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When one’s valet is constantly saving one from unwanted engagements, the subject is bound to come up. In the usual Jeeves fashion, he raised the question in a way that wasn’t exactly a question.
‘I do hope I’ve not gone against your wishes, sir,’ he said as he placed a glass of the regular b. and s. on the lid of my piano.
‘What’s that, old boy?’ I hadn’t the foggiest what he was referring to. I reached deep into the grey matter and took a stab anyway. ‘I wasn’t actually all that attached to the yellow socks, Jeeves, it’s alright that they faced a spot of bad luck.’ There’d been a mishap with the teeth of Aunt Agatha’s little terrier. Why the socks had smelt somewhat of dog biscuits in the first place, Jeeves hadn’t yet explained.
‘That’s not the matter I refer to sir, although I am glad to hear you aren’t of a mind to replace those offensive… items.’
‘They were socks, not items, Jeeves.’
‘Hardly, sir.’ His eyes pinched just enough to let me know he was quite serious about it.
‘Oh well, if you really take such umbrance with them then no, I won’t replace them. There, does that satisfy?’
‘Just so, sir.’
I turned back to my piano, and poised my digits against the ivory. I was just about to have another stab at the catchy tune I’d caught at the Drone club the other night—it was de-dum de-doo something something, and if I just fiddled about with it for a little while I knew it would all come back to me—when I realised that Jeeves was still sort of hovering about at my periphery. That combined with something he’d said a moment ago made me realise that I had taken a mis-step in the conversation. ‘Jeeves,’ I ventured.
‘Sir?’
‘Well, Jeeves, if the socks were not the matter you referred to, then… where else might you have gone against my wishes?’ I racked the bean to think of some other instance. Nothing arrived.
‘It is only, sir, that there was a moment last night when it seemed as though you might have been enjoying Miss Honoria’s company.’ I was looking at him directly now, partly out of shock, and so I caught the full effect of his knowing look and raised brow. He said no more; the rest was obvious; if I had enjoyed my time with Honoria than perhaps I had wanted to remain engaged to her, and perhaps he had been remiss in using one of his fish-fed schemes to get Honoria and I once again un-engaged.
‘But nothing could be further from the truth,’ I exclaimed. I stood up—Betram can hardly talk about being engaged to Honoria Glossip while sitting down, the very thought of it makes the pins restless and sets the usually sturdy Wooster spine to shivering. ‘Jeeves, you must know that I bear no love for Honoria. If it seemed I was enjoying her company it was no more than a trick of the Wooster pride and my gentleman’s code—one can hardly do anything else in the presence of the fairer sex than nod and smile, what? But if you think I am desirous of marriage to her—to any of them—no, Jeeves, please set yourself straight this instant. I have no intention of it, no matter how my Aunts might pressure me. Unless I get caught in a fix that even your genius cannot get me out of, I intend to be very much a bachelor for the rest of my days. A house of one, as it were. A man independent. Well, you’ll be around, of course, so I suppose it’s not quite as solitary as all that. And good thing too, otherwise it might actually be somewhat lonely.’
‘Quite, sir.’
‘Yes. Well. Does that clarify things for you, Jeeves?’
‘Oh yes, sir.’ There was something happening at the corner of his mouth—some quirk or smirk or some such. I thought he seemed satisfied, at any rate. So, I turned back to my piano, feeling strangely cheerful, and he swept from the room to go and do whatever the dickens it is that Jeeves does when not tending to the y. m.
I forgot all about our conversation for a good while. But it must have been kicking about in the back of the old onion none the less, because there were a series of events that brought the whole subject back to the fore, and at that point I could somehow recall every word quite sharply.
The first occurrence was a letter. Now, usually Jeeves would handle our letters and telegrams and the like, and pass on to me anything of actual import; but today I had cause to go through the stack myself. Jeeves was out fetching something. Foodstuffs, or some polish for our shoes—I’ll admit I didn’t pay attention to which. And I was most anxious for a telegram from Tuppy. The old sport was lunching with the Glossops today, and had promised to write me as soon as he could with a report of whether or not it looked like Honoria still harboured any whit of sentiment for the Wooster visage. I hoped not. And I’d heard nothing from her since the success of Jeeves’ latest scheme. But one could never do with enough reassurance that the eyes of a lady are elsewhere, not when it came to Honoria.
So—I was rifling through the stack of mail, looking for Tuppy’s telegram, and lo and behold do I get my mits upon something that is quite unfamiliar. I saw that it was addressed to Jeeves and I did not mean to intrude on his privacy and whatnot, but I cannot help reading what was writ with a single glance, on account of it being scarcely more than a line. A token of my affection, with love, your Tilley. That was the whole of it. Curly lettering, a poorly proportioned sketch of two little doves tucked up together on a branch, spot of watercolour. I turned the page over, expecting more—and there was a pressed flower, sewn into the very paper with a few neat cross-stitches. Well. I thought it rather a sorry little thing. If this was the sum of her affection then she harboured very little worth writing about.
When Jeeves came home, I was in a foul mood and had no account for it; he drew me a bath and I wallowed and blew bubbles and so forth until he suggested that it might be cheering to hear some music in the flat. I sallied forth to my piano only to please him. Once I got into the swing of it, I did indeed find it improving to my mood. It ended up being a topping evening after all, my strange sulk forgotten entirely, when I saw that Jeeves had laid out my striped pyjamas. He finds them bearable, and I find them cheery—I recognised the gesture as him ceding me some ground, allowing me to shake the bit of his domination over my wardrobe just a touch, and the gesture cheered me all the way to shut-eye.
The next week, we were crossing the street from Berkeley to Albuquerque, heading towards our car for a weekend out in the country, when a sweet young face suddenly started at the sight of us. The poor lass turned red as anything, made a sort of squeaking noise, and then scurried away in the opposite direction. The habits of a mouse were brought to mind. ‘Who do you think that was, Jeeves?’
‘Ah, I believe that was Miss Tilley, sir.’
The name reminded me of the letter; and the letter reminded me of the morning when I’d been in something of a strop. I felt the edges of that mood gripping firmly at the Wooster corpus now. I took a seat in the car while Jeeves fussed with the luggage. It was only once the car was started and chugging along the road that I felt ready to open the topic again. ‘Now Jeeves, whatever did you do to that poor girl to have her running off like that?’
‘I took out the rubbish sir, that is all.’
‘That can’t have been all there was too it. Come on, now. Out with it, my man.’
‘Let us just say, sir, that Miss Tilley may have been somewhat embarrassed to see certain missives from her where included in our rubbish, sir.’
