Ten Lords A-Leaping Read Online Free PDF Page A

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    ‘Morning, Violet,’ said Deptford. ‘And how are we today? OK on the taxi front last night, I hope?’
    ‘Indeed yes, my lord. Debate kept going until ten-thirty-two, I’m pleased to say. What can I get you, my lord?’
    ‘My guest would like a gin and tonic, please.’ Deptford saw Amiss’s baffled expression. ‘Staff get taxis paid for after ten-thirty. If it’s a matter of a few minutes we try to spin the debate out long enough.’
    ‘Commendably humane.’
    ‘Yeah. But don’t tell the Public Accounts Committee. Some of them buggers would probably denounce it as a wicked waste of taxpayers’ money. Inflexible bastards.’ He took a substantial sip of his whisky and soda. ‘Oh, that’s better. I tell you, I didn’t ’alf feel in a right old state this morning. A fellow of my age shouldn’t be led astray like we were last night. Dangerous woman, Jack. Always was.’ He sniggered in a reminiscent sort of way.
    ‘You’ve known each other a long time?’
    Lord Deptford grinned. ‘Twenty years or so. No more than that. But there was a time when we knew each other very, very well.’
    Amiss preferred to ignore the implication. ‘I see. But as I was saying, I’m a bit baffled by some of what happened yesterday.’
    ‘Like what?’
    ‘For a start, I’m a great admirer of Jack’s, but how did she get such a turnout of peers yesterday. Someone told me the audience for her introduction was about three times the usual.’
    ‘Bertie Stormerod, of course. He’s always had a soft spot for our Jack, so he leaned on his mates to put on the best show possible. Throw in us pro-hunting lot and you’ve got a lot of people wanting to make a fuss of her. You see, if she’s going to play a major part in defeating this bill, even while she’s still wet behind the ears in Lords terms, she needs to be given all the backing she can. Adds to ’er stature, you might say. She’s going to be making her maiden speech about eleven months earlier than usual, so she ’as to be seen to be special so as to square the fuddy-duddies. Next?’
    ‘OK. I could understand the connection between, say, Lord Poulteney and Stormerod and hunting. But you?’
    Deptford emitted a throaty chuckle. ‘Can’t see what a jumped-up member of the working classes is doing defending a gentleman’s pursuit, eh? That what you’re getting at?’
    ‘I suppose it is.’
    ‘It’s quite simple. Wanted to be a jockey as a kid. Did three years as a stable boy after I left school at fourteen and fell in love with the local ’unt. You can’t imagine what that was like for a city boy. Glamour, excitement, danger. For a time I was like that description of Mr Jorrocks.’
    Amiss raised an eyebrow. Deptford sighed. ‘I suppose no one reads them now – R. S. Surtees’s stories about a Victorian cockney tea merchant who became a Master of Foxhounds. I love ’em: try this.’ He declaimed emotionally: ‘ “I am a sportsman all over, and to the backbone – ’unting is all that’s worth living for – all time is lost what is not spent in ’unting – it is like the hair we breathe – if we have it not we die – it’s the sport of kings, the image of war without its guilt, and only five and twenty per cent of its danger.” Ah, it’s wonderful stuff. Would you like to borrow some?’
    ‘I have one already. I spent an hour this morning collecting hunting books from the library – including Handley Cross .’
    ‘Well done, mate. You’ll enjoy it.’
    The drinks were delivered. ‘Thanks, luv. So I lived for hunting for a while. Then the war came and when I came out I couldn’t go back to it.’
    ‘Because?’
    ‘Because I got a job in a trade union and hunting became a guilty secret of my past. You don’t get to be a General Secretary by careering around the countryside on the back of an ’orse. You get there by being leftier than the lefties – at least in those days you did.’
    He took a thoughtful sip. ‘Mind you, I