The Reflections of Ambrosine: Chapter 8

Chapter 8

On the morrow it had cleared up and flashes of blue sky were
appearing. Augustus and Mr. McCormack had both had too much to drink
the night before, at dinner, and were looking, and no doubt feeling,
mixed and ill-tempered.

The morning was long after the shooters had gone. It seemed as if one
o'clock, when we were to start for the lunch, would never come.

Miss Springle had some passages-at-arms with Mrs. Dodd. They had all
been down to breakfast but Lady Wakely and another woman, who were
accustomed to the ways of the world.

I had never seen any shooting before. The whole thing was new to me.
Augustus had insisted upon selecting what he considered a suitable
costume for me. We had been up to London several times together to try
it on, and, on the whole, though a little _outre_ in its checks, it is
not unbecoming.

"Do you shoot, yourself, Mrs. Gussie?" Mrs. Dodd asked, when we
assembled in the hall, ready to start.

"No; do you?" I replied.

"Of course not! The idea! But, seeing your skirt so very short, I
should have guessed you were a sportswoman and killed the birds
yourself!" and she sniffed ominously.

"Do birds get killed with a skirt?" Miss Springle asked, pertly. She
hates Mrs. Dodd. They were neighbors In Liverpool, originally. "I
thought you had to shoot at them?"

Mrs. Dodd snorted.

"You will get awfully muddy, Mrs. Dodd, in your long cashmere," Miss
Springle continued. "And Mr. Dodd told me, when I met him coming
from the bath this morning, to be sure not to wear any colors--they
frighten the birds. I am certain he will object to that yellow
paradise-plume in your hat."

Mrs. Dodd looked ready to fight.

"Mr. Dodd had better talk to me about my hat!" she said, growing
purple in the face. "I call all these modern sporting-costumes
indecent, and when I was a girl I should have been whipped for coming
out shooting in the things you have got on, Miss Springle!"

"Really! you don't say so!" said Miss Springle, innocently, "Why, I
never heard they shot birds in Liverpool, Mrs. Dodd."

I interfered. The expression of my elder guest's face was becoming
apoplectic.

"Let us get into the brake," I said.

Lady Wakely sat next me.

"Very unpleasant person, Mrs. Dodd," she whispered, wheezily, as we
drove off, "She is here every year. My dear, you are good-natured to
put up with her."

Lunch was laid out in the barn of one of the farm-houses. Augustus had
given orders that it should be of the most sumptuous description, and
the chef had done marvels.

The table looked like a wedding-breakfast when we got there, with
flowers and printed menus.

The sportsmen were not long in making their appearance. It was
a rather warm day, and Mr. McCormack and Mr. Dodd, who were not
accustomed to much exercise, I suppose, without ceremony mopped
their heads.

Antony, who was walking behind, with Sir Samuel Wakely, appeared such
an astonishingly cool contrast to them. His coat did not look new, but
as if it had seen service. Only everything fitted and hung right, and
he walks with an ease and grace that would have pleased grandmamma.

Augustus had a thunderous expression on his face. So had Wilks, the
head keeper. Later, I gathered there had been a great quantity of
birds, but the commercial friends had not been very successful in
their destruction. In fact, Mr. Dodd had only secured two brace,
besides one of the beaters in the shoulder, and a dog.

Antony sat by me.

"Dangerous work, shooting," he said, smiling, as he looked at the
menu. "What is your average list of killed in a pheasant battue?"

"What--what kind of killed?" I asked, laughing.

"Guests or beaters or dogs--anything but the birds."

"Cutlets ha la ravigotte or 'ommard ha lamerican, Sir Antony?" the
voice of the first footman sounded in our ears.

"Oh--er--get me a little Irish stew or some cold beef," said Antony,
plaintively, still with the menu in his hand.

"We've no--Irish stew--except what is prepared for the beaters, Sir
Antony," said James, apologetically. He had come from a ducal house
and knew the world. "Shall I get you some of that, Sir Antony?"

"No, don't mind." Then, turning to me, "What are you eating,
Comtesse?" he asked. "I will have some of that."

"It is truffled partridge in aspic," I said, disagreeably. "You can
pick out the truffles if you are afraid of them."

"Truffled partridge, then," he said to James, resignedly, and when
it came he deliberately ate the truffles first.

"Hock, claret, Burgundy, or champagne, Sir Antony?" demanded the
butler.

"Oh--er--I will have the whole four!"

His face had the most comical expression of chastened resignation as
he glanced at me.

