I wasn’t so sold on this money-offering scheme.
‘Well, just as you like, of course,’ I said, ‘but you’re taking an awful chance. I mean, whenever people do it in novels and plays, they always get the dickens of a welt. The girl gets the sympathy of the audience every time. She just draws herself up and looks at them with clear, steady eyes, causing them to feel not a little cheesy. If I were you, I would sit tight and let Nature take its course.’
‘I don’t understand you.’
‘Well, consider for a moment what Uncle George looks like. No Greta Garbo, believe me. I should simply let the girl go on looking at him. Take it from me, Aunt Agatha, I’ve studied human nature and I don’t believe there’s a female in the world who could see Uncle George fairly often in those waistcoats he wears without feeling that it was due to her better self to give him the gate. Besides, this girl sees him at meal-times, and Uncle George with his head down among the food-stuffs is a spectacle which –’
‘If it is not troubling you too much, Bertie, I should be greatly obliged if you would stop drivelling.’
‘Just as you say. All the same, I think you’re going to find it dashed embarrassing, offering this girl money.’
‘I am not proposing to do so. You will undertake the negotiations.’
‘Me?’
‘Certainly. I should think a hundred pounds would be ample. But I will give you a blank cheque, and you are at liberty to fill it in for a higher sum if it becomes necessary. The essential point is that, cost what it may, your uncle must be released from this entanglement.’
‘So you’re going to shove this off on me?’
‘It is quite time you did something for the family.’
‘And when she draws herself up and looks at me with clear, steady eyes, what do I do for an encore?’
‘There is no need to discuss the matter any further. You can get down to East Dulwich in half an hour. There is a frequent service of trains. I will remain here to await your report.’
‘But, listen!’
‘Bertie, you will go and see this woman immediately.’
‘Yes, but dash it!’
‘Bertie!’
I threw in the towel.
‘Oh, right ho, if you say so.’
‘I do say so.’
‘Oh, well, in that case, right ho.’
I don’t know if you have ever tooled off to East Dulwich to offer a strange female a hundred smackers to release your Uncle George. In case you haven’t, I may tell you that there are plenty of things that are lots better fun. I didn’t feel any too good driving to the station. I didn’t feel any too good in the train. And I didn’t feel any too good as I walked to Kitchener Road. But the moment when I felt least good was when I had actually pressed the front-door bell and a rather grubby-looking maid had let me in and shown me down a passage and into a room with pink paper on the walls, a piano in the corner and a lot of photographs on the mantelpiece.
Barring a dentist’s waiting-room, which it rather resembles, there isn’t anything that quells the spirit much more than one of these suburban parlours. They are extremely apt to have stuffed birds in glass cases standing about on small tables, and if there is one thing which gives the man of sensibility that sinking feeling it is the cold, accusing eye of a ptarmigan or whatever it may be that has had its interior organs removed and sawdust substituted.
There were three of these cases in the parlour of Wistaria Lodge, so that, wherever you looked, you were sure to connect. Two were singletons, the third a family group, consisting of a father bullfinch, a mother bullfinch, and little Master Bullfinch, the last-named of whom wore an expression that was definitely that of a thug, and did more to damp my joie de vivre than all the rest of them put together.
I had moved to the window and was examining the aspidistra in order to avoid this creature’s gaze, when I heard the door open and, turning, found myself confronted by something which, since it could hardly be the girl, I took to be the aunt.
‘Oh, what ho,’ I said. ‘Good morning.’
The words came out rather roopily, for I was feeling a bit on the stunned side. I mean to say, the room being so small and this exhibit so large, I had got that sensation of wanting air. There are some people who don’t seem to be intended to be seen close to, and this aunt was one of them. Billowy curves, if you know what I mean. I should think that in her day she must have been a very handsome girl, though even then on the substantial side. By the time she came into my life, she had taken on a good deal of excess weight. She looked like a photograph of an opera singer of the ’eighties. Also the orange hair and the magenta dress.