‘Oh.’ My hands unclenched from ’ten and ’two on the steering wheel—I brought one across to adjust the mirror. ‘Now I see the shape of it, Jeeves. She’d plucked up her courage, and you’ve rather dashed her hopes. Well, she looked a mousey thing. No doubt it’s for the best.’
‘I’ve no doubt about that, sir.’
‘Jolly good.’
When we arrived at the manor, all went quite swimmingly. My room was facing east, over the lake, and the bed was not one of those lumpy ones. It had spring and smelt fresh. I took a pleasant stroll in the gardens, Jeeves telling me the names of each of the flowers and what sending them means—a dashed language all on its own, it seemed, and I admit that the facts failed to stick at all to the old grey matter, but then again I often think that it matters little what Jeeves is actually telling me about, it’s just that it is bally nice to listen to his calm voice going on in that way of his. The y. m. admits to finding it quite soothing. Dinner was a stiff affair, with Aunt Agatha glaring daggers at me. No doubt she is still seething about the latest business with Honoria. But Tuppy arrived later in the evening and we set about playing cards and imbuing drinks until the late hours.
I stumbled back to my rooms and was surprised—and yet, at the same time, not surprised, given that I have somehow lucked upon the most brilliant valet ever to have lived—to find Jeeves there waiting for me at that late hour, to help me with the perplexing number of buttons that were covering my personage. He deftly manoeuvred me into my pyjamas—the grey-blue ones this time, Jeeves calls them “eggshell”. I was sitting back against my pillows with a mug of steaming tea in my hands before I knew what was happening. ‘Is there a word better than topping, Jeeves?’ I asked him, ‘because that is how I feel right now.’ Everything was just exactly right.
‘I couldn’t say, sir.’ His back was too me. His hands were busy with laying out my wardrobe for the next day. I couldn’t see him properly—the lamps were low.
‘I didn’t like that Tilley character,’ I confessed. ‘There was just something about her. Suspicious.’
‘As you say, sir. If that will be all?’
I always hated this bit. The point in the night when Jeeves—for whatever reason—decided that he’d added all he wanted to towards the conversation. I sometimes contrived to keep him on a little longer with some feigned just-remembered gossip or some task—but it made me feel shameful every time. Jeeves was ordered about by me all day. He didn’t need me keeping him from his clock-off just because I fancied his company for a little longer. ‘No, no, off you trot. You’ve fixed everything perfectly, Jeeves. I couldn’t ask for more.’ I was overdoing it, perhaps.
He nodded, and I gave him a toodle-pip. He turned the lamps down even further as he left. The view of the lake that had been so sparkling that afternoon now looked gloomy—an inky black stain in the window frame. I sank down deeper in my pillows and hoped I wouldn’t dream of drowning. ‘Buck up, Bertrand,’ I said to myself. ‘You do this every night.’ Still, it was a while until sleep took me.
The next morning, I was in another of my strops. It was unbecoming of me, I knew, so I was taking pains to hide it. Jeeves raised an eyebrow at me while I drank his secret-ingredient morning restorative. He had a knowing sort of look about his visage. ‘Are you not looking forward to the races today, sir?’
‘Of course I am. Horses and gambling odds and holding onto our hats. Just the thing.’
‘If I may be so bold, sir?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘You might remember that it is very hard to lie to one’s valet, sir. We are quite well attuned to all matters relating to our masters.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Well blast it, Jeeves, I can’t get anything past you, now can I?’
‘I admire the attempt, sir.’
‘Yes. Well. You’re on the money as always, Jeeves. I’m not looking forward to the races. I’d quite like to stay abed today. Perhaps have a bath. With the bubbles, you know the sort.’
‘I have become more familiar with said bubbles since entering your employ, sir. May I ask what has brought this mood about?’
‘That’s just the dashed thing—I haven’t the dickens. Everything was sunny as summer when I was going to bed. And then you left, and I felt rather put-out. More than the usual. And now I just can’t shake it.’
‘I see, sir.’ Absolutely nothing about Jeeve’s face changed; but nonetheless I detected something of a smug air about his person.
‘Well then, Jeeves? What theories do you have for me?’
‘You wish my assistance with deciphering your mood, sir?’
‘Just the thing.’
‘I am of the opinion, sir, that having another person tell you what you are feeling is never a fruitful endeavour. Some fruit—if you’ll pardon my metaphor, sir—should only be picked when ripe.’
I blinked a little—something about the way Jeeves had said “ripe” was quite stirring, and he slipped out of the room before I could say anything further. I thought I saw just the hint of a smirk about the corner of his mouth as he closed the door. Well, altogether he was acting like he had some scheme afoot. I hadn’t known that I was in the soup, as it were, at the moment—but then again, Tuppy was here, and I wouldn’t put it past him to have gotten into some situation that required the rescue of dashing old Bertie between the time I’d said goodnight and now. And I wouldn’t put it past Jeeves to be already working on some fix. I’d best keep my wits out me today, lest I be expected to steal some pearls or jump into a river.
But it was a rather typical day at the races, to my surprise. I won a little in the sweep, my shoes got dusty in a way that made Jeeves’ mouth rather pinched, and Tuppy fell in love with some new sweet-eyed barmaid or other—I didn’t listen to the whole of his gushing rave. Tuppy and I played some more cards before bed, and I turned in rather earlier than I had the night previous on account of consideration for poor Jeeves, who I knew would be up and waiting. Indeed, he was just furnishing my sheets with a hot water b. as I entered my rooms.
‘I’ll just fetch your tea, sir,’ he said. I busied myself with my ablutions while he stepped out. When he returned, I was pleased to see it was with more than the tea.
‘You’ve brought a book with you, Jeeves.’
‘Astute observation, sir. I thought I might read to you for a time. If you’re amendable, sir.’
‘Yes, that would be just the thing. Thank you, Jeeves.’
He turned to the page he’d bookmarked once we were both settled—me against my pillows, him perched on the edge of the armchair—and despite his straight back I knew this was a concession for poor Jeeves, whose feudal spirit did not look kindly on him sitting in the presence of the y. m. But it was at my instance that he sat, for I felt dratted strange laying down while he loomed over me with a book. We often spent evenings in this way at home, if either of us was not out at our clubs or otherwise busy. I was touched that he’d thought to bring The Hounds of Baskerville along so that the ritual could continue while away for this weekend in the country. Perhaps that was just the origin of my strop last night—a lack of accustomed bedtime story. Indeed, by the time Jeeves finished the chapter I was feeling quite mellow, and I was so close to sleep that I barely noticed his quiet goodnight nor the sic of the door as he closed it behind him.
We were back at home the next day, and the first thing I saw as I walked over the threshold was the pile of letters. ‘Has Miss Tilley written to you again, Jeeves?’ I could see easily enough that she hadn’t—none of those in the pile were of the curling-handwriting variety.
