Bill quivered like an aspen at the mere suggestion.
‘I should say not. She would throw fifty-seven fits if she knew. I’ve rather given her the idea that I’m employed by the Agricultural Board.’
‘A most respectable body of men.’
‘I didn’t actually say so in so many words. I just strewed the place with Agricultural Board report forms and took care she saw them. Did you know that they issue a hundred and seventy-nine different blanks other than the seventeen questionnaires?’
‘No, m’lord. I was not aware. It shows zeal.’
‘Great zeal. They’re on their toes, those boys.’
‘Yes, m’lord.’
‘But we’re wandering from the point, which is that Miss Wyvern must never learn the awful truth. It would be fatal. At the outset of our betrothal she put her foot down firmly on the subject of my tendency to have an occasional flutter, and I promised her faithfully that I would never punt again. Well, you might argue that being a Silver Ring bookie is not the same thing as punting, but I doubt if you would ever sell that idea to Miss Wyvern.’
‘The distinction is certainly a nice one, m’lord.’
‘Let her discover the facts, and all would be lost.’
‘Those wedding bells would not ring out.’
‘They certainly wouldn’t. She would return me to store before I could say “What ho”. So if she comes asking questions, reveal nothing. Not even if she sticks lighted matches between your toes.’
‘The contingency is a remote one, m’lord.’
‘Possibly. I’m merely saying, whatever happens, Jeeves, secrecy and silence.’
‘You may rely on me, m’lord. In the inspired words of Pliny the Younger –’
Bill held up a hand. ‘Right ho, Jeeves.’
‘Very good, m’lord.’
‘I’m not interested in Pliny the Younger.’
‘No, m’lord.’
‘As far as I’m concerned, you may take Pliny the Younger and put him where the monkey put the nuts.’
‘Certainly, m’lord.’
‘And now leave me, Jeeves. I have a lot of heavy brooding to do. Go and get me a stiffish whisky and soda.’
‘Very good, m’lord. I will attend to the matter immediately.’
Jeeves melted from the room with a look of respectful pity, and Bill sat down and put his head between his hands. A hollow groan escaped him, and he liked the sound of it and gave another.
He was starting on a third, bringing it up from the soles of his feet, when a voice spoke at his side.
‘Good heavens, Bill. What on earth’s the matter?’
Jill Wyvern was standing there.
5
* * *
IN THE INTERVAL which had elapsed since her departure from the living room, Jill had rubbed American ointment on Mike the Irish terrier, taken a look at a goldfish belonging to the cook, which had caused anxiety in the kitchen by refusing its ants’ eggs, and made a routine tour of the pigs and cows, giving one of the latter a bolus. She had returned to the house agreeably conscious of duty done and looking forward to a chat with her loved one, who, she presumed, would by now be back from his Agricultural Board rounds and in a mood for pleasant dalliance. For even when the Agricultural Board know they have got hold of an exceptionally good man and wish (naturally) to get every possible ounce of work out of him, they are humane enough to let the poor peon call it a day round about the hour of the evening cocktail.
To find him groaning with his head in his hands was something of a shock.
‘What on earth’s the matter?’ she repeated.
Bill had sprung from his chair with a convulsive leap. That loved voice, speaking unexpectedly out of the void when he supposed himself to be alone with his grief, had affected him like a buzz-saw applied to the seat of his trousers. If it had been Captain C.G. Brabazon-Biggar, of the United Rovers Club, Northumberland Avenue, he could not have been much more perturbed. He gaped at her, quivering in every limb. Jeeves, had he been present, would have been reminded of Macbeth seeing the ghost of Banquo.
‘Matter?’ he said, inserting three Ms at the beginning of the word.
Jill was looking at him with grave, speculative eyes. She had that direct, honest gaze which many nice girls have, and as a rule Bill liked it. But at the moment he could have done with something that did not pierce quite so like a red-hot gimlet to his inmost soul. A sense of guilt makes a man allergic to direct, honest gazes.
