The Dinosaur
Lord Dudlum stood at the library window. It commanded a magnificent view of wooded hills and rolling pastures. It was all his, well the banks at any rate for the estate was mortgaged upto the hilt. Once the Dudlums had commanded great prestige. Dudlums had served in several governments in high ministerial capacities while one of Lord Dudlums ancestors had fought alongside the Duke of Wellington at the Battle of Waterloo. As a child growing up in post-war Britain he remembered the House being full of guests with an extensive staff of servants to cater to their every whim. However his father’s liking for the gaming table and his entanglement with women of dubious reputation had left the family’s coffers empty. Well not quite empty, Lord Dudlum and his daughter (his wife had died in a riding accident shortly after the birth of their only child, Jessica) had sufficient funds to retain the family seat and employ a fulltime housekeeper, however the family’s finances groaned under the weight of the mortgage to the Halifax, the money generated from the estate’s farms barely covering the repayments.
Lord Dudlum’s eyes roamed lovingly over the leather bound books in the oak book cases. The complete works of Dickens, the Canterbury Tales, the complete works of Shakespeare he knew and loved them all as could be deduced from the worn leather bindings which testified to their frequent use. Lord Dudlum walked across to the book cases and reached for Golding’s Lord of the Flies. He was interrupted in his intent by a knock at the door,
“Come in” he said.
The door opened admitting Jessica a petite blonde in her early thirties. Dudlum had married in his early fifties to Amanda a girl 20 years his junior. He still haden’t got over the death of his mandy, he missed her terribly but as with many members of the British upper classes he made a point of not showing emotion in public, it just wasn’t the done thing for a man to admit to having feelings.
“Daddy have you signed those papers?” Jessica asked.
“No” he replied glancing in the direction of a bundle of documents from a prominent firm of London solicitors.
“We need the money daddy” Jessica said raising her voice in anger “and all you can do is sit in your bloody library reading Chaucer!”
“We can manage Jess. The estate brings in enough money to pay the bills” he said glancing unconsciously in the direction of his beloved books. He wished that his daughter would leave him in peace. All he wanted was to read in tranquillity, was that too much to ask?
“Daddy the ball room roof is leaking and Lisa (the housekeeper) told me that the oven is sparking. We’ll have a bloody fire on our hands if we don’t replace it!” Jessica said raising her eyes heavenwards in exasperation.
“Don’t use that language Jess” her father said mildly, “You know that I can’t abide swearing. I didn’t send you to that expensive girls school for you to use the language one hears used by dockers”.
“Sorry daddy but you don’t appear to understand the urgency of the situation. I can’t get through to you” Jessica replied.
“Jess if we sell Lawson’s woods they will build houses where you and I used to pick blue bells when you where a little girl. Is that what you want, for pokey little houses to replace those magnificent trees?” he said.
“Daddy the country is crying out for houses, don’t you read the newspapers?” Jessica said cclenching her fists in frustration.
“You know I read the Telegraph and the Guardian every day but building on historic woodland isn’t the answer to the country’s housing problems. I’m sorry to say this Jess, I really am but I think you care more about money than you do about this family’s responsibility to the countryside. We hold this land in trust. It will still be here long after you and I are dead and gone. Sometimes I think that you know the price of everything and the value of nothing” her father said anger and sadness mingling in his breast.
“Tim says that you can get a much better price for the land than they (pointing to the documents) are offering. That you can bargain with them”.
“Nasty little oyk, the only thing which Tim cares about is money. He has no feeling for anything other than cold hard cash. Do you know what he said to me the last time he was here?” Lord Dudlum asked.
“No but I’m sure that you are going to tell me” Jessica said with a sigh.
“He said “Rupert are those books (pointing to my first editions) really the genuine article?” and when I assured him that they where he said that they would fetch a packet on Ebay! The man’s a philistine, I can’t for the life of me understand what you see in him. I will never part with my books. The man just isn’t a gentleman”.
“If you won’t sell the woods then how about Leader’s Farm? Tim says that the farm is prime developer’s land, that a friend of his in the city would give his eye teeth for it” Jessica said.
“And what would happen to the Browns?” her father asked.
