I sat down again in the armchair and dabbed away a trickle of blood from the temple.
‘I’m stumped, Jeeves. I feel I’m losing touch with the field. Any ideas?’
‘It did strike me, sir, that were you to divulge to me your plan for the reuniting of Mr Beeching and Miss Hackwood it might be possible to turn my presence at Melbury Hall to our advantage.’
There was something about Jeeves’s manner in this exchange that troubled me. I don’t know if you’ve ever bumped into one of those chaps at parties who go round the merry throng doing card tricks. You’re not sure if he’s a fellow guest or a hired entertainer. You watch his hands like a vulture, ignoring the patter – and then suddenly he opens a girl’s evening bag and whips out the ten of diamonds. You feel a mug. And you don’t know whether to bung him half a crown or not.
I wouldn’t say I thought that Jeeves had a spare pack up his sleeve exactly, but I felt he was a fraction – what’s the word I want … evasive. I put this down to the success of the Melbury Hall Raid. If Jeeves has a fault it is that he can sometimes allow another’s triumph to upset him. It rankles.
Making no allusion therefore to my recent run of form, I went on to outline Plan A.
‘I’ve been doing some thinking.’
‘Really, sir?’
‘Yes. Let us consider the psychology of the individual.’
‘Which individual, sir?’
‘Miss Hackwood. Amelia. A well brought-up girl, would you say?’
‘Undoubtedly so.’
‘An only child. Though for the last ten or so years having a near-sister in Georgiana … Went to a boarding school or convent … Kings of England, scripture knowledge, spot of algebra, music and movement, that sort of thing.’
‘Miss Hackwood is an accomplished violinist.’
‘Then on to Switzerland for a bit of finishing. Gets by in French and German. Goes to London, where she is closely chaperoned by—’
‘By Dame Judith Puxley, I believe, sir.’
‘My point exactly, Jeeves. Then she’s probably had half a dozen temporary situations that Sir Henry’s fixed her up with.’
‘A summer job at the All England Lawn Tennis Club, I understand.’
‘Thank you, Jeeves. And what is missing in all this?’
‘I should not care to hazard a guess, sir.’
‘Men, Jeeves.’
‘I beg your pardon, sir?’
‘A knowledge of the opposite sex. No brothers, you see. And quite frankly a couple of foxtrots at Queen Charlotte’s Ball and a pen pal in Baden-Baden is no preparation for the red meat that is Woody Beeching.’
‘I fear, sir, that—’
‘I haven’t finished, Jeeves. If this Amelia is of the opinion that Woody is too inclined to flirt with other girls, then we must show her that Woody’s way of carrying on is perfectly normal.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t follow you, sir.’
‘All chaps flirt a bit. It’s natural. Let her understand that and she’ll soon come round.’
‘I’m not sure what you are suggesting, sir.’
‘I’m suggesting that someone might like to sidle up to Amelia and give her a bit of the old oil – not too much, just some compliments on her appearance, a brush of fingers on the arm.’
‘The scheme appears fraught with—’
I held up a hand. ‘I am not offering this as a blueprint for discussion, Jeeves. It is more by way of a fait accompli.’
‘As you wish, sir. And whom do you envisage in the role of the rake or Don Juan?’
I struggled to suppress a smile. ‘Someone of unimpeachable reputation, I should say. Someone she would look up to and know was a thorough-going gentleman. That’s the nub, you see. She says to herself, “If even this gallant and respectable chap is not above a bit of idle hand-touching, how much the more so should my irresistible Woody be allowed the odd—”’
‘The young lady would follow the a fortiori argument.’
‘As you wish, Jeeves. The important thing is the respectability of the hand-holder and eye-gazer.’
‘And who might such a gentleman be?’
I suppressed another one. ‘It’s obvious. Her father’s new best friend. Lord Etringham.’
I’ve encountered many types of silence in my time. The silence funereal, the silence pregnant, the silence that lets you know you’ve laid an egg … The one that enveloped the front room of Seaview Cottage at this moment had elements of all the three above – plus a bit more all its own.
