Richard and Judy Bookclub - 3 Bestsellers in 1: The American Boy, The Savage Garden, The Righteous Men
who have far to come usually arrange to spend the night,” Sir George said.
“I daresay we should meet all sorts of interesting people,” Miss Carswall put in.
“Perhaps, perhaps.” Carswall nodded his heavy head. “It is most kind of you to suggest it, Sir George.”
“Shall you go, ma’am?” Miss Carswall asked Mrs Johnson.
“Yes,” she said, her voice harsh and hoarse as if she had been shouting. “Lady Ruispidge has kindly asked me to accompany her.”
“There may still be rooms you could engage at the Bell itself,” Captain Ruispidge said. “Not that I would recommend it. Nothing could be more convenient for the ball but the establishment will be in an uproar because of it.” He turned to Mrs Frant and said in a lower voice: “I regret that you would not be able to honour us with your presence.”
Mrs Frant inclined her head.
“Yes,” Mr Carswall said, waving his fork. “Perhaps we should go to the ball. A little diversion would do us all good.”
“Dancing is healthy exercise, sir,” the Captain added.
“And the boys shall come, too,” Mr Carswall cried, his enthusiasm for the project growing by the second.
“I am afraid Charlie must beg to be excused, sir,” said Mrs Frant. “For the same reason as I must.”
“Eh? Ah – yes, of course.”
“It is a pity,” said Captain Ruispidge. “I am convinced the boys would have enjoyed it immensely. These are country affairs – we don’t stand on ceremony.” He bowed to Mrs Frant. “Charlie will come another time, I trust. And his mama.”
“Boys?” Lady Ruispidge said loudly, cupping her hand into a makeshift trumpet for her right ear. “Boys? A sore trial, I agree.” She turned to Mr Noak, who was on her right. “Do you have boys, sir?”
He finished chewing his mouthful and swallowed it. “I had a son, ma’am,” he said calmly. “But he died.”
“Dined? He has already dined?”
“Died, Mama,” said Sir George. He raised his voice: “Died.”
“Ah,” she replied, “yes, as I said, a sore trial. One can never tell what they will do next.”
The ball provided material for the conversation until it was time for the ladies to withdraw. I held the door for them. Miss Carswall paused as she passed me.
“Pray encourage Papa not to linger,” she murmured. “We shall have cards – he does so enjoy cards.”
The cloth was withdrawn. Mr Carswall, who had drunk steadily throughout the meal, refilled his glass.
“Sir George,” he cried, “a glass of wine with you, sir.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Refill your glass first,” Carswall said. “I can see the air in it. Let us drink proper bumpers.”
Sir George dribbled a few more drops into his glass, and the two men drank.
“I hear your keepers caught a brace of poachers the other day,” Carswall said.
“Desperate fellows indeed,” replied Sir George. “We have increasing numbers coming up before us on the bench. Since the Peace, every Tom, Dick or Harry thinks he has the right to steal my game.”
“I tell my people to shoot on sight,” Carswall said. “Do you rely on other precautions, apart from your keepers’ vigilance?”
“Traps, do you mean? Or spring guns?”
“Aye. I have seen both used to great effect in the West Indies. There, naturally, the planters have a preference for the trap – with the gun, there is a great risk of killing the poacher. A dead slave is no good to anyone, but even a maimed one may still have years of useful work in him.”
“I use both devices in my covers, and I make sure the fact is widely known. In my experience, they act as a prophylactic. A poacher may often know where your keepers are and so avoid them. But they find it harder to pin down a well-laid trap, or a cunningly concealed spring gun.”
“Very true, sir,” rumbled Mr Carswall. “Mind you, you must move them frequently.”
“The labour is worth it. One must also bear in mind that when they catch a poacher in commission of his crime, the effect on the neighbourhood as a whole can be most salutary.”
Carswall chuckled. “We bagged a fellow from the village a few weeks ago. Damned near took his leg off.” He raised his glass, saw that it was empty and said to Mr Noak: “A glass of wine with you, sir.”
“With all my heart,” said Mr Noak politely. He had drunk more today than usually, and spoken less.
“Do you use traps in the United States, sir?” Sir George asked the American.
Mr Noak passed a hand across his forehead, as though wiping away unwelcome thoughts. “They are not uncommon in the South. I am more familiar with those designed for smaller prey.”
“Are they traps on similar principles to ours?” Sir George asked. “Spring-loaded, that is to say, and with jaws that snap shut?”
“Exactly so. There is quite an art to their use – even more, perhaps, when one is employing them to trap animals in the wild rather than humans breaking the law. Harmwell – my clerk, you know – became quite expert when he lived in Canada. We use them for marten, sable, mink, otter and beaver, principally, and also for bear.”
“I have seen a man enticed to a trap,” Mr Carswall said. “It is a simple matter: one merely lays a bait. The nature of the lure varies with the circumstances. In this case, it was a boat on the bank of a river.”
“Similar techniques are used with lesser breeds, sir.” Mr Noak sniffed his wine. “Though with them the hunter has a wider range of ploys at his disposal. In many cases, nothing as crude as bait is required. One relies instead upon the animal’s acute sense of smell.”
“Ah,” said Sir George, looking interested. “I have heard of fish oil being used for otter.”
“Yes, sir, fish oil is a favourite with us, too. We also use castoreum, musk, asafoetida, and oil of anise.”
“It is indeed ingenious,” said Captain Ruispidge. “To turn a creature’s strength into its weakness, its Achilles’ heel.”
“A glass of wine with you, Captain,” cried Mr Carswall. “Come, fill your glass. Shield, help the Captain to some wine.”
“So you do not use dogs?” Noak asked the table in general.
“Not in the covers, sir,” Sir George replied. “You cannot be sure they will leave the game alone, and there is always the risk they will fall foul of the traps.”
Carswall nodded. “We keep our dogs out of the covers as well. Mastiffs are valuable animals, one would not want them injured.”
He swallowed another glass of wine and the colour of his face darkened still further. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Noak turned back to Carswall.
“Have you visited British North America, sir?”
“Never. It is a country of many opportunities, I am sure, but I have never been north of New York.”
“But I understood you had interests in that part of the world,” Noak said gently. “During the late war, was not Wavenhoe’s Bank tolerably active there? And as a partner you must –”
“Pooh – as to that I know very little.” Carswall threw himself back in his chair so violently that the joints creaked. “Yes, sir, I believe we did have Canadian interests, but you must understand that I was not involved in the active direction of the bank or any of