‘No, sir. I don’t anticipate she will be likely to resume her correspondence.’
‘Hmm’ I said. And then, unsure why I was continuing with this line of conversation, ‘I say, however did she become sweet on you in the first place?’
Jeeves took my hat and helped me remove my outer coat. He took his time hanging them up carefully on their pegs before turning to reply. I was not in the habit of waiting around for my valet, but this was a conversation I had started—and was strangely invested in—and I found myself unwilling to let it drop. ‘Whenever you permit me to divest your wardrobe of an offense, sir, I donate the garment in question to a working man across the way. As he is no gentleman, he cares nothing for colour or fashion; he is simply glad to have things of sturdy make and material. You can imagine how, sir, this man’s daughter may have come to see me as something of a provider and champion for her family. It is not surprising that certain affections on her behalf followed.’
‘On her behalf only, Jeeves?’
‘Indeed, sir.’
‘Well. That’s that, then, I suppose. I think I’ll take a g. and s. now, old chap.’
‘Dinner at eight, sir?’
‘Yes—that will be splendid.’ And I went about my evening with the feeling of an itch insufficiently scratched.
It was as I was having my bath that it all come together. I was ruminating on the whole Tilley situation, from the curly letter to the way she’d run away in the street to the way I’d told Jeeves she was rather mousey, when I recalled in perfect detail the conversation I’d had with Jeeves about marriage. More precisely, my lack of desire to go anywhere near the prospect, and my intention to continue on with bachelorhood. It occurred to me that Jeeves had expressed no such sentiments himself. I had been quite satisfied that Tilley had not caught his eye, but it may simply be a matter of time until Martha or Sally or Juliet or somesuch did. And then he would get married, and find a line of work that permitted him to be at home with his sweetheart and inevitable progeny, and I would be sans a valet. And suddenly my grand plans of bachelorhood, being an individual man and all that, seemed quite bleak.
‘Jeeves!’ I called him to me at once.
He had a knack of appearing around the door as though he’d only just been on the other side of it. Valet magic, I suppose. ‘How can I assist, sir?’
I sat up somewhat in the tub. ‘Well, Jeeves. The thing is.’ But I didn’t know, exactly, what the thing was. I hadn’t the words pre-prepared. I spread my bubbles a little to buy some time; his lips drew a little tighter, and his gaze stayed fixed on a spot just above my head. I cleared my throat, hoping that he would look at me—for some reason it felt like that would make things easier. ‘What I mean to say is. You see.’ I placed my hands on the sides of the tub, gripping on to the sturdy metal as though for strength. ‘Oh, dash it all, Jeeves. I don’t know how to say it.’
‘In English will quite suffice, sir.’
‘Don’t be like that, Jeeves, I’m having a moment here.’
‘Evidently, sir.’ But then the judging eyebrow lowered and he seemed to take some pity on me. ‘Perhaps if you started with the topic, sir, and then we might proceed from there.’
‘Yes. Jolly good, Jeeves. The topic is marriage, again. And my pledged lack of it.’
‘I see, sir. Forgive me, but I thought you were already quite decided, in these matters?’
‘Oh, I am. Couldn’t be more decided. You could place a bet on it, it’s such a sure thing. Write down the odds of the old Wooster getting voluntarily hitched as a million to one. Etch it in stone, if you like. No, no. I’m quite decided.’
‘Then, sir, am I right in deducing that your rumination is on the topic of marriage, but not on your own marriage?’
‘Spot of Sherlock Holmes there, Jeeves. Jolly good.’
‘Whose marriage are you contemplating, sir?’
‘Well, to put it bluntly, Jeeves, yours.’
‘I was not aware that I was engaged, sir.’
‘Oh. No, I didn’t think you were. I just. I wondered if you might want to be.’
A peculiar stillness came over him. He is usually ram-rod straight and quite tight with his expressions, but this was something else—as though he had stopped even breathing. Although, he did blink several times. ‘You were wondering, sir, if I might want to be engaged.’
‘Yes, Jeeves. Just as I said. I realise it’s not quite the done thing for me to ask you this, what with being your employer and all, but—but given what I have told you, about desiring to be bachelors together, I thought perhaps I might take the liberty of ah, sounding you out, so to speak, and seeing if you were of the same mind. You know. About it all.’
There was a time when we’d been driving home from a country weekend quite late, and Jeeves had begrudgingly stopped the car to allow Bertram to discreetly relieve the the bladder behind a tree. Just as I’d been tucking back in, I’d seen two great shapes moving in the dark. They’d put the blood in me as though they were the Hounds of Baskerville themselves, and I’d high-tailed it back to my man. Jeeves had heard me coming—and there may have been a shout or two emitted from the Wooster mouth—and seen the hounds behind me. His face had been white and wide as he’d fumbled in the car for an umbrella. He’d jumped in front of me and brandished it like it were a sword, and the hounds had hesitated long enough for me to start the car. We’d made our escape, but I’d noticed afterwards that Jeeves hands were rather shaking in his lap. ‘If I might take the liberty of suggesting that next time, you empty your bowels before we begin driving, sir,’ he had said, the rather crass statement belaying his emotion just as much as the soupy tone.
Jeeves looked at me now like he’d looked at the hounds. I almost expected him to reach for an umbrella to brandish, such was the similarity. At least he was no longer fixed at the empty point above my head. ‘I’m afraid I require you to be more explicit, sir. A misunderstanding at this juncture would be…’ He did not finish his sentence. I cannot recall a time Jeeves has ever not finished a sentence.
Were we having two different conversations? I saw no hounds in the line of questioning I had raised. I pressed forward, for it seemed the only way to go. And indeed, the more I explained, the more his shoulders relaxed and his posture thawed. ‘Well, I feel quite confident that you are unlikely to take this Miss Tilley for your wife. But perhaps some other lass with catch your fancy. Perhaps you’ll have a hankering for some little tots about your ankles, and woo yourself some Mrs. Jeeves for the job. And where would that leave old Bertram, what? So—so I suppose I am quite curious, as it were, if you have the same intentions as I do, and if our current arrangements might therefore continue, or if you plan to duck off someday and leave me Jeeves-less.’
It was an incredibly inappropriate question. Jeeves had every right to marriage. And no obligation to share his intentions with his employer. But he answered me directly, and in a much clearer manner than I had put the topic to him to begin with. ‘I assure you sir, that I have no intention, now or at any point in the future, of taking a wife.’
‘There. Well. That’s cleared the mud off it, hasn’t it? I will not marry, and you will not marry.’
‘Indeed, sir.’
