Pelham Wodehouse - The Return of Jeeves

It had occurred to him that in Jeeves's pantry there would be a drop of port, and a drop of port or some similar restorative was what his stricken soul craved.

When Rory and Monica entered Jeeves's pantry, they found its proprietor reading a letter. His fine face, always grave, seemed a little graver than usual, as if the letter's contents had disturbed him.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Jeeves," said Monica.

"Not at all, m'lady."

"Finish your reading."

"I had already done so, m'lady. A communication from Mr. Wooster."

"Oh?" said Rory. "Bertie Wooster, eh?

How is the old bounder? Robust?"

"Mr. Wooster says nothing to indicate the contrary, sir."

"Good. Rosy cheeks, eh? Eating his spinach, no doubt? Capital. Couldn't be better. Still, be that as it may," said Rory, "what do you think of Taj Mahal for this afternoon's beano at Epsom Downs? I thought of slapping my two quid on its nose, with your approval."

"And Moke the Second," said Monica.

"That's my fancy."

Jeeves considered.

"I see no objection to a small wager on the animal you have named sir, nor on yours, m'lady. One must bear in mind, however, that the Derby is always an extremely open race."

"Don't I know it!"

"It would be advisable, therefore, if the funds are sufficient, to endeavour to save your stake by means of a bet each way on some other horse."

"Rory thought of Escalator. I'm hesitating."

Jeeves coughed.

"Has your ladyship considered the Irish horse, Ballymore?"

"Oh, Jeeves, for heaven's sake. None of the nibs even mention it. No, not Ballymore, Jeeves. I'll have to think of something."

"Very good, m'lady. Would there be anything further?"

"Yes," said Rory. "Now that we're all here together, cheek by jowl as it were, a word from our sponsor on a personal matter, Jeeves.

What was all that that Mrs. Dogsbody was saying at lunch about you and her being out on the tiles last night?"

"Sir?"

"Weren't you in the room when she was talking about it?"

"No, m'lady."

"She said you bowled off together in the small hours to the ruined chapel."

"Ah, yes, m'lady. I apprehend Sir Roderick's meaning now. Mrs. Spottsworth did desire me to escort her to the ruined chapel last night. She was hoping to see the wraith of Lady Agatha, she informed me."

"Any luck?"

"No, m'lady."

"She says Bill saw the old girl."

"Yes, m'lady."

Rory uttered the gratified exclamation of one who has solved a mystery.

"So that's why Bill's looking like a piece of cheese today. It must have scared him stiff."

"I believe Lord Rowcester was somewhat moved by the experience, Sir Roderick. But I fancy that if, as you say, there is a resemblance between his lordship and a portion of cheese, it is occasioned more by the circumstance of his lordship's matrimonial plans having been cancelled than by any manifestation from the spirit world."

Monica squeaked excitedly.

"You don't mean Bill's engagement is off?"

"That is what I was endeavouring to convey, m'lady. Miss Wyvern handed me the ring in person, to return to his lordship. "Am I to infer, miss," I ventured to inquire, "that there is a symbolical significance attached to this gesture?"' and Miss Wyvern replied in the affirmative."

"Well, I'll be blowed. Poor old Bill!"

"Yes, m'lady."

"The heart bleeds."

"Yes, Sir Roderick."

It was at this moment that Bill came charging in.

Seeing his sister and her husband, he stopped.

"Oh, hullo, Rory," he said. "Hullo, Moke. I'd forgotten you were here."

Rory advanced with outstretched hand. The dullest eye could have seen he was registering compassion. He clasped Bill's right hand in his own, and with his left hand kneaded Bill's shoulder.

A man, he knew, wants sympathy at a time like this. It is in such a crisis in his affairs that he thanks heaven that he has an understanding brother-in-law, a brother-in-law who knows how to give a pep talk.

"We are not only here, old man," he said, "but we have just heard from Jeeves a bit of news that has frozen our blood. He says the girl Jill has returned you to store. Correct?

I see it is. Too bad, too bad. But don't let it get you down, boy. You must ... how would you put it, Jeeves?"

"Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Sir Roderick."

"Precisely. You want to take the big, broad, spacious view, Bill. You are a fianc@ee short, let's face it, and your immediate reaction is, no doubt, a disposition to rend the garments and scatter ashes on the head. But you've got to look at these things from every angle, Bill, old man. Remember what Shakespeare said: "A woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke.""

Jeeves winced.

"Kipling, Sir Roderick."

"And here's another profound truth. I don't know who said this one. All cats are grey in the dark."

Monica spoke. Her lips, as she listened, had been compressed. There was a strange light in her eyes.

"Splendid. Go on."

Rory stopped kneading Bill's shoulder and patted it.

"At the moment," he resumed, "you are reeling from the shock, and very naturally, too. You feel you've lost something valuable, and of course I suppose one might say you have, for Jill's a nice enough kid, no disputing that. But don't be too depressed about it. Look for the silver lining, whenever clouds appear in the blue, as I have frequently sung in my bath and you, I imagine, in yours. Don't forget you are back in circulation again. Personally, I think it's an extremely nice slice of luck for you that this has happened. A bachelor's life is the only happy one, old man. When it comes to love, there's a lot to be said for the "@a la carte" as opposed to the "table d'h@ote"."

"Jeeves," said Monica.

"M'lady?"

"What was the name of the woman who drove a spike into her husband's head? It's in the Bible somewhere."

"I fancy your ladyship is thinking of the story of Jael. But she and the gentleman into whose head she drove the spike were not married, merely good friends."

"Still, her ideas were basically sound."

"It was generally considered so in her circle of acquaintance, m'lady."

"Have you a medium-sized spike, Jeeves?

No? I must look in at the ironmonger's," said Monica. "Good-bye, Table d'h@ote."

She walked out, and Rory watched her go, concerned. His was not a very quick mind, but he seemed to sense something wrong.

"I say! She's miffed. Eh, Jeeves?"

"I received that impression, Sir Roderick."

"Dash it all, I was only saying that stuff about marriage to cheer you up, Bill. Jeeves, where can I get some flowers? And don't say "At the flower shop", because I simply can't sweat all the way to the town. Would there be flowers in the garden?"

"In some profusion, Sir Roderick."

"I'll go and pluck her a bouquet. That's a thing you'll find it useful to remember, Bill, if ever you get married, not that you're likely to, of course, the way things are shaping. Always remember that when the gentler sex get miffed, flowers will bring them round every time."

The door closed. Jeeves turned to Bill.

"Your lordship wished to see me about something?" he said courteously.

Bill passed a hand over his throbbing brow.

"Jeeves," he said, "I hardly know how to begin. Have you an aspirin about you?"

"Certainly, m'lord. I have just been taking one myself."

He produced a small tin box, and held it out.

"Thank you, Jeeves. Don't slam the lid."

"No, m'lord."

"And now," said Bill, "to tell you all."

Jeeves listened with gratifyingly close attention while he poured out his tale. There was no need for Bill at its conclusion to ask him if he had got the gist. It was plain from the gravity of his "Most disturbing, m'lord" that he had got it nicely. Jeeves always got gists.