Ten Lords A-Leaping

by Ruth Dudley Edwards

  ‘That’s it. I used to think I’d been adopted, but then I found I was one in quite a long line of black sheep like this one—hence the various roomfuls of mementoes of exotic foreign countries. Great-great-uncle Horace, for instance, wasn’t thick. He wrote this.’ She passed him over her book, which the title page revealed to be Reflections on Some Little-Known Tribes of North Borneo by an Observer Recently in Her Majesty’s Colonial Service.

  He flicked through it. ‘Looks positively interesting.’

  ‘I’m not surprised you seem taken aback. Spent a lot of time with Dad and Jamesie?’

  Amiss grinned and handed her back the book. ‘And with Vanessa.’

  ‘God help you. So what are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ll tell you over lunch.’ At that moment, Hooper appeared carrying a decanter of wine, followed by Palgrave bearing on a tray a vast plate of sandwiches, a large pie, and various accoutrements.

  ‘Mrs Hooper was anxious for you to have some of her game pie, Lady Jennifer.’

  ‘Don’t tell me. She thinks I want fattening up. Thank her very much, and thank you both. Just leave the tray. We can do the rest.’

  ‘Let me at least cut the pie for you, Lady Jennifer.’

  ‘No, Hooper. It’s kind of you, but I assure you that between us, Mr Amiss and I can manage to do the necessary.’

  She gently shooed butler and footman out of the room. ‘I hate being hovered around. They think I’m potty, of course. In every regard. They can’t wait for me to come to my senses and accept my responsibilities.’

  ‘Husband?’

  ‘Right kind of husband, children, photographs in Country Life and, of course, hunting.’

  ‘You don’t hunt? A Poulteney that doesn’t hunt?’

  ‘Oh I have, but I don’t any more. I get my kicks elsewhere.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘I’m an anthropologist. Just like Great-great-uncle Horace. Except I do it for a living. Now, tell me about you.’

  ***

  It was 3.30 by the time Jennifer had finished giving Amiss what she called her anthropological tour of the house and had taken him to stroll in the gardens.

  ‘I think in your position I’d have turned into an animal activist,’ he said. ‘How can you grow up amongst deer skulls and fox brushes and elephants’ feet and stuffed reindeer heads and not be violently either pro or anti?’

  ‘I took the route of detachment. Besides, even if my parents were on the dull side, they were nice to me and I loved them. So why should I want to abolish the only fun they got out of life?’

  ‘Killing animals?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so banal, Robert. You know it’s not as simple as that. All the antihunting people I’ve met know sod-all about animals, while all the pros I grew up with are devoted to them.’

  ‘Yes. I’m beginning to understand something of that. This morning, if not enjoyable, was instructive. And even though I find the decor of your house pretty grisly, I suppose I see a certain nobility in such a passionately held tradition. I wouldn’t quite die to defend the right of your family to kill and be killed in the name of sport…’ He stopped, closed his eyes in embarrassment, gritted his teeth and said, ‘I’m sorry, Jennifer. I forgot.’

  ‘About Mummy? It’s OK. Absolutely validates your point. Incidentally, did you meet her putative successor?’

  ‘Lady Flexingham? Yes, just about. She’s certainly a dish.’

  ‘Yes, she is, isn’t she? I’m all for it.’

  ‘Vanessa isn’t.’

  ‘Of course not. What she really wants is for Daddy to retire to the Dower House and let Jamesie take over now. If it wasn’t for Miranda he might, and I think that would be a good idea. You must have noticed how much Shapely Bottom Hall needs a chatelaine.’

  ‘Well, it’s certainly bloody uncomfortable, if you’ll forgive my saying so.’

  ‘You don’t often stay with old wealth, do you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, they don’t throw money around much on creature comforts. I mean, my God, to put central heating into a place like this would mean touching capital. Us rich don’t do things like that. Still, in Mummy’s day the geyser would have worked and you’d have had a fire in your bedroom.’

  ‘But Vanessa’s a greedy bitch, isn’t she? Wouldn’t she help herself to the loot?’