‘Matter?’ he said, getting the word shorter and crisper this time. ‘What do you mean, what’s the matter? Nothing’s the matter. Why do you ask?’
‘You were groaning like a foghorn.’
‘Oh, that. Touch of neuralgia.’
‘You’ve got a headache?’
‘Yes, it’s been coming on for some time. I’ve had rather an exhausting afternoon.’
‘Why, aren’t the crops rotating properly? Or are the pigs going in for smaller families?’
‘My chief problem today,’ said Bill dully, ‘concerned horses.’
A quick look of suspicion came into Jill’s gaze. Like all nice girls, she had, where the man she loved was concerned, something of the Private Eye about her.
‘Have you been betting again?’
Bill stared.
‘Me?’
‘You gave me your solemn promise you wouldn’t. Oh, Bill, you are an idiot. You’re more trouble to look after than a troupe of performing seals. Can’t you see it’s just throwing money away? Can’t you get it into your fat head that the punters haven’t a hope against the bookmakers? I know people are always talking about bringing off fantastic doubles and winning thousands of pounds with a single fiver, but that sort of thing never really happens. What did you say?’
Bill had not spoken. The sound that had proceeded from his twisted lips had been merely a soft moan like that of an emotional red Indian at the stake.
‘It happens sometimes,’ he said hollowly. ‘I’ve heard of cases.’
‘Well, it couldn’t happen to you. Horses just aren’t lucky for you.’
Bill writhed. The illusion that he was being roasted over a slow fire had become extraordinarily vivid.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I see that now.’
Jill’s gaze became more direct and penetrating than ever.
‘Come clean, Bill. Did you back a loser in the Oaks?’
This was so diametrically opposite to what had actually occurred that Bill perked up a little.
‘Of course I didn’t.’
‘You swear?’
‘I may begin to at any moment.’
‘You didn’t back anything in the Oaks?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘Then what’s the matter?’
‘I told you. I’ve got a headache.’
‘Poor old thing. Can I get you anything?’
‘No, thanks. Jeeves is bringing me a whisky and soda.’
‘Would a kiss help, while you’re waiting?’
‘It would save a human life.’
Jill kissed him, but absently. She appeared to be thinking.
‘Jeeves was with you today, wasn’t he?’ she said.
‘Yes. Yes, Jeeves was along.’
‘You always take him with you on these expeditions of yours.’
‘Yes.’
‘Where do you go?’
‘We make the rounds.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Oh, this and that.’
‘I see. How’s the headache?’
‘A little better, thanks.’
‘Good.’
There was silence for a moment.
‘I used to have headaches a few years ago,’ said Jill.
‘Bad?’
‘Quite bad. I suffered agonies.’
‘They do touch you up, don’t they?’
‘They do. But,’ proceeded Jill, her voice rising and a hard note creeping into her voice, ‘my headaches, painful as they were, never made me look like an escaped con
vict lurking in a bush listening to the baying of the bloodhounds and wondering every minute when the hand of doom was going to fall on the seat of his pants. And that’s how you are looking now. There’s guilt written on your every feature. If you were to tell me at this moment that you had done a murder and were worrying because you had suddenly remembered you hadn’t hidden the body properly, I would say “I thought as much”. Bill, for the last time, what’s the matter?’
‘Nothing’s the matter.’
‘Don’t tell me.’
‘I am telling you.’
‘There’s nothing on your mind?’
‘Not a thing.’
‘You’re as gay and carefree as a lark singing in the summer sky?’
‘If anything, rather more so.’
There was another silence. Jill was biting her lip, and Bill wished she wouldn’t. There is, of course, nothing actually low and degrading in a girl biting her lip, but it is a spectacle that a fiancé with a good deal on his mind can never really enjoy.
‘Bill, tell me,’ said Jill. ‘How do you feel about marriage?’
Bill brightened. This, he felt, was more the stuff.
‘I think it’s an extraordinarily good egg. Always provided, of course, that the male half of the sketch is getting someone like you.’
‘Never mind the pretty speeches. Shall I tell you how I feel about it?’
