Fic:Troubled Times chapter 14

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Title: Troubled Times
Chapter 14: Changes
Author: Emerald
Beta : alexcat Thank you!
Inspiration and Encourager: ironicbees
A special thank you to ironicbees for going over this chapter, helping me with my concerns about it, discussing it, and for the suggestions and pointing out errors. Your aid is much appreciated!
Rating: Mature.
Disclaimer: Wooster and Jeeves belong to Wodehouse. I wish he had told us what happened to the characters in WWII, but as he didn't I'm offering one of many possibilities.
Summary: The story deals with the time before, during, and after WWII.A/N: My contribution to the WWII stories. At the time of this chapter, restaurants were not under restrictions and those that catered to the wealthy continued as they had before the war. As the war progressed, however, the restaurants were given restrictions and menus became limited due to the shortages.
My stories are here: http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=emeraldreeve&keyword=My+Stories&filter=all 
March 1940

 

 

 

I was reluctant to celebrate my fortieth birthday, not feeling that turning forty was anything to be joyful about especially during a time of war, but Mr. Wooster was insistent. We took the train into Longhaven and enjoyed dinner at a restaurant. Restaurants were not under food restrictions and if a person had the money, they could have a meal as good as any before the war. He had consented to go to a Shakespeare play, Richard the Third, with me. I had expected him to fall asleep at some point during the play, but he stayed alert. Several times my gaze shifted from the stage to his face, taking pleasure in his reaction of sheer astonishment at Richard the Third's actions.

At home late that night, while we sat sharing wine and cake, Mr Wooster said, “I've read Richard the Third, but it's been a while. You would do jolly well in King Richard's time. You're dashed resourceful. Without you, I would not survive during those days. I'd be fine as long as you were there to watch over the old master, though.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” I replied, pleased with his words.

“I'll be forty in a year, so best warn me if it feels rummy. How are you doing with turning forty, old chap?”

“As the day approached, I thought at first that it would be a melancholy one. My Uncle Charlie is in his seventies, so it is possible that I will live to be eighty. Still, it is also likely that my life is more than half over.”

A pang of sorrow crossed Mr. Wooster's face, and I reached out and covered his hand with mine. Quickly, I continued, “I have found our association to be a most pleasant one. I have learned much from you.”

I noted the delighted surprise on his face, and continued, “I attempted to see the silver lining in turning forty and found one waiting for me. My ...” I hesitated, glancing away from him to focus on the spice rack. For a long time, I had worked at sharing confidences with him, yet this one made me hesitate.

I gripped his hand and once more met his eyes. I said, “My life is centred around you. In two months, we will have had sixteen years together. In another sixteen years, I will be fifty-six. Despite the war, I think it is reasonable to hope that we will be granted those years and be able to be together for the majority of them. So my time with you is not even half over as it is possible that I could live to be seventy-two, which would give us another sixteen years. Viewing it that way, I find I am not the least unhappy.”

“Eighty, Jeeves. I always see it that way. When I imagine you being old, I always think 'when Jeeves is eighty'. If you live to eighty-four, then we have only spent a fourth of our time together yet. We still have three-fourths to go. The majority.”

I pondered this. “Eighty-four is a long time for someone to live. Quite beyond the normal life span. Nevertheless, eighty-four is not impossible.”

I thought of his recent words, 'Live to eighty-four and now at forty, we have only spent a fourth of our time together yet. We still have three-fourths to go. The majority.'

I let my delight show, and he beamed back so happily at me that I felt it necessary to caution him, “I cannot promise to live that long, sir. There is never a guarantee of another day.”

This statement did not dim Mr. Wooster's joy at all. He answered, “But you'll have a pop at living to eighty-five?”

I noticed he had added a year and gave him a smile. “I will endeavour to give satisfaction, sir.”

Mr. Wooster's hand squeezed mine, and I reflected that he had not been so happy in quite a while. “When we deepened our relationship, I was thirty. I believed I had thought of every possible consequence of our becoming intimate. I have since discovered that there were many contingencies I had not envisioned. One of them was the fact that I would one day turn forty, and you would not arrive at forty until almost a year later. It has occurred to me that there may come a day when your endurance outmatches mine.”