‘Jolly good, Jeeves.’ I sank back into my bubbles. I felt as though a great issue had been resolved. ‘We’ll just be a pair of old bachelors, keeping each other company.’ It was a buoying thought.
‘As you say, sir. Will that be all?’ He was itching to get back to his tasks, I could tell. My suit for the morrow still needed ironing.
‘Yes, yes. Thank you, Jeeves.’
We continued in that way for some time. It was quite pleasant. There was a trip to the country or two, an engagement that Jeeves got me out of with the help of a cat and a duck—long story, that, especially in the finding of a duck while we were in the metrop. and not actually looking to eat the duck—and a great deal many sunny days with mellow evenings, coaxing Jeeves into joining me for a tune or two on the piano. We made it through the whole of the The Valley of Fear and then started in on the whole host of short stories that also featured the one S. H. and his faithful J. W. Wooster was most touched by The Three Garridebs, and I even heard Jeeves’ voice quaver a little while he read it. All in all, a rather pleasant summer was had. And it was made all the sweeter by my private little reminders to myself that Jeeves had said he would not marry—that I would get to keep this life, this contentment, until we were old and grey.
So those were the circs. when, one bally day just as spring was being sprung, my old chum Fink-Nottle turned up at my door. He had a tank full of newts in his arms and a face full of tears. ‘What-ho, old thing,’ I said.
‘Oh Bertie,’ he wept. ‘You have to help me.’
‘Er. Right-o. Well. Best come in, then.’
Fink-Nottle invaded the flat for the better part of two weeks. His woes with the current object of his affections demanded all of Jeeves’ attention and put me in several scrapes that raised the hairs at the back of the neck and the goosepimples on the arms and whatnot. But the worst of it were two things that happened right together, right at the end of Fink-Nottle’s stay.
The first was that his newts escaped their tub and decided that the kitchen was a bally place to be. Jeeves was fishing them out of cupboards and holding them by the tail with tight lips for several hours. He caught me for a quiet moment while Fink-Nottle was writing a letter to his beloved. ‘Sir, if this Mr Fink-Nottle does not vacate the flat within the next few days, I regret to inform that my resignation will be imminent.’ It was said in jest—at least I think it was. Jeeves has only left me the once, over the matter of my musical exploration which is not to be repeated, and it has been a private joke between us since then that when the going gets tough then Jeeves might be getting going. But jest or not, it had the effect of shocking me cold. Jeeves had declared he would not marry. But there were plenty of other ways he might leave me.
And Fink-Nottle reminded me of another as he himself was finally quitting my apartment. ‘I say, Bertie, I am forever in the debt of your Jeeves. He can name his price from me, I swear it. You know, I could probably get him a spot in the Queen’s household, if he wanted it. Do you think he’d like that?’
‘Maybe—I’ll let him know you’ve offered, old sport. Toodle-pip, now.’
I didn’t wish to pass on Fink-Nottle’s words at all. But I steeled myself to the task after dinner. It wouldn’t do to let Jeeves miss out on an opportunity just because I didn’t like the thought of him taking it. There were plenty of better households out there than mine. Jeeves was a smart fellow, and he made good impressions everywhere he went. It was only a matter of time before an offer similar to Fink-Nottle’s came past his ears, anyway. It was better that I know what he thought of such an idea now, rather than later. ‘Jeeves,’ I commenced.
‘Sir,’ he acquiesced. ‘What is your question this time? Do you need to start by naming the topic?’ I could tell from his tone that he had cottoned-on to the fact of my returning to our previous subject, although it had been months now since our last conversation on the matter.
‘No, Jeeves, I darn well don’t need to start that way. That was a momentary weakness of the grey matter, not a permanent state of my speech.’
‘I await the evidence, sir.’
‘Well, I will get right to it then—you see, Fink-Nottle is quite grateful to you.’
‘Is this regarding his intention for me to enter the employ of the Queen, sir?’
‘Yes—however did you know?’
‘He mentioned it several times, sir.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘That I am already employed, sir. That I am not looking for another position.’
‘Even with the Queen, Jeeves? Betram cannot possibly offer you more than that.’
‘I have heard, sir, that she very rarely travels.’
‘Well, I suppose that’s true. But there may be other masters who do. There are bound to be. I am sure you could ask around at that club of yours and find someone who would be able to pay twice the rate I can afford, and travel half the year, and who only wishes to ever wear black and white. And who has friends that are decidedly newt-less. Admit it, Jeeves.’
He came a step closer. He softened his voice a level. ‘All that may be true, sir.’
I felt my throat pinch up. ‘I knew it.’
‘I think you are forgetting, sir, that all that has already been true, for some time now. And you might recall, the matter of the American billionaire on the yacht? He was quite keen to hire me on. But who was there on solid ground the next morning, brewing your tea over a camp stove, sir?’
‘Oh. So—so you are saying you won’t leave? Even if a better offer for your services comes along?’
‘I struggle to imagine what a better offer would look like, sir.’
‘But—wages, and travel, and black and white, Jeeves.’
‘Even so, sir.’
I sat in silence for a time, and Jeeves fiddled with his cuffs. I didn’t feel that the conversation was quite done, but at the same time neither of us were continuing it. ‘Sit down, would you, Jeeves,’ I murmured, and to my surprise he did just that. Perched on the edge of the lounge with his hands in his lap, but still. We were of a level.
‘If I might be so bold, sir,’ he ventured.
‘Anything, old thing.’
‘Well. I wondered if I might ask the same thing of you in return.’
‘I don’t follow, Jeeves.’
‘It is only, sir, that.’ He re-arranged his thumbs in his lap. His next words were quieter still, and directed towards my middle-ish bits. ‘Well, you have had some bad experiences with valets in the past, sir. But we are not all of that same ilk. There are plenty younger men than I, with less opinion on the socks of their masters, and with greater proclivity for joining in at the piano—’
‘I’ll stop you right there, Jeeves. No. Not in a million years. Where would I be without you, what? No, I’d sooner marry Honoria Glossop than hand you your severance, Jeeves.’
He looked quite taken aback at that. ‘There’s no need to mention miss Honoria, sir.’
‘Quite right. I apologise for it. It’s just that you have shocked me. How could you imagine that I would cast you out like that? No. Even when you are too old to be a valet, I will still jolly well employ you, just for your company.’
‘You shall not have to pay me for that, sir.’
‘Just the same.’
‘Then you must see why what you suggested previously is just as offensive to me? It makes me bitter, sir, to know that you think so little of my loyalty that I might walk away to the first post that opens with the Queen. I apologise if my little joke about Mr Fink-Nottle’s newts misled you to think I was so fickle.’
‘It is not that I think little of your loyalty, my dear Jeeves, it is just that I remain pragmatic to the fact that there is little that binds you to me. The world is your oyster, and all that.’
