Appleby Talks Again Read Free Page B

ball was clearly intended as a gesture in the grand manner. The Pooles prized nothing more highly than their reputation for being both resourceful and gay – and indeed they are said to be so still. But it took this great aristocratic lady, perhaps, to light that particular beacon against the darkness that was then closing in on the King’s party.” Mr Buttery paused. “One admires it, does one not?”
    “And remembers it.” Judith glanced down the hall as if attempting to picture the scene. “And that is the point, I imagine? Lady Elizabeth’s entertainment became legendary?”
    “So it would appear. On the stroke of midnight, the story goes, a messenger arrived from Prince Rupert. He announced that Sir Thomas Fairfax was marching with the New Model army upon Northampton, and that in a few days a critical battle must be joined. The ball ended instantly with a loyal toast, there was a bustle of martial preparation, and at daybreak the gentlemen rode away.” Again Mr Buttery paused. “How vividly one sees it: the candles growing pale in the dawn, the women ashen under their paint and jewels, the men all assurance and arrogance and inflexibly maintained courtesy, but with thoughts only for their horses and weapons and accoutrements. Among those who departed were Richard Poole and his two sons. As you no doubt know, none of them came back.”
    “And the family never recovered?”
    Mr Buttery nodded his venerable head. “It is perhaps true to say that the family never completely recovered – although Pooles lived on, the unquestioned masters of this place, into the present century. In the Kaiser’s war the old history repeated itself after a fashion, for a father and two sons were killed, and the estate became impossibly burdened with debt. No Poole has lived here regularly since then. During the last war, when remote places were at a premium, Water Poole was let out and partially occupied for a time. But now it scarcely appears that it can ever be lived in again, and I am sorry to say that the shooting and fishing have been leased to some very unpleasant people – commercial folk, no doubt – from London. The present owner of the house is almost unknown to me. He is a young man in his early thirties – a Richard, as most of the lords of the manor have been christened – and I believe he has gone on the stage.”
    “I wonder what Lady Elizabeth Poole would make of that? To think of one of her descendants become a common player would probably make her turn in her grave.” Judith looked at Mr Buttery with sudden indiscreet mischief. “But perhaps it’s that sort of thing that Lady Elizabeth is by way of doing – turning in her grave, or even rising from it on stated occasions to dance a pavane or a saraband?”
    Mr. Buttery shook his head. “No, no, my dear madam. That is an error – I am bound to say a grave error.” He picked up his bell again and tinkled it, as if here was something in itself calling for the rite in which he proposed to engage. “We must not suppose that the souls of virtuous persons, or their bodies either, engage in any such pranks. We are not in any sense confronted with true apparitions. Goblins are the explanation. I have not the slightest doubt of it.”
    “It is a most interesting supposition.” Appleby interposed this with gravity. “But just what do they explain? You haven’t yet told us that. We have only gathered, so far, that last night you witnessed something remarkable. How did it happen? Were you called out to it?”
    “Not precisely.” For the third time Mr Buttery tinkled his bell, but on this occasion what appeared to prompt the action was mild discomfiture. “The fact is that, round about midnight, I was on the river. For purposes of meditation, and on a fine summer night, it may confidently be recommended.”
    “Particularly when there is no moon?”
    “Oh, most decidedly so. There is a great deal of distraction in a handsome moon.”
    “I see.” Appleby