It was not her beauty, mark you, that thus numbed me. She was a pretty enough girl in a droopy, blonde, saucer-eyed way, but not the sort of breath-taker that takes the breath.
No, what caused this disintegration in a usually fairly fluent prattler with the sex was her whole mental attitude. I don't want to wrong anybody, so I won't go so far as to say that she actually wrote poetry, but her conversation, to my mind, was of a nature calculated to excite the liveliest suspicions. Well, I mean to say, when a girl suddenly asks you out of a blue sky if you don't sometimes feel that the stars are God's daisy-chain, you begin to think a bit.
As regards the fusing of her soul and mine, therefore, there was nothing doing. But with Gussie, the posish was entirely different. The thing that had stymied me – viz. that this girl was obviously all loaded down with ideals and sentiment and what not – was quite in order as far as he was concerned.
Gussie had always been one of those dreamy, soulful birds – you can't shut yourself up in the country and live only for newts, if you're not – and I could see no reason why, if he could somehow be induced to get the low, burning words off his chest, he and the Bassett shouldn't hit it off like ham and eggs.
'She's just the type for him,' I said.
'I am most gratified to hear it, sir.'
'And he's just the type for her. In fine, a good thing and one to be pushed along with the utmost energy. Strain every nerve, Jeeves.'
'Very good, sir,' replied the honest fellow. 'I will attend to the matter at once.'
Now up to this point, as you will doubtless agree, what you might call a perfect harmony had prevailed. Friendly gossip between employer and employed, and everything as sweet as a nut. But at this juncture, I regret to say, there was an unpleasant switch. The atmosphere suddenly changed, the storm clouds began to gather, and before we knew where we were, the jarring note had come bounding on the scene. I have known this to happen before in the Wooster home.
The first intimation I had that things were about to hot up was a pained and disapproving cough from the neighbourhood of the carpet. For, during the above exchanges, I should explain, while I, having dried the frame, had been dressing in a leisurely manner, donning here a sock, there a shoe, and gradually climbing into the vest, the shirt, the tie, and the knee-length, Jeeves had been down on the lower level, unpacking my effects.
He now rose, holding a white object. And at the sight of it, I realized that another of our domestic crises had arrived, another of those unfortunate clashes of will between two strong men, and that Bertram, unless he remembered his fighting ancestors and stood up for his rights, was about to be put upon.
I don't know if you were at Cannes this summer. If you were, you will recall that anybody with any pretensions to being the life and soul of the party was accustomed to attend binges at the Casino in the ordinary evening-wear trouserings topped to the north by a white mess jacket with brass buttons. And ever since I had stepped aboard the Blue Train at Cannes station, I had been wondering, on and off, how mine would go with Jeeves.
In the matter of evening costumes, you see, Jeeves is hidebound and reactionary. I had had trouble with him before about soft-bosomed shirts. And while these mess jackets had, as I say, been all the rage – tout ce qu'il y a de chic – on the Côte d'Azur, I had never concealed it from myself, even when treading the measure at the Palm Beach Casino in the one I had hastened to buy, that there might be something of an upheaval about it on my return.
I prepared to be firm.
'Yes, Jeeves?' I said. And though my voice was suave, a close observer in a position to watch my eyes would have noticed a steely glint. Nobody has a greater respect for Jeeves's intellect than I have, but this disposition of his to dictate to the hand that fed him had got, I felt, to be checked. This mess jacket was very near to my heart, and I jolly well intended to fight for it with all the vim of grand old Sieur de Wooster at the Battle of Agincourt.
'Yes, Jeeves?' I said. 'Something on your mind, Jeeves?'
'I fear that you inadvertently left Cannes in the possession of a coat belonging to some other gentleman, sir.'
I switched on the steely a bit more.
'No, Jeeves,' I said, in a level tone, 'the object under advisement is mine. I bought it out there.'
'You wore it, sir?'
'Every night.'
'But surely you are not proposing to wear it in England, sir?'
I saw that we had arrived at the nub.
'Yes, Jeeves.'
'But sir –'
'You were saying, Jeeves?'
'It is quite unsuitable, sir.'
'I do not agree with you, Jeeves. I anticipate a great popular success for this jacket. It is my intention to spring it on the public tomorrow at Pongo Twistleton's birthday party, where I confidently expect it to be one long scream from start to finish. No argument, Jeeves. No discussion. Whatever fantastic objection you may have taken to it, I wear this jacket.'