It was Jeeves who finally broke it. ‘I fear I must enter the firmest possible nolle prosequi, sir. The temporary impersonation of a member of the aristocracy was something in which I felt I had little choice. What you are suggesting, sir, would be a crossing of the Rubicon. It would be highly irregular.’
I felt a little chastened by the fellow’s dignity. A few moments ago I had been wondering whether he wasn’t pulling a fast one. Now I thought I had perhaps taken his extraordinary loyalty for granted.
‘Well, you may be right, Jeeves. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of any unpleasantness.’
‘There is also a practical aspect to consider, sir. While I may be considerably younger than the real Lord Etringham, the plan you outline would stand a better chance of success were the protagonist to be closer to Miss Hackwood’s own age.’
I thought about this for a moment; it had a familiar whiff to it. ‘I can see where this is heading. I wasn’t born yesterday, Jeeves.’
‘Not yesterday, sir, but at least not so very long before Miss Hackwood. And given your success in extracting the volumes from the library, you may feel yourself to be—’
‘On a winning streak, what?’
‘Indeed, sir.’
I stood up again and did a bit more pacing – though ducking, this time, at the appropriate moment.
‘Of course there is one reason why I can’t do it myself,’ I said. ‘And that is that I am persona non grata up at the Hall. If Sir Henry makes the Côte d’Azur connection he’ll be down to the stables and back with the horsewhip. There’ll be only one winner in the three-thirty at Ascot tomorrow and that’s B. Wooster – by a distance.’
There was another pause, but of an utterly different kind – the kind that precedes the shedding of new light from that great brain.
Jeeves cleared his throat. ‘I think I may have a solution, sir.’
But what it was, I did not immediately find out – as we were interrupted by the sound of squealing car brakes, the patter of gravel hitting the front windows of Seaview Cottage and the soft but unmistakable thump of car on car.
‘I say, Jeeves, better go and see what the devil …’
But the fellow had already vaporised. A few moments passed – perhaps in damage assessment – before he reappeared in the doorway. ‘Miss Meadowes, sir.’
I sprang from the armchair like a roosting waterfowl at the sound of a shotgun being closed. Georgiana held up a warning hand, and for once the welcome peck was administered without the risk of a broken rib.
‘Bertie, I’m so sorry to drop in like this without warning.’
‘Not a bit. Absolute pleasure. Do sit down somewhere and Jeeves will bring some tea.’
‘Thank you. There are two reasons why I’ve come. Or perhaps three,’ said Georgiana, settling herself on the sofa, arranging a fold of cotton dress over an endless limb or two.
‘The floor is yours. Speak on.’
‘First of all, I want to assure you there’s no damage to your car. There was a coming-together, but no more. The bumpers touched.’
‘That’s why they’re called bumpers. It’s what they’re for. Don’t give it a second thought.’
‘You are sweet, Bertie. Next, I was a little worried about you. I know it wasn’t the right time to talk yesterday, but I just …’ She waved an elegant hand.
‘Quite the wrong time,’ I said. ‘I needed to get myself off the premises with all speed.’
‘Yes, I know, but …’ She tr
ailed off again.
‘But what, Georgie old thing?’
For the first time since I had, as it were, bumped into her in the south of France, I saw this blue-stockinged editress at a loss.
‘I just want you to know that … Well, we were pretty good pals in France, weren’t we? And if you ever needed a … Not exactly a shoulder to cry on, I mean, just a good listener. Someone to chat to, I would … I could …’
I had the impression that she was trying to get at something, but I hadn’t the faintest idea what. She seemed relieved to hear the clink of the approaching tray.
‘Oh, good. Here’s Jeeves with the tea.’
In his short absence the amazing fellow had also put together a small plate of tomato sandwiches, which Georgiana fell on with an appreciative cry.
‘I think you’ve met Lord Etringham,’ I said.
‘I have indeed,’ she said. ‘A man of many parts. Woody put me in the picture. Just as well, because I recognised Jeeves from the Côte d’Azur and I might well have blurted something out. He was absolutely marvellous at dinner.’
‘Was he?’
‘You should have heard him egging on old Venables. All sorts of questions about the Brahmins and the warrior caste. And as for dealing with Uncle Henry … I’ve never seen him so charmed by a guest.’
