‘Put him down, you vulgar brute!’ she screamed. ‘Put him down!’ Then she gave a piercing, tremulous wail and fainted. Rosy, still swinging the Master to and fro like a giant cat with a scarlet mouse, looked around thoughtfully. The Honourable Petunia’s scream was not much in the way of applause, she thought, but it was obviously the best she was going to get. Peering out she perceived Adrian’s white face peeping round the trunk of an oak tree, and so she shambled across to him and deposited the Master at his feet with the good-natured air of a retriever bringing in the first grouse of the season. The jolt with which she deposited the Master on the grass dislodged the top hat, which fell off and rolled across the meadow. It revealed the fact that the Master possessed magnificent black side-whiskers and moustache, and that his face was congested to a shade of royal purple that gave one the impression that he was either in imminent danger of dying of apoplexy, or else was going to disappear in a large puff of black smoke. He sat there, glaring up at Adrian, and making a noise that – even by his most fervent admirers – could only be described as an inarticulate gobbling.
‘’Er . . . Good afternoon,’ said Adrian, for want of a better remark. Not altogether to his surprise the Master’s face turned black. He struggled desperately with his respiratory system, and at last managed to gain some control over his strangled vocal chords.
‘What d’ye mean?’ he said in a muted roar, articulating with difficulty. ‘What d’ye mean: Good afternoon? Is that your filthy, verminous, misbegotten, shapeless animal, hey?’
He pointed a quivering finger at Rosy, who had plucked herself a bunch of long grass and daisies and was fanning herself with it to keep the flies off.
‘Oh, that,’ said Adrian, as though the presence of an elephant had escaped his notice until that moment, ‘that well, yes, in a way you could say it was mine.’
‘Well, what the devil d’ye mean, sir?’ roared the Master. ‘Stampin’ about in the meadows with a damn’ great misbegotten elephant . . . dressed in that obscene costume . . . frightenin’ the hounds . . . terrifyin’ the women . . . even frightenin’ the horses . . . what the devil d’ye mean by it, Sir?’
‘I’m terribly sorry,’ said Adrian contritely. ‘We were just having a quiet swim, you see, and we didn’t know you were all coming this way.’
‘D’you usually,’ enquired the Master with deadly calm, ‘d’you usually travel through the countryside, swimming in other people’s rivers, frightenin’ the salmon, accompanied by a misbegotten elephant?’
‘Not usually, no,’ Adrian admitted, ‘but I’m afraid it would take too long to explain.’
‘I can explain it,’ shouted the Master, getting to his feet. ‘You’re a lunatic, Sir, a criminal lunatic, that’s what you are. Gallopin’ around the country worryin’ the hunt, frightenin’ the fish and probably the birds as well . . . a lunatic. I shall have you and the misshapen beast under lock and key, sir, see if I don’t. I shall sue for damages and for trespass. I shall get you five years’ penal servitude. The charge might even be attempted murder, sir, what d’you think of that, hey? The moment I get back to the village I shall have the law on you, mark my words.’
‘Look,’ said Adrian in a panic, ‘I really am most awfully sorry, but if you’d just let me explain. You see, your horses and dogs . . .’
‘Dogs?’ hissed the Master, his face regaining its purple hue, ‘dogs? Hounds, Sir, hounds.’
‘Well, your hounds,’ said Adrian, ‘it’s just that they’re not used to elephants.’
The Master drew a long quivering breath and cast a fierce eye over the meadow, where huntsmen, in various stages of disarray, were climbing shakily to their feet and endeavouring to catch their terrified horses.
‘Yes, I can see they’re not used to elephants,’ said the Master, ‘and shall I let you into a secret, you misbegotten peasant? THEY’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE USED TO ELEPHANTS!’
Adrian had to admit that he had a point there. The Master picked up the remains of his top hat and placed it on his head.
‘As soon as I get back to the village I shall have you and your blasted elephant arrested, mark my words,’ he said, and strode off after the rest of the soiled, limping huntsmen. As the last of them mounted and trotted out of the field, Adrian turned to Rosy.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ he said bitterly, ‘and just when I thought everything was going along all right. You’ve gone and mucked everything up again . . . now we’re going to be arrested. I should think you’ll get about five hundred years’ penal servitude.’
