The Launching of Roger Brook by Dennis Wheatley Read Free Book Online

while the foxes at Buckland made a Roman holiday in your hen roosts,’ responded the captain, and his sally raised a hearty laugh among the fox-hunting squires of which the company mainly consisted.
    ‘I, too, am happy to say that I have read Mr. Gibbon,’ declared Sam Oviatt.
    ‘I’ll not gainsay you,’ said his host, with a broad wink at the others. ‘With no lands to look to and the scandalous profits you make on your smuggled liquor, you must be the richest man among us and the one with most leisure.’
    Another gust of laughter followed, then Mr. Gibbon held up a plump hand. ‘Come, come, gentlemen! No more disputing over the rival claims of my poor work and other pursuits, I beg. Three readers among ten of you is so handsome a proportion that could I boast the same of the population of England I should be so well endowed that I could afford to found a free library for the enlightenment of poor sailors returned from the wars.’
    The laugh this time was against Captain Brook but it was interrupted by the arrival of two newcomers, the Vicar and Mr. Sutherland, who lived at Grosvenor House in the High Street, the meadow behind which ran down to abut on the Captain’s orchard. After greetings had been exchanged andthey had been furnished with drinks, the gay, inconsequent talk went on.
    Soon after three o’clock old Sir Harry Burrard asked that his coach might be summoned, so that he could drive home to dinner; but Captain Brook would not hear of it, insisting that the whole company should remain to dine with him, and that his wife had prepared against them doing so. Heads were counted and Roger sent to tell his mother that, besides themselves, there would be eleven guests; and as she had already bidden her nearest and dearest neighbour, Mrs. Sutherland, to join them, to keep her in countenance with so many gentlemen, covers were prepared for fifteen.
    Roger helped old Ben put the extra leaves in the dining-room table, but they had no need to use them all, as it was a good modern one made only a dozen years before in Mr. Chippendale’s London workshop and could, as Roger knew from their Boxing Night parties, seat twenty, when fully extended.
    By four o’clock its highly polished mahogany mirrored a brave array of china, glass, gleaming silver, white napery, crystal bowls of fruit and filigree baskets holding bonbons, comfits and candied peel, while the side tables were filled to capacity with steaming dishes and rows of bottles.
    Polly and Nell, now smart in their frilled aprons and mob caps, took their places on either side of the table; old Ben announced that his master was served, and the company went in to dine.
    Lady Marie had Mr. Gibbon on her right and Sir Harry on her left; the Captain had Mrs. Sutherland on one side and old General Cleveland on the other; Roger sat between Sam Oviatt and Captain Burrard.
    For a first course Lady Marie gave them a dish of perch and trout, another of lobster patties, three fowls broiled, a fore-quarter of lamb, and a fillet of veal roasted with Morella Cherries and truffles. And for a second course, sweetbreads, a green goose roasted and peas, a pigeon pie, apricot tart, cheesecakes, and a trifle.
    Few ate of all these things, but many of most; everyone choosing what they preferred and often having their plates piled high with helpings from several different dishes at the same time. The meal was good, but by no means pretentious as nine dishes to each course were often served in larger houses and even when alone few of those present ever satdown in their own homes to a dinner of less than a single course of five. All of them took unabashed enjoyment in their food and washed it down with copious draughts of Rhenish, Claret and Anjoy. Such heavy eating and drinking brought internal troubles to most people in middle life and was largely responsible for the early death rate but they lived too fully and violently to give a thought to that.
    With the interval between courses