The hunting party was assembling upon the vast, rambling lawn before the manor. 

The house was massive block of ancient grey stone already some number of centuries old, high upon a hill that reigned over the quartered landscape: the moors to the north, the farmlands to east, and the woodlands that ran both south and west. Many of the rooms were unused, especially those within the third floor and all of the northern wing. It had been built with the idea of security, able to house a grand family with all its servants and guards, save that James' uncle had died unmarried and childless. His grandfather, too, had retired to the manor for a number of years after the death of the then Lady Rossmund and had lived in miserly solitude with only two servants to attend him. There were rooms within that had not seen a human footstep within their dusts for near two generations! Those parts that were habitable James had lavishly spent upon. The outside may be cold and stark, terrifying even when lit by the setting sun, but his habitations were now the very height of luxury. He had given some... passing thought as to opening the rest of the manse and restoring it as well. The new owner wanted to be known for entertaining, for hosting, for great parties and grand hunts, so the space would be needed. The cost was no obstacle. Uncle Renfrew had left him a sizable fortune, not having any other male relation to pass it on to. It was just that even the idea of so much work and sorting through his family's collection of brick-a-brac left him just as exhausted as though he had already completed the task.

Grenmere Hall had been in the Rossmund family since the time of its construction. Far from the sprawl of London, its domains were mostly wild and untamed; the acre about the house was green and lush, for it had been kept so both by tradition and the tedious work of singleminded groundskeepers. It was upon what they called 'The Acre' that luncheon tables had been spread out for refreshments until proper dinner later that night. Riding and chatting with Earnest, James smiled in anticipation of a fine meal and the satisfaction of his guests. It was not pride nor nihilism that spurred on his desire to entertain; James had no real stake in becoming the center of the The Season's gossip upon their return to London in April, to be thought of nothing more than some wastrel or passing dandy or (and worse) a libertarian! He simply took delight in cultured conversation, in goodnatured camaraderie with moderate and modest consumption of what life had to offer. James simply wished to enjoy life.

He looked up at the house as they neared it and took quiet pleasure in his great fortune.

"Oh! I say!" Earnest spoke quietly, a hand raised to catch James' attention while slowing his own mount. The old man was peering intently towards where the forest' edge met The Acre, his eyes sharp in defiance of his age. James slowed his horses as well, head cocked to one side and looking towards where his new friend was staring.

"What say you, Earnest?"

The RM's cousin said nothing else at first, so intent in his investigation that he did not wish to answer til he was sure of his senses. Then, very gradually, he pointed a black-gloved hand towards the border ivy. "S'Blood," he breathed out in awe, "We spoke of a wonder... and there she is now."

James quirked an eyebrow. "I... beg your pardon, sir?"

Earnest looked back over his shoulder at James. "The Bonny Black Hare!" he hissed. There must have been something of magic in the hare, for the sight of it had transformed the ancient into a boy again, blue eyes twinkling in wonder and tearing in remembrance. "There, Rosie! By that patch of ivy near that oak stump! It's her. I do so swear by God, it is her!"

James turned his horse, bringing the gelding a length closer to where he was directed. "The devil you say, Earnest." Save that there was a patch of black there, something moving about the greenery that did well look like a hare. He saw nothing legendary to its regard. He was much puzzled as to how the sight of a simple coney could move his newest acquaintance to tears. "You're not leading me on, are you? Some jest for the latest comer to the countryside? Wind me up with a tale and then have me to chase after it?"

"No, no, no!" Earnest whispered fiercely. "It's her. And no other! Have you [i]ever[/i] seen a hare so black? So smooth and lithe? After her, Rosie! After her! Should you catch her, you'll be famed about the village, and even should you not the chase is... is... There are no words! Now, go you! I'll call up the others. We'll follow to your lead shortly!"

James pursed his lips as he watched the hare. It seemed to watch him back. He wanted to scold it for its impudence, then scold himself for falling to such fancy that a woodland beast could even be impudent in its simplicity. He laughed aloud at the very thought! Surely this was some prank the RM had cooked up to welcome the Rossmund's return to the lands, and when all was said and done James would arrive late to dinner with his guests enjoying not only his wines but his gullibility as well. Shaking his head, James laughed again. The owner of Grenmere Hall could not bring disappointment to them for their desert. "Alright then, Earnest. I'll to the hare, then," he agreed amicably with a knowing smirk upon his face. He called his beagles to him, Fair Maid and Boarer quick to answer with old Draper following close. He turned back to Earnest with that same confident smile. "i shall see you well before long, I dare say."

And then he was off, the horse surging beneath him and the dogs dashing to the lead in seeking quarry. James laughed gaily again, for what thrill there was to be had in the chase of her!