'Very good, sir.'
He went on with his unpacking. I said no more on the subject. I had won the victory, and we Woosters do not triumph over a beaten foe. Presently, having completed my toilet, I bade the man a cheery farewell and in generous mood suggested that, as I was dining out, why didn't he take the evening off and go to some improving picture or something. Sort of olive branch, if you see what I mean.
He didn't seem to think much of it.
'Thank you, sir, I will remain in.'
I surveyed him narrowly.
'Is this dudgeon, Jeeves?'
'No, sir, I am obliged to remain on the premises. Mr Fink-Nottle informed me that he would be calling to see me this evening.'
'Oh, Gussie's coming, is he? Well, give him my love.'
'Very good, sir.'
'And a whisky and soda, and so forth.'
'Very good, sir.'
'Right ho, Jeeves.'
I then set off for the Drones.
At the Drones I ran into Pongo Twistleton, and he talked so much about this forthcoming merry-making of his, of which good reports had already reached me through my correspondents, that it was nearing eleven when I got home again.
And scarcely had I opened the door when I heard voices in the sitting-room, and scarcely had I entered the sitting-room when I found that these proceeded from Jeeves and what appeared at first sight to be the Devil.
A closer scrutiny informed me that it was Gussie Fink-Nottle, dressed as Mephistopheles.
Also available in Arrow
Blandings Castle
P.G. Wodehouse
A Blandings collection
The ivied walls of Blandings Castle have seldom glowed as sunnily as in these wonderful stories – but there are snakes in the rolling parkland ready to nip Clarence, the absent-minded Ninth Earl of Emsworth, when he least expects it.
For a start the Empress of Blandings, in the running for her first prize in the Fat Pigs Class at the Shropshire Agricultural Show, is off her food – and can only be coaxed back to the trough by a call in her own language. Then there is the feud with Head Gardener McAllister, aided by Clarence's sister, the terrifying Lady Constance, and the horrible prospect of the summer fête – twin problems solved by the arrival of a delightfully rebellious little girl from London. But first of all there is the vexed matter of the custody of the pumpkin.
Skipping an ocean and a continent, Wodehouse also treats us to some unputdownable stories of excess from the monstrous Golden Age of Hollywood.
Also available in Arrow
The Code of the Woosters
P.G. Wodehouse
A Jeeves and Wooster novel
When Bertie Wooster goes to Totleigh Towers to pour oil on the troubled waters of a lovers breach between Madeline Bassett and Gussie Fink-Nottle, he isn't expecting to see Aunt Dahlia there – nor to be instructed by her to steal some silver. But purloining the antique cow creamer from under the baleful nose of Sir Watkyn Bassett is the least of Bertie's tasks. He has to restore true love to both Madeline and Guss
ie and to the Revd Stinker Pinker and Stiffy Byng – and confound the insane ambitions of would-be Dictator Roderick Spode and his Black Shorts. It's a situation that only Jeeves can unravel . . .
Also available in Arrow
The Inimitable Jeeves
P.G. Wodehouse
A Jeeves and Wooster collection
An absolute classic collection of stories featuring some of the funniest episodes in the life of Bertie Wooster, gentleman, and Jeeves, his gentleman's gentleman – in which Aunt Agatha stalks the pages, seeking whom she may devour, Bertie's friend Bingo Little falls in love with seven different girls in succession (he marries the last, the bestselling romantic novelist Rosie M. Banks), and Bertie, with Jeeves's help, just evades the clutches of the terrifying Honoria Glossop. At its heart is one of Wodehouse's most delicious stories, 'The Great Sermon Handicap'.
Also available in Arrow
Summer Lightning
P.G. Wodehouse
A Blandings novel
The Empress of Blandings, prize-winning pig and all-consuming passion of Clarence, Ninth Earl of Emsworth, has disappeared.
Blandings Castle is in uproar and there are suspects a-plenty – from Galahad Threepwood (who is writing memoirs so scandalous they will rock the aristocracy to its foundations) to the Efficient Baxter, chilling former secretary to Lord Emsworth. Even Beach the Butler seems deeply embroiled. And what of Sir Gregory Parsloe-Parsloe, Clarence's arch-rival, and his passion for prize-winning pigs?
With the castle full of deceptions and impostors, will Galahad's memoirs ever see the light of day? And will the Empress be returned...?
