![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
gingergoldfish.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
indeedsir_backupA fic for you all, just cause I finished college early......
Disclaimer: Don’t own them Wodehouse does.
Venice is one of my favourite cities in the world, despite never actually having been there!!
It was the Summer of 19- that I found myself departing a ship, and laying my eyes on the first sight of Venice. Immediately a stir of wonder in my breast, for Venice, I have so secretly wished to visit. How I actually managed to fulfil this dream came about in a more darker tone. Mr. Wooster, my employer fell ill with double Pneumonia during the winter, and in the spring, an attack of the spring cold made him virtually dead. His doctor’s told him to set off for the continent to improve his health before another attack kills him altogether.
“Well Jeeves,” He said from the sofa, “Where do you think we should go?”
“Venice appears to be having a very good summer, sir, temperatures in the 30’s I believe.”
“alright then, book the tickets for a month.”
“Very good, sir.”
I waited at the bottom of the rungway, with the luggage being put with me, awaiting Mr. Wooster, who was confined to a wheelchair, was being wheeled down by a porter. He appearance and personality has suffered from his terrible winter and spring afflictions, he is thinner and his cheekbone are prominent (although I must say, it gives him a more dignified look than a wasted one.) dark circles under the eyes, and the light in his eyes has gone, replaced by tired stone. He is more thoughtful and dare I say it, less whimsical about the items of clothing he deems suitable, in fact he wardrobe is untouched by him, only I, making a few new adjustments.
One Gondolier takes our luggage while another takes myself and Mr. Wooster to our apartments, rented for the month. The narrow waters ways and arched bridges are exactly as I had seen them in the broachers , with the homes on either side going up four or five stories, with small balconies and windows where washing and flags hang out to dry. Ahead of us there are two women on the fourth story on their houses, shouting across the water, laughing.
Mr. Wooster, on hearing them, frowns a little, I feel that he may be too hot, he hasn’t changed to suitable clothing as I had suggested. A small sign of the Bertram I know returning to the surface.
“Oh, dash it Jeeves….who is that? And why is it so hot?”
I extracted his jacket from his person and undid the top few buttons of his shirt, which nearly undid me. Mr. Wooster gave a smile.
“Our apartments is to the right, sir.”
He glanced in that direction.
“They all look the same…which is ours?”
“All of it, sir.”
“All of it??”
“Yes, sir, you remember it belongs to Lord-, who kindly allowed our staying in it while you recovered.”
“Oh….” He looked at it with a confused sort of satisfaction.
The apartment was about a long as four ordinary Venetian homes, five stories tall with several balconies and large glass windows, in which we could peek at the room inside.
We were dropped at the entrance a slight difficulty occurred as we need to go up a flight of winding stone stairs that made up the inner courtyard before getting inside. Mr. Wooster proclaimed that he would walk up and, to credit his stubbornness, he did, with help from myself and a walking cane.
Inside was lusciously cool, the hallway lead in three directions, one down to the kitchens, one to the daytime rooms and the other to the bedrooms, bathrooms and drawing rooms used at night. I should mention that the inner courtyard was most beautiful, growing vines and flowers decorated the walls and steps as we made our way up. Smaller windows peeked out from within on to it.
The house itself was very much ornate and perfectly carved. Deep Persian carpets lined the floors and numerous painting and tapestries and ornaments hung from the walls.
“I say Jeeves….this is all very nice isn’t it? I mean I all so….beautiful.”
“Indeed, sir, the house I am told took thirty years to complete.”
“I say! What’s that compared to ours?”
“Our one apartment took six months sir.”
“Gosh!”
Mr. Wooster’s bedroom was certainly a sight, the master bedroom, by right, it was large, with a fireplace and one wall almost totally covered in glass, with thick sills to sit on, which had silk cushions on them. A door to the right, I presumed, led to the bathroom. Mr. Wooster peeked in and gave an “I say!!”
The bed itself it four poster with thick dark red and black drapes, form a distance looking in all one can see it blackness, the linen is red and gold with an ample amount of pillows and cushions to please Mr. Wooster. It is also very large, Mr. Wooster may have to jump up in order to get onto it securely.