Griggson poured out bumpers in the four glasses.

"I shall now shoot like your friend from Liverpool," said Antony, "and
if I kill your husband and most of the guests I cannot be blamed for
it," and he drank down the hock.

"Don't be so foolish," I said, laughing, in spite of having pretended
to be annoyed with him.

"I would drink anything rather than incur your displeasure," he said,
with great humility, as he took up the claret. "Must I eat everything
on the menu, too?"

I appeared not to hear, and turned to Mr. Dodd, who was on my other
side, his usually pale face still crimson with walking so fast and
this feast of Lucullus he was partaking of.

"I had bad luck this morning, Mrs. Gussie," he said, in a humble
voice. "I am sorry about that man and dog, and I am afraid the
gentleman on your right must have got a pellet also--eh, sir?" and
he addressed Antony.

"A mere trifle," said my neighbor "on the right," with his most suave
air and a twinkle in his eye as he finished the claret. "Just a shot
or two in the left arm--a mere nothing, when one considers the dangers
the whole line were incurring."

"You were shot in the arm, Sir Antony?" I exclaimed, suddenly, feeling
a great dislike to Mr. Dodd. "Oh, but people should not shoot if they
are so careless, surely!"

"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Mr. Dodd, huffily. "I am not
careless. I have been shooting now for a matter of five years and only
twice before have hit any one."

"You have had the devil's own luck!" said Antony, beginning the
Burgundy.

"You may call it luck, sir," said Mr. Dodd, "but I think a man wants a
bit of judgment, too, to shoot, and I always try to remember where my
neighbors stand. But, I must admit, with pheasant shooting in a wood
it is more difficult. It was getting a little excited with a rabbit
which caused the last accident I had."

Antony finished the Burgundy.

"Are you going to walk with us afterwards, Comtesse?" he asked me,
presently, in a low voice, his eyes still twinkling; "because, if so,
I advise you to fortify your nerve with a little orange brandy I see
they are handing now," and he began the champagne.

"Oh, I am so sorry about the whole thing. I think it is perfectly
dreadful," I said, "and--and I do hope you are not really hurt."

He showed me his wrist. His silk shirt-sleeve was wet with blood, and
his arm also had streaks on it, and just under the skin were two or
three small, black lumps.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am," I said, and my voice trembled. I
felt I wanted to take his arm and wash the blood off, and caress it,
and tell him how it grieved me that he should be wounded--and by these
people, too. I would like to have shot them all.

"Don't look so distressed, Comtesse," he said. "It does not hurt a
bit, and the whole thing amuses me. A very original character, Mr.
Dodd," and he finished the champagne.

Augustus walked with me after lunch for a little when we started. He
was in a furious temper at the non-slaughter of the partridges.

"By Jove! next year," he said, "I'll clear out the whole boiling,
whether the mater likes it or no, and have some of the people we met
at Harley. Thornhirst is the only man who has killed anything great,
though Wakely and Bush did a fair share."

I told him how dreadful I thought the accident had been.

"Good thing it was not me he shot," said Augustus. "I'd have fired
back. But the part I mind the most is the miserable bag. Wilks is mad.
We both wanted the record to go to the field; and what can we do? Only
thirty-two brace up to luncheon!"

I soothed him as well as I could.

Mrs. Dodd was puffing behind us. She had insisted upon following with
the guns, although Lady Wakely and the two other elderly women had
driven back to Ledstone.

The yellow paradise plume and bright-blue dress made a glowing spot of
color on the brown, ploughed field.

Miss Springle tripped gayly along in front with Mr. Dodd, coquettishly
tapping him on the arm and looking up in his face.

Giggles of laughter were wafted back to us. Miss Springle is a rather
pretty girl, with thick black hair.

Antony strode forward and joined us. Augustus dropped behind to speak
to Wilks.

"You must stand with me," Antony said, "I will protect you as well as
I can, and the chances are against the shot coming my way twice in one
day."

He was so gay. Never have I had so delightful a walk. I cannot write
down what he said. If I try to remember his words, I cannot. It is the
general impression they leave behind, rather than any actual sentence
I can recall, which makes me feel his wit is like grandmamma's, and it
reveals all the time his great knowledge of books, and people, and the
world. And there is a lightness which makes one feel how strong and
deep must be the under-current.

My spirits always rise when I am with him.

Soon we arrived at the hedge we were to stand behind.

It was all new to me, the whole scene. Out of nowhere Antony's servant
seemed to spring with two guns and a stick-seat, which he arranged for
me.

