FIC: Troubled Times chapter 16 part 1

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Title: Troubled Times
Chapter 16: A Time to Work
Author: Emerald
Beta : jestana Thank you!
Inspiration and Encourager: ironicbees
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: May 1940 The positions I am giving Jeeves and Wooster in this chapter are temporary and have two main purposes. The first purpose is to keep them together as much as possible, and the second is because after doing research on the time, I believe this is a realistic view of what might have happened.

When we returned to our cottage, Mr. Wooster and I continued practising with the firearm twice a week. I began to expand the lessons I was teaching him, recalling what I had been taught in the Great War. Neither of us spoke of the purpose of these lessons. As he had done right after war had been declared, my employer often sat with a book in his lap, staring at the pages, but not reading. I felt that we were simply biding time; waiting for the next blow to descend.

That blow came in May when the Nazis invaded France. We were sitting on the settee reading books, talking, and listening to the wireless when we heard the news. Once the announcement was finished, he said,“Jeeves?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you know if Anatole's parents are still in France?”

“They arrived in England two weeks ago, sir.”

“Something good there, at least. Thank you for all the work you've put into the Wooster welfare. I know it wasn't easy. Quite the feudal spirit, old chap.”

“It has been no trouble, sir.” I studied him, trying to decipher his thoughts. I suspected that Mr. Wooster was recalling what I had said about the English Channel being all that separated us from the German army if France fell to the enemy. His mystery book laid opened across his lap, and Mr. Wooster was gazing down at it, but I doubted he had read more than a few pages all evening. Without looking up, he reached over to the stand where his pack of cigarettes usually rested. His fingers played across the empty space for a moment before he sighed softly.

I debated whether to offer to retrieve them for him. If Mr. Wooster was considering quitting, I would not be aiding my employer by bringing him cigarettes every time he reached for a pack. I was certain that Mr. Wooster was still smoking, but he had not done so in my presence since I had informed him that I had ceased the habit. Nor did he currently just throw a pack anywhere after fetching a cigarette. He kept them in the drawer. Until recently when the nine o'clock news had concluded, my employer had given the excuse that he wanted fresh air and had gone outside to smoke. He had ceased that practice a week ago.

Suddenly aware of my attention on him, Mr. Wooster looked at me. He gave me a sad smile. “The news is rummy again tonight. What can't be helped has to be borne, what?”

“Indeed, sir.” I sighed, and for a brief second dropped the mask so he could glimpse my own sorrow over the invasion.

Mr. Wooster put an arm around my shoulders. “We went to France after ...”

He did not finish his sentence, but he did not need to. I could do so easily. We had went to France after we had exchanged vows and formed a gentleman's agreement between us. I knew now what he was thinking about. He was remembering a happier time when the shadow of trouble had been far from us.

 

We had no time to inhale before the next breath-taking event took place. The Secretary of State for War announced the formation of Local Defence Volunteers and called for volunteers between the ages of seventeen and sixty-five.

Neither of us said anything for a time after the broadcast. I got up and switched the wireless off. Mr. Wooster sighed, and said,“Jeeves, I think I've been given my sense of direction. You know the one I said I didn't have when we left London.”

“I remember, sir. We will go sign up tomorrow, if you wish, sir.”

“I wish, if you have no objection. Have we decided together?”

“Yes, sir.”

 

I made no objection, but my heart rebelled. I was willing to give England everything, with one exception. That exception being Mr. Wooster. I did not intend to voice my feelings, however. I had known when we had decided to stay in the country that Mr. Wooster wanted to be of service to England. I understood the sentiment. I, too, wanted to be of use. So I quieted the heart's protests and said nothing.

 

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

The next few weeks went by in a slow, unhappy daze. I was truly happy only when I was sheltered in his arms, and we could forget the world around us. We were accepted into the Local Defence Volunteers, and became part of the sixth battalion.

I managed to find us some work clothes. I was not surprised that clothes of any kind were expensive. Shortly before the war, I had bought Mr. Wooster and me entire outfits in anticipation of attire becoming both costly and difficult to come by.

The first day we were to report for duty, I stood staring at our work clothes, a darkness falling over me, darker than the gloom the blackout brought to an area.

When Mr. Wooster came into the room to dress, I had begun to debate whether this was a step down for both of us. I was a gentleman's attendant; it was not my place to serve the working class. And Mr. Wooster was a gentleman. He should not be required to dress in such a fashion.

Mr. Wooster started to dress without my aid, but I felt his gaze upon me. Quickly I began to change my attire, resentment over the circumstances building steadily within my heart.

