Jeeves and the Wedding Bells (7 page)

‘You could just have a quiet natter either side with Georgie or Mrs V.’

‘Exactly, sir.’

‘You didn’t find yourself under cross-examination?’

‘Knowing who I was, Mr Beeching and Miss Hackwood were naturally discreet, and of course Miss Meadowes was also aware of my true identity. Lady Hackwood appeared too out of sorts to take much interest in her guests.’

‘But surely a snob like Sir Henry would have wanted the dope on your coat of arms and all that stuff?’

‘After the ladies had retired I did find myself the subject of some questions of a genealogical nature from Sir Henry. I thought it best to steer the conversation on to a subject I knew would interest him even more.’

‘Which was?’

‘The Turf, sir. I shared with him some information I had gathered about the field in the three-thirty at Ascot tomorrow. A friend of mine at the Junior Ganymede has a brother who works at a well-known Lambourn stables.’

‘So you gave him a hot tip?’

‘I was in a position to make a number of recommendations, sir.’

‘And he was grateful?’

‘Sir Henry was already well informed, but we seemed to strike up a considerable rapport. He asked Bicknell, the butler, to bring up his last bottle of Warre’s 1885 to drink to our success with the bookmaker tomorrow.’

‘A decent glassful?’

‘I found it a most helpful digestive, sir.’

‘Talking of which, Jeeves, I don’t suppose you packed any emergency supplies for a nightcap, did you?’

‘I shall prepare it at once, sir.’

Ten minutes later, agreeably capped, I went up to the bedroom to find that Jeeves had laid out my heliotrope pyjamas with the old gold stripe. It had been a long day and I felt ready for a full ration of the deep and dreamless.

I don’t know how it is with other chaps, but I tend to feel pretty bobbish first thing in the morning. The tea and newspaper bring a smile to the features; between the ablutions and the breakfast table there is generally a show tune or two to receive its premiere from the Wooster lips.

This June morning was no exception. Jeeves had made up for lost time at the local shops. The eggs had a pleasing orange glow and the bacon came from a beast far removed from the baleful husbandry of any Jude, obscure or otherwise. Yet despite the cloudless blue sky over Kingston St Giles, the day’s task was a serious one, and I felt it would tax my resources to the last drop. Little did I know, as I set fire to an after-breakfast gasper in the cottage garden, what the lead-filled sock of fate had in store for me.

It started well enough, as I moved swiftly on to Chapter Seven of
The Mystery of the Gabled House
, in which a third body was found, this one behind the potting shed. I was contemplating a spin down to the seaside to sniff out a bit of fish for luncheon, when Jeeves came out on to the lawn to announce that he had had some news.

‘I have received intelligence from the Hall, sir, that a further house guest is expected this afternoon.’

‘Right ho. Who is he?’

‘She, sir. Dame Judith Puxley.’

Even on such a sunny morning I felt a shudder run through the lower vertebrae. ‘What on earth brings that preying cannibal to Dorsetshire?’

‘It appears she is an old school friend of Lady Hackwood, sir.’

I found the mind boggling a bit. ‘It’s hard to imagine that particular schoolroom, isn’t it, Jeeves?’

‘It does lie, sir, at the extremity of one’s power to conjecture.’

‘Had old Isaac Newton done his stuff by then do you suppose?’

‘One supposes that the physical sciences were in a markedly less advanced state of knowledge, sir.’

I was about to be a little more humorous at Dame Judith’s expense when a sobering thought struck me. ‘If Dame Judith was at school with Lady Hackwood, then it follows that Lady H must also have been at school with …’

‘I believe so, sir.’

‘…Aunt Agatha.’

‘The three ladies appear to have been contemporaries at the academy.’

‘Which means that Lady H must also be a friend of Aunt Agatha.’

‘Inevitably, sir.’

‘This ups the stakes a bit, doesn’t it?’

‘I see no immediate danger, sir, though it would be as well to remain on the
qui vive
.’

Dame Judith Puxley, I should explain, had featured in a painful episode in my younger life. She was a house guest at a Victorian pile in Shropshire where, following a crossed wire over the bolting of a second-floor hatch, I was discovered on the main roof late one night dressed as Julius Caesar, and had to be brought down by the local fire brigade. Dame Judith was the relict of the late Sir Mortimer Puxley, a big cheese in the world of chemistry, and was herself a leading authority on – I think I’ve got this right – Sumerian tablets and the cuneiform script.

‘One thing bothers me in particular, Jeeves. If something comes can something else be far behind?’

‘Perhaps you have in mind the poet Shelley, sir. “If winter comes, can spring be far behind?”’