I did not truly believe that a year made a difference; I simply intended to tease and challenge him. I stated my words as if relating the weather conditions despite being very aware of how he would take such a statement.

 

Mr. Wooster's chin lifted, and he declared, “Are you saying that my endurance is less than yours?”

I expected to get no sleep that night and that was quite to my satisfaction. I replied, “No, sir. I was merely stating that it is possible that your endurance might surpass mine one day.”

 

****************************************************************************

The next morning, as I removed the blackout curtains from the kitchen window, and stood yawning and admiring the last rays of dawn, I mused over what Mr. Wooster had said about my life span the night before. I remembered the latest advice on how to live a long life and debated. After a few minutes, I removed the cigarettes I kept in a drawer. I took my packs into the drawing room and added them to Mr. Wooster's stash, shutting the drawer firmly when I was finished. They were becoming difficult to obtain, anyway, and perhaps when Mr. Wooster noticed that I had quit, he would too.

I planned to tell him of my intentions soon, but believing the first seven days would be the ones that would try my willpower the most, I decided to wait until the week was completed.

 

********************************************************************************

 

 

Two days after my birthday, my friend,Mechan came by the cottage. I had seen him only once since Mr. Wooster and I had left London. He tried to be cheerful, but like me, his attitude was one of resignation to events. After ten minutes of casual talk, I asked him how he was really doing. He glanced at the table and sighed. “Not so well. I enjoyed the quiet companionship with Mr. Macson over the years, but lately all he wishes to do is chatter incessantly about the war. Sometimes I would like to just forget it, if only for a few minutes. It takes an hour to get the blackout curtains up, and then there they are facing me again in the morning. I tried getting up earlier, but I wake him, and he grumbles. I spend hours standing in long queues to acquire groceries, and I have to pay twice as much for under the counter items. Normally Mr. Macson wouldn't fuss about this, but he's drinking again, and you remember how he is when he's inebriated.”

 

I nodded. I knew very well, having listened to Mechan's distressful reports over the years. Mr. Macson had a very good nature when he was not intoxicated. A little too much alcohol, however, and the man could be mean, his remarks cutting and hurtful.

 

“I'm not getting everything done as smoothly and quickly as before, and it's just a matter of time before he gets tight again and informs me of it. As if I don't know!”

 

Memories flooded my mind of the times when Mechan would arrive at the Junior Ganymede Club anguished over comments from his inebriated master. I said,“Find a time when Mr. Macson is sober and calm and remind him that there are certain things you will not tolerate.”

 

Mechan sighed. “That will be difficult to do. Matters are more personal between us now.”

 

I replied, “Mr. Macson ceased drinking so you would return to his service. He has never been disrespectful to you unless he was intoxicated. Now he is indulging again. It is imperative that you tell your employer that you will not accept contempt from him. Otherwise, you may end up having to warn him after harsh words have been spoken. You have worked too hard to keep his esteem to risk losing it.”

 

We talked for a long time. I shared many things with Mechan including how I had been purchasing more from our neighbours around us, several of whom had farms, and I suggested that he do the same. It did not lessen the time it took to obtain items, but visiting with people was far more enjoyable than waiting in lines. I also gave him some advice on handling his employer, and the situation we currently found ourselves in.

 

After Mechan left, I mused over his situation, wondering if the affiliation he had with Mr. Macson would survive the war. I suspected that the troubled times we lived in would destroy many relationships, but I had confidence that my partnership with Mr. Wooster would endure.

 

Three days after I had enjoyed my last cigarette, I was watering the plants in the window when a strong desire for a smoke overtook me. I had become very familiar with these sharp, almost painful longings. Mr. Wooster had recently left with Mr. Little. They were going to a friend's house to play tennis. I wished that I had found some excuse to keep my employer home. His cheerful chatter had distracted me from the pangs before.

 

I stood in the silent drawing room and stared at the drawer where Mr. Wooster's cigarettes were kept. A wild impulse to put a lock on the door and throw the key out a window seized me. I took a deep breath and tried to view the matter rationally. It was only to be expected that I would want a cigarette. I had started smoking when I was fifteen, and had not gone three days without a cigarette since that time.

 

I took a step forward, and battled with myself. Perhaps only one would not hurt. Suddenly very grateful that I was alone, I dashed for the kitchen as if my life depended on it. Once there, I stated to the empty room, “I will not smoke. I will not.”

