Free Ten Lords A-Leaping by Ruth Dudley Edwards Page B

most safely and conveniently stowed and whether they should sit beside each other or opposite. When they settled, some of the worry disappeared from Beesley’s face, only to return as Amiss got up and said firmly, ‘I’m going to get us a drink.’
    ‘But they won’t serve you yet. The train has not yet started to move.’
    ‘I want to be at the front of the queue. Now what would you like?’
    It took no more than four minutes for Beesley to decide that Scotch and ginger was the wisest choice of those most likely to be available. The queue was already long when Amiss joined it. He didn’t care. Standing in a packed corridor reading Whyte-Melville’s Market Harborough was pure joy compared to consorting with the Lord Beesley.
    By the time they reached The Bottoms, between the fuss over changing trains and his near-hopeless attempt to elicit useful information. Amiss was almost exhausted. For Beesley was expansive only on such subjects as the likely disaster should there be a hold-up, as there often was on Fridays, and they missed the connecting train. More strategic worries like what would become of the whole hunting fraternity if the battle was lost were interspersed with reminiscences of happy boyhood hunts accompanied by incredible detail about which horse, which hounds, which huntsmen, which hunt and the rest of it.
    ‘How many will there be at Shapely Bottom?’ cut in Amiss, when Beesley drew breath.
    ‘Oh, just a small family party, I suspect. Reggie doesn’t entertain much since his wife died.’
    ‘I didn’t realize he was a widower.’
    ‘Oh yes, very tragic. Splendid woman. Broke her neck taking a hedge. Turned out to have wire in it.’
    ‘Wire? How disgraceful.’ Amiss had read enough hunting literature by now to know there was no more ghastly deed imaginable, short of shooting a fox, than lacing your hedge with wire.
    ‘Dreadful, dreadful. I was there and I saw it and shouted, “Ware wire!” But it was too late. Elsie had already taken off.’ Then he brightened up. ‘Still, it was the way she would have wanted to go.’
    ‘Didn’t it put you or Reggie off hunting?’
    Tommy looked at Amiss as if he were crazed. ‘No more than it put me off breathing. If hunting is in your marrow, nothing puts you off. That’s why though I’m not allowed to hunt deer any more I go to Reggie’s as often as I can to hunt foxes.’
    A reluctant admiration for the old fellow overtook Amiss. Fusspot he might be, but he was a brave fusspot.
    ‘When was Lady Poulteney killed?’
    ‘Five years ago.’
    ‘So Reggie lives alone?’
    ‘Jamesie Bovington-Petty visits, of course, with his family. Perhaps they’ll be there. Maybe even Jennifer.’
    ‘Jennifer?’
    But he had lost his companion. ‘Oh my goodness, look at the time. Only five minutes until we get into the station and we might even be early. Quick, quick, we must get ready. Where are our coats? We must get the suitcases. Which door should we leave by? I hope you’ve given that some thought.’
    Amiss took on the expression of a man bent on a task of deep significance. He whiled away the ensuing minutes by counting the hours until he would be home again.

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    Chapter 10
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    The dark-blue Shapely Bottom trap was a very fine affair, adorned as it was with a coat of arms on each side, buttoned-down light-blue leather seats, gleaming brass fitments and an aged but very smartly kitted-out multi-caped retainer whom Beesley hailed warmly.
    ‘Hawkins, how good to see you. Now this is Mr Amiss. Robert, this is Hawkins.’
    Amiss held out his hand but Hawkins pretended not to see and instead touched his cap: feudalism was clearly alive and well in Shapely Bottom. Yet there was nothing subservient about Hawkins. He dealt crisply with Beesley’s attempt to elevate into a major problem the placing of two suitcases inside a trap.
    ‘No, my lord. They will go here, my lord, as they always do. It is the best place for them. Now in you go. You first, my