Debutantes

by Charlotte Bingham

  ‘Quite so, Lady Evesham,’ Emily replied, mesmerized by the famous blue eyes. ‘Pappa cannot abide what he calls dog-wallopers—’

  ‘Dog-wallopers, Lady Emily?’ the countess enquired with a half smile dawning on her beautiful face. The effect was like sunlight bursting to be let in through closed shutters. ‘What a quite wonderful phrase.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Emily sighed. ‘I am forever being told off for my lingo.’

  ‘Lingo?’ Now the countess laughed out loud, the most perfectly musical laugh Emily had ever heard. In fact the combination of Daisy Evesham’s slow smile and then her sudden roundelay of laughter was altogether too much for Emily who fell to sudden silence, which was quite unlike her.

  ‘You were about to explain what dog-wallopers were I fink, Lady Emily,’ the countess reminded her.

  ‘Yes, yes of course I was,’ Emily remembered. ‘That’s our slang for whippers-in who stay too close to hounds. My father likes them out in the country looking for foxes. He can’t stand them round his heels. There won’t be a dull moment, I promise you.’

  ‘I am sure,’ Daisy Evesham agreed, once more rewarding Emily with a smile as perfect as the sun on a rose. ‘But most of all what I hear is vat you and your free sisters are famous for your nerve and your dash. Vat vare are not four young women as brave or as fleet to be seen in ve land.’

  ‘We have the privilege of having grown up in this country.’ Emily laughed out of modesty and then with the slightest of blushes fell to silence as the countess continued to regard her.

  ‘Vare you are ven,’ Daisy Evesham finally concluded. ‘I shall look forward to our days out togever, for I would be honoured if you would ride at my side.’

  With that the countess took the arm of the Earl of KilMicheal who was now beside her and left with him to go and talk to her hosts. But what was in her head were not thoughts of hunting, but rather that Lady Emily Persse might suit her purposes admirably. Emily was of a fine if impoverished family, she was renowned as a fine horsewoman, and most important of all she was handsome without being in any way an outstanding beauty.

  And she had yet to be presented.

  Hardly able to believe her luck, Daisy made her way across the room to where Lord and Lady Oughterard were in conversation with two other of their newly arrived house guests, ignoring as she did so the secret smile poor Captain Pilkington tried to bestow on her. Yes indeed, she thought to herself, the Persse girl might be just the thing, although naturally she would have to do something about the way the girl moved and talked and even the way she laughed. That however would present no difficulty whatsoever, since Daisy Evesham knew the very best people for deportment and voice. So she should, for before she herself had come out she had been sent to them to be taught how to talk and how to walk, to move as her deportment teacher put it with eloquence, in a small-stepping fashion that was now nationally famous, and her voice teacher had taught her with equal success how to sing a laugh rather than merely laugh it. He had managed this by the celebrated method of making his pupils practise laughing in tune by accompanying them on the piano.

  So yes, Daisy Evesham thought as she finally arrived by Lord Oughterard’s side, young Emily Persse might be the very thing. A girl such as she would need little persuading, Daisy imagined, and neither would the man who constituted the other half of her plans, the dashing, handsome and utterly lovesick Captain Peter Pilkington.

  * * *

  By all accounts it was one of the best week’s hunting in Blazer country in living memory. The weather was fine and dry, there was plenty of good scent, an abundance of long points without let or hindrance exactly as hoped, hounds were spirited and vigorous, and there were no calamitous calamities, as serious falls and breakages were known to old Mikey. So fine was the sport and so profoundly good the hospitality – although the latter was a great deal less orthodox than the former – that even by the end of the very first evening the guests had long forgotten the eccentricity of their surroundings and were joining wholeheartedly into the spirit of the proceedings, which by eleven o’clock that night consisted of most of the visitors being initiated into the joys of the ceilidh in the large almost unfurnished room set aside for dances and the like.

  ‘If last night is to be the benchmark for the rest of the week’s activities,’ Captain Pilkington sighed the next morning as they met at breakfast before hunting, ‘then I doubt very much if I shall survive beyond Thursday.’