As if he was reading my thoughts, Mr. Wooster said, “It's an honour, old chap. To serve Ol' Blighty, I mean. You have to concentrate on that.”

I looked over at him and frowned slightly. Hastening to his side, I said,“Just because you are not dressing as a gentleman would, does not mean you should be sloppy, sir. Your shirt should be tucked in, not left hanging like that. Here, let me arrange it.”

“I was about to fix it, but you can tuck my shirts in any time you want, Jeeves,” Mr. Wooster said, cheerfully.

My hands stilled, and I peered into his face. “This really does not bother you, does it, sir?”

There was a brief silence, and then Mr. Wooster replied,“No, I don't believe it does. I'm not taking it to heart as you are. I do view it as an honour, and I'm glad to do my part.”

His shirt now tucked in and straightened, he pulled me into his embrace. His hand firm on my back, he said quietly,“Don't let it settle in the heart, love. Just let it slide. No point in holding on to it. We get through it one day at a time. Each day done brings us closer to the end, whether good or bad. It's not forever.”

I held him tightly, and answered,“I will try, sir.” I stepped away to finish my own dressing.

Mr. Wooster sat on the bed to put his shoes on. He said,“I wish I could remember the thinggummys my father used to tell me better. There's one he told me once that I think would help you.”

My employer sighed. “I do wish I could bring it clearer to the nonce. He never had trouble getting sayings right as I do. Well, here's my try at it. He said that it isn't the upholstery that makes a cove a gentleman, it's that man's actions. He said you could dress anyone up nicely, but if the actions weren't noble, then the clothes don't matter. I know they do matter to you, Jeeves, but what you wear doesn't change who you are. Not on the inside, unless you let it. Am I making any sense?”

His words brought me comfort, nudging out the resentment that had been seething inside. Returning to his side, I placed a hand on his shoulder. “You make perfect sense, sir. You bring me solace. Indeed I would have great trouble with these days were it not for you.”

Mr. Wooster smiled up at me. “I've leaned on you since the day we met. If you need to lean on me now, you go right ahead.”

I clasped his shoulder and said softly, “Thank you, sir.”

Supported by his love and encouragement, we went out to face the world together.

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

The first week, we spent several days laying wire along the coast. We were given huge rolls of barded wire and heavy mittens to wear when we worked. It took a week to get the wire across the area of beach our battalion had been assigned.

Beginning during the second week, we had training drills each Sunday and were assigned duties. Most of the volunteers did not have weapons and pieces of wood were used. There were no uniforms, just armbands, which I had great difficulty seeing added to Mr. Wooster's attire. It was necessary, however, for without the arm band, we were not allowed to carry firearms, and I wanted Mr. Wooster to keep his nearby. I removed the band as soon as the door closed behind him every time we returned home.

I doubt training was easy for him, but Mr. Wooster never complained. In some ways, I believe the drills were just as arduous for me as they were for him, only for different reasons. When we were not together during a practice, I worried. When we did exercise in the same area, I found myself slowly, but constantly moving back to his side. It was as if I could not be farther than two feet away from him without being restless. It was an annoying trait made all the more irritating by the fact that Mr. Wooster seemed quite capable of forgetting my presence entirely. I told myself that he had years of practice in pretending I was nothing more to him than a servant whereas I had for those years trained myself to attend to him.

Besides, before every drill, I would tell him to concentrate on his actions and nothing else. I said, “In battle, you will get killed if you constantly look for me, sir. The time to count survivors is after the conflict. I can take care of myself, but survival will mean nothing to me; if you do not live. If you are not doing well, I will have to focus on helping you and neither of us will be alive at the end of the skirmish. Concentrate only on what you need to learn to survive. Nothing else.”

By ignoring me, Mr. Wooster was only obeying my instructions. None of these admonitions to myself helped as much as I wished they would. I still had to force myself to concentrate on the task and stay in place instead of gradually moving to Mr. Wooster's side.

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

During our second week of service, I opened the door to what would have appeared to be a sweet, harmless elderly lady except for the firearm she was carrying.

I invited her in, and she said, “I'm Anna Evans. Are you Jeeves?”

“Yes, madam. Mr. Wooster is not yet awake.” I gestured to a chair and offered her a seat.

She shook her head. “I have several people to visit today. Dahlia ...”

She paused and gazed at me, trying to judge if I knew of whom she spoke.

I asked, “Did Mrs. Travers have a message she wished you to deliver, madam?”