 

My eyes betrayed me, by glancing back the way I had so hastily departed. As if to mock my efforts, a coughing spell captured me, and for several long seconds, I coughed. When my body seemed to settle, I poured myself a glass of water and sank into a chair. I had to stop the coughing fits, I told myself sternly, as Mr. Wooster had began to notice that I was coughing. Ceasing to smoke might actually be good for one's health, but I was coughing twice as much as I was before I quit.

 

The thought breezed through my mind, that maybe smoking was good for a person. Besides, if I kept coughing, Mr. Wooster would fret. It would be better for both of us, if I just gave up the effort.

 

I took a long, slow sip of water. The craving was lessening now, and I could recognise my reasoning for it was, excuses to smoke again.

 

I placed my head in my hands and mused. The whole matter made me feel ashamed. I had prided myself on allowing no one to control me, while all the time, unbeknownst to me, I had a master who could cause me to forget all my good intentions with one pang. Anger's talons clawed into me, and I resolved that I was finished with this master. Only one man in all the world could claim my obedience, and that master wished for me to share many long years with him. I would not obey the desire to smoke as it conflicted with what Mr. Wooster desired. This resolution brought a moment's peace, before the thought came to me, that I had not exactly obeyed Mr. Wooster in all things in previous matters. In fact, my record on obedience might be seen as very unsatisfactory should someone examine it closely.

 

Not this time, I determined. This time, I will fulfil his wish. Once more I began to cough. As I sipped more water, a sense of uncertainty of success mingled with sadness invaded my thoughts. I decided to not tell Mr. Wooster of my attempt to cease smoking. I wanted to present to him an accomplishment, not an endeavour that might fail. I thought of a quote I was fond of, “Few things are impossible to diligence and skill. Great works are performed not by strength, but perseverance.” Possibly, no one would call ceasing to smoke a great work, but it was going to require a great deal of perseverance on my part.

 

I stood up to return to my tasks. Grimly, I dusted the drawing room, leaving the cabinet where the cigarettes were stored untouched. I had dusted that area earlier in the week. It could wait until I was less enticed to smoke. As I worked, I silently purposed that I would not be owned by a pack of cigarettes.

 

************************************************************************

 

 

When the week had passed, the announcement in the newspaper that meat was being rationed took precedence. Before Mr. Wooster could worry again about whether our food was being dividing fairly, I decided to talk to him. He arrived home from a golf game with Mr. Little the afternoon after the news had been declared. He sat at the table, playing cards and sipping wine while I finished dinner. After checking the chicken I had boiling, I cleared my throat.

 

Mr. Wooster did not look up from the cards, but his answer was quick. “Yes, my man?”

 

I was buttering bread, but the affection in his voice briefly halted my actions. I felt as if he had just wrapped me within his embrace. I took a breath, and asked, “I apologise for bringing up an unpleasant subject, sir, but are you aware that meat has been rationed?”

 

“I glanced at the news in the paper this morn.”

 

“I wish to assure you that you need not be concerned about the subject. We will have to eat less beef, but pork and chicken can be obtained from neighbours and friends.”

 

I set the bread on the table and noticed Mr. Wooster's frown. Before I could enquire as to the nature of his unhappiness, he spoke. “What about fish, Jeeves? I don't want that brain of yours denied fish.”

 

I started to tell him that while I liked fish, I did not eat it as often as he assumed, and he should know that as I usually partook of the evening meal with him. Nor did I feel it was responsible for my intelligence.

 

I had only ceased smoking for seven days, but it seemed to be having a marked effect on my temperament. I often found myself irritated for no reason and tempted to make sharp comments.

 

The love I had heard in his voice earlier restrained my tongue, and I answered him calmly, “Fish has not been rationed, sir.”

 

Mr. Wooster smiled up at me as if all was right in his world, and I was glad I had not expressed irritation. I placed a hand on his shoulder. “I love you, sir.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

************************************************************************

 

Mr. Heflner was on good terms with his deceased spouse's parents and had recently spent a few weeks at their residence, which was located south of Longhaven. Mr. Heflner came by our house the day he arrived home. When I opened the door, I was surprised at the difference in the man. The sense of sadness he always seemed to bear appeared to have been replaced by a quiet contentment.

