The Jeeves Omnibus - Vol 2: (Jeeves & Wooster): No. 2 (35 page)

‘Tomorrow night, I understand, sir.’

‘Well, I must say this has brightened the horizon considerably.
When
I have breakfasted, I will go out and buy a costume. Sinbad the Sailor, don’t you think?’

‘That should prove most effective, sir.’

‘Not forgetting the ginger whiskers that go with it.’

‘Precisely, sir. They are of the essence.’

‘If you’ve finished the packing, you can cram it into the small suitcase.’

‘Very good, sir.’

‘We’ll drive down, of course.’

‘Possibly it would be best, sir, if I were to make the journey by train.’

‘A bit haughty, this exclusiveness, is it not, Jeeves?’

‘I should have mentioned, sir, that Miss Hopwood rang up, hoping that you would be able to accommodate her in your car. Assuming that I should be falling in with your wishes in doing so, I took the responsibility of replying that you would be quite agreeable.’

‘I see. Yes, that’s all right.’

‘Her ladyship has also telephoned.’

‘Aunt Agatha?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘No rot, I trust, about having changed her mind and decided not to rally round young Thos?’

‘Oh, no, sir. It was merely to leave a message, saying that she wishes you to call in at Aspinall’s in Bond Street before you leave, and secure a brooch which she purchased there yesterday.’

‘She does, does she? Why me?’ I asked, speaking with a touch of acerbity, for I rather resented this seeming inability on the relative’s part to distinguish between a nephew and a district messenger boy.

‘I understand that the trinket is a present for Lady Florence, sir, who is celebrating her birthday today. Her ladyship wishes you to convey it to its destination personally, realizing that, should she entrust it to the ordinary channels, the gift will be delayed in its arrival beyond the essential date.’

‘You mean, if she posts it, it won’t get there in time?’

‘Precisely, sir.’

‘I see. Yes, there’s something in that.’

‘Her ladyship appeared a little dubious as to your ability to carry through the commission without mishap –’

‘Ho!’

‘– but I assured her that it was well within your scope.’

‘I should think so,’ I said, piqued. I balanced a thoughtful lump of sugar on the teaspoon. ‘So it’s Lady Florence’s birthday, is it?’ I
said,
pondering. ‘This opens up a social problem on which I should be glad to have your opinion. Ought I to weigh in with a present?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Not necessary, you think?’

‘No, sir. Not after what has occurred.’

I was glad to hear him say so. I mean, while one wants on all occasions to do the
preux
thing, it is a tricky business, this bestowing of gifts, and apt to put ideas into a girl’s head. Coming on top of
Spindrift
and Spinoza, the merest bottle of scent at this juncture might well have set such a seal upon my glamour as to cause the beasel to decide to return Stilton to store and make other arrangements.

‘Well, I defer to your judgement, Jeeves. No present for La Craye, then.’

‘No, sir.’

‘But, while on this subject, we shall shortly have to be nosing round for one for La Hopwood.’

‘Sir?’

‘A wedding gift. She’s gone and got engaged to Boko Fittleworth.’

‘Indeed, sir? I am sure I wish the young lady and gentleman every happiness.’

‘Well spoken, Jeeves. Me, too. The projected union, I may say at once, is one that has my complete approval. Which is not always the case when a pal puts the banns up.’

‘No, sir.’

‘Too often on such occasions one feels, as I feel so strongly with regard to poor old Stilton, that the kindly thing to do would be to seize the prospective bridegroom’s trousers in one’s teeth and draw him back from danger, as faithful dogs do to their masters on the edge of precipices on dark nights.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘But in the present case I have no such misgivings. Each of the contracting parties, in my opinion, has picked a winner, and it is with a light heart that I shall purchase the necessary fish slice. I am even prepared, if desired, to be best man and make a speech at the wedding breakfast, and one cannot say more than that.’

‘No, sir.’

‘Right ho, Jeeves,’ I said, flinging back the bedclothes and rising from the couch. ‘Unchain the eggs and bacon. I will be with you in a moment.’