“This,” she thrust the firearm out, clearly intending for me to take it, which I did. “Dahlia is going around to all our friends from our hunting days and collecting guns. I'm delivering them to the volunteers. She said her nephew already had one, but this is yours. The supplies for it are out in the car. We had to put petrol ration coupons together in order to get them to everyone on our list, and I'm still not sure it will be enough. We're using the train as much as possible, but I'm too old to be walking miles along country roads. I have four more guns in the car. Do you know anyone that could use them?”

“Indeed, madam. If you give me extra weapons, I can quickly distribute them during my normal errands without using extra petrol.”

She smiled. “That sounds like a perfect plan. Dahlia told me that I could rely on you to help us.”

I followed her out to her car and brought the boxes and firearms inside the cottage. I intended to give the weapons to Mr. Wright so he could bestow them among family and friends. I already had a firearm. After we had volunteered for the Local Defence, Mr. Wright had taken the weapons he had hidden in Mr. Heflner's residence out from their storage. Mr. Little and I had been given one of the hunting guns.

Mr. Wooster nodded and expressed approval of my actions when I told him of the morning's events. His encouragement during those weeks were my mainstay. I knew the times had to be trying for him, too, but he still sang around the cottage and chatted happily with me.

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

Mr. Wooster and I were assigned patrols during our second week in the Local Defence. We were to check identity cards at a road block. My patrol came first, and I was on duty from six in the evening until seven in the morning. I put the blackout curtains up before I left, and we enjoyed an early dinner together. I arrived home and after a quick bath and a short nap began to prepare Mr. Wooster's breakfast.

I paused when I placed the tray in front of Mr. Wooster, and sliding my fingers under his chin, I studied his face. His eyes met mine, and he said,“I'm glad you're home, Jeeves.”

I noted that he looked tired and worried. It was plain that he had not slept well. I placed my own meal on the breakfast cart by his bed, and prepared him one of my special cocktails. When I was finished, I sat on his bed, pulling the table up to me. We ate silently for a time. I was tired and not all that hungry.

“Jeeves?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I don't want you serving me breakfast after patrol. Go to bed, old chap, and get some sleep.”

I drew myself up and letting a slight trace of haughtiness come into my voice, I said,“I have served you breakfast for sixteen years now. I have no desire to sleep instead of performing my duties, sir.”

Silence followed this statement, but it was not the pleasant quiet of agreement. Mr. Wooster was debating his next words which meant nothing good.

“You haven't.”

“Sir?”

“You haven't served me breakfast for sixteen years. You've had vacations, and we've not been together every day for those years.”

I wondered if he was once more feeling resentment over my vacations, but pursuing that subject would not solve the current problem. “A minor point, sir. My objection remains valid.”

“No, it doesn't! I can take care of myself. I managed to get breakfast without you before, and I can do so again.”

I was tired and desiring a cigarette, otherwise my next words would have been stated with less force and more tactfully. “It is my duty to prepare your breakfast, and I do not intend to relinquish that responsibility. You have cooked breakfast a mere handful of times in our acquaintance. I left you with a gentleman's personal gentleman during my vacations so you were not forced to manage on your own.”

“Rot, Jeeves! All rot! Being a valet doesn't make a body a good cook. You're perfect in all you do, but you've left me with people that aren't. Twice I spent nights in a hotel while you were gone just so I could have a good breakfast soon after I woke up in the morning. One can give an excuse and dine out for other meals, but you told them I usually had breakfast in bed, which meant I had to be up and out before they were awake. Being in a hotel meant I could sleep as late as I wished and still get a good meal.”

I almost choked on my tea. Swallowing carefully, I asked,“You stayed at a hotel some of the nights I was on vacation?”

The expression on Mr. Wooster's face revealed that he knew the answer was important to me, even if he did not know why. Hesitantly, he said,“Yes, Jeeves. Does it matter?”

“It should not, sir, but I find that it does indeed bring happiness.”

He frowned. “You're happy because I disliked my valet's cooking enough to spend nights in a hotel?”

“No, sir. My replacements reported that you did not come home every night during my absence. At the time the information puzzled me, but later I concluded that you had been with Mr. Little or Mr. Winship.”

If Mr. Wooster had given me a quick denial, I would have been glad, but the indignation that crossed his face brought far more happiness. It was plain that there had been no one during that time, or he would not feel annoyed at being suspected of being intimate with someone else.

His irritation was quickly replaced by sympathy. He set his tray aside and scooted down. Putting an arm around me, Mr. Wooster rested his head against my back. “I suppose I can understand that. After all, I did not take my suitcase as I was only going to be gone for the night, and taking it would require explanations. And I could hardly walk through the metrop. with my pyjamas in hand. So I slept in my underclothes. Don't scold, Jeeves.”