 

I served them tea, and listened while Mr. Heflner enquired about Mr. Wooster's welfare. Mr. Wooster gave him a brief account of having to learn how to use a weapon; devoid, I noted, of any complaints about the lessons or remarks about our slight discord.

 

When he was done, Mr. Heflner replied, “I wish Wright would tell me where my gun is. Whenever I ask, I get what I call a circle answer. He says ...”

 

Mr. Heflner pulled himself up to sit very straight, and I comprehended that he was about to quote exactly what Mr. Wright said.

 

“... 'I am certain the firearm is still in the house and can be located should the master require it.' Which is not an answer at all and means he doesn't think I should have it. It also means ...”

 

Mr. Heflner lowered his voice, and leaned forward, “... it means that he isn't telling because somehow he is aware of how I felt after Emily died. I haven't felt that way for a long time now. I'd wager quite a bit that he knows where my father's hunting guns are, too. He knows how to use a gun. He told me once that when he was a boy his father took his oldest brother and him out to hunt rabbits pretty often. Well, we talk over dinner now, and I'll chat with him about it tonight. It's time we started preparing, too. ”

 

Mr. Wooster nodded. “I agree. Now tell me, old chap, how the visit went?”

 

Having served their wine, I had no more reason to linger in the room. I withdrew to the hall where I stood and listened to the conversation.

 

Mr. Heflner sighed. “Not horribly well. I love Emily's parents, and they've always treated me like a son. Not long after I got to their house, an old school chum of Emily's came to visit, too. It's been four years since I saw Helen. Her husband died a year and a half ago. After staying there two weeks, I thought it was time I headed home. Besides, I was missing Wright something awful. Yet they urged me to stay. They started talking about how my parents were gone, and they considered me a son, and how it had been eleven years, and they knew Emily wouldn't want me to be lonely all my life. They kept repeating that Emily would understand, and it was the last thing they could do for her. All I could think was that Emily might understand, but I was at a loss as to what was going on.”

 

There was a brief pause before Mr. Heflner continued, “I finally caught on. They wanted me to marry Helen. I reacted pretty badly. I told them that Emily was special. I didn't have to try to love her. I loved her from the first time I saw her. Mum then said that surely I wanted to think about having children again. I tried to make them understand that I wanted children with Emily, without her ... well, it's no longer important to me. No matter how much I talked I couldn't get them to realise that I wasn't still grieving. I gave up and stayed longer as they wanted me to so much. I even spent a lot of time with Helen, but I'm not capable of forcing love if I don't feel it. To be honest ...”

 

The man's voice dropped in volume, and I moved forward a little in order to hear him.

 

“... all I really did was think of Wright and miss him. I thought of the war and how he could be called up. Each day that went by seemed a day lost that we could have spent together. I kept remembering all these little things he does that he doesn't have to do; like warm my towels up for me. I'd never make it through life without him. The man has become like part of my blood.

 

“One night at dinner, Mum asked me a question, and I had no idea what it was she asked. I had been musing about Wright reading to me. During that first year after Emily had died, he always seemed to know when I was beginning to find the pain beyond bearing.”

 

I understood how Mr. Wright could detect when his employer was finding sorrow overwhelming. There had been a time when I had prided myself on performing my tasks perfectly, but there had been a lack in my work that I could not have perceived until I decided that I wished to stay in Mr. Wooster's employ for the rest of my life. Once I made that decision, I had devoted myself to Mr. Wooster, learning to detect the smallest signals from him in order to discern his mood, anticipate his needs, and to know how better to serve him. I had comprehended then that my professionalism in my tasks before could not equal the devoted service that came with the desire to serve only one. Mr. Wright had dedicated himself to Mr. Heflner from the beginning of his service with the man. He had probably quickly learned how to judge when grief was consuming his employer.

 

Mr. Heflner was saying, “He would read to me. I'd listen to him and hold on to his voice as if it was a life preserver. He still reads to me, sometimes. So there I was thinking about how I'd like to go home, and just listen to Wright's voice for a while, when suddenly I realise that everyone is waiting for me to answer some question that I never heard.