‘Then let me give you my word—I will not seek another master. Not as long as you live.’
‘What if I treat you horribly?’
‘You couldn’t possibly, sir.’
‘Right, well. Jolly good.’ And then I remembered Jeeves’ request of a moment ago; that he might ask the same thing of me. ‘And for my part, Jeeves, I will not seek another valet.’ Some potential circs. occurred to me. ‘Well, unless you are grown too old, and we need to hire someone to tend to us both.’
An eyebrow twitched. ‘I see the sense in what you are suggesting, sir, but I am not sure I could allow it. Merely as a matter of professional pride.’
‘Very well! Even then. Consider yourself my very last valet, Jeeves.’
‘I am honoured, sir.’
‘Topping.’
If I had considered myself quite content before, the time after my latest conversation with Jeeves raised me to new heights of happiness. Ah, spring was in the air! The birds were singing! My very steps felt lighter. It was quite permanent, I told myself gleefully. Our arrangement was to continue indefinitely. I should have my man at my side as I sallied forth into the rest of my life—and what a sally I should make of it! Oh, I felt I could take on the world.
The glow of it only began to dim a slight bit when I realised that other people didn’t know all this. Other people didn’t know that Jeeves had vowed to take no other master—why, in that month alone he received no fewer than five offers of employment. Most from my disloyal, valet-snatching friends, and all of which Jeeves turned down with the look on his face he gets when staring firmly in the other direction while McIntoch cocks a leg, but still. The principle of it, and all that. It grated on me. I said as much to Jeeves. ‘I don’t like that it’s just words on the wind, Jeeves, this arrangement of ours.’
‘You do not trust my word, sir?’
‘No, of course that’s not it, old thing. Your word is as good as mine. I don’t doubt you in the slightest. It’s just that—well, I think I would feel somewhat reassured. If there were a thingy. You know. Some kind of actual evidence.’
‘Perhaps I could draw up a contract, sir? Similar to the one we signed upon my dispatch from the agency.’
‘That’s just the thing, Jeeves, you genius!’
Only, it wasn’t. It felt quite good signing the thing, B.W.W looking quite handsome and official next to R.J. For a few months I snuck out after Jeeves had gone to bed and looked at the contract by candle-light. I liked in particular the bit that said “for as long as they both shall live”. It was very nice. A brilliant idea. Quite the stroke of genius.
But for all of that, it was still a scrap of paper in a drawer. And Jeeves kept getting offers of employment. And my Aunts kept thrusting me in front of eligible young lasses like a worm on a hook. I needed something more obvious. More permanent. Something that would get everyone to leave us well enough alone so we could get on with the whole business of being a bachelor household.
I concocted the scheme entirely on my own. Getting Jeeves opinion on it would rather ruin the surprise, as it were. It wasn’t as elaborate a business as Jeeves might have done, but I thought it would be quite serviceable, and would leave us both quite satisfied. Jeeves had certainly sensed something was afoot—when I’d told him that we were going to Cuba for at least a month he had looked at me with narrowed eyes rather than leapt with glee like I’d thought he might’ve—but I was keeping mum about it and there was nothing he could do to loosen my lips. ‘All in good time, old boy,’ I said.
Nonetheless his shoulders loosened a bit the closer it got to our departure day, and soon we were both very much looking forward to the trip—although each for different reasons.
Our little house in Cuba was everything I’d hoped it would be. We overlooked a rather private beach and had rolling hills all around us; but were close enough to town that Jeeves was not too put out about fetching the shopping. For a few days I gave every pretence of having nothing on my mind but a holiday. I paddled about in the water a bit, and sat snoozing in the afternoon sun, and took a stroll about the hills in the evening. I insisted that Jeeves spirit himself away to a spot of fishing, test out the old hobby, as it were, and lo and behold he brought us back supper. Topping.
We had been by the beach, doing little of note, for about four days when I insisted one evening that Jeeves sit down with me by the fire and pour himself a brandy. He was as stiff and awkward about sit down with the y. m. as he always is, the frog expression rather taking over his map, but after a good while of staring into the fire his spine relaxed—by perhaps one degree. It helped that his nose had a smattering of sunburn across it—he’d been holding a fishing p. all day, searching for the next catch, and had refused to swap out his usual bowler for a more sensible hat.
‘No doubt you’ve been wondering, Jeeves,’ I began, ‘why I have finally acquiesced to bring you to Cuba.’
‘A saying comes to mind, sir, about the mouths of gift horses.’
‘Yes, yes. But I know you have suspected some scheme, haven’t you, old chap?’
‘I was curious whether you might have a particular purpose in mind for this trip, sir.’
‘Well, you were right. We are here to get married, Jeeves.’
He had just taken a sip of his drink—it went down rather roughly. I rose to try and help him—a pat on the back is the done thing for a cough, is it not?—but he extended a hand in protest, and recovered himself. ‘If you would be so good as to repeat that, sir,’ he said once he’d found his voice again.
‘Yes—I understand your surprise. It wasn’t long ago I was harping on to you about promises of not entering matrimony, and now here I am suggesting just the opposite. Well, you see, there’s a bit of a scheme in it.’
‘I beg you to enlighten me, sir.’
‘Well, here’s the thing; we have alighted to Cuba, everyone of our acquittance knows it. It stands to reason that I might find some lass here who takes my fancy, and—although it hurts my Wooster code deeply to admit this, Jeeves, yes, it positively chafes—my relatives would not think it unlikely that, uh, I might cause some scandal or other that would necessitate a quick wedding. So, it is altogether plausible for me to get married while in Cuba. Now, here’s the good bit, Jeeves.’
‘I was waiting for that, sir.’
‘Yes. What everyone also knows about Cuba is that it is not London. Not exactly as civilized as the old metrop., is Cuba. So, people would also readily believe that, shortly after my nuptials, my newly minted wife could be killed in a tragic robbery gone wrong.’
‘So just to clarify, sir, the wife you are proposing to obtain is of the entirely fictional variety?’
‘Just so, Jeeves. And something similar would happen to you, of course—you can figure out the details of your own story, I’m sure, to add a little—what’s the word, Jeeves? Vermin? Versailles?’
‘Verisimilitude, sir.’
‘That’s the ticket.’
‘I hardly think that people will buy two tall stories of this ilk, sir. One of us becoming a widower will be quite enough for people to swallow.’
‘Oh.’ I sunk a little against my cushions. Swirled my glass so the ice cubes bashed against one another. ‘Oh, well that rather ruins it, then.’
‘Sir?’
‘You really don’t think they’d believe two such stories? I know I didn’t do a great job laying it out, just then, but if you were delivering the lines, I’m sure they’d be much better received.’
