The next day the party gathered outside the summer lodge to be met by Count Clitovsky. They were greeted with a morning toast of blueberry infused vodka; the shot, of what was practically pure alcohol, certainly woke them up.
Naturally, Lady Sally was dressed for the occasion.
"You see, isn't it lucky I insisted on packing my hunting gear? Didn't I tell you I should be prepared for every possibility," she said to her maid, looking the picture of a young country mistress, dressed in tweeds, a deer stalker hat with a pheasant feather, and sturdy, brown walking boots.
"Yes, madam, of course you were right... you're always right."
She brought one of the electro-magnetic blunderbusses stolen from the Prussian military. Lady Sally insisted this was an ideal opportunity to try them out, and that she had hit upon the perfect thing for testing it. The count and captain carried normal hunting rifles. Victoria was armed with a parasol, to protect her mistress from the sun.
"Do you hunt, captain?" asked Lady Sally.
"I don't hunt, madam, but I can shoot. When I was in the army, I fought in the Zulu Wars, before I left to pursue my interest in aviation."
"Oh, how terribly exciting. You must be a jolly good shot then?"
The captain shrugged, feigning modesty, but conveying the message he was indeed a crack-shot.
The party went hunting on foot because the density of the pine forest and its undergrowth precluded riding horses, which was why Lady Sally had chosen not to wear her scarlet jacket and black jodhpurs.
Lady Sally turned to her four submissive gentlemen, "I have a proposal for making this hunt more challenging for you, and interesting for me. I want you stripped naked. Then I'll give you a half-hour head start whilst I partake of another couple of shots of my uncle's delicious vodka before I set off in pursuit with my lightning blunderbuss."
The four men looked concerned.
It was the judge who was the one most prepared to incur his mistress's wrath, who spoke out, "But aren't there bears in these woods, mistress?"
"Well, yes. This is a bear hunt, isn't it?"
"Isn't it dangerous, mistress?" he queried.
"Don't be so disputatious; those hours in the court room have done you no favours. I'm hoping to bag one as I should love to have a black bear-skin rug for the entrance hall of Rudston Hall. You'll simply have to trust to my judgement. Now, at least if we find no bears, I'm guaranteed entertainment. Who knows, there may be a reward for the last one to be captured."
Tentatively the four men undressed. Apart from the duke, they were hardly brilliant specimens of the male species. The banker was too fat and the bishop too thin and weedy. Though the judge at one time had a tolerably athletic frame, over the years he'd spent far too many hours with his nose in law manuals to keep it.
When they were ready, and completely naked, she was ready to send them into the forest to be hunted.
"At the count of three. One... two... three."
She struck them each three times with her riding crop before sending them out in turn towards the forest. They looked comical as they ran off into the woods, their arms and legs flailing around in an ungainly fashion. It was only the duke, an Oxford blue for the hundred-yard dash, who might present a challenge.
The count's Siberian huskies, though not specialised hunting dogs, were sniffing at the discarded clothes to pick up a scent for the chase.
In the meantime, whilst allowing time to put distance between herself and her quarry, Lady Sally had another slug of vodka, whilst Count Clitovsky and Captain Wyndham took shots at pheasants. The men heard the blast of the rifles in the distance and wondered if the hunting party had started its pursuit. The captain bagged the most birds, gaining appreciative comments from the count.
It wasn't so long before Lady Sally got bored, "Come on, let's go."
She marched on ahead, her enormous bustle of Harris tweed leading the way.
