CHAPTER TWELVE

Clifford, one Sunday, had a strong desire to go into the woods. He wanted to be outside among the spring flowers. Mrs Bolton helped him into his motorized wheelchair and then he drove himself to where Connie was waiting, at the front of the house.

"Here I come, riding upon my horse!" he joked.

Connie laughed at this. She did not want to go into the woods with him today, but it was good to see that he was in such a fine mood.

He stopped for a moment to look over his house. "You know, I think the old place is in need of some repairs. I think I should have enough money to get some work done on it next year."

"Let's just hope that the miners don't decide to stop working," Connie said.

"Ah, they won't destroy the industry that puts money in their pockets and feeds their families. Anyway, they will have little to say about it, for I will give them little choice."

"I don't think they'll like that very much."

"That's no concern of mine. These people were made to be ruled over, and I plan to run this business the way I feel it should be run, not the way they feel it should be."

"But is that fair?"

"No, it's just how things are."

"The people are so unhappy, though."

"They just have to accept their place in life and make the most of it. It's because they don't do this, that they're so unhappy."

Connie did not want to hear any more of this. Clifford's view of people sometimes seemed so cold and cruel. She walked on in silence.

"My goodness! How beautiful it is here!" Clifford shouted as the wheels of his chair flattened the flowers growing along the path. "Such color, such a wonderful smell! I think that I shall ride as far as the well."

"Can your chair make it back up the hill?" asked Connie.

"As they say, 'nothing ventured, nothing gained'."

Connie watched as he charged ahead in his chair and rounded a corner out of sight. Then, from behind her, came a whistle. She turned and found the gamekeeper standing behind a nearby tree. He approached her and gently touched her breast.

"Hey there!" he whispered, "I'll see you tonight, right? About 10 o'clock."

"I'll meet you at the gate to the woods," she answered, a little nervous.

Then the sound of Clifford's horn made her jump and start running back along the path. The gamekeeper stood smiling and then disappeared again into the trees.

When Connie caught up with Clifford, he was already at the well. They exchanged a few meaningless words and then each took a drink of the well water.

"Wow! It's so cold!" Connie exclaimed, "Shall we turn back now?"

"Onwards and upwards!" Clifford replied, starting back on the path toward his home. "Hyaaah!" he shouted to his chair, "Let's show them what we can do!" But as it began to climb the hill back toward Wragby, the chair started to slow and make strange sounds, until it finally stopped and would go no further.

"Let's sound the horn for the gamekeeper," Connie suggested, "He can probably help us."

"No, let's just let the engine cool a bit," Clifford answered.

He waited a few moments and then tried to restart the chair. It made a terrible sound, as if the engine were about to completely fall apart.

"Why don't I just try to push you a bit?" said Connie.

"No, don't touch the chair! Damn it! I wish that I could just take a look inside, I'm sure I could fix it!"

And finally, after several unsuccessful attempts at starting the engine, Clifford sounded the horn for the gamekeeper to come. Within moments he appeared.

"How can I help you, Sir Clifford?"

"Can you fix a motor?"

"I'm sorry, but I know almost nothing about engines, Sir."

"Well ... then just take a look in there and see if anything looks wrong?" Clifford yelled impatiently.

The keeper got on the ground and took a look under the machine.

"Well?" asked Sir Clifford.

"Nothing that I can see looks broken, Sir."

The keeper then came out from under the chair and Clifford again began to try to start the engine, but this time with even greater force. He seemed to be doing more damage to the chair than good.

"I think it'll go if I push from behind," the keeper suggested as he approached the chair.

"Don't touch her! She can do it on her own!" shouted Sir Clifford, angrily.

"But, Sir, you're going to destroy it the way you're pushing her now!"

"I know what I'm doing! Keep away!"

"She won't go, Sir."

"Shut up and let her try, at least!"

Again, his efforts failed, but as soon as the gamekeeper tried to help, Clifford yelled at him. It went on this way for quite a while until it became clear that Clifford could do nothing. He sat in his chair, terribly angry and helpless.

"It seems I will need a push, after all," he finally managed to say. "Would you mind helping me, Mellors?"

"Not at all, Sir," answered the keeper.

However, when he gave the machine a push, it would not move. The brake had become stuck. The gamekeeper then asked Connie to come over and pull the wheel loose, after he lifted the chair.

"No! You shouldn't lift it. It's far too heavy!"

But the gamekeeper gave her a serious look that told her there was not much choice. So, with all his strength, he lifted the chair. Connie pulled on the back wheels and suddenly the chair began to move again. The keeper fell back, but then quickly placed a stone under the wheel, so that it would not roll backward.

He then sat down and put his head in his hands. He had clearly been hurt.

"Are you OK?" Connie cried, running over to him.

"Yes! Yes, I'm fine," he said, turning away from her quickly.

Connie then looked back toward Clifford. He had his back toward them and did not seem concerned about anything. She remembered all of his talk about ruling the common people and felt anger, pure anger, toward him.

The keeper got to his feet and started to push the chair again.

"I'm going to help you!" she said angrily, as she joined him behind the chair.

As they pushed together, Connie was able to look at the gamekeeper's hands, carefully. These were the hands that touched her so gently. She placed her hand on his and then secretly kissed it behind Clifford's back. When they finally made it to the top of the hill, the keeper was able to push the chair on his own.

"Well, Mellors. You must be tired after all that. Why don't you get yourself some food from the kitchen," Clifford offered. "I think they should have finished preparing dinner by now."

"Thanks anyway, Sir. I'm going to my mother's for dinner."

"Very well."

Later, at dinner, Connie could not keep her feelings inside, for she was very angry with Clifford.

"How can you be so rude?" she asked.

"To whom?"

"To the gamekeeper! He almost killed himself helping you today and you don't seem to care at all!"

"Why should I care? It's his job. That's what I pay him eight pounds per month to do. And I give him a house, as well."

"You act as though you're a greater man than he! Who are you to 'rule' these people? You treat them like animals! I tell you I was embarrassed today by your behavior! Completely embarrassed! You're no man, at all!"

Clifford said nothing, but called for Mrs Bolton. Connie then left the room and went up to her quarters. She felt that she hated him and could no longer live with him. He was nothing but a cold, dead thing to her. She changed her clothes and put on a dark gray coat. It was around nine-thirty. Clifford and Mrs Bolton were playing chess and would probably continue to do so until at least twelve o'clock. She knew that there was very little chance of anyone calling for her or coming up to her bedroom. And, if in the morning she was discovered coming back into the house, she could simply say that she had taken an early morning walk. With all this in mind, she quietly left Wragby through the side door and ran, unseen, into the woods to meet her lover.

(end of section)