‘I’m afraid it is not a feat even I could achieve, sir.’
‘Oh. Well, dash that, then.’ I sighed. I felt rather sorry for myself. That would teach me to think I could scheme on my own.
Jeeves looked at my face and then back at the fire, rather quickly. Most un-Jeeves-like of him; he’s usually so graceful and confident. ‘Sir, if I may take the liberty of asking—why are you proposing this course of action?’
‘Well, I would have thought it would be obvious, Jeeves. The longer I remain un-hitched, as it were, the more ravenous my Aunts become. I fear for the Wooster personage, Jeeves, if I should resist them much longer. If I were to take a fake wife, they would be forced to desist with their meddling, nephew-crushing ways.’
‘Yes, the advantages did occur to me, sir. But why should it matter that I present a similar fiction to the world?’
‘Well. Two birds, one stone, and all that. You see, I have been thinking a little further on the matter of evidence, Jeeves. And I do not scorn the bit of paper you did up at all—a brilliant job, you did there, but. Well. I have to open a drawer to look at it, don’t I? And when we meet a stranger on the street—they are hardly instantly aware that you are not in the jobs market, are they?’
‘Am I right in hearing, sir, that you desire—’ he swallowed. ‘You wish for me to carry some visible marker of my commitment to you, sir? One that strangers would also recognise?’
‘A hole in one, Jeeves! And vice versa of course. And so—the rings.’
‘The rings, sir?’ There was something of the hounds in his voice. His grip on his glass was rather tight.
‘Yes, yes. Just a mo—I’ll fetch them.’ The little box was in hidden in my trunk, in amongst my paperback novels. It was the one place I knew Jeeves was unlikely to tidy—he had said once that while he could not stop me from reading such un-improving literature, I could hardly expected him to handle the things. I was back in the sitting room in a jiffy, box in hand, and I found that Jeeves had not moved an inch since I’d left him. As I resumed my seat, he eyed the contents of my fist like I had knives in my mit rather than jewellery. ‘Here,’ I said. For all his strange behaviour I was still jolly excited to show him—I had gone to great lengths to keep it all a surprise. I popped the lid on the box, and saw his eyes widen a little further. I pointed at the larger ring. ‘That one is for you—I stole your glove a few weeks back so I could get it re-sized. It should make for a proper fit, now.’
‘The mystery of the missing glove is solved at last, sir’ he said, but it sounded strange—like he were speaking automatically, and his actual thoughts were elsewhere.
‘It was my grandfathers,’ I went on. ‘The one from my Mum’s side. Polished up as good as new, don’t you think?’ I picked up the smaller ring and tossed it once. ‘This one is, uh, well, it’s just something that’s been rattling around in my jewellery box for an age, to tell the truth. My aunt’s late cousin’s? Or something. I’m not quite sure. Looks serviceable enough, though.’ Some instinct made me put the ring back in the box. The two together looked quite fitting, sitting in their little snug of green velvet.
‘You wish for me to wear your grandfather’s ring, sir. As a mark of your commitment to me, sir.’
‘Yes, Jeeves.’ I wondered if he was well—he didn’t typically just repeat and summarise what I said. It felt rather like having a parrot in the room with me. ‘That is indeed what I am suggesting.’
‘Are you aware, sir, that the giving of a family heirloom in the form of a ring is typically the distinct mark of a proposal?’ His eyes were still on the box. I resisted the temptation to snap the thing shut and force his attention back to the y. m. I never expected Jeeves to be one whose head got carried away by a little gold.
‘Well, yes, that’s true. I’m not suggesting that we actually get married, though.’ I chuckled, imagining it. ‘A pastor would have to be short of quite a lot of the old grey matter to let the pair of us through the doors of a church in wedding get up. No, it just wouldn’t happen. But—look, I realise it is not quite the done thing to be so frank about it all, I’m not trying to offend your sensibilities—but well, don’t you agree that we have stumbled into quite a similar posish, anyway? What with all our vows of never leaving each other, and all. Wouldn’t it be nice to have somethingy to commemorate the occasion?’
‘It would be nice to wear rings that commemorate our vows, sir?’
‘Damnit Jeeves, stop just repeating everything that I’m saying. You’re making feel somewhat like I’m speaking Swahili. Well, I’m not, Jeeves, I’m speaking plain English, and you don’t need to decode my every word like this. I’ve not hidden anything out back. There are no hounds around, Jeeves.’
He stood rather suddenly. He placed his crystal glass on the sideboard and quit the room without even so much as a pip-pip.
I was floored by his actions. Utterly blasted. You could have told me my own shoes were on fire and I would not have stomped them out, so full was my old bean with the processing of what had just happened. Jeeves slipped in and out of rooms like an eel—always somehow sensing just when I needed him, always appearing and taking his leave like the door was not even there. Sometimes I swore that he shimmied right through the crack between the hinges, where the draughts come through. But this was markedly different. This had not been the graceful shimmy of a valet at the top of his game; this had been a heavy near-run. The door could not quite have said to have slammed behind him, but it had been close.
He came back before I had even had the chance for a bracing sip of my brandy. ‘I apologise for my behaviour just now, sir. That was most unprofessional of me.’
I could only shake the old onion. ‘Jeeves, I was not trying to have a professional conversation with you.’
‘Even so, sir.’
‘Well—you’re forgiven, of course. Come back, old sport, sit down.’
He eyed the rings, still sitting in their box on the couch next to me. ‘I think I’ll stay just here, sir, if it’s all the same to you.’
‘Have I said something to offend you, Jeeves?’ It occurred to me that I had been rather brash.
‘No, sir. Quite the opposite.’
‘Then I am at a loss for what is wrong.’
He took a breath. Lifted his chin a finger. ‘Sir, I cannot accept what you are offering.’
‘Oh. Er. Right, that’s fine, then. At least you’ve got a Cuban holiday out of it, what?’
‘I cannot accept, sir, because I do not believe you actually understand what you are offering.’
‘It’s only a small amount of gold, Jeeves, really—’
‘If you will permit me to finish, sir.’
That made me sit up straighter. ‘Go on, then.’
‘To summarise your scheme, sir, you are suggesting that we arrive back in London with matching rings that we tell everyone are the result of quickly-wed and quickly-buried wives. While actually, we would know that the rings are a symbol of the state we have reached together that is as much like marriage as can be achieved between two men who the Church of England will not recognise. You are suggesting, in short, sir, that I become your husband.’ He paused here, to cough. I was glad he didn’t look at me—I knew the expression on my mug must have been one of my most bewildered. ‘I am not disagreeable, sir, but I also cannot in good consciousness accept. I know your code will force you to persist with the role even if you realise that you have made a mistake. And I could not bear that, sir. So, I put to you two options; you may put those rings away, and I will continue as your valet with nothing changed between us—a sound option, sir, I do recommend it. Or, you may think more deeply on what you are asking, and if you still find it to your liking, you may ask again—this route, I am afraid, is the riskier.’