  ‘Good God, no. Vanessa’s a Sloane Ranger. Half the reason she’s unhappy is that she’s not got somewhere like this to look after. That’s what she was bred for; that’s what she would be good at. She’s not good at pretending to be an interior decorator in South Kensington. And Jamesie’s much too weak to keep her happy. Put her in a place like this and she’d enjoy doing her duty. That makes Miranda a real nightmare for her. And worse, Miranda might produce children who’d have to get a share of the family financial goodies. That would really upset Vanessa’s applecart.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘To pass the estate on to James in due course in better shape than when she and Jamesie took it over, so he can do the same for his children and they can do the same for theirs. And that means having money for upkeep.’ She stopped and pointed. ‘Look.’ Ahead of them in the distance Amiss could see a large area of meadow with several dozen saplings. ‘What does that say to you?’

  ‘Somebody’s thinking about the future.’

  ‘That’s right. Vanessa. Daddy’s rather stopped bothering since Mummy was killed. But what you have to understand is that those trees won’t really be in their prime until probably the third next Lord Poulteney. That’s the main justification for the landed gentry. Because they know their estates will be inherited by their children and their children’s children, it gives them a long-term stake in the country and all that sort of thing. Now, let’s go in and demand some crumpets to toast and I’ll motivate you further to write nice things for Daddy to say in his speech next week.’

  ***

  ‘Do you know I’ve never done this before.’

  ‘You didn’t have a nursery at home?’

  ‘’Fraid not. Whoever built number four, Acacia Gardens unaccountably limited it to two bedrooms.’

  ‘But what about at Oxford?’ She sounded shocked.

  ‘I fear they stuck me in one of those nasty modern buildings. I gained central heating, a bathroom on my floor but lost the open fireplace. Here.’ He removed a crumpet from the end of his toasting fork and passed it to her.

  ‘Perfect.’ She nodded approvingly as she lathered it with butter. ‘Mmm. I am enjoying myself. More, I admit, than I usually do here.’

  ‘So am I.’ He spoke with great feeling. ‘The pleasure of all this is heightened by my delight in not being out there getting tired and cold. I fear I wasn’t bred for the outdoor life. In Acacia Gardens we liked to stay snug.’

  He looked at his watch. ‘They have been out an awfully long time, haven’t they? Surely hunts don’t go on for seven hours?’

  ‘I expect they’ve gone on to someone’s place for tea. I thought I heard the hounds coming back an hour or so ago.’

  As she spoke the door flew open.

  ‘Jenny, darling.’ Bovington-Petty rushed over to her and gave her a hug. ‘Gosh, I am pleased to see you. You’ve missed all the drama. Poor old Daddy took the most terrible toss.’

  ‘Is he all right?’ There was a note of terror in her voice.

  ‘He’s fine. The casualty juju said just to tuck him up in bed in case of any delayed shock and he’ll be as right as rain tomorrow.’

  ‘But his heart!’

  ‘No ill effects. These bally pacemakers are wonderful, aren’t they? Oh, I say, can I have one of these?’

  ‘Of course.’ Amiss returned to his toasting duties and Jennifer poured some more tea into her cup and handed it to her brother.

  She stood up. ‘I’ll just go up and see Daddy.’

  ‘Give him a few minutes to get settled. And I want a word with you first. There’s something I’m worried about.’

  There was a silen
ce.

  ‘Come on, Jamesie. Spit it out.’

  ‘Well, it’s sort of private, don’t you know.’

  ‘Too late for that. Robert knows too many of our secrets already.’

  Ever obedient when spoken to firmly by a woman, Bovington-Petty blurted out, ‘I don’t think this was an accident. Hawkins just told me that the girth gave way and that it seems that someone had been at it with a knife.’

  ‘Who could do that? Who would do that?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. Daddy doesn’t have enemies, unless you count the frightful sabs, though of course some of those are capable of anything. We’d better call the police.’

  ‘I don’t know if Daddy would stand for it. He’d think we were making a fuss about nothing.’

  ‘Attempted murder is hardly nothing,’ said Amiss. ‘If someone’s tried once, they might try again.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Bovington-Petty. ‘I’ll ring the station. You go and square it with Daddy.’

  ***

  ‘Get your new tottie to drive you over here for Sunday lunch.’