‘You are too kind,’ said Jeeves. ‘I was grateful for your intervention, Miss, at several potentially embarrassing moments.’
There was a bit more of this mutual admiration to grit one’s teeth through before Georgiana downed her cup and said, ‘Well I suppose I’d better be going. Slightly awkward my being here at all, I suppose. What with one thing and another.’
‘Where is your intended this afternoon?’ I said.
‘He’s gone to Bournemouth. He’s taken Amelia and his mother. To look at some trams.’
‘Life’s just one long whirligig of excitement for some, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘Weren’t you included in this jaunt?’
‘Me? No, I’m just the Sonya Rostova of Melbury Hall.’ The gurgling stream went over the well-tempered strings, though only for a moment.
I could tell from the look of quiet satisfaction on Jeeves’s face that some cultural reference had been made.
‘Is she a ballerina?’ I said.
‘No, sir, Miss Meadowes’s allusion is to a character in War and Peace. She is an orphan cousin whom fate and the author treat unkindly.’
‘I see.’
‘I must say I always thought Tolstoy was a bit hard on her,’ said Georgiana.
‘The sobriquet “The Sterile Flower” was undoubtedly a cruel one,’ said Jeeves.
‘When you two have quite finished,’ I said. ‘Can we get back to the matter in hand?’
‘Which was?’ said Georgiana.
‘I’ll tell you what it was,’ I said firmly. ‘You said there were three reasons for this delightful visit. We’ve only had two so far.’
‘Ah yes. Do you want this last tomato sandwich, Bertie? Oh, good show. Thanks. Just the right amount of pepper. I wanted to tell you that things are not so hot with Amelia and Woody. I’m very worried. She does love him deeply, you know. I don’t want her to cut off her nose to spite her face. I was wondering if Jeeves had had any bright ideas.’
‘Oh, I see, so it was Lord Etringham you wanted to see,’ I said, and it came out a little more tartly than I’d intended.
Georgiana flushed. ‘No, no, Bertie, not at all. It’s just that … Time’s running out. We only have till Sunday night.’
I was a little hot under the collar myself. From our seated positions, the pair of us looked upwards like a couple of messengers sent to consult the oracle at Delphi.
It was a sticky moment or two before the oracle pronounced. ‘I was on the point of outlining a plan to Mr Wooster, Miss, when we … heard you arrive.’
‘Jeeves, you’re a marvel.’ The Tolstoy scholar allowed herself a girlish clap of the hands.
‘Thank you, Miss. The scheme is not without its hazards. In the vernacular of the card table, it is a question of raising the stakes or indeed “buying for one”.’
‘Do get on with it, Jeeves.’
‘I beg your pardon, sir. It occurred to me that if you are to proceed with your scheme for the enlightenment of Miss Hackwood you will need to be present, or preferably resident, at Melbury Hall. I further reflected that a gentleman of Lord Etringham’s standing would be in need of a gentleman’s personal gentleman. If you were willing to accept that role, sir, it would make it easy for you to be in Sir Henry’s establishment while to all intents and purposes invisible to your host.’
My chin had fallen so far that I was incapable of speech.
‘It would be unnecessary for you to venture beyond the green baize door, sir, except for whatever visits to Lord Etringham might be necessary for the purposes of verisimilitude. Such moments might also be useful for further confabulation.’
Georgiana was on her feet. ‘It’s a marvellous idea, Jeeves. Isn’t it, Bertie?’
Speech returned, albeit reluctantly. ‘I wouldn’t know where to begin. I can’t boil an egg.’
‘The cook does that,’ said Georgiana. ‘Mrs Padgett. Heaven help you if she finds you anywhere near her eggs.’
‘But you know what I mean. I couldn’t manage all the pressing of clothes, the tea, the drinks, the—’
‘Bertie, you can pour a drink. I’ve seen you do it. Jolly well you did it too.’
‘I’m sure I should give myself away. I mean, I don’t know how to talk to the bootboy or the scullery maid. They’d sniff me out in no time. I’d sound all wrong. I’m—’
‘Look at me, Bertie,’ said Georgiana.
And I did, knowing the risks full well.