  ‘You will have to survive at least until Saturday, Captain Pilkington,’ Emily told him as she piled her plate with kedgeree. ‘My mother has organized dancers and singers from Galway to come and entertain you on Friday night, and there is to be an end of season ball at Menmore Castle Saturday night.’

  ‘I shall certainly not survive until then, Lady Emily, if I follow your line in the field again today,’ the handsome cavalry officer laughed in return. ‘I have never jumped so many walls in a day’s hunting in my entire life.’

  ‘Sure that was nothing,’ Emily grinned over her shoulder at him. ‘Yesterday was a poodler.’

  ‘A poodler?’

  ‘Slow. What my sisters and I call a rather-nicer. It’s what the ladies say after they’ve been asked what sort of day out they’ve just had and they reply no matter what rather-nice-atcherly.’

  Captain Pilkington hooted with laughter as he followed Emily to the table which was occupied only by Lord Oughterard and Daisy Evesham, the rest of the house party having yet to descend. Emily’s father paid no heed to the laughter, concentrating instead on his hunting breakfast of beef and a glass of claret, but the Countess of Evesham looked up and smiled at the young couple, more than happy to see how well they seemed to be getting along.

  They got along equally well in the hunting field. In the morning Captain Pilkington was mounted on a fast chestnut threequarterbred which was well able to keep up with Emily’s big grey Theo across the springy turf and the famous stone walls, but then this was exactly what Emily had intended when she had decided to save her famous horse Jack for when it was time to change. She had noticed how well and resolutely Captain Pilkington had jumped on his first day out, and even though he was a stranger to the country Emily considered he might give her a run for her money over the Tuesday country, a territory which contained some of both her father’s and her own favourite stretches. With that in mind and having learned the captain had another fast horse as his second, Emily had told Mikey to lead Theo up first. Jack hated to be kept from his hunting so she knew by the time she changed over to him her favourite brown horse would be more than raring to go.

  Reading her thoughts as usual, old Mikey appeared as if from nowhere leading up Captain Pilkington’s and his young mistress’s second horses. The Blazers had run two good long points by midday and although both Theo and Captain Pilkington’s chestnut were still full of running, old Mikey knew that the time to change horses was when this was still the case, rather than when they had begun to tire and were likely to make mistakes. This was good horse sense, as Emily knew. What she never knew and could never even begin to fathom was how old Mikey always anticipated that moment precisely. No matter where hounds had run and how far and in what direction the followers had followed, just as Emily would be wondering how much steam her horse had left in the boiler, along would come her wise and faithful old groom with second horses.

  ‘Well rid, sir,’ old Mikey complimented the captain as he dismounted to take a well-earned breather. ‘Isn’t it as if he’d hunted the country all his life, Lady Emmie?’

  ‘I think perhaps he has, Mikey,’ Emily laughed, standing back a pace while Theo shook himself vigorously. ‘At least I’ll wager you the captain has either been on a scouting mission himself or else he previously sent spies!’

  ‘On my honour, Lady Emily, I did no such thing,’ Captain Pilkington protested. ‘If I am said to be riding the country well then I owe it all to the highly skilled lead I am being given. Without it I do assure you I would long ago have found myself contemplatin
g the western sky on my back from the bottom of one of your famous ditches.’

  With both of them now on their best horses the game was afoot, particularly since hounds picked up and ran almost immediately everyone was rehorsed. Seeing the line the pack was taking, Emily called to her companion to stay with her as she cut hard to her right and drove Jack at a line of fearsome walls. Captain Pilkington was with her every foot of the way, both horses jumping easily and well within themselves as the two riders left the rest of the field far behind and now below them, Emily directing the pair of them up into the foothills of the nearby mountain where they lost sight of the hunt altogether. Reassuring Captain Pilkington that she knew what she was doing, Emily galloped on along a narrow path where there was only room for one horse at a time, heading full pelt for a small pass in the distance. As they went they flew over a large dead tree that had fallen across the path, presenting them with a good five feet to clear, and then almost immediately after the old tree trunk and with barely a check Emily kicked Jack over a chasm at least eight feet wide, landing several more feet the other side of it and picking her horse up once more into a full-blooded gallop. As he followed Emily over the ravine Captain Pilkington glanced down but could see no bottom to it.