‘Jeeves, I know that I want—’
‘Deep thinking usually requires more than a few seconds, sir.’
‘Oh, very well. You usually know best, Jeeves. I’ll do the darned thinking.’ I snatched the box up from the couch and put in my pocket. Jeeves unthawed a little.
‘Very good, sir.’
That night, there was no bedtime story. I could sense Jeeves needed a little space, so I did not press him on it. Or perhaps he was simply giving me some thinking time; well, I had a good go at it, really I did, sat there in bed and tossed the whole conversation back and forth like a tennis b., but the thinking business has always been more of Jeeves domain, if I’m honest, and so I didn’t really get very far. I mainly just replayed Jeeves saying “husband”, which sounded so peculiar and stirring. And made no sense—I was another cove, not a filly. How could Jeeves be my husband? It didn’t work that way—hence my point about the church. But he’d said that back when he did his summary thingamy, so he knew that himself. Perplexing—I couldn’t puzzle it through.
‘Jeeves,’ I said when he came in the next morning with my b. and e. and a pot of tea. ‘I admit I may need your help with this thinking business.’
He became rather frog-like. ‘I suppose I could permit a well-considered question here or there, sir.’
‘Jolly good, Jeeves.’ I mulled on what I would ask all through breakfast. When he came to take my plates, I put it to him; ‘If you became my—’ I had been meaning to say husband, but I admit the old nerves deserted me before I’d even got the word started. ‘Well, if you were to take the role that you mentioned last night, as it were. Um. Would that mean you would stop being my valet?’
He aligned my knife and fork so they were sitting straight together on the plate, then put the whole ensemble onto the tray. ‘I flatter myself that I might be able to manage both roles, sir. But there would be times, yes, where I would have to be one at the exclusion of the other.’
‘What times might those be, Jeeves?’
‘Well, in public, sir, I can of course only ever be a valet.’
‘Right. Yes. That makes sense. And I suppose I’ll have to muster up some tears for this dead wife of mine, make a scene of it now and then.’
‘Will you be needing your bathing suit today, sir?’
‘Oh. Ah, yes, I suppose so. Looks a cracking day for it, doesn’t it, Jeeves?’
‘If you say so say, sir.’
The water was quite bracing, but the sun was glorious and plentiful. I came home for lunch quite salty and with sand in places I’d rather not name. Jeeves arrived at near to the same time, his fishing bucket looking rather empty and his suit looking decidedly wet. ‘I say, whatever happened to you, Jeeves?’
‘I was swept off the rocks by a wave, sir.’ His hair was lank around his neck—I’d never seen him in such disarray.
‘Well, by Jove. You look like you could use the shower more than I could. Go on, I’ll wait my turn.’ There was an outdoor thingamee with a wall right around it for privacy. I’d been heading there myself before I’d seen poor Jeeves.
‘No, sir, I couldn’t possibly make myself fresh while you were standing about like that. Have some consideration for my pride as a valet, I beg you, sir.’
‘Oh. Er. Very well, then Jeeves.’ But I paused after I’d taken only a few steps. ‘I say. What if you weren’t a valet, right now? What if it was one of those, or the other, type, situations?’
Jeeves looked at me directly. Deadpan, he said; ‘a husband might expect to share a shower, sir.’
‘Share?’ I spluttered. ‘But—sharing a meal, sharing a cab—sure, yes—a shower? How would one even…? Both of us would be half clean and all shivering, I’m sure.’
‘I should hope so, sir.’
‘What?’ I felt the conversation was running away from me. It seemed this was one of the things that Jeeves had been alluding to when he’d said I didn’t know what I was offering. Well, he’d been right—I never thought that giving someone a ring meant giving up half your hot water from there on out. ‘I will take this under consideration, Jeeves.’ It was a mark against, to be sure. But as I undressed behind the wall and picked the sand out of my hair, I had the niggling sense that there was something a little more to it that I was missing. Perhaps this was one of those unripe fruit situations. Perhaps there were hidden benefits. It might in fact be rather nice if Jeeves was there to wash my hair, I concluded. He sometimes did that for my baths.
That night, Jeeves acquiesced to read aloud a little before I met with the sand man, began counting the sheep, catching the z’s, and all that. The trouble is, I hadn’t the foggiest what was going on in the story—all I could hear was the numerous references to husbands. One husband fetched flowers for his wife every day. Jeeves already did that, for my buttonholes and the arrangements on the side tables. A little later in the story another husband flew into a great rage when some rummy crook put his hands on the man’s wife; the crook was soundly beaten and the wife spirited away safely home. Well, I’ll be damned if Jeeves hadn’t snatched me from the fearsome clutches of plenty of rummy lasses. Finally, yet another husband sallied forth into battle against a great beast for the protection of his intended. I was reminded again of Jeeves against the hounds. With the umbrella. All in all, it seemed like there were quite a few places where the roles of husband and the role of valet were one and the same. Which still left me perplexed about what fuss Jeeves was kicking up. I told him as much, and he glared at me—actually glared! ‘I think that will be all for tonight, sir.’ He snapped the book shut.
‘Now, Jeeves, don’t be like that. I really am trying, here, you know.’
He softened immediately. I knew I could rely on the old Wooster blues. ‘I know that, sir.’
‘I don’t know why you have to be so cagey about it all. Can’t you just tell me whatever the soup I’m in is all about? You know my bean turns a little slower than yours. Help me out, Jeeves. I beg you.’
He was quiet for a time. He seemed to be considering, so I resisted the urge to press him. I kept batting away at the Wooster blues, thinking that might help. Evidently it did. ‘If you insist, sir.’
‘I really do.’
‘Very well. I suppose it might be illustrious if I provided a… demonstration, sir.’
‘Yes. Jolly good. Demonstrate away.’
‘Before I begin, sir—am I right in thinking that I have your permission to act, for a time, as though I were a husband, and not a valet?’
‘Yes, precisely, Jeeves. Show me what you think I’m missing.’
‘As you wish, sir.’ He took a deep breath, and then let it out. All the froggy-ness fell away from his face. ‘Move over, then. I’ll join you up there.’
I obliged; I scooted my rear end across until there was a Jeeves-sized spot on the bed. He toed off his shoes, and slipped in. Under the covers—I had not expected that. He adjusted the pillows a little behind him, and then leaned back. ‘Come here, now.’