Upon venturing into the bathroom where Mr. Wooster had disappeared I saw that it was as big as the bedroom, a few large steps led down into the room, the floor and walls were marble, decorated with renaissance like art that one finds in Roman bath houses. The bath itself is even further into the ground, like a swimming pool!, four columns on each corner keep up the thin veils that act as drapes round it, they are a soft dusky peach in colour. I can see Mr. Wooster behind them, standing and looking down into the bath/swimming pool. The drapes soften his face and gives it a treacherously healthy glow, I move in beside him and see the grey pallor all to well. Two pipe opening are on either side, obviously there to pump in hot and cold water, there is nothing in there now.
“I say Jeeves, this is all very ornate isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir, I was thinking that a short while ago.”
“Would you ever like to live in a place like this?”
“I believe I would sir, it is within the metropolis and not the countryside, it is decorated with the very finest of art and ornaments to suit my liking and it is…”
“Perfect?”
I smiled.
“Yes sir quite perfect.”
“Well we have a month to enjoy it, and I plan to.”
“ You should be planning on recovering sir.”
“Oh pish! I can do both can’t I?”
He suddenly looks up and give me a queer sort of look.
“This place wouldn’t be half as good without you Jeeves.”
I believe I may have blushed at this moment.
“Thank you sir, and I might say that it wouldn’t be half as good with out you sir.”
He smiles at that, like a weight’s been taken from his mind.
A little later we are unpacked, Mr. Wooster is in his dark red silk robe I suggested he purchased before we had left London. It suits him well and I sense that he also likes it, for he keeps touching it, rubbing between thumb and forefinger.
“The bath I believe is done now sir.”
“Thank you Jeeves.”
He disappears within, closing the door till only a shaft of light can be seen. He now has a fear of locking doors, when I am not within them with him in case he falls into difficulties and I cannot get to him. I feel like he has let me in on a small part of his inner most trust by leaving that door ajar.
I cannot resist and I move towards it, carefully slipping in part of my body as I look it.
From here, I can see Mr. Wooster behind the peach drapes, The room is also like a steam room, hot and sticky with a white mist. I can see Mr. Wooster slip of the robe and slip into the bath.
With him in it, it really does look more like a swimming pool and I expect to see him doing laps.
With the heat I take of my house jacket and roll up my shirtsleeves, I can feel the perspiration dripping down my face.
“Jeeves?”
There is a quietness in the voice which gives me a sudden panic and I all but fly to his side.
“Sir?”
He looks tiny in the bath, sitting on the bottom step, knees drawn up.
“oh, nothing, nothing….”
I cock my head at him and carefully undress and slip in with him.
One thing I have learnt about Mr. Wooster over the years of employment is that he really does require a person to be the centre of his life, he can never make himself the focus, he always has to have someone else to be with, talk to, consider and love. I am honoured to have become that person.
Curling himself up to my chest, Bertie rests his head on my shoulder, he feels warm, possibly the bath is slightly too hot for him, his skin has gone a soft red, like in the dark after a long satisfactory night.
After a while I feel my own skin tighten and prune, Bertie had all but fallen asleep as I lifted him out and into the bedroom.
The sheets are cool and I swear that I hear a faint hiss as it connects with Bertie’s hot skin.
The moon is up high and clear, I can hear the activities of the streets around us, family dinner has started.
But for two Englishmen, it’s too late for their tea and I curl in beside him, drawing him into my arms.
A whole month to explore Venice, the thought excited me greatly, which was also to my disadvantage as Bertie was asleep.
“No I’m not Jeeves.”
Had I spoken aloud?
“Yes you did, and I can feel it too.”
It ends up that I was able to relive the problem to a satisfactory conclusion.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them Wodehouse does.
Venice is one of my favourite cities in the world, despite never actually having been there!!
It was the Summer of 19- that I found myself departing a ship, and laying my eyes on the first sight of Venice. Immediately a stir of wonder in my breast, for Venice, I have so secretly wished to visit. How I actually managed to fulfil this dream came about in a more darker tone. Mr. Wooster, my employer fell ill with double Pneumonia during the winter, and in the spring, an attack of the spring cold made him virtually dead. His doctor’s told him to set off for the continent to improve his health before another attack kills him altogether.