 

“The next morning I went to Emily's parents and told them that I was going home, and that I would never marry again. I'm happy with life as it is. Because I realised that I like things just the way they are. At some point during the years Wright and I have been together, the sorrow lessened, and I became content. I've longed for Emily so much that I think I forgot what happiness felt like, but when I boarded the train to come home, I knew. I've been happy for several years now.”

 

When Mr. Heflner had mentioned his in-laws' plans, I had felt some anxiety for Mr. Wright. On hearing Mr. Heflner's words, I discerned that there was no cause for concern. I strongly suspected that Mr. Heflner was aware of his feelings for Mr. Wright now.

 

Mr. Heflner asked, “So, Bertie, does Jeeves have you busy every afternoon?”

 

“Not now. I guess I'm doing well enough to pass. We just practice Monday and Fridays.”

 

They began to make plans for the next few weeks.

 

***********************************************************************

 

Three weeks after I had ceased smoking, I felt my general attitude was slowly returning to normal, but the strong cravings for a cigarette still made me irritable at times. During those weeks I believed Mr. Wooster credited the war for my darker mood.

Mr. Wooster arrived home one afternoon while I was busy cleaning the kitchen. He came into the room, and said, “I'm going to get some wine, Jeeves. Want some?”

I straightened up and said in a disapproving tone, “I am capable of fulfilling my duties. I will get your wine, sir.”

Mr. Wooster inhaled deeply. He said,“Very well, Jeeves. Then join me at the table.”

When we were both seated, he said, “Have I bunged something up, Jeeves? Lately you've been ... well, I was allowed to get us both wine without you getting pipped until recently.”

He reached for a cigarette, and I lit it for him. “I apologise for my shortness of temper, sir. Do you remember our conversation about my life span on my birthday?”

He nodded.

“A Dr. Isaac Adler wrote in Primary Malignant Growths of the Lungs and Bronchi that lung cancer and smoking are connected. There are others that disagree with him, however, recently Dr. Pearl of Johns Hopkins University published a paper that stated that smokers do not live as long as non-smokers. He wrote, 'Smoking is associated with a definite impairment of longevity.' The report said that of the six thousand eight hundred and thirteen persons studied two-thirds of the non-smokers had lived beyond sixty, but only forty-six per cent of the heavy smokers reached age sixty.”

In one quick movement, Mr. Wooster jerked the cigarette from his mouth and protested, “That's not a funny joke, Jeeves.”

I did not answer immediately as I was surprised by his reaction. He had been told before that smoking might not be a healthy pastime. Then I discerned the difference. Previously when someone had given Mr. Wooster such information, he had viewed it as the desire of that person to change him or force him to give up a pleasant habit. I was trusted, however. If I stated that smoking was not a good method of relaxation then suddenly the information became fact in his mind.

“I was not jesting, sir. My smoking has never been heavy, but as I did promise you that I would endeavour to give you satisfaction by living an unusually long time, I quit.”

He extinguished his cigarette. “You want me to quit?”

“That is your decision, sir. It is possible that his theory will be proven wrong. There have been those in the past that claimed smoking is good for one's health. And to be honest, sir, I found ceasing to smoke to be arduous.”

“Arduous,” he repeated. Mr. Wooster gazed across the room for a moment before sighing. “All right, Jeeves. Tell me what I'm going to suffer if I try to quit.”

“Your experience could be different from mine,” I began, pausing at the grim expression that came into his face.

“Yes, it will be worse, because I've always smoked more than you do.”

“The desire to smoke was very strong, especially the first week. I noticed ...” I paused, trying to remember, “I believe it was on the third day after I quit that I noticed that my sense of smell and taste had improved. Food tastes better. My appetite has increased, and I feel it is fortunate that we have to watch the food supplies carefully, or I am certain I would have gained weight.” I did not add that being around him when he smoked was still difficult. “The first week I felt tired, and I coughed more especially in the morning. You may remember commenting on it.”

 

“Yes, the old heart was worried you were becoming ill, but then you seemed to be doing better.”

 

I nodded. “It has been four days now since I have coughed at all. I did not realise that there was any lack in my respiration, but I perceived recently that I am breathing easier. I still long for a cigarette often, and that is what is causing the irritation you are discerning. The cravings are very unpleasant. I believe I do not tire as easily as when I was smoking. Nor do I seem to get cold as quickly.”

