CHAPTER SEVEN

Connie did not quite know what to do with all of the freedom that she now had. She began to pass the time inside the house reading a book by the fire or trying to sew something. Mrs Bolton, noticing this, started to encourage her to get out more often, to take a ride into town or go for a walk in the woods.

Connie took her advice and went for a stroll. Along the way, she found a little spring, where she decided to sit a while and listen to the gentle sound of water moving over small stones. It was a dark little place, but, at the same time, so quiet and peaceful.

When she got up to go, Connie heard the sound of hammering. She began to follow the sound and discovered a little path she had never seen before. Walking down the strange path, the sound led her to a little open area where a small hut sat. Near the hut, the gamekeeper was kneeling on the ground hammering away at a piece of wood. His dog saw Connie first and started barking a friendly 'hello'. The keeper then looked up and saw her standing there. He looked a little annoyed at the interruption.

"Sorry, I just heard the hammering and became curious," said Connie a little nervously.

"I'm just building a home for the young birds," he answered.

"Would you mind if I sat down? I'm a little tired," Connie asked, feeling weak from both the walk and her discomfort.

"Of course. Just step inside the hut and I'll make you a fire so you can keep warm."

"Oh, that's OK. I don't need a fire."

However, when the keeper noticed how cold her hands looked, he decided to build a fire anyway. Once it was burning well, he returned to his work outside. Connie could not see him, but she could tell by the way he hammered the boards that he was uncomfortable with her presence. It must have bothered him that he could not always be alone, that his job made it necessary to see people sometimes.

The fire grew too warm, so she moved to the door, where she could watch the keeper work. He seemed lonely to her, and this made her feel a little better about her own situation.

The gamekeeper then took a brief moment from his work and noticed Connie sitting in the doorway, thinking. It looked as if she were waiting for something. Seeing her there, the keeper started to feel something like desire deep inside himself. This feeling both angered and frightened him. He did not want to have to deal with people any longer, including this young, upper class girl.

"I like this place," Connie said, "Do you keep this hut locked, usually?"

"Normally, I do, your Ladyship."

"Is there an extra key I could use, in case I wanted to come out here and relax for a while?"

The keeper looked a little annoyed at this. "I'm sorry, your Ladyship, you'd have to ask Sir Clifford about that."

"Well, couldn't I just get a copy of your key made?" Connie persisted.

"I don't know anybody who copies keys around here, your Ladyship."

Now Connie was annoyed, because the keeper was trying to avoid helping her. She could tell that he did not like her very much, especially now that she was trying to invade his living space, his privacy. She left him angrily and he did nothing but return to his work.

Later, at teatime, Connie asked Clifford if there was another key to the hut.

"Possibly. Why?" he asked ... 

"I found it today and I really like sitting there. That's OK, isn't it?"

"Did you see the gamekeeper, Mellors, when you were there?"

"Yes, I did. He was a little unfriendly when I mentioned getting a second key for the hut."

"Really, what did he say to you?"

"Nothing really. He just wasn't very helpful."

"Well, I'll ask one of the servants to look in my father's study. There's probably an extra key there. So, Mellors was unfriendly toward you?"

"Oh, it was nothing. I just didn't understand why he didn't want me to have a key. It's not his home, after all."

"Yes, he seems to think he's someone quite special, doesn't he? He was married to a woman he didn't like very much. He got away from her by joining the army and being sent to India. I guess after a couple of years or so, one of the high-level officers decided to make him a lieutenant. But after a while he became ill and was forced to quit the army. He just returned to normal life this year. I guess that it must be hard for him to go back to being a common citizen of little importance. But I tell you, I won't accept any bad attitude toward you or me. It's not our fault that he's living the way he is."

"But his language! The way he speaks is so poor! How could he have been a lieutenant in the army?" asked Connie.

"Oh, he can speak perfectly correct English when he wants to."

Clifford then wanted some fresh air, so they went for a short walk together in the park.

"It's so nice to breathe clean air sometimes," Connie said, "Usually, I have only the feeling that people are just destroying the air with their anger and unhappiness."

"You don't think it's the air that makes people feel that way?" argued Clifford.

"Not at all. People destroy their environment, not the other way around," Connie said, ending the argument.

When she picked a few flowers and gave them to Clifford to hold, he smelled them and quoted a poem he had recently read: "You still undestroyed bride of quietness."

These words made Connie angry. She hated the way that Clifford was always separating himself from real life with all of his words.

"Nature doesn't destroy itself. Man destroys nature," she said.

"But what about the little insects that eat the plants and so on?"

"That's not destruction, that's eating. It's a natural part of things."

They could both feel that something was coming between them, but neither person said anything about it. Connie was clearly trying to move away from Clifford. She was attacking his every word. She was so tired of his words, and so tired of his selfishness.

It then rained for the next couple of days. By the third day, Connie could not wait any longer. She walked back to the hut through the rain and sat on the front area, sheltered from the wetness outside. She still had no key. This little place seemed so perfect, so peaceful. Then a dog suddenly appeared, along with the gamekeeper. He seemed to stop for just a moment when he noticed her sitting at the hut.

"Sir Clifford has no other key?" he asked.

"No, but I only wanted to sit here for a moment to get out of the rain."

Connie was bothered by the way this man talked with her so casually and with that accent of the village people. She hated such disrespect.

"Well, I'll just give you my key, then. I can find another place to care for the birds," he said pulling the key from his pocket.

"But why would you do that?"

"I'm sure that my working around here would disturb your peace and calm."

"Your working doesn't bother me!"

"But this time of year, I'll be around here often. I don't think you'll like the place as much with me being around."

"Why are you arguing with me?"

"I don't mean to argue with you. This is yours and Sir Clifford's hut. I just don't want to bother you. I'll get you that key tomorrow, then."

"Forget it. I don't want it anymore," Connie said, angrily.

"I'll have one made anyway. I know you like it here."

Connie then left. As she walked back toward the house, she thought about the keeper's strange behavior. She could not tell if he was serious or being rude to her. Why should she care if he was there or not? Was he so damned important? She was not sure how she felt about him.

(end of section)