He dressed hurriedly and hitched Rosy up to the trap once more.
‘The best thing is to get as far away from the village as possible,’ he said, as they started down the road.
After walking for a little while they came to a crossroads, and here the signpost informed them that if they turned to the left they would reach the village of Fennel, and if they turned to the right they would come to the village of Monkspepper. Adrian was not sure what to do. He did not know which village the hunt had come from and, while he knew that he could conceal himself and possibly the trap from any pursuing minions of the law, Rosy was a different matter. Looking down the road that led to Fennel he saw the beginning of a great wood, and that decided him. He could at least make some attempt at concealing an elephant in a wood. So, gripping Rosy’s ear to hurry her, they set off down the road to Fennel.
6. The Aristocratic Entanglement
The beech wood was tall and vast, the green trunked trees standing up to their ankles in a haze of bluebells. The trees grew so closely together that even something the size of Rosy would be completely invisible thirty yards from the road. However, Adrian was not taking any chances. The farther he removed them from the hunt the better he would feel. Presently they found a small ride which meandered off at right angles to the road and disappeared deep into the forest, and this they followed for a mile or so. High in the treetops wood-pigeons crooned huskily, rabbits flashed and scuttled all around them, and squirrels fled up the tree trunks in alarm – their tails like puffs of red smoke – and chattered indignantly at them as they passed. Adrian began to regain his confidence. Surely, he thought, in this great, cool forest no one would be able to find them.
Presently the ride led them to a large field in the middle of the wood, and in the field were the somewhat bedraggled remains of a last year’s haystack. But it was warm and dry, and Adrian decided that this would be the perfect place to sleep. He unhitched the cart and, with Rosy’s help, pushed it deep into the undergrowth where it would be well hidden. Then he unpacked the food and the blankets and made his way to the haystack. Rosy followed him in a preoccupied manner, but presently returned to the trap and reappeared carrying the firkin of ale carefully in her trunk. So, wrapped up warmly in blankets, on a bed of sweet-smelling hay, Adrian lay and ate his supper while Rosy stood guard beside him, swaying gently from side to side. The moon slid up into the sky and peered down at them, turning the meadow to silver, and deep in the forest the owls hooted tremulously at each other.
Adrian was woken at dawn by a vast chorus of birdsong that made the wood echo and ring. The meadow was white with dew and the morning air was chilly. They made a hasty meal and rounded it off with a pint of ale each, Adrian reflecting that he was falling into Mr Pucklehammer’s evil ways of drinking ale for breakfast. Then, the cart hitched up once more, they continued on their way in the sparkling morning light, Rosy leaving great circular footprints in the dewy grass. They had crossed three fields, seeing nothing more alarming than a cock pheasant glittering in the sun, when they came to a gap in the hedge that led them on to the road once more.
They were just about to regain the road when Adrian heard the sound of horses’ hooves. Hastily shushing Rosy (who was making considerably less noise than he was) he peered cautiously round the hedge, expecting to see a whole host of mounted policemen galloping in pursuit of them. But instead he saw a very elegant black landau with gold wheels and impressive crests on the doors
, being pulled at a spanking pace by a pair of magnificent greys. Reclining in the back of the landau was a man clad in a pale lavender coat and white breeches, with a top hat as shiny as a beetle tipped over his face.
Adrian was so busy watching the approach of the landau that he had stupidly let go of Rosy’s ear and she, acting on the assumption that the highroad was free to all travellers (including elephants), shambled out on to the road, pulling the trap behind her. By now the effect that Rosy had on horses had ceased to surprise Adrian. The two greys skidded to a halt, reared up on their hind legs and made desperate endeavours to climb through the hedge, carrying the landau with them, while the coachman, whitefaced, did his best to control them.
‘What are you trying to do, Jenkins?’ enquired the man in the lavender coat languidly.
‘I’m sorry, my lord,’ said the coachman, ‘but it’s this here animal!’