Also available in Arrow
Something Fresh
P.G. Wodehouse
A Blandings novel
This is the first Blandings novel, in which P.G. Wodehouse introduces us to the delightfully dotty Lord Emsworth, his bone-headed younger son, the Hon. Freddie Threepwood, his long-suffering secretary, the Efficient Baxter, and Beach the Blandings butler.
As Wodehouse wrote, 'without at least one impostor on the premises, Blandings Castle is never itself.' In Something Fresh there are two, each with an eye on a valuable scarab which Lord Emsworth has acquired without quite realizing how it came into his pocket. But of course things get a lot more complicated than this . . .
Also available in Arrow
Right Ho, Jeeves
P.G. Wodehouse
A Jeeves and Wooster novel
Gussie Fink-Nottle's knowledge of the common newt is unparalleled. Drop him in a pond of newts and his behaviour will be exemplary, but introduce him to a girl and watch him turn pink, yammer, and suddenly stampede for the great open spaces. Even with Madeline Bassett, who feels that the stars are God's daisy chain, his tongue is tied in reef-knots. And his chum Tuppy Glossop isn't getting on much better with Madeline's delectable friend Angela.
With so many broken hearts lying about him, Bertie Wooster can't sit idly by. The happiness of a pal – two pals, in fact – is at stake. But somehow Bertie's best-laid plans land everyone in the soup, and so it's just as well that Jeeves is ever at hand to apply his bulging brains to the problems of young love.
Also available in Arrow
Piccadilly Jim
P.G. Wodehouse
It takes a lot of effort for Jimmy Crocker to become Piccadilly Jim – nights on the town roistering, headlines in the gossip columns, a string of broken hearts and breaches of promise. Eventually he becomes rather good at it and manages to go to pieces with his eyes open.
But no sooner has Jimmy cut a wild swathe through fashionable London than his terrifying Aunt Nesta decides he must mend his ways. He then falls in love with the girl he has hurt most of all, and after that things get complicated.
In a dizzying plot, impersonations pile on impersonations so that (for reasons that will become clear, we promise) Jimmy ends up having to pretend he's himself. Does he deserve a happy ending? Read and find out.
Also available in Arrow
Leave it to Psmith
P.G. Wodehouse
A Blandings novel
Lady Constance Keeble, sister of Lord Emsworth of Blandings Castle, has both an imperious manner and a valuable diamond necklace. This becomes the cause of dark plottings, for within the castle lurk some well-connected jewel thieves – among them the Honourable Freddie Threepwood, Lord Emsworth's younger son, who wants the reward money to set up a bookmaking business, and Psmith, the elegant socialist, who's after it for his newly married chum Mike. On patrol with the impossible task of bringing management to Blandings is the Efficient Baxter, whose strivings for order lead to a memorable encounter with the castle flowerpots.
Blandings and Psmith together – the best combination of
Wodehouse joy!
Also available in Arrow
Joy in the Morning
P.G. Wodehouse
A Jeeves and Wooster novel
Trapped in rural Steeple Bumpleigh, a man less stalwart than Bertie Wooster would probably give way at the knees.
For among those present were Florence Craye, to whom Bertie had once been engaged and her new fiancé 'Stilton' Cheesewright, who sees Bertie as a snake in the grass. And that biggest blot on the landscape, Edwin the Boy Scout, who is busy doing acts of kindness out of sheer malevolence.
All Bertie's forebodings are fully justified. For in his efforts to oil the wheels of commerce, promote the course of true love and avoid the consequences of a vendetta, he becomes the prey of all and sundry. In fact only Jeeves can save him...
The P G Wodehouse Society (UK)
The P G Wodehouse Society (UK) was formed in 1997 to promote the enjoyment of the writings of the twentieth century's greatest humorist. The Society publishes a quarterly magazine, Wooster Sauce, which includes articles, features, reviews, and current Society news. Occasional special papers are also published. Society events include regular meetings in central London, cricket matches and a formal biennial dinner, along with other activities. The Society actively supports the preservation of the Berkshire pig, a rare breed, in honour of
the incomparable Empress of Blandings.
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Membership of the Society is open to applicants from
all parts of the world. The cost of a year's membership
in 2008 is £15. Enquiries and requests for membership
forms should be made to the Membership Secretary,
The P G Wodehouse Society (UK), 26 Radcliffe Rd,
Croydon, Surrey, CR0 5QE, or alternatively from
[email protected]
The Society's website can be viewed at
www.pgwodehousesociety.org.uk
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