However, she was a friendly soul. She seemed glad to see Bertram. She smiled broadly.
‘So here you are at last!’ she said.
I couldn’t make anything of this.
‘Eh?’
‘But I don’t think you had better see my niece just yet. She’s just having a nap.’
‘Oh, in that case –’
‘Seems a pity to wake her, doesn’t it?’
‘Oh, absolutely,’ I said, relieved.
‘When you get the influenza, you don’t sleep at night, and then if you doze off in the morning – well, it seems a pity to wake someone, doesn’t it?’
‘Miss Platt has influenza?’
‘That’s what we think it is. But, of course, you’ll be able to say. But we needn’t waste time. Since you’re here, you can be taking a look at my knee.’
‘Your knee?’
I am all for knees at their proper time and, as you might say, in their proper place, but somehow this didn’t seem the moment. However, she carried on according to plan.
‘What do you think of that knee?’ she asked, lifting the seven veils.
Well, of course, one has to be polite.
‘Terrific!’ I said.
‘You wouldn’t believe how it hurts me sometimes.’
‘Really?’
‘A sort of shooting pain. It just comes and goes. And I’ll tell you a funny thing.’
‘What’s that?’ I said, feeling I could do with a good laugh.
‘Lately I’ve been having the same pain just here, at the end of the spine.’
‘You don’t mean it!’
‘I do. Like red-hot needles. I wish you’d have a look at it.’
‘At your spine?’
‘Yes.’
I shook my head. Nobody is fonder of a bit of fun than myself, and I am all for Bohemian camaraderie and making a party go, and all that. But there is a line, and we Woosters know when to draw it.
‘It can’t be done,’ I said austerely. ‘Not spines. Knees, yes. Spines, no,’ I said.
She seemed surprised.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘you’re a funny sort of doctor, I must say.’
I’m pretty quick, as I said before, and I began to see that something in the nature of a misunderstanding must have arisen.
‘Doctor?’
‘Well, you call yourself a doctor, don’t you?’
‘Did you think I was a doctor?’
‘Aren’t you a doctor?’
‘No. Not a doctor.’
We had got it straightened out. The scales had fallen from our eyes. We knew where we were.
I had suspected that she was a genial soul. She now endorsed this view. I don’t think I have ever heard a woman laugh so heartily.
‘Well, that’s the best thing!’ she said, borrowing my handkerchief to wipe her eyes. ‘Did you ever! But, if you aren’t the doctor, who are you?’
‘Wooster’s the name. I came to see Miss Platt.’
‘What about?’
This was the moment, of course, when I should have come out with the cheque and sprung the big effort. But somehow I couldn’t make it. You know how it is. Offering people money to release your uncle is a scaly enough job at best, and when the atmosphere’s not right the shot simply isn’t on the board.
‘Oh, just came to see her, you know.’ I had rather a
bright idea. ‘My uncle heard she was seedy, don’t you know, and asked me to look in and make enquiries,’ I said.
‘Your uncle?’
‘Lord Yaxley.’
‘Oh! So you are Lord Yaxley’s nephew?’
‘That’s right. I suppose he’s always popping in and out here, what?’
‘No. I’ve never met him.’
‘You haven’t?’
‘No. Rhoda talks a lot about him, of course, but for some reason she’s never so much as asked him to look in for a cup of tea.’
I began to see that this Rhoda knew her business. If I’d been a girl with someone wanting to marry me and knew that there was an exhibit like this aunt hanging around the home, I, too, should have thought twice about inviting him to call until the ceremony was over and he had actually signed on the dotted line. I mean to say, a thoroughly good soul – heart of gold beyond a doubt – but not the sort of thing you wanted to spring on Romeo before the time was ripe.
‘I suppose you were all very surprised when you heard about it?’ she said.
‘Surprised is right.’
‘Of course, nothing is definitely settled yet.’