Mrs. Dodd had panted after her husband and Miss Springle, who were
in the most open place; but Wilks was unable to contain himself with
annoyance at this.

"Not a bird will face the line if the lady's dress is seen," he said,
in despair, as he passed us, and we saw him unceremoniously insist
upon Mrs. Dodd joining Sir Samuel Wakely, who was at the thickest
corner, next us.

"The air must be black with the language Wakely is using, I will bet,"
said Antony.

And then the partridges began to come.

"There's a burrd! There's a burrd!" shouted Mr. Dodd, excitedly,
pointing with his gun straight at Sir Samuel's head.

"Damn you, sir!" yelled Sir Samuel back to him. "It is pure murder
the way you hold your gun."

"I'll trouble you not to swear at my husband!" roared Mrs. Dodd.

A huge covey came over at the moment, but the voices and the
bright-blue dress attracted their attention, and they all wheeled off
to the right, so that, but for two stray birds killed by Antony, this
end of the line found the drive a blank.

Augustus's rage knew no bounds.

He came up to me as if it was my fault.

"Take that old woman home this moment, Ambrosine," he said, furiously.
"Do you hear?--this minute!" and I was obliged to go up to Mrs. Dodd
and suggest our returning. I was tired, I said.

"I'll not leave Wullie with that minx," she replied, firmly. "You can
go without me, Mrs. Gussie. I'll not take it rude of you at all." I
tried to explain that I thought we were all a little in the way and
had better return to the house; but Miss Springle, who joined us,
would not hear of such a thing.

"Mr. Dodd says he can't get on without me," she said, coyly, whereupon
Mrs. Dodd gurgled with rage.

"I am afraid you will all be shot if you delay here," said Antony,
coming to my rescue. "We are going to take the next beat at right
angles, and you are all in the full line."

"Goodness, gracious me!" screamed Mrs. Dodd. "Oh, gentlemen, save me!"

And she rushed wildly towards Augustus, who was coming up, her dress
held high, showing a pair of opulent ankles and wide, flat feet
covered in thin, kid boots, while a white cotton stocking appeared
upon the stove-pipe calf that was visible above.

The yellow paradise plume floated in the wind, the hat having become
a little deranged by her rapid flight.

"Gussie Gurrage!" she yelled. "Oh, do you hear that? The gentleman
says I'll be shot!"

And she precipitated herself into the unwilling arms of Augustus.

He has not manners enough to stand such an assault. His face flushed
with annoyance, and the savage look grew round his mouth. I waited
for the explosion.

"Confound it, Mrs. Dodd!" he said. "Women have no business out
shooting, and you had better clear out and go home."

"I've never been so insulted in my life!" she snorted, as we walked
back to the farm, after a confused scene, in which Mr. Dodd and Sir
Samuel and Augustus, Miss Springle, and Mrs. Dodd herself had all
talked at once.

"Never so insulted in my life! Sent away as if I wasn't wanted. If I
hadn't known Gussie Gurrage since he was a baby I'd have boxed his
ears, that I would!"

I remained in haughty silence. I feared I should burst into screams of
laughter if I attempted speech.

Miss Springle had evaded us at the last minute, and could be seen once
more by Mr. Dodd's side as we drove past the shooters again on the
road.

A meek woman, sister of Mr. McCormack, a Mrs. Broun by name, who had
quietly stood by her husband and had not been in any one's way, now
caught Mrs. Dodd's wrath.

"You've had a good deal to do with Jessie Springle's bringing up, I've
heard, Mrs. Broun, since her mother died, and a disgrace she is to
you, I can testify."

"Oh, dear Mrs. Dodd, how can you say such a thing?" said Mrs. Broun,
almost crying. "Jessie is a dear girl, so full of fun."

"Fun, you call it, Mrs. Broun! Looking after other women's husbands!
How would you like her to be flirting with your Tom?"

(This is the spirit my mother-in-law would approve of.)

"Oh, it is quite immodest, talking so, Mrs. Dodd!" replied the
meek lady, flushing scarlet. "Why, no one would ever think of such
things--a girl to flirt with a married man!"

"That's all you know about it, Mrs. Broun. I tell you that girl will
upset your home yet! Mark my words; but I'll not have her running
after Wullie, anyway."

The situation was becoming very strained. I felt bound to interfere by
some _banal_ remarks about the scenery, and finally we arrived back at
Ledstone and I got rid of them by conducting them to their rooms.

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