Read Online Death at the Chase by Michael Innes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Innes
Tags: Death at the Chase
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preface this familiarity with a suitably diffident speech. Verbs ought not to figure in it.’
‘I’ll remember.’ Bobby turned to his mother. ‘Daddy can’t forget, can he, that our excellent Chief Constable was one of your earliest loves? But you’ll find it’s a basis on which they eventually get tremendously chummy. Like Finn and this Giles because of Robina.’
Appleby’s first reaction to Mr Giles Ashmore was one of surprise that he was quite young. This was irrational. It was clear that a contemporary of Bobby’s and of the character called Finn ought to be quite young. But Appleby had arrived at the persuasion that all Ashmores must be, if not old, at least ageless. As here one may find a bevy of maidens, roes, quails, or larks, or simply a gaggle of geese, so on the farther side of the downs (he had come to suppose) there dwelt a crawl of tortoises, and Ashmore was the name of each.
But Giles Ashmore could be described only as immature, as having indeed scarcely as yet developed a carapace. Perhaps it was in compensation for this that he appeared to have a somewhat excessive interest in old armour. The late Luke Raven (who, unlike his great-nephew, had been a poet and not an anti-novelist) had during his post-William Morris phase accumulated various chunks of chain-mail, the continued rusting presence of these in various unregarded corners of Dream was the occasion of young Mr Ashmore’s embarking on the subject at somewhat tedious length.
He had arrived a shade early for an after-dinner call, and Judith had marked the circumstance by inviting him to wash the sherry glasses. He had taken this outrage – Appleby judged – extremely well; it was undeniable that, even if rather a bore, he had deserved his coffee and brandy when these came along. He was a nervous youth – one felt one knew why the notion of an artificial skin of steel attracted him – and gave the impression of being only imperfectly in contact with material things. If Robina (as Appleby somehow suspected) was very much a material thing, it was hard to imagine how he could have got away with her. One would have supposed that Finn – although he seemed to specialize in being a Bertie Wooster or Bingo Little type – would make the running every time. But Giles no doubt had something which, even with a Robina, counted for something. Perhaps it was just being an Ashmore. Giles, one supposed, had a pretty clear recollection of relatives who had been edified by Joseph Addison or got drunk with Dick Steele. Perhaps Robina was sensitive to things of that sort.
Finn did a good deal of the talking – quite enough to suggest that he was the master mind behind whatever hopeful design was going forward. And certainly there was a design. It wasn’t at all possible for the elder Applebys to feel that the charm of their company alone had drawn to Dream these two oddly assorted friends of Bobby’s. It was true that Giles Ashmore seemed as ready to stare round about him as to talk – perhaps in the hope of spotting an interesting basinet or placcate from Luke Raven’s collection. He did not suggest himself as a very enterprising young man. If he was in a scrape – as Bobby had suggested – he would certainly need friends to haul him out of it.
‘You see,’ Finn said expansively to Judith, ‘old Giles is all fixed up to get married. Jolly good, don’t you think?’
Judith agreed that it was jolly good. The reference could only be to Robina, and it could only be presumed that Finn’s magnanimity in relation to his and old Giles’ late rivalry was unflawed. This seemed probable enough; nothing in Finn suggested what could be called a brooding temperament.
‘But there’s trouble about the mun,’ Finn went on. ‘Giles hasn’t any, and he hasn’t even a fat pay-packet to look forward to later on. That’s right, Giles?’
‘That’s right.’ Giles’ reply was absent – perhaps because he had just spotted the gorget by Jacob
‘I’ll remember.’ Bobby turned to his mother. ‘Daddy can’t forget, can he, that our excellent Chief Constable was one of your earliest loves? But you’ll find it’s a basis on which they eventually get tremendously chummy. Like Finn and this Giles because of Robina.’
Appleby’s first reaction to Mr Giles Ashmore was one of surprise that he was quite young. This was irrational. It was clear that a contemporary of Bobby’s and of the character called Finn ought to be quite young. But Appleby had arrived at the persuasion that all Ashmores must be, if not old, at least ageless. As here one may find a bevy of maidens, roes, quails, or larks, or simply a gaggle of geese, so on the farther side of the downs (he had come to suppose) there dwelt a crawl of tortoises, and Ashmore was the name of each.
But Giles Ashmore could be described only as immature, as having indeed scarcely as yet developed a carapace. Perhaps it was in compensation for this that he appeared to have a somewhat excessive interest in old armour. The late Luke Raven (who, unlike his great-nephew, had been a poet and not an anti-novelist) had during his post-William Morris phase accumulated various chunks of chain-mail, the continued rusting presence of these in various unregarded corners of Dream was the occasion of young Mr Ashmore’s embarking on the subject at somewhat tedious length.
He had arrived a shade early for an after-dinner call, and Judith had marked the circumstance by inviting him to wash the sherry glasses. He had taken this outrage – Appleby judged – extremely well; it was undeniable that, even if rather a bore, he had deserved his coffee and brandy when these came along. He was a nervous youth – one felt one knew why the notion of an artificial skin of steel attracted him – and gave the impression of being only imperfectly in contact with material things. If Robina (as Appleby somehow suspected) was very much a material thing, it was hard to imagine how he could have got away with her. One would have supposed that Finn – although he seemed to specialize in being a Bertie Wooster or Bingo Little type – would make the running every time. But Giles no doubt had something which, even with a Robina, counted for something. Perhaps it was just being an Ashmore. Giles, one supposed, had a pretty clear recollection of relatives who had been edified by Joseph Addison or got drunk with Dick Steele. Perhaps Robina was sensitive to things of that sort.
Finn did a good deal of the talking – quite enough to suggest that he was the master mind behind whatever hopeful design was going forward. And certainly there was a design. It wasn’t at all possible for the elder Applebys to feel that the charm of their company alone had drawn to Dream these two oddly assorted friends of Bobby’s. It was true that Giles Ashmore seemed as ready to stare round about him as to talk – perhaps in the hope of spotting an interesting basinet or placcate from Luke Raven’s collection. He did not suggest himself as a very enterprising young man. If he was in a scrape – as Bobby had suggested – he would certainly need friends to haul him out of it.
‘You see,’ Finn said expansively to Judith, ‘old Giles is all fixed up to get married. Jolly good, don’t you think?’
Judith agreed that it was jolly good. The reference could only be to Robina, and it could only be presumed that Finn’s magnanimity in relation to his and old Giles’ late rivalry was unflawed. This seemed probable enough; nothing in Finn suggested what could be called a brooding temperament.
‘But there’s trouble about the mun,’ Finn went on. ‘Giles hasn’t any, and he hasn’t even a fat pay-packet to look forward to later on. That’s right, Giles?’
‘That’s right.’ Giles’ reply was absent – perhaps because he had just spotted the gorget by Jacob