Рита Браун - The Hunt Ball

Professor Kennedy smiled brightly at Knute. “My experience is that the children of highly successful parents, once they learn not to compare themselves to their parents, go on to become successful themselves.”

“That’s an interesting observation.” Knute clearly didn’t get it.

Pamela did and she brightened. “Really?”

“Well, yes, because success, regardless of career, can be broken into discrete bits of practice, if you will, traits, behaviors. Even though you need special skills for different tasks, jobs, there are certain things that cut across all careers. For instance, something as simple as determination. No one gets anywhere without it.”

“We’ve got that.” Valentina beamed and then in one of those moments of insight, underrated in the young even though they have them, she grasped Pamela’s discomfort. “I think Pamela is more determined than any of us.”

Pamela didn’t trust the compliment coming from her archrival, but she was glad of it.

Tootie, per usual, kept her thoughts to herself.

Bill Wheatley breezed in. Seeing the cases open, Knute standing there, he skidded to a halt. “Knute, I had no idea you were interested in our heritage.”

Knute teased Bill back, “Now, Bill, just because I don’t go into a rapture over a ribbon doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

Bill chuckled, speaking to Professor Kennedy, “To tell the truth, Professor, I’m afraid few of us have paid much attention to the treasures in our display cases here much less to their manufacture. We’re all so busy with our duties we forget to stop and smell the roses, if you will.”

“You’ve studied the clothes,” Knute contradicted him.

“Yes. It’s been so helpful for costumes for plays set in the beginning of the nineteenth century. Don’t know beans about the rest of it.” His eyes fell on the snaffle bit. “Valentina, Tootie, girls, this is right up your alley. And if you don’t know, Sister Jane will.”

“The master?” Professor Kennedy appreciated the social grace and skill with which Sister had made her feel welcome at the Opening Hunt breakfast.

“She has ancient pieces of tack, bits, boot pulls, you wouldn’t believe the junk she has in the barn or up at the house. She’s got one old curb chain from the time of Charles I! When an argument broke out about the introduction of the curb chain, damned if she didn’t bring it out.”

“A curb chain?” Professor Kennedy knew little about horses or their accoutrements.

“A chain under the horse’s chin,” Pamela replied. “Sometimes they have a larger link smack in the middle.”

“You use them with a Pelham bit,” Tootie added, pointing to the snaffle. “Wouldn’t use it with this.”

“Ah, well, as you can gather, the development of equipage is not my forte. I suppose I should learn the basics.” She paused. “Until Henry Ford made cars affordable, we needed horses.”

“Still do.” Valentina loved her gelding, Moneybags.

“Luncheon with Sonny,” Knute said as he checked his watch. “Professor, if you ever need help on sailing history, call me. In fact, I just bought a three-masted schooner, in need of T.L.C., but a beauty all the same. She’ll be seaworthy by spring.”

As Knute left, Bill filled in Professor Kennedy. “He really does know a lot about sailing. It’s his grand passion.”

“You certainly have a diverse administration.”

“One of the strengths of Custis Hall.” Bill checked his own watch, returning his gaze to the tiny lady. “Charlotte mentioned that your expertise is construction. We don’t have much of that, I mean a few pegs and nails here and there.”

“That’s where I started because that’s what I could see, more material, if you will. But I have tried to expand my knowledge into the living arts, kitchenware, even clothing, although I would never pass myself off as an expert in attire. I can grasp the fundamentals and it’s my good fortune to have many colleagues I can turn to for advice.”

“Interesting work?”

“I love it.”

“As you can see, we have a hodgepodge.”

“Yes, but there are items here of great cultural value.”

“And no one cares. No one cares who made that bit or how they lived.” Pamela’s face flushed as she said this.

“People are beginning to care, Pamela. The past is always with us even when we aren’t aware of it. Not knowing one’s past is like being blind in one eye. You think you can see but you’re hampered, deceived even,” Professor Kennedy replied.

At the word “deceived” Bill perked up. “Yes, yes, of course, I never thought of that.” He checked his watch again. “Well, I have so enjoyed chatting with you, Professor, and I’m always glad to see my four favorite students. Her Most High has summoned me and I must repair.” He bowed with a flourish, then disappeared down the administration hall.

Pamela’s steely gaze followed him. She blurted out, “When I first came here I thought he was gay. He’s not.”

“He’s a fop.” Tootie giggled.

“Oh, let’s just say he’s theatrical,” Valentina said as she wondered how she’d look in the low-cut ballgown that had pride of place in the adjoining case.

“Ladies, there have been times in history when men enjoyed a greater latitude of expression in dress and behavior than they do now. Nothing at all to do with gender issues. Think of the drawings and paintings of courtiers during the time of Elizabeth I. Think of the drawings of African kings from the nineteenth century.” She paused. “But you see in those days the highest goal was glory, personal glory, hopefully in the service of one’s king, queen, country. The goals have changed, and one doesn’t hear the word ‘glory’ anymore. We have become dull, efficient, dry—men more so than women.”

A moment passed while the four young ladies absorbed this, then Tootie piped up, “Not in the hunt field.”

Bill Wheatley walked into Charlotte’s office, Teresa opening the door. The sight of Ben Sidel, in uniform, surprised him.

“Bill, sit down.” Charlotte pointed to a leather chair. “I’ll get right to the point. The sheriff has found a second Zorro costume. He’s brought it for you to examine and perhaps identify.” She paused. “Tell us why you told Ben you’d only made one Zorro costume. You told me two.”

Bill stuttered, “An oversight. Of course, I had two made.” He turned to Ben. “But you questioned me the very next day, the next day after that hideous sight. I don’t remember one thing I said. Please forgive me.”

Ben, not a trace of his inner thoughts showing, said, “Were there two costumes when Al Perez went in to try one on? Did you personally see both costumes?”

“I think so.”

“When is the last time you saw both costumes?”

“The day Al tried on his costume. Before he came in, I’d gone back into the storage room for a bolt of gingham. I distinctly recall passing that rack, the outer rack. I’m sure I saw them.”

It escaped neither Charlotte nor Ben that Bill was sweating.

“Will you look at what we’ve found?”

“Of course.”

Ben stood up, picked a cardboard box off the long side table, and placed it before Bill. Charlotte handed over a pair of thin plastic gloves.

“Put those on, Bill,” she directed him.

As he slipped on the surgical gloves he said, “Just like what Professor Kennedy and the girls are using. Tight, aren’t they?”

Ben indicated that he should pick articles out of the box. He held them as though they were soiled baby diapers.

“Do you recognize this?” Ben asked.

“Oh, yes, yes, my, yes. This is the costume.” He pointed to the chain, touching it with his right forefinger. “Charlotte, there’s the chain in the lining.”