Jeeves and the Rummy Interruptions Part 3/4

[mrs-rochester11.livejournal.com]

Here it is chaps, part 3. Unfortunatley it's another cliffhanger. What can I say, I've discovered I'm a horrible tease when it comes to fics;) Hope you enjoy.

Parts 1 and 2 can be found on my journal here: mrs-rochester11.livejournal.com/

 

Type your cut contents here.

Part 3

            Well, as one may imagine I was slightly distracted as I propelled myself into the presence of Lady Malvern and her son and it took me a moment to realizes that she was saying something to me in a sharp voice reminiscent of a vulture rejoicing over a dead carcass.

            “Mr. Wooster!” she said again

            “Oh, what ho!” I said shaking my head, like a dog shaking water from it’s fur,” Sorry, I was miles away.”

            “Well,” Lady Malvern said with a disapproving sniff, “ I hope I can retain you attention for the rest of the conversation.”

            “ Oh, right ho.” I said somewhat sullenly. I surveyed this imposing personage as she sat down haughtily in my arm chair; and I mean nothing derogatory to her character when I say that she did not so much sit as cram herself into it the way a young debutante might cram herself into her girdle. She was quite…stout, if I may us the word and had the same glint in her eye that my Aunt Agatha gets whenever she is about to immolate some poor chap on the altar of whatever horrible Goddess she answers too. The Goddess of Nephew crushing I dare say. But, anyway, this Malvern bird was of much the same stock as my not-so-beloved Aunt and I inwardly girded myself for battle.

 But really, I hadn’t that much to worry about. Despite her frosty tone towards yours truly, she merely revealed that the reason why she was gracing me with her presence was to dump her son, Wilmot on me for some time while she did research for her book. I agreed, though rather reluctantly for Motty looked quite the pillish sort of chap, but it was, I saw, a way of winning favor with my Aunt Agatha; essentially, keeping the Pershore for a time would be as good as a ticket back to old Blighty. They went off,  Lady Malvern asserting that they would tour the city for a spot of time, after which Motty would see her off on the train and would then return later in the evening.

            Now it is here that I must admit the courage of the Wooster’s failed me. Jeeves had said, “Later” presumably meaning after the Amazon Malvern was disposed of, and here she was quite disposed, the flat empty except for the two of us, so all should have been in readiness for our cozy, awkward little chat. But I was having second thoughts. Perhaps I was simply protecting my own heart, but I was dashed afraid of rejection. What human creature isn’t I ask you? And I was pretty sure that was what I was going to get if I confronted Jeeves on the matter of our morning ablutions. I mean to say, how could a paragon of nature ever consider a chump like yours truly?

            Well, that old demon, cowardice, got the better of me, so I slumped out of the flat without so much as a squeak: it was hat, cane, gloves and Bertram was gone.

            I wandered about the city for a little while, listening to the birds and whatnot. A fine day, I’m sure for some of the passersby I encountered, but I was feeling rather empty don’t you know; like a cat whose lost it’s ball of string, or the way I’m sure Aunt Agatha feels when she misplaces her axe. Down in the dumps I believe the American’s say and if there were any dumps in Hyde Park I would have been in them; as it was I simply sat on a bench.

Eventually, I sought the shelter of a quiet lonley dinner at some restraunt before, presumably sighing like one of those melancholy poet johnnies of old, who were dying of consumption. The day was, I need not say, a gray, gloomy one.

            Eventually, after dinner, I took a deep breath, put on the mental and emotional armor, and returned to the flat. All was tranquil at the home front and after putting up my hat and gloves, I shuffled tentatively into the kitchen, where I found Jeeves washing dishes. I allowed myself a moment to admire him; he had removed his coat and stood in only his waistcoat, with his sleeves pushed up so as not to get them wet, showing a hint of the powerful muscle beneath those finely pressed clothes. I gulped and spoke,

            “What ho, Jeeves.” I squeaked out.

He turned abruptly and stared at me.

