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Authors: Winston Graham
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folk.
He was aware that young Trembath was still talking. He was sometimes inclined to prattl e. At thirty-eight he should have grown out of the habit. 'What's that you say?'
Trembath recoiled a little. 'Er - Walter, the farm manager, said Lady Harriet was very put about, whether to allow Dundee to go. She was much distressed, but in the end thought it the only thing to do. They say he'll fetch a pretty penny.'
'How much?'
Trembath looked starded. 'Sir?'
'How much would it cost? Have you any idea?'
'The horse, sir? I have no idea. It will be at auction, of course. The price will depend upon how many people bid for him.'
'That I do happen to know. But, let me see, when did I buy a horse last? That should give one some idea.'
'I think, Mr Warleggan, that this is likely to be a special price.'
'Well, let it be a special price. And do you - does your friend know what will happen, what Lady Harriet's intentions are once the property is sold?'
'No, Sir George. Would you like me to inquire?'
'Discreetly, yes. Tell me, when there is a sale of this sort - under a sheriff's writ - will the vendor be present at the sale?'
'Oh, I think that is a matter of personal choice, as you might say. I was at a sale in Tresillian last year, of this nature, sir, of this nature, and the vendor stood beside the auctioneer all day. But in the case of a lady of delicate sensibilities ...'
'Well,' George said, 'we shall see.'
III
The sale took place on Tuesday the 2nd October. No reserves were placed on any of the items, and as a consequence many of them went very cheaply indeed. Not so, however, Dundee, who fetched one hundred and fifty guineas. A thin, effeminate, youngish man who gave his name as Smith, was the buyer. Lady Harriet Carter appeared briefly for the sale of the horses but was not visible during the rest of the day. Sir George Warleggan, of course, was not present.
Until the estate was finally settled, William Frederick Osborne had offered his sister a dower house near Helston called Polwendron, and had suggested that when Harriet chose to live in London, as he trusted she would now do most of the time, she should live at 68, Lower Grosvenor Street, which he shared with his mother. Harriet thanked him and moved to Polwendron. She had no particular fancy for the West Country, she wrote, the hunting was not good enough, but William should know she was none too taken with London life either, where the only grass to be seen grew among sooty cobbles and too many of the smells were man-made.
In mid-October a groom arrived at Polwendron leading a black horse and delivered it to the house, with a note.
The note ran:
Dear Lady Harriet,
It came to my Notice through a mutual acquaintance that in painful Circumstances to which we need not refer again you were yourself recently parted from a Friend. This, I am sure, caused distress on both sides, and in recollection and in commemoration of our several delightful Meetings, 1 am endeavouring to repair that distress by returning your Friend to you. I think you will find he has been well cared for and is in good health. I have not rid him myself for fear of finding myself unwittingly involved in a Steeplechase, which is an occupation on which I as yet lack instruction.
I have the honour to be, dear Lady Harriet, Your most humble and obedient servant, George Warleggan.
It was a letter on which George had spent the best part of a day, destroying one draft after another. In the end he flattered himself it was exactly right. Only at the very last moment had a stirring of humour induced him to add the last sentence. Now he felt the letter would not have been half as effective without it.
The groom came back empty-handed. Lady Harriet was not at home. But the following afternoon a ragged young person without livery of any sort brought a reply.
Dear Sir George,
When I returned home yesterday eve Dundee was cropping the grass on my front lawn. Having read your letter, I do not
He was aware that young Trembath was still talking. He was sometimes inclined to prattl e. At thirty-eight he should have grown out of the habit. 'What's that you say?'
Trembath recoiled a little. 'Er - Walter, the farm manager, said Lady Harriet was very put about, whether to allow Dundee to go. She was much distressed, but in the end thought it the only thing to do. They say he'll fetch a pretty penny.'
'How much?'
Trembath looked starded. 'Sir?'
'How much would it cost? Have you any idea?'
'The horse, sir? I have no idea. It will be at auction, of course. The price will depend upon how many people bid for him.'
'That I do happen to know. But, let me see, when did I buy a horse last? That should give one some idea.'
'I think, Mr Warleggan, that this is likely to be a special price.'
'Well, let it be a special price. And do you - does your friend know what will happen, what Lady Harriet's intentions are once the property is sold?'
'No, Sir George. Would you like me to inquire?'
'Discreetly, yes. Tell me, when there is a sale of this sort - under a sheriff's writ - will the vendor be present at the sale?'
'Oh, I think that is a matter of personal choice, as you might say. I was at a sale in Tresillian last year, of this nature, sir, of this nature, and the vendor stood beside the auctioneer all day. But in the case of a lady of delicate sensibilities ...'
'Well,' George said, 'we shall see.'
III
The sale took place on Tuesday the 2nd October. No reserves were placed on any of the items, and as a consequence many of them went very cheaply indeed. Not so, however, Dundee, who fetched one hundred and fifty guineas. A thin, effeminate, youngish man who gave his name as Smith, was the buyer. Lady Harriet Carter appeared briefly for the sale of the horses but was not visible during the rest of the day. Sir George Warleggan, of course, was not present.
Until the estate was finally settled, William Frederick Osborne had offered his sister a dower house near Helston called Polwendron, and had suggested that when Harriet chose to live in London, as he trusted she would now do most of the time, she should live at 68, Lower Grosvenor Street, which he shared with his mother. Harriet thanked him and moved to Polwendron. She had no particular fancy for the West Country, she wrote, the hunting was not good enough, but William should know she was none too taken with London life either, where the only grass to be seen grew among sooty cobbles and too many of the smells were man-made.
In mid-October a groom arrived at Polwendron leading a black horse and delivered it to the house, with a note.
The note ran:
Dear Lady Harriet,
It came to my Notice through a mutual acquaintance that in painful Circumstances to which we need not refer again you were yourself recently parted from a Friend. This, I am sure, caused distress on both sides, and in recollection and in commemoration of our several delightful Meetings, 1 am endeavouring to repair that distress by returning your Friend to you. I think you will find he has been well cared for and is in good health. I have not rid him myself for fear of finding myself unwittingly involved in a Steeplechase, which is an occupation on which I as yet lack instruction.
I have the honour to be, dear Lady Harriet, Your most humble and obedient servant, George Warleggan.
It was a letter on which George had spent the best part of a day, destroying one draft after another. In the end he flattered himself it was exactly right. Only at the very last moment had a stirring of humour induced him to add the last sentence. Now he felt the letter would not have been half as effective without it.
The groom came back empty-handed. Lady Harriet was not at home. But the following afternoon a ragged young person without livery of any sort brought a reply.
Dear Sir George,
When I returned home yesterday eve Dundee was cropping the grass on my front lawn. Having read your letter, I do not