Read Online Red Anger by Geoffrey Household - Free Book Online
Authors: Geoffrey Household
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name of Sack-and-Sugar from the records of witch trials.
‘Willie, we are now alone,’ she said. ‘I shall not have to endure your English and we can talk. By the way, did I see you from my window tickling Sack’s tummy this
morning?’
‘Oughtn’t I to?’ I asked innocently.
‘Well, anybody else who tried it would have had a hole in his thumb you could hang an earring from.’
‘I suppose he must have taken to me, Master.’
There was a twinkle in her sea-blue eye, but I was not going to admit that I had had four ferrets of my own as a boy, and the gaiety of them used to run back and forth between us.
‘You don’t trust me, do you?’
‘I can see that everyone else does.’
‘Well, would you buy a second-hand car from me, as they say?’
‘Not for a moment if it was a recent model.’
‘What the hell do you mean by that, Willie?’
‘You wouldn’t have had any respect for it. But I’d buy a thirty-year-old Rolls-Royce from you.’
She threw up her head and bayed like a hound, upsetting Sack who had to scramble back by way of the white coiffure. It was the first time I had seen her laugh.
‘Trust, Willie, is an instinct. You are a first-rate actor but a rather poor liar with no name and no past and only the vaguest indications that you were born an honest babe in Wiltshire.
And yet I am sure that you are not working willingly for the Russians or for that whisky-sodden club of MI5. I stress
willingly
. Why do you think I asked you to stay on?’
‘Because you couldn’t make up your mind about me.’
‘Go up one, young Prefacutu! And I wanted time to ask a friend of mine for advice. That’s where I went all dressed up to kill.’
‘What did he think?’
‘That you don’t know your ass from your elbow.’
‘Ass, Mrs. Hilliard?’
‘Willie, my upbringing as a young lady in Connecticut prevents me to this day from pronouncing that word as it should be. Ass it is and ass it will remain. And don’t you talk to me
about Chaucer!’
‘Chaucer is the gardener?’ I asked, for I didn’t know his name.
‘How far did your schooling go in Wiltshire?’
‘A bit beyond the fox is in the box.’
‘Not in this hunting country he isn’t. But the cat is on the mat and if we are to know why, you must decide that you don’t like the job and return to London.’
‘I shall be sorry.’
‘So will Sack. He gets a mite bored with only me to talk to. And I shall give you a letter to my nephew—just a message saying that I have his address and could do with some
caviare.’
I agreed to deliver it, adding that if I ran into trouble she must promise to say exactly what happened.
‘Word of honour. And now does your trust go far enough to give me your real name?’
I nearly did, but had to tell her that Willie would do very well for the time being.
I returned to London regretfully, well aware that I would gladly have stayed on as permanent butler if I knew anything about butling or a groom if I knew anything about horses. After two empty
days I kept my appointment with Mr. Marghiloman and brightened up when I saw him already at the corner table in the pub.
After I had handed over Mrs. Hilliard’s letter, he led me on to talk about her. I kept quiet about her odd reception of me and told him that she seemed very calm and composed. I added, a
bit romantically, that she had the air and finesse of a great lady. He ignored the vehement flow of my Romanian saying with a smile that no doubt she could play the part if she wanted to.
This annoyed me. Mrs. Hilliard could doubtless play any part which suited her, and perhaps it was a part when first she arrived in Devon; but now it was an extension of her natural self and she
belonged to her valley as if the steep, lush slopes of it had grown up around her. I stopped myself just in time from telling him so. Instead I remarked that I had too little experience of English
and Americans to be able to see through them.
‘She was a hell-cat in
‘Willie, we are now alone,’ she said. ‘I shall not have to endure your English and we can talk. By the way, did I see you from my window tickling Sack’s tummy this
morning?’
‘Oughtn’t I to?’ I asked innocently.
‘Well, anybody else who tried it would have had a hole in his thumb you could hang an earring from.’
‘I suppose he must have taken to me, Master.’
There was a twinkle in her sea-blue eye, but I was not going to admit that I had had four ferrets of my own as a boy, and the gaiety of them used to run back and forth between us.
‘You don’t trust me, do you?’
‘I can see that everyone else does.’
‘Well, would you buy a second-hand car from me, as they say?’
‘Not for a moment if it was a recent model.’
‘What the hell do you mean by that, Willie?’
‘You wouldn’t have had any respect for it. But I’d buy a thirty-year-old Rolls-Royce from you.’
She threw up her head and bayed like a hound, upsetting Sack who had to scramble back by way of the white coiffure. It was the first time I had seen her laugh.
‘Trust, Willie, is an instinct. You are a first-rate actor but a rather poor liar with no name and no past and only the vaguest indications that you were born an honest babe in Wiltshire.
And yet I am sure that you are not working willingly for the Russians or for that whisky-sodden club of MI5. I stress
willingly
. Why do you think I asked you to stay on?’
‘Because you couldn’t make up your mind about me.’
‘Go up one, young Prefacutu! And I wanted time to ask a friend of mine for advice. That’s where I went all dressed up to kill.’
‘What did he think?’
‘That you don’t know your ass from your elbow.’
‘Ass, Mrs. Hilliard?’
‘Willie, my upbringing as a young lady in Connecticut prevents me to this day from pronouncing that word as it should be. Ass it is and ass it will remain. And don’t you talk to me
about Chaucer!’
‘Chaucer is the gardener?’ I asked, for I didn’t know his name.
‘How far did your schooling go in Wiltshire?’
‘A bit beyond the fox is in the box.’
‘Not in this hunting country he isn’t. But the cat is on the mat and if we are to know why, you must decide that you don’t like the job and return to London.’
‘I shall be sorry.’
‘So will Sack. He gets a mite bored with only me to talk to. And I shall give you a letter to my nephew—just a message saying that I have his address and could do with some
caviare.’
I agreed to deliver it, adding that if I ran into trouble she must promise to say exactly what happened.
‘Word of honour. And now does your trust go far enough to give me your real name?’
I nearly did, but had to tell her that Willie would do very well for the time being.
I returned to London regretfully, well aware that I would gladly have stayed on as permanent butler if I knew anything about butling or a groom if I knew anything about horses. After two empty
days I kept my appointment with Mr. Marghiloman and brightened up when I saw him already at the corner table in the pub.
After I had handed over Mrs. Hilliard’s letter, he led me on to talk about her. I kept quiet about her odd reception of me and told him that she seemed very calm and composed. I added, a
bit romantically, that she had the air and finesse of a great lady. He ignored the vehement flow of my Romanian saying with a smile that no doubt she could play the part if she wanted to.
This annoyed me. Mrs. Hilliard could doubtless play any part which suited her, and perhaps it was a part when first she arrived in Devon; but now it was an extension of her natural self and she
belonged to her valley as if the steep, lush slopes of it had grown up around her. I stopped myself just in time from telling him so. Instead I remarked that I had too little experience of English
and Americans to be able to see through them.
‘She was a hell-cat in
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