The man in the lavender coat tilted his shiny top hat back, revealing elegant side-whiskers and curly hair of the brightest auburn shade. He had a long, pale and rather delicate-looking face lit with enormous eyes of the most vivid violet. He seemed quite unperturbed by the fact that the landau was in imminent danger of turning over. He felt thoughtfully in his waistcoat pocket, produced a monocle and proceeded to arrange it carefully in his right eye. By now the horses had succeeded in getting their heads through the hedge, and the landau was rocking and bouncing like a ship in a heavy sea.
‘By Jove!’ said the man in the lavender coat, surveying Rosy, ‘an elephant . . . a veritable elephant. ’Pon my soul, what an extraordinary thing.’
Adrian was pushing at Rosy’s head in a desperate endeavour to get her to go into reverse, but she was being singularly stubborn.
‘You there,’ said the man in the lavender coat, ‘is that your elephant?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so . . . in a sort of a way,’ said Adrian, still pushing at Rosy.
‘What an extraordinary thing,’ said the man musingly. ‘I suppose you aren’t by any chance the person who upset the Monkspepper Hunt? I suppose you must be . . . there can’t be more than one elephant in the district, surely?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Adrian, ‘but it was all a horrible mistake, really. We didn’t mean any harm, but you can see the effect she has on horses.’
‘Yes,’ agreed the man, ‘she does appear to have a detrimental effect on them, I will admit. Would it be asking too much, my dear fellow, for you to move her a trifle so that we can get past?’
‘Certainly,’ said Adrian. ‘I’ll do the best I can.’
But Rosy, having gained the road, saw no valid reason for returning to the field. The struggle lasted some time and then Adrian had an idea. He ran round to the back of the trap and filled Rosy’s tankard with beer. Using this as a bribe he managed to entice her back behind the hedge. Now she was out of view the coachman could get the greys under some sort of control. The man in the lavender coat had watched the whole performance with rapt attention, and when Adrian reappeared he screwed his monocle more firmly into his eye and leant forward.
‘Tell me, my dear chap,’ he enquired, ‘does she drink the beer or just bathe in it?’
‘She drinks it,’ said Adrian bitterly.
‘Quite remarkable,’ said the man, ‘a beer-drinking elephant.’
‘I’m terribly sorry we upset your horses,’ said Adrian. ‘Rosy doesn’t mean any harm, really.’
‘Not at all, my dear fellow,’ said the man, waving a slender hand. ‘Don’t mention it, pray. Most diverting experience. Tell me, does she drink anything else besides beer?’
‘Yes,’ said Adrian succinctly, ‘everything.’
‘Fascinating!’ said the man, and then added with a gleam of humour in his violet eyes, ‘If that’s the effect she has on my greys, I’d love to have seen what she did to the hunt.’
‘I must say it was quite spectacular,’ Adrian admitted, grinning. ‘I’ve never seen so many huntsmen fall off at once.’
The man in the landau gave a crow of laughter, and then, taking off his top hat, he held out a slender hand. ‘I’m Lord Fenneltree, by the by, and I’m delighted to meet you.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ stammered Adrian. ‘My name’s Rookwhistle, Adrian Rookwhistle, and that’s Rosy.’
‘Charming names,’ said his lordship vaguely, and then fell into a reverie, staring into space. Adrian, never having met a lord before, was uncertain what to do. He was not at all sure that he had not been dismissed. He was just about to raise his hat and say good-bye, when his lordship woke up with a start, screwed his monocle more firmly in his eye and glared at him.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Lord Fenneltree proudly, with the air of one describing a rare phenomenon. Are you, by any chance, free at the moment?’
‘Well . . . yes,’ said Adrian. ‘I’m just making my way down to the coast.’
‘Capital! Capital!’ said his lordship enthusiastically, ‘it couldn’t have been a more fortunate meeting.’
‘Really!’ said Adrian. ‘Why?’
‘The party,’ said his lordship in surprise, ‘the party, my dear fellow, that’s been occupying my waking and sleeping thoughts for the last month.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Adrian, who did not see at all but wanted to be polite.
‘Don’t you think, Jenkins,’ said his lordship to the coachman, ‘that the elephant would be admirable for the party?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ said Jenkins woodenly. ‘If you say so.’
‘It is so nice to be agreed with,’ said Lord Fenneltree, beaming at Adrian.
