“I shall enjoy watching you set off,” the countess said. “Remind me of the good old days when I had the finest seat in Hertfordshire.”

For some reason the Wexler children found this amusing and were given a ferocious look by the countess. “I shall, of course, be delighted to offer Mrs. Rathbone a place in my motorcar,” she said, making it quite clear that she was snubbing the rest of the spectators.

“And I take it you’ll be riding your own horses, won’t you, Captain Sechrest?” Lady Hawse-Gorzley said quickly, still trying to keep unpleasantness from developing.

“Oh, absolutely,” Captain Sechrest said. “We’ll pop over to our place first thing tomorrow.”

“I’ll drop you off at your place in the morning in the Armstrong Siddeley,” Johnnie said. “I have to pick up my own nag.”

Mrs. Sechrest said, “Thank you, Johnnie, how kind,” at the same time as her husband muttered, “Not at all necessary. Have my own vehicle.”

Lady Hawse-Gorzley looked around. “So let’s see, that leaves the colonel, myself, Monty, Darcy, Bunty—how about you, Badger?”

“I’m not the world’s most brilliant rider.” Badger’s freckled face turned pink. “But I’ll give it a go.”

“Jolly good. That’s the spirit.” Lady Hawse-Gorzley nodded with approval. “And Georgiana—you hunt, don’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely. Adore it, if you can find me a mount,” I said.

“I think we can. We’ve Sultan if Oswald’s not coming, and Star is still game if a little plodding, isn’t he? And then there are Freddie’s horses. I did approach him about borrowing his extra mounts for our guests before the tragedy, and they’ll need exercising by now. Monty, dear, you might take Darcy and go over there this morning to see what’s what. Tell the groom we’ll want them brought round by eight thirty tomorrow morning.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t bring my hunting pinks,” Colonel Rathbone said. “Didn’t know about the hunt, y’know. Can’t ride without them. Dashed bad form.”

“I’m sure Oswald will lend you his jacket, won’t you, dear?” Lady H-G said firmly. Sir Oswald didn’t look too sure but smiled wanly.

“And I don’t have my hunting jacket either,” I said. I had brought jodhpurs because one always does.

“You can wear my old jacket,” Bunty said. “We’re about the same size and it’s not too shabby.”

“Thanks awfully.” I made a mental note that she was being a frightfully good sport about Darcy.

Having sorted out the universe again Lady Hawse-Gorzley sent the churchgoers off, found jigsaw puzzles and board games for those who were not planning to hunt, and sent the hunters off to sort out mounts. I took the opportunity to go to wish my nearest and dearest a merry Christmas.