Tom Thrush, for many years, was employed at Chesney's Brewery; it was at his own request he was sent to Trent Park and installed as second keeper and then raised to head keeper in the course of a few years. He was a strange man, lonely, taciturn, passionately fond of his daughter, and spent the bulk of his time in the forest, where he studied wood-craft and the habits of all wild birds and animals. There was something almost uncanny in the way he made friends with the wild things of the woods and forests; no living bird or animal seemed to fear him, and he taught Jane much wild lore and how to make friends with the denizens of the woods.
The preserving of game was strictly carried out at Trent Park and thousands of birds were killed every season; in this Tom Thrush was most successful, a prince among keepers.
The Park abounded with massive oaks, and no doubt at one time had been part of Sherwood Forest, and these were ancient trees that had been spared when others fell. Centuries old some of them, with vast trunks and huge gnarled, twisted branches which seemed to have suffered from terrible convulsions of nature, been put on the wrack, as it were, and come forth mutilated in a hundred deformities.
There were deer in the Park, and white cattle, almost wild, sometimes dangerous, they were confined in a strong ring fence.
One part of the Park was laid out in paddocks for the blood stock, and here the young thoroughbreds from the Trent Stud galloped about and played their games until it was time for them to be broken in and sent to the trainer.
Well-kept roads ran in various directions through the Park, there was plenty of water, a minor river running through on its way to join the Trent. It was indeed a glorious place and Alan Chesney might well be counted a lucky man to own it.
His two friends had gone, after staying a week, and it was arranged they should meet at Epsom for the Derby.
It was seldom Alan Chesney was alone in the big house; many times he wished it smaller, not so roomy, more cosy, in keeping with his bachelor habits. There were parts of it he had only been in once or twice. The long picture gallery he shunned, although some exquisite modern paintings hung there.
When he came into possession he had some of the smaller and brighter pictures removed into the living rooms and the spaces were still left vacant. The windows in this gallery overlooked the Park, in the distance the keep could be seen, and farther away a corner of the monastery. There were large reception-rooms, and bedrooms the size of the ground floor of a small house. The dining-room was oak panelled, the ceiling oak, and it was furnished with massive chairs and a huge table. There was a great sideboard, carved by Gibbons, which cost an enormous sum, carvings adorned the wood mantelpiece over the open fireplace. It was a room in which fifty guests might sit down with ease.
Alan had his favorite rooms, the smallest in the house; his study was a model of comfort, and there was another room opening from it which contained all his sporting paraphernalia. There were guns of various makes, over a dozen; Harry Morby had tested some of them and expressed the opinion that a bad shot might kill birds with such weapons.