“Well Jeeves,” He said from the sofa, “Where do you think we should go?”
“Venice appears to be having a very good summer, sir, temperatures in the 30’s I believe.”
“alright then, book the tickets for a month.”
“Very good, sir.”
I waited at the bottom of the rungway, with the luggage being put with me, awaiting Mr. Wooster, who was confined to a wheelchair, was being wheeled down by a porter. He appearance and personality has suffered from his terrible winter and spring afflictions, he is thinner and his cheekbone are prominent (although I must say, it gives him a more dignified look than a wasted one.) dark circles under the eyes, and the light in his eyes has gone, replaced by tired stone. He is more thoughtful and dare I say it, less whimsical about the items of clothing he deems suitable, in fact he wardrobe is untouched by him, only I, making a few new adjustments.
One Gondolier takes our luggage while another takes myself and Mr. Wooster to our apartments, rented for the month. The narrow waters ways and arched bridges are exactly as I had seen them in the broachers , with the homes on either side going up four or five stories, with small balconies and windows where washing and flags hang out to dry. Ahead of us there are two women on the fourth story on their houses, shouting across the water, laughing.
Mr. Wooster, on hearing them, frowns a little, I feel that he may be too hot, he hasn’t changed to suitable clothing as I had suggested. A small sign of the Bertram I know returning to the surface.
“Oh, dash it Jeeves….who is that? And why is it so hot?”
I extracted his jacket from his person and undid the top few buttons of his shirt, which nearly undid me. Mr. Wooster gave a smile.
“Our apartments is to the right, sir.”
He glanced in that direction.
“They all look the same…which is ours?”
“All of it, sir.”
“All of it??”
“Yes, sir, you remember it belongs to Lord-, who kindly allowed our staying in it while you recovered.”
“Oh….” He looked at it with a confused sort of satisfaction.
The apartment was about a long as four ordinary Venetian homes, five stories tall with several balconies and large glass windows, in which we could peek at the room inside.
We were dropped at the entrance a slight difficulty occurred as we need to go up a flight of winding stone stairs that made up the inner courtyard before getting inside. Mr. Wooster proclaimed that he would walk up and, to credit his stubbornness, he did, with help from myself and a walking cane.
Inside was lusciously cool, the hallway lead in three directions, one down to the kitchens, one to the daytime rooms and the other to the bedrooms, bathrooms and drawing rooms used at night. I should mention that the inner courtyard was most beautiful, growing vines and flowers decorated the walls and steps as we made our way up. Smaller windows peeked out from within on to it.
The house itself was very much ornate and perfectly carved. Deep Persian carpets lined the floors and numerous painting and tapestries and ornaments hung from the walls.
“I say Jeeves….this is all very nice isn’t it? I mean I all so….beautiful.”
“Indeed, sir, the house I am told took thirty years to complete.”
“I say! What’s that compared to ours?”
“Our one apartment took six months sir.”
“Gosh!”
Mr. Wooster’s bedroom was certainly a sight, the master bedroom, by right, it was large, with a fireplace and one wall almost totally covered in glass, with thick sills to sit on, which had silk cushions on them. A door to the right, I presumed, led to the bathroom. Mr. Wooster peeked in and gave an “I say!!”
The bed itself it four poster with thick dark red and black drapes, form a distance looking in all one can see it blackness, the linen is red and gold with an ample amount of pillows and cushions to please Mr. Wooster. It is also very large, Mr. Wooster may have to jump up in order to get onto it securely.
Upon venturing into the bathroom where Mr. Wooster had disappeared I saw that it was as big as the bedroom, a few large steps led down into the room, the floor and walls were marble, decorated with renaissance like art that one finds in Roman bath houses. The bath itself is even further into the ground, like a swimming pool!, four columns on each corner keep up the thin veils that act as drapes round it, they are a soft dusky peach in colour. I can see Mr. Wooster behind them, standing and looking down into the bath/swimming pool. The drapes soften his face and gives it a treacherously healthy glow, I move in beside him and see the grey pallor all to well. Two pipe opening are on either side, obviously there to pump in hot and cold water, there is nothing in there now.
