Page 11 of To Catch a Husband
‘You have the permission of the new owner of this park?’ The question was put as a matter of mild interest.
‘Not exactly. But he has not forbidden it.’ Miss Lound coloured a little. It was strictly true, since the new owner had not repeated his predecessor’s prohibition. ‘You may say I have “ancient rights”.’
‘May I indeed? I see. Do many local persons share61these rights? I ask merely so that I may know whether we are likely to see a steady stream of anglers about the banks over the next few days.’
‘There is no need for concern, sir, and I doubt very much if Sir Rowland Kempsey would notice any depletion in his number of trouts.’
‘You think not, ma’am?’
‘The little I saw of him I would not have said he was a fisherman, for he showed no sign of patience.’ Her colour was now less of embarrassment than annoyance.
‘But—’ The youth stopped, as his companion surreptitiously touched his arm.
‘He did not?’ The gentleman’s brows rose.
‘If he is a friend of yours, I should of course not make any comment upon his perceived character.’
‘Oh, I do not know. Perhaps we shall hear of a side of him of which we were ignorant.’
‘If you must know, he came out of the park and along the road in his fancy, red-wheeled curricle with no thought to a pedestrian, nor to the puddles, a few days past. Having deluged said pedestrian he then had the audacity to suggest I … they be taken up in his vehicle.’
‘Oh dear. Were you very wet, ma’am?’ The gentleman’s lips twitched very slightly, and his eyes danced.
‘Yes.’ Miss Lound did not approve of the dancing, hazel eyes.62
‘Perhaps he felt it was in some way making amends?’ he suggested, placatingly. ‘After all, if you had been drenched …’
‘No woman of decency, or sense, would have accepted the offer from a man with that particular smile on his face,’ snorted Miss Lound.
‘Ah,’ said the gentleman. ‘Is—’ He stopped, for the lady was no longer paying him any attention. Her line had gone taut and she struck her rod as it bent, the line sliding between her fingers as the fish went running for cover. He said nothing more as he watched her play the fish, never letting the line lose tension, winching in little by little, letting the trout run each time a little less until it seemed to give up, whereupon she brought it in and bent to pick up her landing net. The gentlemen could see that the lady, and despite the worn garb this was definitely a lady, was quite expert. At that moment the fish appeared to revive, and she needed her free hand upon the line. The youth darted forward and picked up the net, which was slightly behind her, and, with no thought to his breeches, knelt upon the wooden boards and leant to scoop the trout up in the net with the eagerness of a small boy catching minnows. This was no minnow, but a fine two-and-a-half-pound trout, which Miss Lound despatched without any signs of squeamishness. The young man gazed at her in mixed admiration and surprise.
‘What are you going to do with it, ma’am? Have it stuffed and mounted?’63
‘A fish this size? Mounted? No. Stuffed? Possibly. That depends upon Cook. This, and its companion, will be on the dinner table tonight.’
‘You are going to eat them?’ The young man felt it was somehow indelicate for a lady to actually eat something she had killed herself.
‘Of course. It would be wasteful to catch a fish and not eat it, sir.’
‘But you have just killed it.’
‘Cooking it alive would be cruel.’ She was, thought the older gentleman, playing his brother rather as she had the trout.
‘But you are a lady.’ The youth got to his feet, brushing his knees as he did so. He could not keep the shock from his voice. The thought of a woman as a hunter offended his soul.
‘I am a lady who likes trout upon the dinner table.’
‘Has it occurred to you, ma’am, that you have been caught poaching? The penalties are, I believe, quite severe.’ The older gentleman interrupted, mildly.
‘You are going to report me to Sir Rowland, sir?’ Her eyes challenged him. ‘Do you think he would have me arraigned before the magistrates?’
‘I think you must be under some misapprehension, ma’am. My name is Rowland Kempsey, and I am the owner of this lake.’ He let this sink in for a moment, and then added, ‘I do hope you enjoy your dinner.’ With which he touched his hat, gave a polite bow, and turned upon his heel, with the younger man thrusting64the landing net into Miss Lound’s hand and then mimicking his actions. She was left staring after them, making a fair imitation of a landed trout.
Sir Rowland walked pensively back towards the house. In truth, he was rather confused by his lady poacher. She was defiant, even belligerent, and had clearly taken another man to be himself. He wondered who it might be, but decided that the answer to that puzzle, at least, ought to be easy to discover. He halted in the great hall, and asked Mrs Peplow, the housekeeper, if there had been a gentleman call a couple of days prior to his arrival. In the absence of a butler, this redoubtable dame was the head of the meagre staff Sir Rowland had found in place, and whilst she was in the process of bringing back many of those who had been put off by Lord Cradley, the absence of a butler was a problem yet to be addressed.
‘Why yes, sir. Lord Cradley, the new one, left his card, but I daresay Emma put it somewheres safe afore you arrived and has not recalled where. A good girl she is, to be sure, but a mite forgetful.’
‘No matter, since we now know who the gentleman was. Thank you. Er, we found a lady fishing in the lake. I wonder …’