‘That’s the boy. I mean, must we expect Aunt Agatha at any moment?’

‘I think we may be fairly sure that Lady Worplesdon is detained in London.’

‘I bally well hope so, Jeeves. We left plenty of provisions and a spare key for the juvenile delinquent?’

‘Her ladyship was well provided for, sir.’

‘Jolly good. And in any event I shan’t be going within a mile of Melbury Hall. I’m off to Swanage to get some sea air. When I return, I shall have a solution to the Woody and Amelia problem.’

‘Indeed, sir? And what about the question of Miss Meadowes, Mr Venables and the future of Melbury Hall?’

‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘I think my success with Burke and Debrett has nettled you. I detect a hint of green.’

‘On the contrary, sir, I wish you every—’

‘I see something of the dog and plenty of the manger.’

‘As you wish, sir. Will you be back in time for tea?’

It took me rather longer than I had expected to motor down past Wareham and on towards Corfe Castle, though I must say it was an invigorating drive, with the Purbeck Hills rising gently to starboard. The trouble with these picturesque outings is that the chap at the wheel never gets a decent look at the scenery. I kept thinking how much better it would be if I had a
co-driver. And before you could say ‘Brooklands’ this co-driver had, in my mind, taken the shape of a tallish female in a cotton print dress, long of limb and with eyes the colour of melting chocolate.

I had to remind myself pretty firmly that this vision was betrothed to another and that this ruled her strictly
hors de combat
. I rushed neither the crab salad, the half-bot, nor the soothing coffee and cigarette that followed. Instead, I gazed out to sea a fair bit, and I cannot deny that it was a pensive Bertram who climbed aboard and restarted the engine.

By the time I got back to Kingston St Giles, I had put all such thoughts to one side. We Woosters do not stew in our own juice. My mind had become once more a precision instrument tuned to a single end: the reuniting of P. Beeching with his heart’s desire.

‘Jeeves,’ I called out as I crossed the hall, ‘I’ve got a plan and it’s an absolute pippin.’

There was a short pause while the faithful manservant could be heard conducting some business with pot and cups. He emerged from the kitchen with a look one could describe as
distrait
.

‘Everything all right, Jeeves? I think I’ll have the tea indoors today.’

I took a chair by the inglenook. After a bit of straining and pouring, Jeeves drew himself up to his full height.

‘Sir?’

‘Yes, Jeeves?’

‘There’s been a development.’

‘What?’ There was something in his manner that froze the cup halfway to the lip.

‘You will recall that I mentioned Sir Henry’s interest in horses, sir, and our animated conversation on the matter.’

‘Of course. How did your tips do? Any winners?’

‘Three of the horses were successful, sir, and the fourth was beaten by a short head.’

‘And had Sir Henry piled into them?’

‘As much as he was able to in his somewhat illiquid circumstances, I believe.’

‘So he must be happy as a sandboy.’

‘He called in half an hour ago to bring the news and—’

‘Golly. Close escape.’

‘His mood was decidedly improved. He was most generous in giving me credit for the reversal in his fortunes.’

‘I should jolly well think so. So why the long face, Jeeves?’

‘Sir Henry appears convinced that I can be relied on to effect similar results from the rest of the meeting.’

‘And can you?’

‘I think it highly unlikely, sir.’

‘And you told him so?’

‘I did, but he was undeterred. He said that even if he lost on every race he would still be “ahead of the game”, and what’s more he would have had the pleasure of getting to know a fellow aficionado of the sport of kings.’

‘He what?’

‘Sir Henry has invited me to stay at Melbury Hall, sir.’

I lowered the cup with a clatter. ‘You declined, of course.’
Even as I uttered the words, I felt they had a familiar ring – as did the reply.

‘I regret, sir, that in the circumstances I deemed it best to accept.’

I let off a gasp like a locomotive on a steep incline.

‘This requires some careful thought, Jeeves.’

‘Indeed, sir.’

I stood up and paced about the room, catching my head a glancing blow on a beam as I did so.

‘Couldn’t you just have said no?’

‘Sir Henry was most persuasive, sir. He described our present accommodation as a “squalid little arrangement” and said he would be delighted for an excuse to move Mr Beeching out of the corner room, which enjoys particularly fine views of—’

‘But this leaves me in the soup, doesn’t it? How am I supposed to play Cupid when there’s no one to press my evening shirt?’

‘Talking of shirts, sir, I have spent some time in planning the sort of wardrobe that might be necessary for Lord Etringham until Sunday evening. The appropriate dress would be—’

‘Damn it, Jeeves, there are times when the question of the appropriate dress is simply not on the agenda.’

‘I have yet to encounter one, sir.’

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.’