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Updated: June 11, 2025
These men formed the Roebury Club, and a jolly life they had of it. They had their own wine closet at the King's Head, or Roebury Inn as the house had come to be popularly called, and supplied their own game. The landlord found everything else; and as they were not very particular about their bills, they were allowed to do pretty much as they liked in the house.
Had it been Vavasor alone he would have turned upon him and snarled, but he could not afford to exhibit any ill temper to the king of the club. Mr Grindley was not popular, and were Maxwell to turn openly against him his sporting life down at Roebury would decidedly be a failure.
The club breakfasted the next morning at nine o'clock, in order that they might start at half-past for the meet at Edgehill. Edgehill is twelve miles from Roebury, and the hacks would do it in an hour and a half, or perhaps a little less. "Does anybody know anything about that brown horse of Vavasor's?" said Maxwell. "I saw him coming into the yard yesterday with that old groom of his."
"If they make un break, you will, sir," said Bat. "At any rate I'll ride the brown horse," said George. Then, as soon as that was settled between them, the Roebury Club overtook them. There was now a rush of horses on the road altogether, and they were within a quarter of a mile of Edgehill church, close to which was the meet.
There were men who lived together at Roebury in a kind of club, four or five of them, who came thither from London, running backwards and forwards as hunting arrangements enabled them to do so, a brewer or two and a banker, with a would-be fast attorney, a sporting literary gentleman, and a young unmarried Member of Parliament who had no particular home of his own in the country.
But few knew the sad misfortunes which poor Pollock sometimes encountered; the muddy ditches in which he was left; the despair with which he would stand by his unfortunate horse when the poor brute could no longer move across some deep-ploughed field; the miles that he would walk at night beside a tired animal, as he made his way slowly back to Roebury!
Roebury knew him no longer, nor Pall Mall, nor the Chelsea Districts. His disappearance was a nine days' wonder, but the world at large knew nothing of the circumstances of that attempt in Suffolk Street. Mr Grey himself told the story to no one, till he told it to Mr Palliser at Lucerne.
They hung about the Claydon covers for ten minutes, and then their fox went off again, their fox or another, as to which there was a great discussion afterwards; but he who would have suggested the idea of a new fox to Sir William would have been a bold man. A fox, however, went off, turning still to the left from Claydon's towards Roebury.
Calder Jones came to him and talked hunting talk, and Vavasor expressed his intention of being at Roebury in November. "You had better join our club," said Calder Jones. In answer to which Vavasor said that he thought he would join the club. He remained in the smoking-room till nearly eleven; then he took himself home, and remained up half the night destroying papers.
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