Out Of Hounds

CHAPTER 3

February 7, 2020 Friday

Raleigh and Rooster, the Doberman and harrier, barked upon hearing a deep motor outside. Golliwog, the calico longhair, evidenced no interest, lying on her back in her special fleece bed on the counter, no less.

Sister rose, opened the back door, stepping into the cold coatroom just as the door opened. Frigid air enveloped her.

“Sweetie, get back in the kitchen.” Gray Lorillard kissed her then propelled her back into the warmth.

“You’re home,” the Doberman happily declared as Gray reached down to pet him.

Rooster, standing on his hind legs, put his front paws on Gray’s jacket.

“Rooster,” Sister admonished him, to no effect.

“I’ll be right back.” Gray placed a small bag of groceries on the counter next to the refrigerator, flipped up his collar, stepped into the coatroom then outside. He ran back in.

“Must be seventeen degrees out there.”

“It’s been a long, cold week.” He took off his heavy jacket, draping it on the back of a kitchen chair. He placed a rectangular box on the table.

“I know you didn’t wrap that.” She smiled.

“The corners are too neat,” he agreed.

“Gray, I don’t recall you making corners,” she teased him, picking up the package, the paper silver and red stripes.

“Maybe it’s a diamond collar for you.” Golly raised a long eyebrow as she addressed Raleigh.

“I’d rather have a big bone, meat still on it.”

“Good idea,” Rooster seconded the thought.

Sliding her fingernail under the paper, Sister carefully opened the package, preserving the paper. “Cashmere!”

She held up a sweater, a soft but thick turtleneck of navy blue with flecks of gold.

“Be perfect with your beautiful self.” He kissed her on the cheek. She kissed him on the lips.

Holding the sweater under her chin she felt the richness under her fingers. “This must be four-ply. You know nothing is as warm as cashmere. Thank you, honey. How about you sit down and relax?”

“I’ll fix myself a drink first.” Which he did then sat down. “I thought I was retired. Sometimes I think I have more work than before. At least this short task is here, not Washington.”

“You can handle sensitive issues. Which keeps your old firm and others wanting your services. You don’t represent your old firm. They can use you in new ways. Everyone knows how discrete you are and honest.”

“That’s kind of you to say.” He watched her fold the paper, a habit of hers, carefully placing it on top of the cardboard box into which she put the sweater, the box now on the counter, away from food and Golly, who evidenced a suspicious interest.

“Where did you find fresh asparagus in February?” She admired the fat ends as she put goods away in the refrigerator with one hand, flicked on the stove with the other.

“Wegman’s.”

“Soup is heating up. Made it this morning after checking the hounds and the horses. I told you we put a Catholic fox to ground yesterday, didn’t I?”

“Well, you’d better find an Episcopalian one for the Reverend Taliaferro.”

They both laughed as Sister brought two large bowls of chicken rice soup with all manner of vegetables in it. Sister had known Gray since he was young, saw him married then divorced. As he lived and worked in D.C., she knew him slightly, whereas she better knew his aunt Daniella and brother, Sam, who blew a scholarship to Harvard thanks to drink. Sam cleaned himself up with Gray’s help but never returned to higher education. She also knew Mercer Laprade, Aunt Daniella’s son, who died a few years ago.

“The barking dog ordinance. I read the so-called authorities have taken three dogs away from three people,” Sister filled him in.

“That ordinance will be a great way for people to get even with one another. Then again, maybe that’s the purpose of such things. When you and I and the other hunt clubs attended those open meetings it became clear, to me, anyway, that this is one more way for people to control anyone who doesn’t think like they do. You dress it up with pious pronouncements about the public good.”

“I don’t think it much matters who is in charge but at least if you get country people you have a bit more reality. The hunt club kennels are exempted from punishment for barking. Some of the people running the county realize how much money we generate for businesses. But so many in Northern Virginia, Richmond, new people, think we’re deplorables.” She shrugged.

“I would give anything if Mrs. Clinton had not said that.” Gray meant it.

“Me, too, but having said it, you and I and other rural people are more or less damned. Maybe this is the first shot across the bow.” She feared and always would fear people who felt they had the right to tell you how to live. “Imagine what it was like when religion was the stone that was thrown at you? And that wasn’t that long ago. Well, the Dissolution was but you know what I mean. Being Catholic was an issue during the Kennedy election. I was young but I sure remember. My mother was appalled that people said the stuff they said.”

Feeling better thanks to the hot soup and the good scotch, Gray smiled. “Well, my mother, God rest her soul, used to say, ‘People are no better than they should be.’ Aunt Daniella certainly lived up to that.”

As Aunt Daniella married three men plus enjoyed numerous affairs, she did.

“She looked great, by the way. Well, she always does and she and Yvonne are almost inseparable. Yvonne is finally relaxing, the anger over her now despised ex-husband has dissipated. When she and Victor would visit Tootie at Custis Hall, I could feel their disapproval. Wasn’t a lot better when Tootie enrolled at Princeton either, disapproval from afar. Given that she is Tootie’s mother I walked carefully around her. But back to this barking thing, let’s say someone has had it with Crawford Howard,” she posited a suspicion. “Wouldn’t this be a way to get even with him?”

Gray smiled. “Well, they’d be risking years in court because he would never give up and he has the money to never give up. The law exists for those who can afford it.”

She smiled back. “You’re right, you usually are, but we would all be dragged into it. Foxhunters have to stick together.”

Leaning back he noticed Golly’s claw under the box top. “Golly, don’t you dare.”

She looked Gray directly in the face, her golden eyes wide. “Bother.”

“Golly.” Sister stood up, took the package away from the gorgeous cat, opened the broom closet, slipping it inside. “Until I can take it upstairs. She has to know everything.”

“I think she already does.”

“It really is a beautiful sweater.”

He finished his scotch, exhaling with pleasure. “Here we are talking about the dog ordinance, how long before a motion is floated to punish cat owners when the cats kill birds? Hear that, Golly?”

“Good Lord.”

“I’ll scratch their eyes out!” Golly threatened.

Once in the library, Sister’s favorite room, they sat with their feet up on hassocks. Gray had his arm around Sister’s shoulders. The warmth of each other felt like a glow for each of them. Theirs was a tested love, one that endured and deepened.

“Gray, what if you and Ronnie,” she named the club treasurer, “got together with Keswick, Farmington Hunt Club, and the Farmington Beagle Club, along with Waldingfield Beagles, and yes, Crawford, and pulled numbers. It would take time, but put together a package of the economic benefits to those communities hosting hunt clubs. The truck dealers alone would plump up those numbers. The real estate agents. The hay dealers, the food dealers.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “Okay. Okay. It will take time but it is a good idea.” He sighed. “Crawford will be a handful.”

Unknown to either of them, Crawford Howard sat in his living room with the Albemarle Sheriff’s Department. Someone had stolen his priceless Munnings painting from his room while he and his wife attended a hospital fundraiser. Whoever did it knew how to disarm an expensive alarm system and knew the Howards owned a stunning piece of art.