The cavalry came shortly after two o’clock in the afternoon. The man in charge was a Major Piers Arbuthnot-Leigh, a veteran of the Boer Wars. ‘I’ve got twenty-three of my chaps with me, Powerscourt,’ he informed his host, ‘all well blooded in pursuit of the Boer, not so much experience against the native version over here.’ He had one of those braying voices that can cut through the noises on the hunting field. His troops all looked young and fit.
Powerscourt led the Major and a detachment of his men off on a reconnaissance mission towards Butler Lodge. Arbuthnot-Leigh peered down at the house through a powerful pair of binoculars from a position hidden among the trees.
‘I say, Powerscourt, that looks pretty damn fine to me.’
‘The Lodge, do you mean?’ asked Powerscourt.
‘No, no, man, not the wretched lodge, haven’t had time to look at that yet, the fishing, salmon, I should say in that river, and in that lake in front of the house. Some of the finest prospects I’ve seen since I was last at my place in Scotland. Bloody fine!’
‘I think,’ Powerscourt said acidly, ‘that our business on this occasion is with the humans in the lodge rather than the fish in the river.’
‘Quite so, quite so, another sort of bag altogether, what?’ Arbuthnot-Leigh turned his binoculars in a slightly different direction and continued staring down the mountain. ‘Didn’t stint themselves when they built the bloody lodge, these Butlers, did they? Place is huge. Expect they went in for wild parties down there, compliant females of good proportions imported from Dublin, what? Let me see.’ He swung his glasses round the exterior. ‘With sixteen of my chaps I could have every door and window covered, bag any Paddy trying to make a hasty getaway to the pub or the bog or wherever they come from, seven more as a mobile reserve. Trouble is, don’t have to tell you this, Powerscourt, what about the fillies inside? Bloody difficult with the two fillies, if you ask me.’
Powerscourt realized that the Major might not be as dense as he sounded.
‘What’s the plan?’ Arbuthnot-Leigh went on. ‘Would you like my chaps to put on a show of force? Ten of them ride down the hill, rifles in hand, like something out of the Wild West and shoot a few rounds in the air? Give the Paddies something to think about, what?’
‘They might panic,’ Powerscourt said rather sadly, ‘and think this is a full frontal attack. Then they might shoot the women.’
‘Pity, that,’ said the Major. ‘We could launch an attack in stages, like a proper siege. Begin firing at the little green people from the top of the hill, work our way down, surround the building, knock on the front door and offer them surrender terms, if there are any of them left, what do you say?’
‘Same objection as before,’ said Powerscourt.
‘Fillies?’ said Arbuthnot-Leigh.
‘Fillies,’ nodded Powerscourt.
‘Bit like real life, don’t you think, Powerscourt, damned women causing a lot of trouble, whichever way you look at it.’
The Major looked round at the six men under his command, all staring down the hill at Butler Lodge. ‘Tell you what, Powerscourt, what do you think of this as a suggestion? These six chaps of mine here, all damned good at tracking the enemy, creeping about in the bushes, not making a sound, that sort of thing. Bit like the fox in the hen coop, only know he’s been there after he’s gone, if you see what I mean. We need to know how many Paddies are on guard duty in that damned place. If I leave these fellows and our sergeant here in charge, they can try to come up with an estimate of the number of the other team. Are we playing cricket or rugby or tennis, what? Be damned useful to know that. What do you say?’
‘Good idea,’ said Powerscourt, ‘it would be very helpful to know how many of the rogues there are.’
‘Good show,’ said the Major, and moved off to confer with his sergeant. A few moments later he was back. ‘Operation’s going to start in a few moments,’ he announced. ‘I’m going to stay with them for a while, Powerscourt, so I’ll see you back at the hotel. Must remember to organize nosebag and sleeping bag for my chaps. I’m completely hopeless at all this crawling about in the undergrowth business. My ghillies tell me I make more noise than a herd of cattle but I’ll see my chaps started. Bloody poachers in an earlier life, three or four of them, the buggers would crawl through the jaws of hell if they thought there was game on the far side.’
Powerscourt thought he was dreaming when he walked into the reception area of the Leenane Hotel. He thought he saw Lady Lucy sitting in a corner by the window drinking tea. He thought the phantom figure waved at him. Then the phantom spoke.
‘Francis, my love, how very good to see you. You’re looking rather dishevelled, I must say. I’ve changed our room upstairs, you know. We’ve got a huge place now and I’ve moved some of the furniture and I’ve filled as much of it with flowers as I could. Would you like some of this tea? It’s rather good.’
Powerscourt held the ghostly apparition in his arms and realized from the strength of the embrace that this was no apparition but the wife of his bosom and the mother of his children.
‘Lucy,’ he said, looking into her face, ‘what on earth are you doing here? How did you arrive? How long are you staying?’ Part of his brain said he should add ‘Are you out of your mind?’ to his list of questions but he resisted.
‘One thing at a time, Francis,’ she said brightly. ‘I was talking to that nice Dennis Ormonde yesterday and he was wondering how his wife and her sister were going to get back from a place as remote as this. That Chief Constable person popped in to tell us you’d found them, you see. And Mr Ormonde said he wanted them back as quickly as possible and that he would send his coachman and one of his finest carriages once he heard they were free. He’s absolutely convinced, you see, Francis, that you’ll secure their release. It’s quite touching, really. So I said why didn’t he send it today, with me in it, as the ladies would welcome another female to talk to on the way back. So here I am!’
‘So you are,’ said her husband, unsure of his feelings. For while he was delighted to see Lucy, he didn’t like her to be as close to the point of danger as she was now. Still less did he like to have her on the spot when he thought of what he was contemplating for the morrow. ‘Is there any news of the paintings, Lucy? Any word of any more people being taken? Orangemen still behaving themselves, are they?’
‘There was one rumour, Francis, about that man Connolly, the one who sent you away.’
‘What did it say?’
‘Well, Mr Ormonde told me the rumour was that all his paintings had been returned intact. No Christian Brothers replacing the ancestors, none of that. But then he tracked the rumour down and he found it came from a man who travels the country selling horses. Mr Ormonde didn’t think he was reliable, if you see what I mean.’
Powerscourt frowned. ‘Don’t see why it should be doubtful just because it comes from a man who sells horses, Lucy. Half the bloody country spend their time buying and selling horses, for heaven’s sake. Don’t see why he should be any less reliable than any of the rest of the inhabitants.’
‘Ah,’ said Lady Lucy, ‘but Mr Ormonde had actually bought a horse from this fellow once. He said the animal was so lame it could scarcely trot the length of his drive. And by the time he discovered that, the man had taken his money and disappeared off in the direction of Ballinrobe.’