‘What’s that now, what?’ But his arms guided me; soon enough I was tucked in against his chest, my head over his shoulder sort of area, and his arm all around my back, keeping me from vibrating out of there with the strangeness of it all.
He opened the book again, and read one-handed, and I admit I didn’t hear a single word this time, not even the bits about husbands. His heartbeat was far too loud under my ear. His hand moved up from where it had been tucked at my waist to pet softly at my hair. Oh. I was jelly. Butter. Anything else which is soft and agreeable. On that cloud with the number.
‘Are you tired?’ He asked, seeming to realise that I was not following a whit of what was being read. Perhaps I’d failed to laugh at a joke that would’ve usually drawn me.
‘Of a sort,’ I said. I felt so relaxed I could’ve drifted away at any moment—but I also felt like it was worth hedging my bets. Lest he declare the demonstration finished.
‘Let’s lay down, then.’ He put the book aside. He lay down. He arranged me for a second time, and the outcome was much the same—my head against his chest, his arm down my back.
‘Well I say,’ I said, just for something to say.
He made a sort of little hum in agreeance. ‘Might I conclude that you are… comfortable?’
‘Quite. But, there’s something strange going on with your voice, Jeeves.’ He was low and soft, as befitted how close his mouth was to my ear. But it was something more than that.
‘My Christian name is Reginald.’
‘Right. Of course.’ I hadn’t known that. How had I not known that?
‘A husband would not keep up formalities in the bedroom.’
‘Right.’ And suddenly it occurred to me what was different. I sat up on my elbow to look at him, my maw hanging open. ‘Jeeves! I’ve not heard a single “sir” from you in… well, in several minutes, at least.’
He came up on his elbow to match me. It brought our faces quite close. I couldn’t explain how, but he looked rather sad. One of his hands was still in my hair. ‘God help me,’ he whispered, and I almost choked to hear it—for never once had I heard Jeeves take the Lord’s n. in v. But then I was struggling to breathe for a very different reason when he leant right on in and gave me a labial press. He’d closed his eyes, but mine were quite open, and I could see that little smudge of sunburn, and the quiver of his eyebrows, as though they didn’t know quite how to control themselves, and then he was pulling away, and his hand dropped from my onion to my arm. He watched me quite carefully while I sat there like a fish, opening and closing my mouth, my gut having very thoroughly been hooked. He made no attempt to reel me in—he just let me flap about in the shallows on my own, the bastard.
‘Oh,’ I said, after an age had passed. ‘I think—well. That demonstrates it quite clearly, Jeeves.’
‘Do you see now, sir? The difference?’
‘But. But I never thought. I mean. It’s illegal, isn’t it? A few years in prison, at the least?’
‘Have you or have you not stolen several policeman’s helmets, sir?’
‘A fair point, Jeeves.’
He got up. He needed to tug twice at his tie before it was sitting properly. He slipped on first one shoe and then the other. It was up on his stilts, with his back to me, that he said; ‘I will leave you to your thinking, sir.’
‘I’m not sure I’m in much of a state for it, old sport.’
‘All the same, sir. It must be done.’ He stopped at the doorway, his hand upon the knob. ‘And you should know, sir, that I do not harbour expectations either way. I would hate for you to feel obligated to anything, sir. I will even tender my resignation, if you wish it.’
That stirred me. ‘No—you cannot—you promised, Jeeves. You cannot go back on your word.’
‘I have no desire to do so, sir. But I would understand if my demonstration has changed the situation in a way that is unacceptable, for you.’
He was gone before I could reply. Too late, I considered that I should have gotten out of bed and gone after him. I was dazed and spinning, I’ll admit—my mind’s eye was still rather full of twitching eyebrows.
I got very little sleep that night. My pillows were altogether too soft. They didn’t pat my hair in the slightest. I tried my best, for Jeeves’ sake, to do some deep thinking in between my attempts at shut-eye. I don’t know if I managed it, but I do know that by morning I had my conclusion. When Jeeves came in with my breakfast tray, I was sitting against the backboard and I had the rings in my lap. His eye dropped to them immediately. ‘Are you quite sure, sir,’ he said. The tea was steaming up towards his ears.
‘Dash it, Jeeves, I don’t know how much more thinking you expect me to do. I’ve just about wrung the old grey matter out. Worked the old onion harder than I have in years. For the rest of the week I’ll not be able to answer anything more than simple questions, I expect.’ It was a bit of an exaggeration. In truth I’d mostly avoided any thinking altogether and instead replayed in my head over and over the bit where the froggy-ness fell away from Jeeves’ face. ‘So yes. I’m quite sure.’
He brought the tea tray to my bedside table. He perched himself on the edge of my bed. There was something of a gleam to his eye. ‘Well, if you insist, sir.’
‘I do, Jeeves. No getting out of this one, I’m afraid.’ I picked my Grandfather’s ring out from the green velvet and thrust it at him. But instead of taking it from me, he simply held out his hand, knuckles-up. ‘Right-o’, I said. It took a few stabs to locate the right finger, but eventually ring was met with the correct appendage, and Jeeves was looking smug.
‘If I might suggest some amendments to your scheme, sir?’
‘Oh, thank goodness.’ I’ll admit my plan was a little vague around the edges. Now that Jeeves was turning his eye to it, things were sure to be sorted out properly. ‘Suggest away, my man.’
‘Well, a dead wife will not keep your aunts off our backs for very long, sir. It makes sense for me to be the one who acquired and lost a lady companion here in Cuba, thus explaining my new jewellery, sir. Everyone knows I love Cuba—it will not be hard to swallow that I got carried away while on holiday. For you, I think a lavender marriage will be more suitable. Luckily, I happen to have two ladies of my acquittance who might owe me a favour.’
‘Wait a mo., Jeeves. You want me to marry two ladies?’
‘In a fashion, sir, yes.’
‘But it’s all part of your scheme?’
‘Indeed, sir. Imperative. You see, I have in my drawer at home a ring given to me by my later mother. I would quite like you to wear it, sir.’
‘Oh. I’d be honoured, Jeeves.’ I wasn’t too clear on the details of this plan of his—but I trusted that it would work out in the end. It always did, with Jeeves. ‘That is—’ I cleared my throat ‘—I’d be honoured, Reggie.’
His eyebrow jumped. ‘My Christian name is Reginald, sir.’
‘Yes. So you said. But you also said that a husband would not stand on ceremony in the bedroom. So, I needn’t call you by the whole ten syllables, what? Reggie has quite a ring to it, I think.’
Jeeves got the look about his map that he gets when I waltz into the flat wearing a hat with too much style. ‘If you must,’ he said, pinched-lips and all. But I did notice that he’d left off the “sir”.