Mr. Wooster was completely focused on my words, and I comprehended that he was seriously considering the matter. I added, “For me, the worst of it was the cravings. If you can find something to occupy your mind then they pass quickly enough, but they return almost as swiftly. Smoking also aided me in calming anxiety. I suspect it does the same for you as you reach for one after the news.”

“It does. I was aware that you were annoyed, sometimes. It seemed very odd as it usually takes a great deal of bother to cause you to feel pipped. I thought it was either due to the war, or a more private matter. And I know there are times when you don't like anyone to get too close to your inner thoughts. So I waited. I knew you'd tell me eventually, but today I felt that it was time for us to talk. Maybe I had done something. Why did you not tell me that you were struggling?” “I wished to present to you an accomplishment, not an attempt at one. It has only been this week that I have experienced just a few longings a day. There have been many times when I pined for a cigarette and felt depressed over the endeavour to quit.”

His hands clasped mine. “A gift. You're giving this to me as a gift.” Mr. Wooster stood up, and knowing what he desired, I eagerly moved into his embrace.

Once more I cautioned him. “I cannot promise to live that ...”

His lips covered mine, and all words were forgotten.

Comments

[sige-vic.livejournal.com]

Well, I knew that if Jeeves decided something he would stick to it. But his inner fight between these cravings and determination was really impressive and dramatic.
Also I am very glad for Mr Heflner and his realisation :-) Hope there will be more of him and Wright in the next chapter! :-)
And thank you for this one, it was really wonderful.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much! I think Jeeves has a very strong will power, too. It is very difficult to quit smoking, though, so I'm glad that showed, also. There will be more of Heflner and Wright in the story.

[jestana.livejournal.com]

Aw, that was wonderful of Jeeves, to give up smoking. *smile* I like that you showed that he had to fight the cravings. It was much more accurate than him being able to give them up without trouble. *grin*

Yay, Heflner is figuring out that he's happy with Wright! I'm sure if he explains why he wants the gun, Wright will oblige him. *giggle* It's perfectly understandable why he wouldn't say anything before, though.

I'm so glad Bertie decided to ask Jeeves why he'd been so irritable instead of continuing to wait. They're so lovely together. *happy sigh*

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! Credit for the fighting the cravings passage goes to ironicbees,who suggested it. I don't think even Jeeves could give up smoking easily. I try to put a lot of reality in my writing.

I'm glad you like Heflner's progress.

Jeeves and Wooster have been together long enough at this point that I think Bertie would usually know the right time to bring a matter up.

[jestana.livejournal.com]

You're welcome! Exactly. Nicotine can have such a strong hold on a person.

Yeah, Bertie can judge Jeeves' moods pretty well now.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

When I was doing research for this chapter, I read that nicotine is one of the strongest addictions in the world. I have a friend that quit simply for her health, but I think it helps if a person has a strong motivator, such as love for someone else.

[jestana.livejournal.com]

That's why I don't plan to even start smoking. It killed my grandmother and great-aunt and it is killing my dad.

Yes, love for another is a v. strong motivator. That's why I think Bertie would win out in the end. Knowing that he's increasing his chances of having a long, happy life with Jeeves will make all the difference.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

I'm very sorry! Hugs to you. My Dad died of lung cancer due to smoking. That's one reason for this chapter. I hate the thought of either of them dying that way or having to watch the other one die that way.

[jestana.livejournal.com]

I hate the thought of them having to watch each other die slowly, regardless of how it lingers. They should die in their sleep together. *nodnod*

I had a dream back in 2003 while on a camping trip that Mom called to tell me that Dad had died. For several moments after I woke up, I thought it was true.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

What a horrible dream! You must have felt shaken for hours afterwards! Lots of hugs.

[jestana.livejournal.com]

I was shaken, yes, and wasn't really reassured until I'd talked to Dad. I never told him about the dream.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

I can imagine! I can understand not telling your Dad. Lots of hugs.

[jestana.livejournal.com]

Thanks. I'm just hoping it was a precognitive dream or anything. That would suck. *hugs back*

[humanyouth.livejournal.com]

Augh, quitting is so hard! I can just see Bertie struggling with it. I haven't even been able to swing it yet!