After I had broken the fast and smoked a soothing cigarette, I sallied forth, for I had a busy morning before me. I popped in at
Aspinall’s
and pocketed the brooch, and thence repaired to the establishment of the Cohen Bros, in Covent Garden, well known among the cognoscenti as the Mecca for the discriminating seeker after fancy dress costumes. They were fortunately able to supply me with the required Sinbad, the last they had in stock, and a visit to a nearby theatrical wiggery put me in possession of an admirable set of ginger whiskers, thus giving me a full hand.

The car was at the door on my return, a suitcase of feminine aspect in its rumble. This seemed to indicate that Nobby had arrived, and as I had expected I found her in the sitting-room, sipping a refresher.

It having been some considerable time since we had foregathered, there ensued, of course, a certain period of leaping about and fraternizing. Then, having put away a refresher myself, I escorted her to the car and bunged her in. Jeeves, following my instructions, had placed the small suitcase with the Sinbad in it beneath the front seat, so that it should be under my personal eye, and we were thus all set. I trod on the self-starter and we began the journey, Jeeves standing on the pavement, seeing us off like an archbishop blessing pilgrims, his air that of one who would shortly be following by train with the heavy luggage.

Though sorry to be deprived of this right-hand man’s society, for his conversation always tends to elevate and instruct, I was glad to get Nobby alone. I wanted to hear all about this pending merger with Boko. Each being a valued member of my entourage, the news that they were affianced had interested me strangely.

I am never much of a lad for chatting in traffic, and until I had eased the vehicle out of the congested districts I remained strong and silent, the lips tense, the eyes keen. But when we were bowling along the Portsmouth Road, with nothing to distract the attention, I got down to it.

‘SO YOU AND
Boko are planning to leap in among the orange blossoms?’ I said. ‘I had the news from Stilton yesterday, and was much stirred.’

‘I hope you approve?’

‘Thoroughly. Nice work, in my opinion. I think you’re both on to a good thing, and would be well advised to push it along with the utmost energy. I have always considered you an extremely sound young potato.’

She thanked me for these kind words, and I assured her that the tribute was well deserved.

‘As for Boko,’ I proceeded, ‘one of the best, of course. I could tell you things about Boko which would drive it well into your nut that you have picked a winner.’

‘You don’t have to.’

Her voice was soft and tender, like that of a hen crooning over its egg, and it was easy to see that, as far as she was concerned, Cupid’s dart had done its stuff. I gave the wheel a twiddle, to avoid a casual dog, and went into my questionnaire. I always like to know all the facts on these occasions.

‘When did you arrange this match?’

‘About a week ago.’

‘But you felt it coming on before that, I take it?’

‘Oh, yes. Directly we met.’

‘When was that?’

‘At the end of May.’

‘It was love at first sight, was it?’

‘It was.’

‘On his side, also?’

‘On his side, also.’

Well, I could readily understand Boko falling in love at first sight with Nobby, of course, for she is a girl liberally endowed with oomph. But how she could have fallen in love at first sight with Boko beat me. The first sight of Boko reveals to the beholder an object with a
face
like an intellectual parrot. Furthermore, as is the case with so many of the younger literati, he dresses like a tramp cyclist, affecting turtleneck sweaters and grey flannel bags with a patch on the knee and conveying a sort of general suggestion of having been left out in the rain overnight in an ash can. The only occasion on which I have ever seen Jeeves really rattled was when he met Boko for the first time. He winced visibly and tottered off to the kitchen, no doubt to pull himself together with cooking sherry.

I mentioned this to Nobby, and she said she knew what I meant.

‘You would think he was the sort of man who would have to grow on a girl – gradually, as it were – wouldn’t you? But no. There was one startled moment when I wondered if I was seeing things, and then – bang – like a thunderbolt.’

‘As quick as that, was it?’

‘Yes.’

‘And his reactions were similar?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, here’s something I don’t understand. You say you met in May, and we are now in July. Why did he take such a dickens of a time wooing you?’

‘He didn’t exactly woo me.’

‘How do you mean, not exactly? A man either woos or he does not woo. There can be no middle course.’

‘There were reasons why he couldn’t let himself go.’

‘You speak in riddles, young Nobby. Still, as long as he got round to it eventually. And when are the bells going to ring out in the little village church?’

‘I don’t know if they ever are.’

‘Eh?’