“I say Jeeves, this is all very ornate isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir, I was thinking that a short while ago.”
“Would you ever like to live in a place like this?”
“I believe I would sir, it is within the metropolis and not the countryside, it is decorated with the very finest of art and ornaments to suit my liking and it is…”
“Perfect?”
I smiled.
“Yes sir quite perfect.”
“Well we have a month to enjoy it, and I plan to.”
“ You should be planning on recovering sir.”
“Oh pish! I can do both can’t I?”
He suddenly looks up and give me a queer sort of look.
“This place wouldn’t be half as good without you Jeeves.”
I believe I may have blushed at this moment.
“Thank you sir, and I might say that it wouldn’t be half as good with out you sir.”
He smiles at that, like a weight’s been taken from his mind.
A little later we are unpacked, Mr. Wooster is in his dark red silk robe I suggested he purchased before we had left London. It suits him well and I sense that he also likes it, for he keeps touching it, rubbing between thumb and forefinger.
“The bath I believe is done now sir.”
“Thank you Jeeves.”
He disappears within, closing the door till only a shaft of light can be seen. He now has a fear of locking doors, when I am not within them with him in case he falls into difficulties and I cannot get to him. I feel like he has let me in on a small part of his inner most trust by leaving that door ajar.
I cannot resist and I move towards it, carefully slipping in part of my body as I look it.
From here, I can see Mr. Wooster behind the peach drapes, The room is also like a steam room, hot and sticky with a white mist. I can see Mr. Wooster slip of the robe and slip into the bath.
With him in it, it really does look more like a swimming pool and I expect to see him doing laps.
With the heat I take of my house jacket and roll up my shirtsleeves, I can feel the perspiration dripping down my face.
“Jeeves?”
There is a quietness in the voice which gives me a sudden panic and I all but fly to his side.
“Sir?”
He looks tiny in the bath, sitting on the bottom step, knees drawn up.
“oh, nothing, nothing….”
I cock my head at him and carefully undress and slip in with him.
One thing I have learnt about Mr. Wooster over the years of employment is that he really does require a person to be the centre of his life, he can never make himself the focus, he always has to have someone else to be with, talk to, consider and love. I am honoured to have become that person.
Curling himself up to my chest, Bertie rests his head on my shoulder, he feels warm, possibly the bath is slightly too hot for him, his skin has gone a soft red, like in the dark after a long satisfactory night.
After a while I feel my own skin tighten and prune, Bertie had all but fallen asleep as I lifted him out and into the bedroom.
The sheets are cool and I swear that I hear a faint hiss as it connects with Bertie’s hot skin.
The moon is up high and clear, I can hear the activities of the streets around us, family dinner has started.
But for two Englishmen, it’s too late for their tea and I curl in beside him, drawing him into my arms.
A whole month to explore Venice, the thought excited me greatly, which was also to my disadvantage as Bertie was asleep.
“No I’m not Jeeves.”
Had I spoken aloud?
“Yes you did, and I can feel it too.”
It ends up that I was able to relive the problem to a satisfactory conclusion.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-11-22 05:59 pm (UTC)Pneumonia, I can say, bites the big one. Been there. Not fun.
::daydreams happily::
no subject
Date: 2005-11-22 08:52 pm (UTC)Love the avatar, the one with Gussie and the notebook right? hehe look at Jeeves face in that when Gussie tells them of giving the notebook to Madeline's father, it's so patronising and like telling a child off lol.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-22 11:09 pm (UTC)And, even better, bath partner!Jeeves.
Truly wonderful. Bertie will have no trouble getting better now.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-23 11:11 pm (UTC)I might suggest, though, that you work with a beta to help a few problems with grammar and word choice. It'd make the story much more approachable and easier to read. For instance, it's cheekbones, not cheekbone; it's brochures not broacher and they'd be using farenheit scale in the 1920s, in which case summer temps in the 30s would be a freak of nature.