‘Forgive me,’ said Adrian, ‘but what is it you want me to do exactly?’
‘We cannot discuss it here,’ said his lordship firmly, ‘it’s too fatiguing to hold an intellectual conversation in the back of a landau. If you continue down this road a mile or so you’ll see my house lying on the left-hand side. Do come there, my dear fellow, and bring your elephant. Then we’ll discuss the matter further over some lunch, eh?’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Adrian.
‘Don’t mention it,’ said his lordship. ‘Home, Jenkins.’
The landau rattled off down the lane and a much puzzled Adrian went back into the field to retrieve Rosy.
‘This is a rum do, Rosy,’ he said to her as he led her down the road. ‘First you try and kill a member of the aristocracy, and then he invites us to lunch. At least, he invited me to lunch, but I suppose he’ll give you a cabbage or something. I wonder what this party thing is that he keeps on about? I don’t see what we can do to help. Anyway, my girl, just you remember where you are and behave yourself. I don’t want to be had up for killing a lord.’
Presently they came to a pair of huge wrought-iron gates, hung on tall pillars, each one guarded by snarling stone griffons vivid with patches of green moss and yellow lichens. Beyond them the drive curled through noble parkland, dotted with clumps of magnificent trees, and in the distance, gigantic, rosy red in the sunlight, its mullioned windows flashing, lay the residence of Lord Fenneltree. An elderly man came trotting out of the lodge, pulling his forelock, and opened the gates wide.
‘Morning, sir,’ he said, looking somewhat apprehensively at Rosy. ‘His lordship said you was coming.’ Adrian and Rosy, with the trap trundling behind, made their way up the long curling drive. As they got nearer to the house the green sward gave place to neatly clipped lawns, flower beds and yew hedges which had been carefully and cunningly fashioned to represent peacocks, unicorns and similar interesting beasts. His lordship was standing on the steps leading up to the front door impatiently awaiting their arrival. He was surrounded by several footmen and an elderly and almost circular butler, all in a state of ill-suppressed excitement at the sight of Rosy.
‘There you are,’ said Lord Fenneltree. ‘Excellent. Now, my dear chap, come in and have some luncheon. What, by the way, does Rosy like, apart from beer?’
‘Well any sort of fruit or vegetables,’ said Adrian.
‘Raymond,’ s
aid his lordship to the butler, ‘show Mr Rookwhistle and Rosy the way to the stables and then tell the gardeners to get her some fruit and vegetables.’
Once Rosy was tethered in a spacious barn in the stable yard, the gardeners appeared with wheelbarrow loads of succulent fruit and vegetables that made Adrian’s mouth water and produced shrill trumpetings of enthusiasm from Rosy. There were peaches and grapes, carrots, cabbage and peas, apples, pears and apricots. Leaving Rosy engulfing these delicacies, Adrian was escorted back to the house by the butler and ushered into a vast withdrawing-room, where Lord Fenneltree was reclining on a sofa, surrounded by a pack of dogs of all shapes and sizes.
‘Come and sit down,’ said his lordship. ‘Presently we’ll have some lunch. Rosy all safe and sound, I trust?’
‘Yes,’ said Adrian, ‘she’s eating her head off. It’s very good of you to be so kind when she could have been the cause of your death. I’m really most grateful.’
‘Well,’ said his lordship, ‘if you’re feeling all that grateful you might be able to do me a small service.’
‘Anything I can,’ said Adrian.
‘It’s this damned party,’ explained his lordship, closing his eyes as though the mere thought was painful to him. ‘You see, I have a daughter who – although I say it myself – is not utterly repulsive. Very shortly it is to be her eighteenth birthday and to celebrate it we are having a party, d’you see? My dear wife, who is, I’m afraid, a headstrong and insatiable woman, insists that this party from the point of view of extravagance and originality outshine anything that has been done previously in the district. Now, I can manage the financial side of things all right, but up to now I had been quite unable to think of anything original. Then you came along.’
‘I see,’ said Adrian cautiously.
‘Now, it occurs to me,’ his lordship went on, ‘that the introduction of a large, tame, beer-drinking elephant into a party of this sort would be a very original idea, don’t you think?’