Pelham Wodehouse - The Return of Jeeves

Mrs. Spottsworth bent her head.

"Put it round my neck, Cuthbert," she whispered.

Captain Biggar stared incredulously at her back hair.

"You want me to? You don't mind if I touch you?"

"Put it round my neck," repeated Mrs.

Spottsworth.

Reverently the Captain did so, and there was a pause.

"Yes," said the Captain, "I might have made a fortune, and shall I tell you why I wanted a fortune? Don't run away with the idea that I'm a man who values money. Ask any of the chaps out East, and they'll say "Give Bwana Biggar his .505 Gibbs, his eland steak of a night, let him breathe God's clean air and turn his face up to God's good sun and he asks nothing more". But it was imperative that I should lay my hands on a bit of the stuff so that I might feel myself in a position to speak my love. Rosie ... I heard them calling you that, and I must use that name ...

Rosie, I love you. I loved you from that first moment in Kenya when you stepped out of the car and I said "Ah, the memsahib". All these years I have dreamed of you, and on this very seat last night it was all I could do to keep myself from pouring out my heart. It doesn't matter now. I can speak now because we are parting for ever. Soon I shall be wandering out into the sunset ... alone."

He paused, and Mrs. Spottsworth spoke. There was a certain sharpness in her voice.

"You won't be wandering out into any old sunset alone," she said. "Jiminy Christmas! What do you want to wander out into sunsets alone for?"

Captain Biggar smiled a faint, sad smile.

"I don't want to wander out into sunsets alone, dear lady. It's the code. The code that says a poor man must not propose marriage to a rich woman, for if he does, he loses his self-respect and ceases to play with a straight bat."

"I never heard such nonsense in my life.

Who started all this apple-sauce?"

Captain Biggar stiffened a little.

"I cannot say who started it, but it is the rule that guides the lives of men like Squiffy and Doc and the Subahdar and Augustus Frobisher."

Mrs. Spottsworth uttered an exclamation.

"Augustus Frobisher? For Pete's sake! I've been thinking all along that there was something familiar about that name Frobisher, and now you say Augustus ... This friend of yours, this Frobisher. Is he a fellow with a red face?"

"We all have red faces east of Suez."

"And a small, bristly moustache?"

"Small, bristly moustaches, too."

"Does he stammer slightly? Has he a small mole on the left cheek? Is one of his eyes green and the other glass?"

Captain Biggar was amazed.

"Good God! That's Tubby. You've met him?"

"Met him? You bet I've met him. It was only a week before I left the States that I was singing "Oh, perfect love" at his wedding."

Captain Biggar's eyes widened.

"Howki wa hoo!" he exclaimed.

"Tubby is married?"

"He certainly is. And do you know who he's married to? Cora Rita Rockmetteller, widow of the late Sigsbee Rockmetteller, the Sardine King, a woman with a darned sight more money than I've got myself.

Now you see how much your old code amounts to.

When Augustus Frobisher met Cora and heard that she had fifty million smackers hidden away behind the brick in the fireplace, did he wander out into any sunset alone? No, sir! He bought a clean collar and a gardenia for his buttonhole and snapped into it."

Captain Biggar had lowered himself on to the rustic seat and was breathing heavily through the nostrils.

"You have shaken me, Rosie!"

"And you needed shaking, talking all that malarkey. You and your old code!"

"I can't take it in."

"You will, if you sit and think it over for a while.

You stay here and get used to the idea of waLking down the aisle with me, and I'll go in and phone the papers that a marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between Cuthbert ... have you any other names, my precious lamb?"

"Gervase," said the Captain in a low voice. "And it's Brabazon-Biggar. With a hyphen."

"... between Cuthbert Gervase Brabazon-Biggar and Rosalinda Bessemer Spottsworth. It's a pity it isn't Sir Cuthbert. Say!" said Mrs. Spottsworth, struck with an idea. "What's wrong with buying you a knighthood? I wonder how much they cost these days. I'll have to ask Sir Roderick. I might be able to get it at Harrige's. Well, good-bye for the moment, my wonder man. Don't go wandering off into any sunsets."

Humming gaily, for her heart was light, Mrs. Spottsworth tripped down the moss-grown path, tripped across the lawn and tripped through the French window into the living-room.

Jeeves was there. He had left Bill and Jill trying mournfully to console each other in his pantry, and had returned to the living-room to collect the coffee-cups. At the sight of the pendant encircling Mrs. Spottsworth's neck, no fewer than three hairs of his left eyebrow quivered for an instant, showing how deeply he had been moved by the spectacle.

"You're looking at the pendant, I see," said Mrs. Spottsworth, beaming happily. "I don't wonder you're surprised. Captain Biggar found it just now in the grass by that rustic seat where we were sitting last night."

It would be too much to say that Jeeves stared, but his eyes enlarged, the merest fraction, a thing they did only on special occasions.

"Has Captain Biggar returned, madam?"

"He got back a few minutes ago. Oh, Jeeves, do you know the telephone number of The Times?"

"No, madam, but I could ascertain."

"I want to announce my engagement to Captain Biggar."

Four hairs of Jeeves's right eyebrow stirred slightly, as if a passing breeze had disturbed them.

"Indeed, madam? May I wish you every happiness?"

"Thank you, Jeeves."

"Shall I telephone The Times, madam?"

"If you will, and the Telegraph and Mail and Express. Any others?"

"I think not, madam. Those you have mentioned should be quite sufficient for an announcement of this nature."

"Perhaps you're right. Just those, then."

"Very good, madam. Might I venture to ask, madam, if you and Captain Biggar will be taking up your residence at the Abbey?"

Mrs. Spottsworth sighed.

"No, Jeeves, I wish I could buy it ... I love the place ... but it's damp. This English climate!"

"Our English summers are severe."

"And the winters worse."

Jeeves coughed.

"I wonder if I might make a suggestion, madam, which I think should be satisfactory to all parties."

"What's that?"

"Buy the house, madam, take it down stone by stone and ship it to California."

"And put it up there?" Mrs. Spottsworth beamed. "Why, what a brilliant idea!"

"Thank you, madam."

"William Randolph Hearst used to do it, didn't he? I remember visiting at San Simeon once, and there was a whole French Abbey lying on the grass near the gates. I'll do it, Jeeves. You've solved everything. Oh, Lord Rowcester," said Mrs.

Spottsworth. "Just the man I wanted to see."

Bill had come in with Jill, walking with slow, despondent steps. As he saw the pendant, despondency fell from him like a garment. Unable to speak, he stood pointing a trembling finger.

"It was discovered in the grass adjoining a rustic seat in the garden, m'lord, by Mrs.

Spottsworth's fianc`e, Captain Biggar," said Jeeves.

Bill found speech, though with difficulty.

"Biggar's back?"

"Yes, m'lord."

"And he found the pendant?"

"Yes, m'lord."

"And he's engaged to Mrs. Spottsworth?"

"Yes, m'lord. And Mrs. Spottsworth has decided to purchase the Abbey."

"What!"

"Yes, m'lord."

"I do believe in fairies!" said Bill, and Jill said she did, too.

"Yes, Billiken," said Mrs.

Spottsworth. "I'm going to buy the Abbey.

I don't care what you're asking for it. I want it, and I'll write you a cheque the moment I come back from apologizing to that nice Chief Constable. I left him very abruptly just now, and I'm afraid he may be feeling offended. Is he still up in my room, Jeeves?"