by Simon Brett
Meanwhile down in Florida the blissfully happy Mr and Mrs Sophocles Katzenjammer, without subsidy from either of their families, became pioneers in what would later be called ‘organic farming’ and nurtured their ever-growing brood of small vegetarians.
29
Another Summons to the Blue Morning Room
To say that Blotto and Twinks were welcomed back to Tawcester Towers with open arms would never have been accurate. The arms of the Dowager Duchess had done many things in their time, chiefly holding horses’ reins, dogs’ leads and guns, but they had never been sullied by hugging her children.
However, the siblings’ late November return from the United States of America that year was greeted with a distinct frost. The house itself was frosty, because its antiquated central heating system was still not functioning. But the frost that emanated from the Dowager Duchess was even more severe. So far as she was concerned, Blotto had failed to salvage the family honour. He had been sent to Chicago expressly to marry Mary Chapstick and thus refinance Tawcester Towers and he had not fulfilled that obligation. The Dowager Duchess was very disappointed.
The inevitable summons came the morning after their late-night arrival at Tawcester Towers. Blotto was down at the garage, describing and seeking expert explanations from Corky Froggett for the sluggish running of his Lagonda when one of the footmen told him that the Dowager Duchess required his immediate presence in the Blue Morning Room.
This was of course ominous, so asking Corky to check out everything on the car, Blotto had immediately obeyed his mother’s summons. When he arrived at the place his mother regarded as her private court of law, Blotto found a very subdued Twinks was already there.
‘I am severely disappointed in both of you,’ the Dowager Duchess announced from her Chippendale throne, ‘but more particularly in you, Blotto.’
Her son hung his blond-thatched head.
‘My instructions were perfectly clear. Your engagement to Mary Chapstick was arranged between her father and myself before you had even left this country. I am at a loss to imagine what might have caused you to break it.’
Blotto considered a few responses. Saying that they’d found Luther P. Chapstick III to be a thumping crook wouldn’t wash. And saying that Mary Chapstick was now married to the only man she truly loved would also go down like cocoa skin. So he remained silent, allowing his mother to continue.
Which of course she did. ‘Your behaviour demonstrates a selfishness that I had hoped never to witness from a member of the Lyminster family. You were fully aware of the financial need that had made me decide on the undesirable course of marrying you off to an American, and yet you thought nothing of sabotaging my carefully conceived plans. You have placed me in a dilemma from which I cannot see an immediate way out. I fear I may be forced to disown you unless you can—’
‘Oh, but Mater, you can’t disown Blotto. He’ll—’
‘Silence, Twinks!’ boomed the Dowager Duchess, fixing her Gorgon stare on her daughter before turning it back on her son. ‘So, Blotto, can you provide me with any reason why I should not disown you?’
‘Well . . . er . . . um . . .’
‘Unless you can provide some other way of refilling the Tawcester Towers coffers, you leave me with little alternative. So do you have a solution to offer?’
‘Well . . . er . . . um . . . I suppose I could try getting a job . . . ?’
‘I’m being serious, Blotto, so I will thank you not to indulge in feeble witticisms.’
‘Well . . . er . . . um . . . I suppose I . . .’ But nothing came. Blotto was in a real gluepot, a gluepot to make all previous gluepots look as minor as hangnails. As he had done before in extremis, he contemplated prayer. Being Church of England, he didn’t really possess anything that could be counted as faith, but you never knew for sure, it might be worth trying . . . So he prayed to someone or something to extricate him from his current mess.
His prayer was answered by a discreet tap on the Blue Morning Room door.
‘Come!’ barked the Dowager Duchess.
The door opened to admit a very deferential Corky Froggett, hiding something behind the peaked cap in his hand.
‘Can you explain,’ demanded the Dowager Duchess furiously, ‘what could possibly justify the irruption of a mere chauffeur into this part of the house?’
‘I apologize, Your Grace,’ said Corky Froggett humbly, ‘but what I have discovered will, I hope, explain my gross breach of decorum.’
‘What is it?’ came the testy reply.
‘This!’ Dramatically, the chauffeur moved his hat and lifted up in the other hand an ingot of gold. Blotto couldn’t read it at that distance, but he knew that on the bar would be printed the words: ‘PROPERTY OF U.S. GOVERNMENT’.
Corky Froggett addressed him. ‘This, milord, is the explanation for the Lagonda’s slow performance. A special compartment had been attached to the underside of the Lagonda’s chassis. It was full of bars like this.’
The Dowager Duchess turned her eyes on her younger son. Her face was contorted into the nearest it could approximate to a beam.
‘So, Blotto, are you telling me that you actually came up with a plan to solve the Tawcester Towers financial crisis?’
It wasn’t in his nature to lie, but on this occasion, emboldened by the look he saw in his sister’s eye, Blotto replied, ‘Yes, I weighed up the alternative appeals of getting money by marriage and getting it in a more tangible form. I always think gold’s a safe investment in a crisis, don’t you, Mater?’
The Dowager Duchess agreed and ordered Corky Froggett to bring the rest of the bullion into the Blue Morning Room as soon as possible.
It was then that Twinks said, ‘But are you sure we have the right to keep it, Mater? Given that every bar is printed with the words: “PROPERTY OF U.S. GOVERNMENT” . . . ?’
The Dowager Duchess of Tawcester, proud inheritor of the values that had kept the British aristocracy for so long at the top of the pile, looked at her daughter in amazement. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, you silly chit!’ she said. ‘We’ll scrape that off.’
So life returned to normal at Tawcester Towers. The plumbing was replaced in double quick time, with the result that by Christmas some areas of the house were almost warm. And restoration work was started on the damaged dukes in the Long Gallery.
A somewhat shamefaced Harvey returned to her duties and to Grimshaw. He said she deserved to be severely punished for what she’d done in the States. So they both enjoyed that.
Twinks, rather at a loose end, finished her translation of Montaigne’s Essais into Japanese and then, for fun, translated her Japanese version into Serbo-Croat.
And Blotto . . . ? Hardly worth asking the question, really. He lovingly reacquainted himself with Mephistopheles, and the pair of them went off hunting.