  ‘Yoiks!’ he shouted, his blood now as well up as his horse’s. ‘Tally-ho!’

  ‘Just be careful!’ Emily shouted back. ‘There’s a wide one coming up!’

  Sure enough as the path straightened up and widened to make room enough again for two horses, and as Captain Pilkington ranged up alongside Emily who was taking a slight pull at Jack, he saw another gorge, this one clearly visible and equally clearly a good half dozen feet or so broader.

  ‘You’ve jumped this before I take it, Lady Emily?’ Captain Pilkington called, also steadying his horse.

  ‘Never!’ Emily called back. ‘But as they say, there’s a first time for everything!’

  Without any further check, let alone allowing Jack a look at the formidable leap, Emily simply urged her horse on and put him at the yawning chasm. Jack cleared it easily, sailing over it on a long rein with Emily leaning well back in her side-saddle.

  Captain Pilkington on the other hand hesitated, turning his horse’s head away from the ravine and then swinging him right round in a circle to bring him to a halt.

  ‘Come on!’ Emily urged. ‘It isn’t anywhere near as hairy as it looks!’

  ‘Not to your fellow perhaps!’ Captain Pilkington returned. ‘But I’m not that certain about my fellow! He’s been known to be foolish on occasion!’

  ‘Trouble is you’ve let him see it now!’ Emily shouted, turning Jack away from the ravine and putting him into a canter. ‘Just stay where you are and I’ll give you a lead over!’

  To the utter astonishment of her companion Emily swung her prancing horse round, let him go and jumped back across the gorge.

  ‘Now come on!’ she called as she landed and galloped on by. ‘Catch us up and jump it alongside! Just don’t look down and throw the reins at his head, that’s all! Just as you release him!’

  Captain Pilkington knew there was no alternative. If word got back that Captain the Honourable Peter Pilkington of the 6th Inniskilling Dragoons had given best to a mere girl in the hunting field most likely he would have to resign his commission if not fall on his sword. Certainly if his beloved Daisy Evesham ever got to hear of it the latter alternative would seem almost to be compulsory.

  ‘I’m with you!’ he called, kicking his horse on after Emily who was about to wheel Jack back in the direction of the gorge. ‘One moment to steady, that’s all!’

  With a horse doing its very best to bolt, Captain Pilkington needed all his skill first to stop the intended flight and next to sit the series of rears the frightened animal then began to put in, standing well up on its hind legs and pawing the air in front of it in terror.

  ‘It’s all right, boy! Whisht whisht!’ Emily called, turning Jack back alongside his terrified equine companion. ‘If he goes on rearing like that you’ll need to crack a couple of eggs between his ears! That’s old Mikey’s remedy and it works a wonder! Whisht, boy – whoawhisht!’

  Whether it was Emily’s mollification or Captain Pilkington’s horsemanship the horse suddenly decided to stop rearing and began to dance on the spot instead.

  ‘That’s better!’ Emily called. ‘Now! Now kick him on and let him go – and give him his head exactly when I say!’

  The moment Jack hit his stride Captain Pilkington’s horse found his own, and settling into a strong, rhythmic gallop the two brown horses charged towards the gaping chasm.

  ‘Oop!’ Emily shouted, and the moment she did both riders gave their mounts full rein.

  And as one they both landed on the far side, no more than two feet clear of the edge.

  ‘I think we’re the first people to jump that, do you know?’ Emily called across to her companion. ‘It’s known as St Patrick’s Cleuch and it’s meant to be the place where St Patrick banished the snakes! For there are no snakes in Ireland, did you know that, Captain Pilkington?’

  ‘I had heard as much, Lady Emily,’ Captain Pilkington gasped, as they headed fast down the grassy hill which dropped away from the pass.

  ‘They say the gorge is unfathomable. That if you fall down it, you fall straight to hell.’

  ‘And if you don’t?’

  ‘You mean on a day like this you have to ask such a thing, Captain Pilkington?’ Emily laughed and then pointed ahead. ‘There!’ she cried. ‘Did you ever see such a heavenly sight?’