‘Uncle Percy doesn’t seem to think so.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He disapproves of the match.’

‘What!’

I was astounded. It seemed to me for an instant that she must be pulling the Wooster leg. Then, scrutinizing her closely, I noted that the lips were tight and the brow clouded. This young Hopwood is a blue-eyed little half portion with, normally, an animated dial. The dial to which I refer was now contorted with anguish, as if she had just swallowed a bad oyster.

‘You don’t mean that?’

‘I do.’

‘Egad!’ I said.

For this was serious. Nobby, you see, was peculiarly situated. As often occurs, I believe, when Girl A becomes the ward of Bloke B, a clause had been inserted in the contract to the effect that there must be no rot about her marrying without the big chief’s consent till she was twenty-one or forty-one or something. So if Uncle Percy really had an anti-Boko complex, he was in a position to bung a spanner into the works with no uncertain hand.

I couldn’t get it.

‘But why? The man must be cuckoo. Boko is one of our most eligible young bachelors. He makes pots of money with his pen. You see his stuff everywhere. That play he had on last year was a substantial hit. And they were saying at the Drones the other day that he’s had an offer to go to Hollywood. Has he?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, then.’

‘Oh, I know all that. But what you’re overlooking is the fact that Uncle Percy is the sort of man who is suspicious of writers. He doesn’t believe in their solvency. He’s been in business all his life, and he can’t imagine anybody having any real money except a business man.’

‘But he must know that Boko’s dashed near being a celebrity. He’s had his photograph in the
Tatler
.’

‘Yes, but Uncle Percy has the idea that an author’s success is here today and gone tomorrow. Boko may be doing all right now, but he feels that his earning capacity may go phut at any moment. I suppose he pictures himself having to draw him out of the bread line a year or two from now and support him and me and half a dozen little Boko’s for the rest of our lives. And then, of course, he was prejudiced against the poor darling from the start.’

‘Because of those trousers?’

‘They may have helped perhaps.’

‘The man’s an ass. Boko’s a writer. He must know that writers are allowed a wide latitude. Besides, though I wouldn’t care to have Jeeves hear me say so, trousers aren’t everything.’

‘But the real reason was that he thought Boko was a butterfly’

I couldn’t follow her. She had me fogged. Anything less like a butterfly than good old Boko I’ve never set eyes on.

‘A butterfly?’

‘Yes. Flitting from flower to flower and sipping.’

‘And he doesn’t like butterflies?’

‘Not when they flit and sip.’

‘What on earth has put the extraordinary idea into his head that Boko’s a flitting sipper?’

‘Well, you see, when he arrived in Steeple Bumpleigh, he was engaged to Florence.’

‘What!’

‘It was she who made him settle there. That was what I meant when I said that he couldn’t woo me, as you call it, with any real abandon at first. Being engaged to Florence sort of hampered him.’

I was amazed. I nearly ran over a hen in my emotion.

‘Engaged to Florence? He never told me.’

‘You haven’t seen him for some time.’

‘No, that’s true. Well, I’ll be dashed. Did you know that I was once engaged to Florence?’

‘Of course.’

‘And now Stilton is.’

‘Yes.’

‘How absolutely extraordinary. It’s like one of those great race movements you read about.’

‘I suppose it’s her profile that does it. She has a lovely profile.’

‘Seen from the left.’

‘Seen from the right, too.’

‘Well, yes, in a measure, seen from the right, too. But would that account for it? I mean, in these busy days you can’t spend your whole time dodging round a girl, trying to see her sideways. I still maintain that this tendency on the part of the populace to get engaged to Florence is inexplicable. And that made Uncle Percy a bit frosty to Boko?’

‘Glacial.’

‘I see. One understands his point of view, of course. He frowns on this in and out running. Florence yesterday, you today. I suppose he thinks you are just another of the flowers that Boko is flitting in on for sipping purposes.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘And, in addition, he doubts his earning capacity.’

‘Yes.’

I pondered. If Uncle Percy really thought that Boko was a butterfly that might go broke at any moment, Love’s young dream had unquestionably stubbed its toe. I mean, an oofy butterfly is bad enough. But it can at least pay the rent. I could well imagine a man of conservative views recoiling from one which might come asking for handouts for the rest of its life.