Питер Ловси - Do Not Exceed the Stated Dose [Stories]

“You would appear to lead a charmed life, Henry,” I remarked to him one morning after lectures.

“Oh, I have the measure of old Stubbsy, Your Royal Highness,” he told me. “We rowing men stick together. He’s relying on us to win the Ladies’ Plate at Henley this year.”

“Henley, when is that?” I affected to ask. I didn’t want Bilbo to know how eager I was.

“The Monday and Tuesday after we go down. Don’t you know, Bertie? It is the Royal Regatta.”

“Only because my father condescended to be the Patron,” I said. “Because it’s Royal by name, it doesn’t mean Royal persons are obliged to attend. Rowing bores me silly.”

“Won’t you be supporting us?”

“I have other calls upon my time,” I said to throw him off the scent. “Do you have a better-than-average chance of winning?”

“Only if we can match the Black Prince,” he told me.

“Who the devil is that?”

“First Trinity. The Cambridge lot. They’ve won it more times than anyone else. They’re defending the Plate. But with me at the tiller-ropes, we should give them a damned good race. Dr Stubbs has stated as much.”

“He takes an interest, then?”

“He’s our trainer. It matters so much to him that he’s passing up the chance to be umpire this year. It wouldn’t be sporting, you see, for Stubbsy to show partiality.”

This was devastating news, but I tried to remain composed. “So he won’t be on the umpire’s boat?”

“Didn’t I make that clear? He’ll be on the bank, supervising our preparation. You really should be there to see us.” As a lure, he added, “The adorable Echo has promised to come.”

Trying to sound uninterested, I commented, “I suppose she would.”

“She’ll watch us carry the boat down to the water and launch it. She’ll be all of a flutter at the sight of so many beefy fellows stripped for action.” He grinned lasciviously. “Her pretty chest will be pumping nineteen to the dozen. Wouldn’t you care for a sight of that?”

“Sir, you exceed yourself,” I rebuked him.

He apologized for the ungentlemanly remark. I’d always thought Bilbo ill-bred, even though his father was a Canon of the Church of England.

After he left, I spent a long time considering my options. If Dr Stubbs was to be on the bank, he would expect his daughter to be beside him. My punting plan had to be abandoned.

On the same afternoon, I announced my intention of calling on Dr Stubbs at Christ Church. I sent my Equerry to inform him how I liked my afternoon tea: quite simple, with poached eggs, rolls, cakes, scones, shortcake and a plate of preserved ginger. Anything else spoils dinner, in my experience.

The beautiful Echo was not at home, more was the pity. She had left early to visit a maternal aunt, her father explained. I came to the point at once. “I understand, Dr Stubbs, that you are taking a personal interest in the College Eight.”

“That is true, sir. We have entered for the Ladies’ Plate at Henley.”

“I should like to be of the party.”

“You wish to pull an oar, sir?” he said in some surprise, for I had never evinced the slightest interest in rowing.

“Heaven forbid,” said I. “My intention is merely to accompany you and any other members of your family who may be with you.”

“There’s only Echo, my daughter. She likes to watch the rowing. We’ll be honoured to have you with us, Your Royal Highness. I think I should mention, however, that I will be occupied to some degree with the College Eight.”

“You needn’t feel responsible for me,” I assured him. “I’m capable of amusing myself.”

He said, “I’m sure the stewards would be honoured if you would present the trophies, sir.”

There was only one trophy that interested me. “No,” I told him firmly. “I prefer to attend incognito . Once in a while I like to behave like one of the human race.” I helped myself to another cake.

I could see that his mind was working over the consequences of this arrangement. He said, “I wouldn’t wish you to feel encumbered by my daughter. It could be embarrassing — you, sir, in the company of a young lady. I could easily arrange for her to join another party.”

Encumbered? “On the contrary, Dr Stubbs,” I said, “if anyone is to join another party, it is I. Your charming daughter’s place is at your side, encouraging the crew. After all, they have entered for the Ladies’ Plate. To have a lady in attendance is a good omen.”

He said, as he was bound to say, that my presence was equally indispensable. “I just hope there’s a Ladies’ Plate to win on the day,” he added. “At the rate the silver is disappearing from the colleges, I wouldn’t bet on it. There was another burglary last night.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, at Merton. A fine pair of candlesticks was taken. The fellow got in through a pantry window, apparently. He’s deucedly good at squeezing into small spaces.”

“Is it a youth, do you suppose?” I suggested.

I could see he was impressed by my acuity.

On my way out, by the porter’s lodge, I met Bilbo. He’d seen which door I came from, so I was forced to admit the reason for my visit — the ostensible reason, at any rate.

“You want to cheer us on?” he piped in disbelief. “I thought you regarded rowing as a silly sport.”

“I wouldn’t even call it a sport,” I confirmed, “but one likes to support one’s Alma Mater . Who knows? Perhaps I’ll be so captivated by the sight of you fellows that I join the Boat Club myself.”

He said, “It’s back-breaking for the oarsmen, Bertie.”

“But a sure way to impress the ladies.”

“Indeed,” he enthused. “Echo Stubbs treats me like one of the gods since I got into the First Eight.”

“But you’re only the cox,” I commented with disdain.

“With respect, Bertie, that shows how little you know about it,” he had the neck to tell me. “The coxswain is the brains of the boat. The rest of them rely on me to steer the best course, and that’s no little achievement at Henley.”

I could hardly wait for the regatta. Not for one moment did I believe Bilbo’s boast that Echo held a torch for him. It was unthinkable. Apart from everything else, she was several inches taller than he.

The Ladies’ Plate was decided on the Tuesday, and it started cloudy, but by lunchtime the sun condescended to appear and we had a perfect afternoon for the Aquatic Derby. Glorious Henley. That dimpled span of water with its wooded heights and enamelled banks was occupied by hundreds of floating picnic parties, whilst others promenaded along the river bank. There is no question that rowing brings out the most gaudy attire, and not only among the fair sex. If an invasion of crinoline had transformed the scene, it was matched by the effrontery of the coloured blazers and boaters on view. The scene was exhilarating, even for one without a jot of interest in the contests on the water. I will admit to having a conquest in mind.

Amid such gaiety I was able to move inconspicuously, scarcely recognized (for in those carefree days my likeness was not in every illustrated newspaper one opened). At leisure, I strolled the length of the course, sniffing the new-mown hay and rehearsing my overtures.

My thoughts were sharply interrupted at three o’clock, when a gun was fired in the meadows to warn those afloat to clear the course. A few minutes later the celebrated crew of London Watermen came dashing through the bridge, transporting the umpire ceremoniously to the start. What a pity it wasn’t Stubbs.

The Ladies’ Challenge Plate was the fourth race on the card. No preliminary heat had been necessary. It was to be a straight race between First Trinity and Christ Church, a distance of a mile and a quarter from the starting point above the Temple Island to the winning post opposite the Red Lion, below the town bridge.