malice behind Clodagh
’
s remarks.

“
If you
’
re all going to be rude to each other, I think I
’
ll leave you and go and correct exercises,
”
said Mark, getting up, but Clodagh held out an inviting hand.

“
Ah, don
’
t go,
”
she pleaded.
“
Conn and I will probably come to blows without your restraining presence. I wish I was one of your pupils, Mark. You have such beautiful ma
nn
ers.
”

“
You
’
d probably find my beautiful manners would desert me in the schoolroom if you were one of my pupils,
”
he told her.

Her eyes opened widely in their kitten stare.

“
You sound as if you don
’
t approve of me,
”
she pouted.
“
Just when I
’
ve said such nice things about you, too. Don
’
t you think he has
n
ice manners, Clancy? Don
’
t
you
think so, Conn?
”

“
I think,
”
said Conn, looking at Mark with acute dislike,
“
you can be the most exasperating little devil in the whole of Ireland, when you choose.
”

“
Oh!
”
She turned to make a small moue at Mark, but he gave her a steady look and went out of the room.

“
There!
”
she said.
“
Now you
’
ve driven him away with your rudeness, Conn.
”

“
It
’
s you drove
him
away with your shameless talk,
”
flashed Conn.
“
Hasn
’
t he the beautiful manners! I wish I was one of your pupils, Mark! And you making the sheep
’
s eyes at
him
so for very decency he had to leave the room.
”

Clodagh
’
s mouth curved in a warm, pleased smile.
“
You
’
re jealous, Conn Driscoll!
”
she said,
“
—jealous as a tom-cat.
”

Clancy, between them, raised a distressed face.

“
Oh, do stop it, both of you,
”
she cried.
“
I can
’
t bear it when you quarrel. Conn
’
s right, Clodagh, you do try and flirt with Mark, and I think it
’
s so silly.
”

“
Who cares what you think?
”
retorted Clodagh rudely.
“
If you had the sense of a rabbit you
’
d doll yourself up and go after him yourself instead of treating
him
to inky fingers and school-girl pranks.
”

Clancy flushed scarlet.

“
I think you
’
re disgusting!
”
she shouted.
“
Conn
’
s absolutely right.
”

“
Since when has holy Conn not been absolutely right?
”
mimicked Clodagh.
‘
You
’
re a fool, Clancy O
’
Shane, and if you weren
’
t just a child, I
’
d feel sorry for you.
”

“
Why—why?
”

Some nameless fear made Clancy pause in her mounting rage.

“
Why? Because Conn—because you—ah, what
’
s the use? You wouldn
’
t know what I
’
m talking about.
”

“
And just as well, I
’
m thinking,
”
said Conn.
“
Half the time you don
’
t know yourself. Clancy, pay no heed to her.
”

“
What heed should I pay?
”
said Clancy, bewildered.
“
She
’
s only trying to hurt me like she tries to hurt you.
”

“
Listen, now, to the little woman!
”
scoffed Clodagh, her anger subsiding as she saw Clancy
’
s rise.