            “I’m sorry sir I did not realize you were home.” He paused and put down the dish he had been washing, turned toward me resolutely, and sighed.

            “ We should speak sir.”

            “Yes of course Jeeves. I—“ I began to say something but Jeeves cut me off,

            “I am sorrier than I can say, sir, about the…impropriety of what happened this morning. I was drunk sir, and not half awake. That can be my only excuse. If I had been in my right mind, I would never had attempted anything of that kind on your person. . I hope sir,” he continued, staring resolutely at the floor and not at me, “that we may forget this embarrassing episode and continue as we have.”

            I was stunned. I had expected many things, disgust and outrage key among them. I had even expected, in a tiny corner of the Wooster bean, a declaration of love and embraces and walking off into the sunset. But I had never expected…an apology. “Continue as we have”? I must say I was cut to the quick. I could no more, continue as we had than the sun could rise in the bally east. Or west. Or wherever it doesn’t usually rise if you get my meaning.  I felt the imminent prick of tears behind my eyes and opened my mouth to say something, anything…

            When a series of thumps where heard against the door, as if the hounds of hell were trying to get in. Then all was conspicuously silent.

            Jeeves, without a word, rushed to the door and opened it to reveal a thoroughly incapacitated Motty Pershore.

            Momentarily distracted from the fact that the good old heart felt like it had been made into a pin cushion, I attempted to compose myself and slunk over to examine Motty, who appeared to be having an intriguing tete-a- tete with the doormat.

            “ It appears Lord Pershore is…”

            “ Sozzled, Jeeves?” I asked, an ironic smile popping through on the Wooster map despite the circs.

            “ Indeed sir.”

            It was here that the Wooster brain, though known to perform as slow as frozen molasses on occasion, hopped into action. I had no desire to continue the conversation Jeeves and I had been having before Wilmot’s inebriated interruption. I did not want to here more apologies, I did not want Jeeves to see me cry(a likely contingency if things continued as they were going). Dear lord, Jeeves, with his dashed proper behavior, might offer to resign…

            Well, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t bally well do it. Stronger men perhaps, men with noble chins and glints in their eyes, but not I. I just wanted to get away, don’t you know, before I could prove an even bigger chump than I was reported to be and start blubbering in front of my manservant like a dejected lover.

            “ Um, I say Jeeves, you don’t think you could get him to his room? Get him settled and what not? I…I’ll just be going to bed then…” And I rushed off as if a plague ridden rat was at my heels, leaving Jeeves to attend to Motty.

            Once I got to my room, I closed the door and sighed. It was dark night by this time, but the moon shone bright, creating two iridescent pools on the floor. I got delicately into my pajamas and laid down in bed. I won’t hesitate to say that here, tears flowed rather freely. How could I have been such a fool, I asked myself; how could I have ever thought that Jeeves could love me back? I felt rather as though someone had rammed me through with a pike, and I’m sure that would wring tears from even the toughest of Johnnies. I lay awake for some time , the hours dripping away and my heart not mending itself one bit. Eventually the merciful gods of sleep sprinkled dust in my eyes and I drifted off into a fitful slumber.

            Well, if any of you have done your homework you will know that the in the forthcoming days I found that underneath the gentle, lamb-like exterior of Motty Pershore, dwelt the heart of a debauched, drunken lout. And what with Motty basically being my passport back to England, I, at first, attempted to follow him around in his revels and dampen his celebratory spirit. I say ‘at first’ because after the first night or two it became glaringly apparent that Motty’s celebratory spirit could be anything but dampened by my presence.

              But I persisted for a time in my ineffectual chaperonage, not only in an attempt to escape blame from Aunt Agatha (wishful thinking if ever there was such a thing) but also, frankly because it kept me out of the house and away from Jeeves. Things had become dashed awkward, what with my barley patched up heart threatening to burst once again every time we were in the same room and blushes all around. It was, I found , something of a blessing to be able to ankle out of the house and away from Jeeves’ all to lithe form and all to penetrating eyes.