I was far too happy to lecture him. “I have no intention of scolding you, sir. I am curious, sir. Why did you cease going to a hotel after we became intimate? Surely I did not suddenly become better in my selection.”

Yet even as I stated the words, I recalled how competent the man I had left him with was that fourth year, and after that I had been extremely careful in my choice due to remorse over leaving him with Mr. Bingley. Now I was very grateful for my care. If he had chosen to go to a hotel after our agreement ... I did not like to think of the hurt that would have caused me, as I would not have known there was an innocent explanation for it. It just proved, I thought wryly, that I should have talked more openly with him in the past.

Mr. Wooster said, “They did get better except for Brinkley, and I started spending your vacation time at Aunt Dahlia's anyway. And if you insist on serving me breakfast after being up all night, I'll do it again. Stay at a hotel that is.”

I felt slightly annoyed, but my joy in my new knowledge of his whereabouts those years ago was still too strong for any other emotion to take root.

He retrieved his tray and stated, “I'm not trying to be the master ordering the servant here. You need sleep. I won't have you serving me breakfast when you've been working all night. The shot isn't on board.”

I fought back the sudden urge to battle. When I was younger such words would have meant warfare between us, but in our years together I had learned that I valued his love even more than winning a disagreement. In addition, with our country at war, I did not wish to have strife in our home. Nor was his tone one that would provoke a conflict. I could detect the love he felt for me in his speech. Nevertheless, I found it impossible to just let the issue rest, and I stated, “I have no fondness for sleep, but I love serving your breakfast, sir.”

I meant to put a touch of defiance in my voice, but to my own ears I sounded like a small boy whose balloon has just taken to the air.

There was a brief silence, before he replied, “Jeeves, are we talking about the same thing? I mean I'm chatting about the fact that you have to be tired and need to be asleep instead of dashing about serving the old master, but you sound as if we're chatting about me prying open your fingers from something precious to you so I can smash it against the wall. I'm suddenly feeling as if we're on two different subjects.”

I discerned that to Mr. Wooster this was a practical matter with only his care for me causing it to be an emotional one for him. He was making an attempt to keep the conversation from becoming heated, and was giving me the opportunity to explain my perspective.

“As far as I am concerned, we are discussing something that I cherish, sir. It has been many years now since my tasks were only chores performed for my wages. My duties are done out of love for you. My payment does not enter into it, because since our agreement, I have come to realise that anything I need or want, you will gladly give me. You never question my purchases.”

Even as I spoke, my desire to stand firm over serving him breakfast began to fade, dissolved by the love he had always shown me. Now I only wanted Mr. Wooster to understand, and I softened my tone to reflect my own love for him. “I love serving your breakfast. You always look tousled and sleepy.”

“That's because I am t. and s. The old master is not his best in the morn. I'd think you'd jump at an excuse to not have to see the Wooster person until later in the day.”

“No, sir. I enjoy placing your breakfast in front of you and the drowsy thank you I always receive. You may not feel at your best in the morning, but you never fail to give me a smile. No matter what is going on in the world, you cheer me and give me the sense that all is well. Usually, you take a sip or two of your tea and make a pleasant comment about the quality of my service. I also receive a compliment after you have taken your first bite or two of breakfast, and again when ...”

Suddenly perceiving humour in my statements, I looked over at my employer and smiled, “My words make it seem as if I am living for your compliments, and can not survive without them. They do mean a great deal to me. With so much changing in the world ...”

I halted, leaving my sentence unfinished. With so much changing in the world, I was reluctant to give up something that meant so much to me.

Mr. Wooster's hand came to my shoulder. “The light has dawned, Jeeves. I see your point, several points in fact. If it's that important to you, I'll agree to you cooking breakfast, if you go to bed afterwards. I can take my bath without help, surely aiding me bathing is not something you feel the need to dig the Jeeves's heels in about.”

 

Comments

[mxdp.livejournal.com]

YAAAAAY! *goes reading*

[mxdp.livejournal.com]

Oh. I say!
I think this may be my favorite chapter up till now.
*runs off*

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the warm greeting!

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Oh, that's wonderful! I worried a bit about this one as the times are rapidly getting tougher, and I have to deal with the war more. Thank you!

[mxdp.livejournal.com]

No need to worry my friend, I absolutely loved it!

[mxdp.livejournal.com]

Pleasure was all mine! ^^

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I greatly appreciate the support!