‘Do.’
‘I feel that unless there is absolute trust between a man and a girl, they’re crazy even to think of getting married, because if they’re going to hide things from each other and not tell each other their troubles, their marriage is bound to go on the rocks sooner or later. A husband and wife ought to tell each other everything. I wouldn’t ever dream of keeping anything from you, and if it interests you to know it, I’m as sick as mud to think that you’re keeping this trouble of yours, whatever it is, from me.’
‘I’m not in any trouble.’
‘You are. What’s happened, I don’t know, but a short-sighted mole that’s lost its spectacles could see that you’re a soul in torment. When I came in here, you were groaning your head off.’
Bill’s self-control, so sorely tried today, cracked.
‘Damn it all,’ he bellowed, ‘why shouldn’t I groan? I believe Rowcester Abbey is open for being groaned in at about this hour, is it not? I wish to heaven you would leave me alone,’ he went on, gathering momentum. ‘Who do you think you are? One of these G-men fellows questioning some rat of the Underworld? I suppose you’ll be asking next where I was on the night of February the twenty-first. Don’t be such an infernal Nosy Parker.’
Jill was a girl of spirit, and with girls of spirit this sort of thing soon reaches saturation point.
‘I don’t know if you know it,’ she said coldly, ‘but when you spit on your hands and get down to it, you can be the world’s premier louse.’
‘That’s a nice thing to say.’
‘Well, it’s the truth,’ said Jill. ‘You’re simply a pig in human shape. And if you want to know what I think,’ she went on, gathering momentum in her turn, ‘I believe what’s happened is that you’ve gone and got mixed up with some awful female.’
‘You’re crazy. Where the dickens could I have met any awful females?’
‘I should imagine you have had endless opportunities. You’re always going off in your car, sometimes for a week at a stretch. For all I know, you may have been spending your time festooned with hussies.’
‘I wouldn’t so much as look at a hussy if you brought her to me on a plate with watercress round her.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘And it was you, if memory serves me aright,’ said Bill, ‘who some two and a half seconds ago were shooting off your head about the necessity for absolute trust between us. Women!’ said Bill bitterly. ‘Women! My God, what a sex!’
On this difficult situation Jeeves entered, bearing a glass on a salver.
‘Your whisky and soda, m’lord,’ he said, much as a President of the United States might have said to a deserving citizen ‘Take this Congressional medal’.
Bill accepted the restorative gratefully.
‘Thank you, Jeeves. Not a moment before it was needed.’
‘And Sir Roderick and Lady Carmoyle are in the yew alley, asking to see you, m’lord.’
‘Good heavens! Rory and the Moke? Where did they spring from? I thought she was in Jamaica.’
‘Her ladyship returned this morning, I understand, and Sir Roderick obtained compassionate leave from Harrige’s in order to accompany her here. They desired me to inform your lordship that they would be glad of a word with you at your convenience before the arrival of Mrs Spottsworth.’
‘Before the what of who? Who on earth’s Mrs Spottsworth?’
‘An American lady whose acquaintance her ladyship made in New York, m’lord. She is expected here this evening. I gathered from what her ladyship and Sir Roderick were saying that there is some prospect of Mrs Spottsworth buying the house.’
Bill gaped.
‘Buying the house?’
‘Yes, m’lord.’
‘This house?’
‘Yes, m’lord.’
‘Rowcester Abbey, you mean?’
‘Yes, m’lord.’
‘You’re pulling my leg, Jeeves.’
‘I would not take such a liberty, m’lord.’
‘You seriously mean that this refugee from whatever American loony-bin it was where she was under observation until she sneaked out with false whiskers on is actually contemplating paying hard cash for Rowcester Abbey?’
‘That was the interpretation which I placed on the remarks of her ladyship and Sir Roderick, m’lord.’
Bill drew a deep breath.
‘Well, I’ll be blowed. It just shows you that it takes all sorts to make a world. Is she coming to stay?’
‘So I understood, m’lord.’
‘Then you might remove the two buckets you put to catch the water under the upper hall skylight. They create a bad impression.’