‘You’re being absurd and, if you don’t mind my saying so, a bit of a snob,’ said Georgiana. ‘I’m quite sure that you can walk with kings nor lose the common touch. Just be polite. Look at Jeeves. He didn’t bat an eyelid at sitting down at table and being waited on. He just … He was a natural.’
‘The dramatic requirement is, mutatis mutandis, no greater, sir. In fact, since most of the time your work will be unscruti-nised, one might argue that yours is the simpler role.’
‘What name will you take, Bertie?’
‘I’m not taking any jolly—’
‘You know that game where you take your second name and then add the name of your street and it gives you a film star? What would yours be?’
‘Wilberforce Berkeley.’
‘That’s marvellous! He’d be an absolute matinée idol. And Wilberforce is the perfect name for a valet. Don’t you think, Jeeves?’
I battled on gamely for another couple of minutes.
‘“Please bring me a whisky and soda, Wilberforce. Put it over there, please, Wilberforce”,’ Georgiana was saying – and plenty more such rot.
‘I’d love to help,’ I said. ‘But it’s simply beyond me.’
At this moment, Georgiana took my hands in hers. My heart, already skipping the odd one from the prolonged eye contact, now began to beat the sort of rhythm you hear in the Congo before the missionary gets lobbed into the bouillon.
‘Just do it to please me, Bertie,’ said Georgiana, lowering the voice a half-octave and giving the fingers a final squeeze. ‘I’ll make sure you’re all right. We can meet beside the tennis court in the evening and I’ll bring you a nice half-bottle of something from the cellar. Do it for Woody and Amelia. It’s only till Sunday evening. Please, Bertie, please.’
The packing of the suitcases involved some redistribution of clothing. Jeevesward went the tennis garb, the linen jacket, a pair of new co-respondent shoes (a painful loss), the stiff-fronted shirts and a half-dozen studs in Drones Club colours (the last received with a faint but perceptible flaring of the nostril); among my new effects were two pairs of spongebag trousers and a navy blue tie of singular drabness.
Jeeves, having pushed out the dent in the rear bumper, took the wheel of the two-seater in a sporting
tweed cap, while I donned his bowler. Considering all it had to encompass, it came as no surprise that this hat was several sizes too large. Only some nifty work by Jeeves with tissue paper and cow gum round the inner rim prevented the thing from falling over my eyes.
We said au revoir to Seaview Cottage as the engine coughed twice and fired into life. Jeeves was a more careful driver than Georgiana, and it was not fear for my personal safety that caused an odd feeling in the pit of the stomach as we swung off the main village street and up the lime-tree avenue towards the distant prospect of Melbury Hall.
‘Once more unto the breach, sir.’
For once I thought I wouldn’t let him have the last word in quotations. ‘“I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me,”’ I spouted from memory. ‘“To fright me, if they could.”’
‘Very apt, sir.’
‘I played the part of Bottom in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at school when I was sixteen. It’s funny how the lines you learn at that age stay with you for life. I couldn’t learn it if you paid me now.’
‘The young mind is undoubtedly more receptive, sir. Was your performance well received?’
‘Tolerably so. The Chronicle, as I recall, said, “Wooster gave it all he’d got.”’
‘Most gratifying, sir.’
‘Why are we going this way?’
‘So that I can drop you off, if I may, sir, at the tradesmen’s entrance.’
CASTING AN ENVIOUS eye over the duck downs and woollen coverings of the four-poster where Jeeves sat propped among the pillows, sipping his morning tea, I found it easy enough to picture how well he had slept.
‘How’s the tea?’ I said.
‘Most refreshing, thank you, sir.’
‘You’d better thank Mrs Tilman. She made it.’
‘Ah, yes. She is said to be a most capable woman.’
‘Lucky old Mr Tilman, what?’
‘Doubtless he appreciated her talents while alive, sir.’
‘Oh dear. She seems young to be a widow.’
‘He was taken in the prime of life, I believe. How was your own accommodation, sir?’
‘Who are those Indian chaps who sleep on nails?’
‘Fakirs, sir.’
‘Well, if you bump into one, do recommend the top floor back at Melbury Hall. I think he’d find it right up his street.’
Jeeves and the Wedding Bells Page 6