Loved this installment. Awaiting the next with great anticipation.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much! I think giving up smoking has to be very difficult. I hope to get the next chapter to my beta this weekend. It is finished except for a little polishing.

[taricalmcacil.livejournal.com]

Loved this chapter. It's so sweet that Jeeves would give up smoking so he and Bertie would have more time.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm glad you like the chapter!

[georgeodowd.livejournal.com]

This story is so full of unique little vignettes, like Jeeves and quitting smoking. Keep it coming! I want more! Can't control the cravings! :)

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

I thought about that myself the other day-that there are stories within this story. I'm covering such a length of time, and I'm sure plenty of other things went on besides the war. I'm happy that you like the chapter. Thank you for the kind review! Of the chapters I've written so far, the next one is my favourite. I hope to get it to my beta this weekend.

[majblomma.livejournal.com]

I've spent the past two days reading all your fics and I feel like I am in heaven. *sigh*

I love your writing. You make them feel so real and your writings are like paintings. You write so beautifully. :)

I'm so looking forward to reading more of your fics. Thank you for making it so long!! ♥

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank you so much for the review and the happiness you've given me! What beautiful compliments you've given me! I suspect I'll have the longest story at Indeed,Sir before I'm finished. I tend to write long ones. I'm glad you are enjoying my stories, and I really appreciate your telling me so!

[cerublu02.livejournal.com]

love the whole premise of this chapter! Fantastic. Jeeves quitting cold turkey? The horror of it! So very Jeeves. Having Jeeves briefly consider that smoking may be good for a person had me gasping in horror and wanting Jeeves to give in (how bad must his withdrawal be for him to consider that?) before I realized it was my 21st century mentality. I'm with Bertie - Jeeves' information becomes fact in my mind. ^_^

I must second everything the others have said! Love how secure Jeeves and Bertie are in their relationship...which contrasts quite nicely with the beginnings of Heflner and Wright. Have to once again say how much I adore your OCs.

Jeeves sharing that his world is centred around Bertie = <3 Also <3 Bertie recognizing Jeeves' gift for what it was meant to be.

Will we see Bertie giving up (or trying to give up) the ol' cigarettes? Will he snap? Become irritable? What sort of exchanges will take place between the two?

Highly anticipating the next chapter.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much for the review and letting me know what you especially liked! I think Jeeves had a very strong will power, but giving up smoking has to be so difficult. I've been told that the cravings are pretty awful, and I didn't want to make light of it. So many people have struggled with this issue. When I was researching the history of smoking for this chapter, I was surprised that some doctors had considered smoking good for a person. By 1939, the knowledge that it was unhealthy was out there, but not fully agreed upon, and not as well known by people as it is today.

I tend to see Jeeves as very knowledgeable, too, and what he says being fact.

I'm so glad you care about my OCs. Highlighting the strength of Jeeves and Wooster's relationship is one of their purposes, but I want them to have life of their own, too.

The next chapter won't show Bertie giving up smoking, but I'm not dropping the subject. I will be showing it in the story so you will see how he does.

The next chapter will be going to my beta this weekend.

[ironicbees.livejournal.com]

I love the addition you made with Jeeves struggling with his addiction. Very believable! Paragon though Jeeves is, I'm sure even he would have a hard time quitting smoking. And I love that he's determined to do it for Bertie's sake. It's so like Bertie to think that the idea of quitting is a bad joke. He must really love Jeeves to even consider quitting himself.

You already know how I feel about the Wright/Heflner developments. ;) Am veeeery eager for more!

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much, my friend! I'm very glad you like what I did with your suggestion! And I'm happy that it is believable. I agree that even Jeeves would have a rough time ceasing to smoke. Love is the strongest motivator in the world, but unfortunately that doesn't change the body's responses. I agree about Bertie, too. It's hard to say as we aren't told as much of Jeeves' habits, but I think it's very likely that Bertie smoked much more than Jeeves did.

I'm glad you like how the Wright/Heflner relationship is going. I'm slowly building it.

I so appreciate your help with this chapter! Hugs.

[mxdp.livejournal.com]

Okay. How could I miss this? Birthday and Jeeves quitting smoking? I love you.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

It's good to hear from you! Thank you for the review! Love and hugs.