            But a man can only take so much and at some point, probably about the time Motty decided to bring his revelries back to my flat in the wee hours, even the advantage of being away from Jeeves’ all to temping and beloved form seemed to dim. Not only that but, what with Motty and his late night pals taking up most of the rest of the room, Jeeves and I were now forced into close contact, quite often huddling together in the kitchen away from the infernal din that seemed to persist night and day. I couldn’t stand it anymore, dash it. If I wasn’t going to be allowed to be with Jeeves, the Gods of fate could at least have pity and not force me to have to view the object of my desire twenty-four seven. I decided that now was the time for action!

            “Now is the time for action Jeeves!” I shouted one night over the loud, drunken sound of “Minnie the Moocher” coming from my drawing room.

            “What, sir?”

            “I said,” I shouted, even louder, “that now is the—oh dash it all Jeeves, I’m leaving!”

            Jeeves looked startled for a moment, by which I mean his eyes opened another half an inch, but then composed himself again and said,

            “It is understandable sir. But, where will you go?”

            “I’ll go and stay with Rocky Todd, he’s got a place up in the country.”

It was rummy, but for a moment Jeeves looked as though he wished to say something. Mournful. Regretful don’t you know. As if he wanted to protest. Not that there was anything for him to protest, at least not that I could see. This should be a boon for him, having the young master who was so unfortunately pie-eyed over him, off and out of sight. I would have expected him to break out the champagne. But he wasn’t. I mean obviously he wasn’t breaking out champagne as all of the stuff that we had had probably already been imbibed by the barbarians currently having a shouting contest in my drawing room. But he looked, as I say, regretful. But all he said was,

            “Very good sir. I shall pack your things.”

 

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

And that was that. I arrived at Rocky’s a day later, deep in the country and heaving a sigh of relief. Rocky, good chap that he is , welcomed me with open arms and we started chewing the fat as two coves who enjoy each other’s company are wont to do.

            “So Bertie,” he began as we sat near the fire that evening after a really smashing dinner, “ not that I mind, but what brings you out to the country? And without Jeeves of all things? I shouldn’t think you could survive a minute without the man. You two seem attached at the hip”

            Here he had struck a sore spot and I silently cursed the Gods. Here I was, ensconced in the wilderness, hoping to get away from heartbreak and the first thing my host asks is the one thing I bally well don’t want to speak about.

            But after a moments hesitation I thought: why not tell the fellow? Rocky was discreet, and, I knew for a fact, of a similar persuasion to my own( I believe he used the term bisexual when he described his situation, meaning liking both the fillies and the coves, don’t you know. Dashed diplomatic if you ask me), so it wasn’t as if he would go screaming off into the night to warn the police. And it might be pleasant to unburden myself. Due to the delicate nature of the situation(the love that dare not speak it’s name and all that) I had never had anyone to speak to on the matter of Jeeves and how he had become closely lashed to the Wooster heart.

            So I launched in with a hearty, “Well Rocky, it’s like this—“ and became quite verbose on my recent amorous mishaps. Rocky was as sympathetic as I could have wished him to be; even more so perhaps. He confessed that he was not surprised to hear of my adoration of Jeeves; even for a poet, the man is quite insightful. A really sterling chap don’t you know. He lent an ear to my inane jabbering when most people would have stopped me at the second syllable. I spoke into the night and, when I came to the end of my tale of woe, viz. that the reason I had graced him with my presence was not only to get away from the excrescence Wilmot but to also avoid the piercing eyes of my valet, Rocky was leaning in closely and looking thoughtful. 

            “I’m quite torn up old top.” I said, with no little strain in the voice.

            “I’m sure you are. Why, anyone would be, old pal. But Bertie, don’t you realize,” he said, with a sudden fervor in his voice, and a romantic glint in his eye, “ don’t you realize that you’ve been a terrific chump!”

            Now I thought this a bit ungracious.

