The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [311]
‘That may be,’ Mr Grockleton said gloomily.
‘Between Louisa and Mr Martell, who is after all their guest, I do not see how they can fail to bring the Burrards. Think of that, Mr Grockleton.’ Mr Grockleton did his best to think about the Burrards. ‘Dear Mr Gilpin will be there, of course,’ she continued. ‘And he is certainly a gentleman.’
‘And Miss Albion?’
‘Yes, yes, she too.’ If Fanny was a less exciting catch, she was, of course, of impeccable family. Indeed, Mrs Grockleton started to think, if she could have an Albion, a Martell and the Burrards, perhaps she might be able to snare yet another member of the local gentry. A Morant, perhaps. ‘We shall have refreshments, dinner, the orchestra from the playhouse – they will be delighted, you may depend upon it – and there must be wine, champagne, brandy. You must see to that, Mr Grockleton.’
‘I shall have to buy it, you know.’
‘To be sure, you will buy it. How else would we come by it?’
‘You forget’, he said drily, ‘that I’m the only man between Southampton and Christchurch who has to pay full price.’ But Mrs Grockleton, if she heard this, ignored it. ‘Apart from the presence, or otherwise, of Mr Martell,’ he enquired irritably, ‘why must everything be done at such short notice? Why Wednesday?’
And now Mrs Grockleton looked at him with genuine astonishment. ‘But Mr Grockleton, of course it must be Wednesday,’ she cried, pausing an instant to give him time to realize for himself. ‘Wednesday is a full moon.’
Tuesday morning was clear and bright, and Aunt Adelaide was in such good humour that you might have thought she was twenty years younger than her age. ‘Francis,’ she told her brother, ‘you shall be quite happy with Mrs Pride.’ As this was virtually an order, Mr Albion did not disagree. Taking just the coachman to drive and one maid to look after them, she and Fanny set off early in the morning on the track across the Forest to Ringwood, from where it was an easy road up to Fordingbridge. ‘We should’, Aunt Adelaide announced brightly, ‘be there by noon.’ And it was with just a trace of reproach that, as they came up towards the wide open space of Wilverley Plain, that she remarked: ‘You don’t seem very happy, Fanny.’
He had not come. He had been, with the Burrards, to dine at the Tottons’ – who might, she thought, have invited her – but he had not come to Albion House. Perhaps, considering his previous reception, that was not surprising; but after what he had said when they parted, she had expected at least a message of some kind. There had been nothing, though: no letter, no word.
‘No, Aunt Adelaide,’ she replied, ‘I am quite happy.’
As they came up on to Wilverley Plain they noticed some small boys in the distance, but thought nothing of it.
The problem was the pig. A full-grown pig is a formidable creature. Not only is it heavy, but it can move with remarkable speed. A harness was needed in order to lead it. Then there was a further difficulty.
‘We’ll have to keep it somewhere for the night,’ Nathaniel had pointed out. That had seemed an almost insuperable obstacle until one of the gang remembered a cousin who had a shed at Burley.
They did not take the main track but kept a few hundred yards to the north of it. At one point the track passed by a lonely, bare old tree.
‘That’s the Naked Man,’ Nathaniel said, and the boys gazed at it solemnly. ‘That’ll be where we do it.’
The vicar was a tall, thin, grey-haired man who welcomed them to his pleasant vicarage very warmly. He appeared delighted at the chance to accompany them to Hale for dinner. The new tenant, he assured Adelaide, seemed in every way a gentleman and had taken the place for five years. ‘Hale has had several owners and tenants in recent decades,’ he explained, ‘and nobody has taken much care of the place. But I understand that Mr West intends to take the house in hand.’
Aunt Adelaide wished to rest after her journey and Fanny was glad to let the vicar conduct her round the small town of Fordingbridge. The