Grand Deceptions. G. S. Willmott
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First published 2018 by Crabtree Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. No part
of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or any means electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of
the publisher.
Copyright © Garry Willmott 2018
ISBN 9781925283532 (pbk)
ISBN 9781925283549 (ebook)
Grand Deceptions is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Acknowledgements
Anna my wife
Preview Readers
Bill Simpson
Ian Jones
Kim Krarup
Tony Pittard
Previous books by G. S. Willmott
The Other Side of the Trench
Brothers in Arms
Escape
Red Lights on the Somme
You Forgot the Sauce
Survival
Soul Survival
Boy’s Own War
Serendipity
The Importance of Being Ivy
Contents
Fox on the Run
The Pain of Seduction
In God We Trust
We are Sailing to the Antipodes
Storm and Tempest
Melbourne
The Colour Yellow
Change of Fortune
Trust
Gold
Retirement
A Tale of Two Orphans
General George
God Help Me
Back to Old Blighty
A New Life For Gordon
Happily Ever After
Gordon
Revenge
For Fox Sake
A Lawyer in Love
Magnificent Deception
1893 Crash
Pirating We Will Go
Treasure
Time to Pass the Baton
The Lord of the Manor
Your Past Will Always Catch You
Trials and Tribulations
Part Two The Banshee’s Daughter
The Beginning of a New Life
I am Woman
The Midas Touch
Telephone for You Ma’am
You Can’t Change History
Harmony Seldom Makes a Headline
Return to the Lucky Country
I Don’t See Any Borders Do You?
Australians Arise
Call Me a Doctor
It’s Not That Quiet on the Western Front
Passchendaele
Young Doctors in Love
Post War Australia
Thank God I’m a Country Boy
Back to Old Blighty
Dying Can Be Expensive
The Aristocratic Siblings
A Long and Winding Road
You Reap What You Sew
For King, Country and Profit
Dudley Flats
It’s an Enigma
What Did He Say?
Puzzle
The Fall of the Third Reich
England is a Nation of Shopkeepers
I Now Call Australia Home
The Beginning of the End
Bibliography
Fox on the Run
Chapter 1
November 1, 1855
The horseman was riding his stallion through the Kent countryside. The land belonged to his family’s estate. He had been newly appointed as The Master of Foxhounds, and the objective of his ride was to determine suitable ground to conduct a foxhunt. The hunt was to be the first in over a century at Abernethy Manor, and the young man was committed to making his first hunt as Master of the Foxhounds a success.
Mathew Abernethy was born in 1833 to wealthy parents named Julia and Samuel; the family had been the custodian of Abernethy Manor for over three hundred years. Henry VIII had gifted the estate, including 2,000 acres, to Lord Abernethy in 1532 as a reward for the support given to the Tudor king during his fight with the Vatican.
Mathew was twenty-one, a tall, blond young man with blue eyes and an engaging manner. He was liked by all, especially the young women of the village.
Mathew never tired of riding over the green hills of his family’s property. There were patches of oak forest and winding streams dotted throughout the estate. Stone walls bordering the paddocks would make for excellent jumping.
The primary source of income for the estate was sheep. The Abernethy fleece was known for its fine wool, which was not only prized by the English mills but also by mills in France and Italy. The purpose of the foxhunt was not only sport. The foxes killed lambs on a regular basis, and therefore, eradicating them was sound farm management.
Satisfied with the course, Mathew returned to the manor. He was to join his family for dinner and his elder brother Joseph, his younger sister Rosie, and his parents were waiting for him in the conservatory.
The young man entered the beautiful greenhouse where everyone was enjoying a sherry and discussing their day’s activities.
‘Hello Mathew. Were you successful in plotting a route for the hunt?’ asked his father.
‘Yes sir, I think we’ll have a very successful day.’
‘Excellent. Where on the estate will you be leading the hunters?’
‘We’ll follow the river to the stone bridge then cross over and enter the forest area. With luck, we’ll flush the little blighters out onto the moors where the dogs should be able to run them down.’
‘Well, that sounds like a good plan, in theory anyway.’
‘You sound a little sceptical, Father.’
‘Do I? I don’t mean to, but we all know how difficult it is to catch these cunning foxes.’
‘Yes, I understand, and I’ve