  ‘Do you have to see everything in terms of sex. She’s not my tottie. Just an agreeable new acquaintance. And I can’t get her to drive me to Cambridge.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Why should she?’

  ‘She’ll enjoy it. Just persuade her. And when you get here, you’d better stay until Thursday. You’ve got a lot of speeches to write.’

  ‘I can’t stay.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’ve only got the weekend’s clothes.’

  ‘You really are turning into a complete old woman, Robert. If you run out of knickers I’ll lend you a pair of mine. This is St Martha’s, remember, not some fucking Buckingham Palace garden party. Come on, get cracking. I’ll get someone to sling another fatted calf on the fire. Bye.’

  ***

  ‘She’s rather like a tank,’ he explained to Jennifer. ‘Every time you produce a little pile of reasons why what she wants done is impossible she just flattens them.’

  ‘Well, I’m delighted she did.’ Jennifer put her foot down hard on the accelerator. ‘I’ve always wanted to see what Daddy’s old flame looked like.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Didn’t she tell you?’

  ‘Jack doesn’t tell. She mostly imparts whatever is necessary to get you to do her bidding. She subscribes to that educational view that you learn best by finding out for yourself.’

  ‘Well, according to Daddy, he fell madly for her when she was about seventeen. Said she had a wonderful seat.’

  ‘Bit broad in the beam these days.’

  ‘He proposed to her but she turned him down and went to Cambridge instead.’

  ‘Surely they’re not contemporaries?’

  ‘No. He was in his mid-twenties at the time. She must have been something unusual.’

  ‘She’s still something unusual.’

  ‘Well, he did say to me that although he still respected her a great deal, he and Mummy were much better suited. Seemed to think Baroness Troutbeck would have found country life a bit dull.’

  ‘I expect she’d have livened it up. She certainly livened up the civil service, and from all I gather, St Martha’s has been undergoing a pretty thorough transformation over recent months.’

  ***

  The dramatic nature of change was evident even at the gates of St Martha’s where rusty black had given way to scarlet. The garden—which for years had resembled an untended Victorian cemetery minus the gravestones—had been cheered up by judicious pruning and the addition of flowerbeds and pots full of winter pansies and flowering shrubs. And when the scarlet front door opened there was no longer that subtle aura of mildew and overdone cabbage.

  ‘Mr Amiss. How nice to see you again. We have missed you.’

  ‘Lady Jennifer Bovington-Petty, Miss Stamp.’

  Miss Stamp tinkled girlishly. ‘Gosh, we are going up in the world, aren’t we, what with the Mistress becoming a baroness and lots of titled visitors like you, Lady Jennifer. Now, you won’t want to hang around here chatting. Let me take you to the Mistress. She’s got a lovely surprise for you, Mr Amiss.’

  He didn’t like the sound of that at all. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘In her study. I’ll lead the way.’ And she trotted across the hall and tripped happily up the stairs ahead of them.

  ‘It’s very nice,’ said Jennifer. ‘We certainly didn’t have vast open fires at St Hilda’s.’ She sniffed. ‘Mmm. Smells like apple logs. And look at those rugs. For a women’s college this is a veritable Sybaris.’ They stopped abruptly halfway down a corridor. In answer to Miss Stamp’s knock, the door was opened swiftly.

  ‘Come on, you two. Quick.’ The baroness bundled them into the room and slammed the door behind her. ‘Don’t want to let the old girl out yet.’ And there, pacing moodily up and down the mantelpiece, was a large orange cat.

  ‘This is Plutarch,’ the baroness explained to Jennifer, ‘who lives with Robert. He should be proud of her, but—inexplicably—he’s not. I take her in from time to time to restore her self-confidence.’

  Amiss approached Plutarch gingerly, muttered a greeting and stroked her left ear.

  ‘Go on, go on, pick her up. You haven’t seen her for weeks and weeks. You’re not worthy of that cat.’

  She picked up Plutarch and thrust her into Amiss’ unwilling arms. Taking the line of least resistance, he sat down beside the fire and submitted himself to being trampled all over for several minutes until Plutarch decided she had found the most comfortable spot. Within a minute she was asleep.