‘You don’t mean that? I thought –’
‘Oh, no. She’s thinking it over.’
‘I see.’
‘Of course, she feels it’s a great compliment. But then sometimes she wonders if he isn’t too old.’
‘My Aunt Agatha has rather the same idea.’
‘Of course, a title is a title.’
‘Yes, there’s that. What do you think about it yourself?’
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter what I think. There’s no doing anything with girls these days, is there?’
‘Not much.’
‘What I often say is, I wonder what girls are coming to. Still, there it is.’
‘Absolutely.’
There didn’t seem much reason why the conversation shouldn’t go on for ever. She had the air of a woman who had settled down for the day. But at this point the maid came in and said the doctor had arrived.
I got up.
‘I’ll be tooling off, then.’
‘If you must.’
‘I think I’d better.’
‘Well, pip pip.’
‘Toodle-oo,’ I said, and out into the fresh air.
Knowing what was waiting for me at home, I would have preferred to have gone to the club and spent the rest of the day there. But the thing had to be faced.
‘Well?’ said Aunt Agatha, as I trickled into the sitting room.
‘Well, yes and no,’ I replied.
‘What do you mean? Did she refuse the money?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘She accepted it?’
‘Well, there again, not precisely.’
I explained what had happened. I wasn’t expecting her to be any too frightfully pleased, and it’s as well that I wasn’t, because she wasn’t. In fact, as the story unfolded, her comments became fruitier and fruitier, and when I had finished she uttered an exclamation that nearly broke a window. It sounded something like ‘Gor!’ as if she had started to say ‘Gorblimey!’ and had remembered her ancient lineage just in time.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘And can a man say more? I lost my nerve. The old morale suddenly turned blue on me. It’s the sort of thing that might have happened to anyone.’
‘I never heard of anything so spineless in my life.’
I shivered, like a warrior whose old wound hurts him.
‘I’d be most awfully obliged, Aunt Agatha,’ I said, ‘if you would not use that word spine. It awakens memories.’
The door opened. Jeeves appeared.
‘Sir?’
‘Yes, Jeeves?’
‘I thought you called, sir.’
‘No, Jeeves.’
‘Very good, sir.’
There are moments when, even under the eye of Aunt Agatha, I can take the firm line. And now, seeing Jeeves standing there with the light of intelligence simply fizzing in every feature, I suddenly felt how perfectly footling it was to give this pre-eminent source of balm and comfort the go-by simply because Aunt Agatha had prejudices against discussing family affairs with the staff. It might make her say ‘Gor!’ again, but I decided to do as we ought to have done right from the start – put the case in his hands.
‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘this matter of Uncle George.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You know the circs?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You know what we want.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then advise us. And make it snappy. Think on your feet.’
I heard Aunt Agatha rumble like a volcano just before it starts to set about the neighbours, but I did not wilt. I had seen the sparkle in Jeeves’s eye which indicated that an idea was on the way.
‘I understand that you have been visiting the young person’s home, sir?’
‘Just got back.’
‘Then you no doubt encountered the young person’s aunt?’
‘Jeeves, I encountered nothing else but.’
‘Then the suggestion which I am about to make will, I feel sure, appeal to you, sir. I would recommend that you confront his lordship with this woman. It has always been her intention to continue residing with her niece after the latter’s marriage. Should he meet her, this reflection might give his lordship pause. As you are aware, sir, she is a kind-hearted woman, but definitely of the people.’
‘Jeeves, you are right! Apart from anything else, that orange hair!’
‘Exactly, sir.’
‘Not to mention the magenta dress.’
‘Precisely, sir.’
‘I’ll ask her to lunch tomorrow, to meet him. You see,’ I said to Aunt Agatha, who was still fermenting in the background, ‘a ripe suggestion first crack out of the box. Did I or did I not tell you –’
‘That will do, Jeeves,’ said Aunt Agatha.
