“If we go now, we can never come back, never.”
“Who cares? What do we got to come back to?”
Three more whistle blasts, this time from the north, “More cops closing in fast, we gotta go right now Danny boy.”
Phil turned back quickly to the tortured mare, smoothed her softly about the neck, tears now streaming down his face, “ I am so sorry Doris old girl. Truly, truly sorry.” He then stood up, gave Danny a quick glance and tore off across the open fields toward a small wood now falling into shadow in the distance. Danny hesitated, ran three long strides behind him and than eased up, shoved his hands in his pockets and stood watching as Phil disappeared into the rapidly expanding darkness.
* * *
The Regimental Dinner
The dining room had been transformed into a bastion of stately indulgence. All three extensions of the long mahogany table had been installed and every one of the eight gold table candelabras were polished and set precisely six feet apart over the forty-eight feet of Belgian linen. Every single piece of the dolce silver service had been perfectly placed and all of the shelves holding the great French crystal had been emptied to meet the demand of this evening’s affair.
The serenity of the moment belied the fact that two hours earlier there had been an anxious exchange between the Head Housekeeper, Mrs. Beechly, and Mr. Williams - Chief Butler and Head of the Household. The delicate issue had escalated rather seriously into an argument over which was the next appropriate choice of glassware and cutlery to be employed should the guest list be suddenly extended, by the simple addition, of just one more person.
Mrs. Beechly had defended the “former” cutlery and glassware that had been recently retired to His Lordship’s study because they better matched the new pieces, while Mr. Williams insisted on the newest glasses and cutlery, recently purchased for the garden house. The dispute was abruptly stopped when Lord Knowles had intervened personally from the library bellowing that they, “cease that bloody caterwauling this bloody instant.” To ease their concern, he further guaranteed that there was absolutely no need for such an exchange because he “bloody guaranteed there would be no bloody unexpected arrivals, or he would personally bloody bar them at the bloody door!”.
It wasn’t until the fish course that Her Ladyship first recognized the true extent of the calamity. As she chatted flirtatiously between Brigadier Colton-Marsh and the handsome young Captain Richards, her eyes cast to the opposite end of the table where she spotted the catastrophe immediately. The cutlery service set out for First Lieutenants Walls and Davis were from the old collection, which of course few would notice, but the glassware of the former presentation stood out profusely. Her eyes widened as her head slowly swung like a gun turret searching to calibrate her sights directly on poor Mr. Williams, who stood watching as cautiously as any regimental sergeant over his company of young servers who pirouetted and parlayed round the room. Though no gunfire was ever heard amid the discord of dinner, those angry volleys found their target nonetheless. Mr. Williams swallowed firmly and then seemingly gulped for air and clenched his lips as tiny beads of sweat broke from his temples. Clearly his only hope now was a divine intervention.
Maggie and Rose had been chosen to serve at the head of the table - a position that was highly coveted for serving at these regimental affairs since it was always Lord Knowles’ pleasure to provide gratuities to the staff based on their serving status in proximity to his own seat. Lieutenants Walls and Davis were seated at the corners of privilege next to His Lordship, astounding since they were the two villains who now headed up Lady Barbara’s “most wanted list.” Their rank and profile would not save them since they were now recognized by every staff member to be the reviled last minute additions to the already twice-expanded guest list. Her Ladyship had welcomed them about as generously as she would any horde of Vikings.
They had arrived unannounced barely a half-hour before five, in bold defiance of every rule of protocol. Cheering and laughing, they stamped their muddied boots on the marbled foyer. Reeking of horse and whiskey, they charged into the reception hall as though it were their own private mess. In truth, they presented themselves precisely as whom they were - two pompous young cavalry officers anticipating that their braided regimental mess kit would provide cover for a distinct lack of courtesy. Despite this frontal assault against the very citadel of propriety that Lady Knowles so closely regulated, it was soon evident that though decorum and good manners had been scuttled, family privilege had not. David Walls had always been and would always be, the much-favoured nephew of Lord Knowles, and therefore his unexpected arrival was merely a license he claimed without fear or consequence. The added offense of implicating his comrade-in-arms, Lieutenant Chester Davis prompted no word of apology from him and none was expected.
It was clear from the start that Mr. Walls had captured Maggie’s attention. He was remarkably striking and presented a confident charm beyond his years. Rose noticed it right away - the slow blush that crept up Maggie’s neck and into her cheeks was triggered by a scandalously devious grin from Mr. Walls.
“Uncle, this wine is extraordinary, a Fussily de Temps, n’est pas? An’87 or 88 I should think.”
His Lordship chuckled and shook his head defiantly, “You’re out of your league, my boy. I am pleased to tell you that this is a new vintage, a Chardonnay Nouveau from Provence - kegged in nineteen three and bottled just last year.”
“There’s your comeuppance.” laughed Winifred Charlton seated immediately to Chester’s left.
“Poor lad. I’m afraid his faulty nose is bred for bold horses and single malts not sensitive vintages,” snickered Chester and everyone laughed raucously.
“Now for the highlight of the evening,” Lord Knowles proclaimed, “we begin with a magnificent course of fish from our own stream.”
Maggie began her ‘tour des poisson’ with the easy precision of a well-rehearsed minuet, smiling and swaying around the corners of the head of the table. Rose followed with a large platter of vegetables - asparagus, petit white potatoes, carrots and lentils, on a broad engraved silver salver, framed by a pair of pristine silver tongs.
Rose was positioned perfectly to witness the entire disaster. Trailing precisely opposite Maggie as she glanced up just in time to witness the catastrophe that followed. Maggie stood at His Lordship’s left, bending slightly to present the platter of baked trout.
“Umm, trout, I do love fresh baked spring trout”, muttered the old warhorse, still fidgeting in his starchy new regimental dress.
David Walls did not hesitate to seize the opening his uncle had offered as he stared ruefully into Maggie’s eyes, ”Yes, indeed. Young and fresh and wrapped in a most lovely presentation.”
Lord Knowles continued his tutorial as he reached for his choice of the largest fish on the platter. “Yes, yes it’s my absolute favourite fish. Cook adds in the shallots and shredded parmigano cheese at the precise moment, so it all bakes together in absolute perfect splendor. Sir Lawrence and I watched her prepare this dish once when we caught a batch of brook trout up our stream just pass the mill. Ah, yes, this is always just divine.”
Suddenly Maggie’ eyes flashed wide open as her lips pursed in pure agony as she turned abruptly to face Mr. Walls. She whimpered a soft “Mmmm” of dread.
Never lifting his eyes form his swollen fork, His Lordship blustered on, oblivious to the engagement to his immediate right. He chats enthusiastically with the young lieutenant to his left, “So, tell me now Chester, precisely when do you undertake this year’s regimental maneuvers?”
Maggie pulled back quietly from the table and sidestepped adroitly to the back of Lieutenant Walls’ chair. Her platter began to shake slightly and the colour had drained from her face. She glanced up to Rose and gave her an anxious look, as if she were under attack. “We’re not scheduled to start ‘til early September this year. Seems a rather extraordinary delay - apparently