  ‘You see. She’s glad to see you.’ The baroness pointed to Jennifer, who was now settled in the other armchair. ‘Drink?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  The baroness walked over to the corner of the room, opened a wooden door to a concealed refrigerator, and removed a bottle of champagne. ‘We’re celebrating your reunion with Plutarch, your return to this academic backwater, and, of course, Jennifer’s first visit, for any daughter of Reggie Poulteney is a daughter of mine.’ She reflected for a moment. ‘That isn’t quite right, but you know what I mean.’

  ‘It’s not like you to make pretty speeches, Jack. I suppose it’s a by-product of mixing with the nobility.’

  There was a resounding explosion as the cork parted company with the champagne. Plutarch took off like a gazelle and, after a brief touchdown in the middle of the mantelpiece, completed several circuits of the room at high speed and landed on the desk, where in short order she knocked over a pile of books, a filing tray of papers, a container of pens and pencils, and three glasses.

  ‘Good thing they were empty,’ said the baroness cheerfully. ‘There, there, Plutarch, steady now. You really must learn to cope with the unexpected.’

  She picked her up, dropped her on Amiss’ lap, put the scattered articles back in place and poured out the champagne.

  ‘How long has she been here?’

  ‘I picked her up yesterday. As you can see, she hasn’t quite got acclimatized yet.’

  ‘Any major disasters so far?’

  ‘Well, she had a slight contretemps with the contents of the mantelpiece, but there were few casualties.’ She handed over the glasses. ‘Now, enough feline chitchat. What’s all this about skulduggery at Shapely Bottom? I take a very dim view of any of those hairy thugs trying to kill Reggie. What do the rozzers have to say?’

  ‘Didn’t really have a clue,’ said Jennifer. ‘The saddle’s gone off for examination, but I’ve no doubt it’s been deliberately damaged.’

  ‘Access?’

  Jennifer looked puzzled. Amiss, a hardened interpreter of the baroness, interjected, ‘Quite easy. A hunting magazine feature on Shapely Bottom Hall last month had a map of the grounds and an illustration of the tack room. Even pinpointed the spot where Reggie’s saddle always hung. Couldn’t have been more helpful to sabs, really.’

  ‘Any of you with any ambition to rub Reggie out?’ asked the barone
ss.

  ‘I expect my sister-in-law has occasionally, but she wouldn’t have the nerve.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said the baroness. She looked appraisingly at Jennifer. ‘Have some more champagne.’

  ‘Well, I’d better be careful. I’ve a long drive this afternoon.’

  ‘Rubbish. Now you’re here, you’d better stay overnight. Sunday lunch goes on a long time. Besides…’ She smiled winningly. ‘I’d like you to talk to me and some of my colleagues about anthropology. There might be a vacancy coming up here soon.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Aren’t you being rather…’ Soup spoon halfway to his mouth, Pooley paused to find the right word.

  ‘Weak?’

  ‘Well, if you want to put it like that.’

  ‘I don’t, dammit. But it’s what you think. The trouble with all you people who want me to do what they think I should do is that you want to operate a monopoly.’

  ‘I’m not sure I followed that.’

  Amiss chewed crossly on a piece of asparagus and took an irritable gulp of Chablis. ‘You think I am letting Jack push me around.’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘May I remind you, Ellis, that in your time you have pushed me into being not only an unwilling English teacher in a den of corruption but also a waiter in a murderous mausoleum. At least Jack introduces me to a better class of person.’

  Pooley looked crestfallen. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I was just worrying that it was bad for your career to be in yet another dead-end job.’

  ‘Yes, yes. I know all that. But it’s not for long and it isn’t half interesting. I mean, I know all these toffs are what you fled from, but they’re a new experience for me and you know I’m a sucker for new experiences. And the more I read about hunting the more I see their point. You can’t read Walter Scott and Trollope and all those marvellous Victorians without grasping something of the magic of the whole business. I simply hadn’t realized that hunting had a distinguished literature.’

  ‘So has bull fighting.’

  ‘Sure, and that’s why though nothing would get me to a bullring, I wouldn’t simply abolish bullfighting because it offended my sensibilities. You can’t just go blindly against the grain of tradition.’