  About half a mile away across the now greening fields flew a fox, running for his life no more than a hundred yards ahead of the mob of hounds which were coursing after it, their full cry carrying up on the wind to the two who now rode down the hillside.

  ‘You will be well in the first flight!’ Emily exclaimed, now pointing behind the pack. ‘Besides Pappa and the huntsmen look how far back is the rest of the field!’

  Captain Pilkington did as bid and realized that from where they were even at a hack canter Emily and he would beat the rest of the followers to the moment of account easily and with time to spare, for except for a handful of stalwart regulars who were in the vanguard about two or three hundred yards behind the Master and his hunt servants the rest of the field was well adrift, among them a large number of loose horses.

  ‘Looks as though it’s been quite a chase!’ Captain Pilkington called across to Emily who he saw was pulling up her horse. ‘Come along now, Lady Emily, or we shall lose the advantage you have gained us!’

  ‘I’ve achieved what I wanted, Captain Pilkington! To get you there first!’ Emily called in return. ‘So kick on now, and let them wonder where you came from!’

  ‘What about you, Lady Emily?’

  Emily had now wheeled Jack around full circle and was beginning to canter away in the opposite direction.

  ‘Not me! I do not ride to hunt, Captain!’ she cried. ‘I hunt merely to ride!’

  High behind large rocks up in the pass the tall man on his dark grey horse walked out from his hiding place, pausing only momentarily to watch the handsome young woman canter away across the field from where hounds were closing in for the kill, jump a wall and be gone from his sight, before he too turned his horse off in the opposite direction to disappear into the distance of the rugged Galway countryside.

  * * *

  At dinner on Friday Daisy Evesham found herself placed to the right of Lord Oughterard. She had sat beside him twice before that week, on his left, but they had only engaged in the smallest of talk and that all about hunting. Daisy had been perfectly content to let this be the case, and although if the truth be told conversation which was solely about the art of venery bored her to distraction, so skilled was she in etiquette and dialogue that anyone observing her from further down the table would have sworn before magistrates that the Countess of Evesham was being mesmerized by the discussions she was having with her host.

  For this evening’s conversation
, however, Daisy had a different design, although as she well knew the subject she wished to introduce could only be brought up through the selfsame topic which had taxed her so heavily before during her stay.

  ‘Today was ve very best of days, Lord Oughterard,’ she said, having started in on a plate of freshly caught sea bass which had been placed before her. ‘I have only one complaint.’

  ‘Please tell me, Lady Evesham,’ her host replied in his careful measured manner. ‘One is always open to suggestions as how to improve the sport of one’s guests.’

  ‘Vis is a purely selfish suggestion, and a somewhat facetious one too.’ Daisy smiled as she sighed and leaned just a fraction closer to Lord Oughterard. ‘I wish your eldest daughter Emily would stay in her bed tomorrow.’

  ‘Why so?’ Lord Oughterard looked up sharply, narrowing his pale eyes at Daisy perhaps to see her better, or perhaps as an expression of his concern. ‘The girl hasn’t been misbehaving? It would not be like Emily to misbehave in the field. To lark perhaps, but never run riot.’

  ‘Oh please – vat was not my meaning, Lord Oughterard, far from it,’ Daisy apologized with a tiny cascade of laughter. ‘Far, far from it! The trouble wiff Emily is vat she rides too well. She makes some of us who fought we rode rarver nicely look like mere beginners. Vat is ve reason for my wishing she would stay in her bed. So vat some of us uvver less gifted ladies might catch the eye of some of ve more dashing gentlemen. Particularly ve Master.’

  Lord Oughterard carefully dissected a piece of his fish with his spoon and then stared at it thoughtfully.

  ‘Is that so,’ he finally muttered, without apparent interest and as a statement rather than a question. ‘Is that indeed so.’

  ‘Indeed it is, Lord Oughterard,’ Daisy replied, with just the right amount of teasing. ‘I am renowned for being in ve first flight, or rarver I was until I went hunting wiff your dashing daughter. And I can tell you, sir,’ she continued impishly, having taken a sip of her champagne, ‘vat I do not take well to playing second fiddle.’