‘Yes, m’lord. I will also place some more drawing pins in the wallpaper. Where would your lordship be thinking of depositing Mrs Spottsworth?’
‘She’d better have the Queen Elizabeth room. It’s the best we’ve got.’
‘Yes, m’lord. I will insert a wire screen in the flue to discourage intrusion by the bats that nest there.’
‘We can’t give her a bathroom, I’m afraid.’
‘I fear not, m’lord.’
‘Still, if she can make do with a shower, she can stand under the upper hall skylight.’
Jeeves pursed his lips.
‘If I might offer the suggestion, m’lord, it is not judicious to speak in that strain. Your lordship might forget yourself and let fall some such observation in the hearing of Mrs Spottsworth.’
Jill, standing at the french window and looking out with burning eyes, had turned and was listening, electrified. The generous wrath which had caused her to allude to her betrothed as a pig in human shape had vanished completely. It could not compete with this stupendous news. As far as Jill was concerned, the war was over.
She thoroughly concurred with Jeeves’s rebuke.
‘Yes, you poor fish,’ she said. ‘You mustn’t even think like that. Oh, Bill, isn’t it wonderful! If this comes off, you’ll have money enough to buy a farm. I’m sure we’d do well running a farm, me as a vet and you with all your expert farming knowledge.’
‘My what?’
Jeeves coughed.
‘I think Miss Wyvern is alluding to the fact that you have had such wide experience working for the Agricultural Board, m’lord.’
‘Oh, ah, yes. I see what you mean. Of course, yes, the Agricultural Board. Thank you, Jeeves.’
‘Not at all, m’lord.’
Jill developed her theme.
‘If you could sting this Mrs Spottsworth for something really big, we could start a prize herd. That pays like anything. I wonder how much you could get
for the place.’
‘Not much, I’m afraid. It’s seen better days.’
‘What are you going to ask?’
‘Three thousand and five pounds two shillings and sixpence.’
‘What!’
Bill blinked.
‘Sorry. I was thinking of something else.’
‘But what put an odd sum like that into your head?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You must know.’
‘I don’t.’
‘But you must have had some reason.’
‘The sum in question arose in the course of his lordship’s work in connection with his Agricultural Board duties this afternoon, miss,’ said Jeeves smoothly. ‘Your lordship may recall that I observed at the time that it was a peculiar figure.’
‘So you did, Jeeves, so you did.’
‘That was why your lordship said “Three thousand and five pounds two shillings and sixpence”.’
‘Yes, that was why I said “Three thousand and five pounds two shillings and sixpence”.’
‘These momentary mental aberrations are not uncommon, I believe. If I might suggest it, m’lord, I think it would be advisable to proceed to the yew alley without further delay. Time is of the essence.’
‘Of course, yes. They’re waiting for me, aren’t they? Are you coming, Jill?’
‘I can’t, darling. I have patients to attend to. I’ve got to go all the way over to Stover to see the Mainwarings’ Peke, though I don’t suppose there’s the slightest thing wrong with it. That dog is the worst hypochondriac.’
‘Well, you’re coming to dinner all right?’
‘Of course. I’m counting the minutes. My mouth’s watering already.’
Jill went out through the french window. Bill mopped his forehead. It had been a near thing.
‘You saved me there, Jeeves,’ he said. ‘But for your quick thinking all would have been discovered.’
‘I am happy to have been of service, m’lord.’
‘Another instant, and womanly intuition would have been doing its stuff, with results calculated to stagger humanity. You eat a lot of fish, don’t you, Jeeves?’
‘A good deal, m’lord.’
‘So Bertie Wooster has often told me. You sail into the sole and sardines like nobody’s business, he says, and he attributes your giant intellect to the effects of the phosphorus. A hundred times, he says, it has enabled you to snatch him from the soup at the eleventh hour. He raves about your great gifts.’
The Jeeves Omnibus - Vol 3: The Mating Season / Ring for Jeeves / Very Good, Jeeves Page 5