“That isn’t our problem daddy. We are living in a market economy, they will just have to find employment elsewhere” Jessica responded.
“Oh Jess I can’t throw them off the farm. The Browns have farmed that land since the 18th century. I/we have a responsibility to them” Lord Dudlum said.
“Daddy this is the 20th century not some bygone semi-feudal age where the landed gentry ruled the countryside and threw a few crumbs of charity to the tenantry. Those views went out with the ark”
Lord Dudlum became red in the face
“Tell me Jess is this world of economics where Adam Smith and Jeremy Bentham rule supreme more humane than the days when the local squire had a sense of responsibility to those who depended on him? Do you think that the factory worker on the production line is happier than the Browns? I went to their daughter’s wedding and I’m not about to turf them out of their ancestoral home” Lord Dudlum said.
“So you will let the house fall down around our ears because of some misguided paternalistic claptrap. The world in which Lady Bountiful dispensed charity to the poor while her husband held Christmas parties for his labourers have long since come and gone” Jessica said her face reddening with anger.
“So I’m a dinosaur am I? Better a dinosaur than a bloodless calculating machine” Lord Dudlum said.
“What do you really know about the lives of ordinary people daddy? Eton followed by Oxford followed by the life of a gentleman of leisure. At least Tim knows about the real world. Yes Tim who you despise so much, he wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth. His mother was a cleaner and his father a builder. Tim got where he is through his own efforts unlike you” Jessica said shaking with anger.
Her father brought his fist crashing down on the oak desk scattering papers everywhere.
“Don’t lecture me about snobbery and living in the real world young lady. Your mother was the daughter of a publican. My parents didn’t want me to marry her but we eloped to Liverpool and married. Father was furious as was my mother but they eventually came round. So don’t you ever dare to tell me that I don’t know how ordinary people live. What do you know about ordinary people Jess? You went to an expensive girl’s school followed by Cambridge and then into the City where you met that social climber Tim. That hardly qualifies you to lecture me!” Lord Dudlum fumed.
“OK daddy so you will let this house not to mention me go hang just because of some outdated concept of noblesse oblige. A gentleman can’t possibly ssully his hands with financial matters” she said sneeringly.
“Get out” her father roared walking towards her fists clenched.
“What are you going to do? Whack me? That isn’t very gentlemanly now is it” Jessica said in the same sneering tone of voice but none the less she opened the door, backed out of the library and slammed the heavy door behind her.
Lord Dudlum sank back into his favourit old arm chair. It had stuffing poking through the bottom but he loved it and refused to throw it away.
What kind of girl had he raised he wondered sadly. Jess appeared to have no heart, to be wholly concerned with herself and making money. Perhaps it was his fault for sending her away to that girl’s school. Had she stayed at home with him and been home tutored things might have been different. He loved Jessica but as with so many people of his class and generation he shyed away from open expressions of affection. The only exception to this had been his love for Amanda, he remembered holding hands in public much to the chagrin of his parents and his wider social circle. However, Following the death of Amanda something had died in Rupert Dudlum. He became solitary retreating ever more into his library. Jessica had, if he was brutally honest about it been sent away to boarding school because she reminded him of her mother. The memory was acutely painful so the child was sent away. When he saw the way in which the Browns hugged their grand children he felt a pang of regret. Yes, had he been a better father then quite possibly that flinty young lady wouldn’t have turned out the way she had.
Lord Dudlum reached towards the scattered papers. Perhaps Jessica was right that there was no alternative other than to sign the documents but it went against all he believed in. He held the house and the surrounding land in trust, it wasn’t for him a question of mere economics. With a heavy heart he reached for his pen. He appended his signature, addressed an envelope, neatly placed the papers inside and sealed it.
Slowly Lord Dudlum opened the top drawer in the desk. Underneath assorted papers lay his father’s old revolver. He should have handed it back after his military service however, as with so many former soldiers he failed to do so. The gun was, he knew loaded. Lord Dudlum placed the barrel of the revolver in his mouth and pulled the trigger. There was a bang and then the peace which for so long had eluded Lord Dudlum came washing over him in waves.
The end