‘Very good, madam.’
For some minutes after he had gone, Aunt Agatha strayed from the point a bit, confining her remarks to what she thought of a Wooster who could lower the prestige of the clan by allowing menials to get above themselves. Then she returned to what you might call the main issue.
‘Bertie,’ she said, ‘you will go and see this girl again tomorrow and this time you will do as I told you.’
‘But, dash it! With this excellent alternative scheme, based firmly on the psychology of the individual –’
‘That is quite enough, Bertie. You heard what I said. I am going. Goodbye.’
She buzzed off, little knowing of what stuff Bertram Wooster was made. The door had hardly closed before I was shouting for Jeeves.
‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘the recent aunt will have none of your excellent alternative schemes, but none the less I propose to go through with it unswervingly. I consider it a ball of fire. Can you get hold of this female and bring her here for lunch tomorrow?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. Meanwhile, I will be ’phoning Uncle George. We will do Aunt Agatha good despite herself. What is it the poet says, Jeeves?’
‘The poet Burns, sir?’
‘Not the poet Burns. Some other poet. About doing good by stealth.’
‘“These little acts of unremembered kindness,” sir?’
‘That’s it in a nutshell, Jeeves.’
I suppose doing good by stealth ought to give one a glow, but I can’t say I found myself exactly looking forward to the binge in prospect. Uncle George by himself is a mouldy enough luncheon companion, being extremely apt to collar the conversation and confine it to a description of his symptoms, he being one of those birds who can never be brought to believe that the general public isn’t agog to hear all about the lining of his stomach. Add the aunt, and you have a little gathering which might well dismay the stoutest. The moment I woke, I felt conscious of some impending doom, and the cloud, if you know what I mean, grew darker all the morning. By the time Jeeves came in with the cocktails, I
was feeling pretty low.
‘For two pins, Jeeves,’ I said, ‘I would turn the whole thing up and leg it to the Drones.’
‘I can readily imagine that this will prove something of an ordeal, sir.’
‘How did you get to know these people, Jeeves?’
‘It was through a young fellow of my acquaintance, sir, Colonel Mainwaring-Smith’s personal gentleman’s gentleman. He and the young person had an understanding at the time, and he desired me to accompany him to Wistaria Lodge and meet her.’
‘They were engaged?’
‘Not precisely engaged, sir. An understanding.’
‘What did they quarrel about?’
‘They did not quarrel, sir. When his lordship began to pay his addresses, the young person, naturally flattered, began to waver between love and ambition. But even now she has not formally rescinded the understanding.’
‘Then, if your scheme works and Uncle George edges out, it will do your pal a bit of good?’
‘Yes, sir. Smethurst – his name is Smethurst – would consider it a consummation devoutly to be wished.’
‘Rather well put, that Jeeves. Your own?’
‘No, sir. The Swan of Avon, sir.’
An unseen hand without tootled on the bell, and I braced myself to play the host. The binge was on.
‘Mrs Wilberforce, sir,’ announced Jeeves.
‘And how I’m to keep a straight face with you standing behind and saying “Madam, can I tempt you with a potato?” is more than I know,’ said the aunt, sailing in, looking larger and pinker and matier than ever. ‘I know him, you know,’ she said, jerking a thumb after Jeeves. ‘He’s been round and taken tea with us.’
‘So he told me.’
She gave the sitting room the once-over.
‘You’ve got a nice place here,’ she said. ‘Though I like more pink about. It’s so cheerful. What’s that you’ve got there? Cocktails?’
‘Martini with a spot of absinthe,’ I said, beginning to pour.
She gave a girlish squeal.
‘Don’t you try to make me drink that stuff! Do you know what would happen if I touched one of those things? I’d be racked with pain. What they do to the lining of your stomach!’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’
‘I do. If you had been a barmaid as long as I was, you’d know, too.’
The Jeeves Omnibus - Vol 3 Page 64