            “Well, of course I know I’ve been a chump, Rocky. Haven’t I just been explaining how very chumpish indeed I felt after Jeeves’ rejection and that that is the very reason I am here—“

            “ No, no, Bertie. What I mean is—Listen, did Jeeves ever actually say that he didn’t love you? That he felt nothing for you at all?’

            I paused for a moment, mouth hanging open like some sort of haddock before responding,

            “ Well, no. Not in so many words. He just kept apologizing, don’t you know. He has this dashed annoying feudal spirit—“

            But again, the man cut me off.

            “ Well, that’s exactly what I’m on to. How can you be sure that he doesn’t feel something for you and that it’s not just this feudal spirit of his that’s preventing him from saying something.”

            I was stunned. I hadn’t, in my pathetic, broken-hearted state, even stopped to think that Jeeves had meant anything other than what he said. My resemblance to a haddock increased as Rocky continued,

            “ You have to go and talk this out with him old man! And you have to do it clearly. Because let me tell you, I’ve seen the two of you together and…there’s something there old chap. Something you can’t let slip through your fingers even if Jeeves is too much of a stoic to tell you how he feels! Embrace it Bertie!”

            Whether it was the lateness of the hour or Rocky’s poetic nature that was infecting me, but I was dashed inspired.

            “Do you really think so?”

            “Yes, Bertie! And, despite my hospitable nature, I demand that you go back to the city in the morning and talk the thing out in very clear words, and find out where things stand.”

            I looked deeply into the fire for a moment, as a glimmer of hope sprang up in the old heart. Perhaps, Jeeves really could feel something for me. And even if he didn’t…I gulped…even if he didn’t, at least I would know definitively.

            “ Rocky!”

            “ Still here old cork! Listening raptly.”

            “ I’ll do it!”

            “Excellent! Oh, I’m happy for you Bertie. You won’t regret it.”

 

            And so it was that the next morning saw me, packed, ready to leave, and standing by the door bidding Rocky farewell.

            “Farewell Rocky.”

            “ Seeya Bertie….and Bertie.”

            “Yes?”   

            Here, the man blushed a bit.

            “ Well, if things don’t work out with Jeeves, which I think they will, don’t worry about that, but if for some reason they don’t…well you know I swing both ways as it were.” Here he looked the Wooster body up and bit his lip in a charming way, “And, well, I’m always up for a good time. Even if things do work out with you and Jeeves; I’d always be an enthusiastic third party don’t you know.”

            I couldn’t help but be flattered, despite my devotion to Jeeves. And Rocky, for being a sluggard, is, without a doubt, quite a delish package, all in all. But he was not my inky haired, noble, valet and I opened my mouth to protest, but Rocky reached out a finger and closed it before I could day anything,

            “ Don’t worry old thing, I’ve every notion that you and Jeeves will hit it off perfectly; it can end no other way in my opinion. But just bear the invitation in mind. I may be a lazy poet, but I can be quite a kitten in bed.” My mouth dropped open at this saucy remark and Rocky laughed, “You’ve really got to work on keeping your mouth closed. It is rather cute though.” He winked, adding to my astonishment. Really, one doesn’t expect these things from writers who don’t get out of bed until one.

            “ But,” he said, “It is time for you to go old thing. Good luck. And if ever you and Jeeves need a spot to honeymoon my country is your country.”

            “I’ll bear it in mind. Thanks a million Rocky!” I said as I started down the long path to the main road, still looking back and waving goodbye.

            Rocky waved at me for a moment, but stopped suddenly, looking at some point behind me. It was only a second after I registered this change in his façade, that I ran rather abruptly into something very solid. I turned around, expecting it to be a tree, or some other sort of forest-like obstacle. But it was not.

            It was Jeeves.

            The real Jeeves, standing there slightly out of breath.

            Not a picture.  

 

Comments

[storyfan.livejournal.com]

I was just thinking the same thing. I'd love to see this updated.

[mxdp.livejournal.com]

Update. UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE :C

(I figure that if we shout long enough, she'll hear us begging ;P )