Fic: Troubled Times chapter 25 Part One

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Title: Troubled Times
Chapter 25
Author: Emerald
Beta : jestana and windysame Thank you very much! I greatly appreciate your work and advice!
Inspiration and Encourager: ironicbees
Rating: Mature.
Disclaimer: Wooster and Jeeves belong to Wodehouse.
Summary: The story deals with the time before, during, and after WWII.
A/N: September 1940.

 

 

 

 

The bombing was relentless and continual. Not a day went by that England was not assaulted by the Nazi Army. If I had not been so busy; I am certain I would have been very depressed. I was rarely given a chance to dwell on it, however. During the days we were home, I had to attain groceries, make food for the chickens, and numerous other tasks that had been made harder by the war.

 

I was very aware that Mr. Wooster was finding the constant bombing to be arduous. We were far enough north that we were not being attacked, and we never heard the sirens except for practice drills at the factory. Nevertheless, I knew of his love for London and the heart break the war was causing him. He seemed to be bearing up well, but he was much quieter. His customary light chatter was infrequent, and I greatly missed it.

 

One day when he seemed to be feeling especially disheartened, I brought the sticky paper from the cellar and placed it on the kitchen table. I got the necessary supplies, two glasses of water, the cinnamon crisps Mrs. Wright had given me the day before, and set them on the table, also. When everything was in readiness, I went into the drawing room, where he was playing the piano and singing. Coming to stand behind him, I placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me and I said, “I do not believe 'There Will Always Be an England' was meant to be sung like a funeral dirge.”

 

“Sorry, Jeeves. I'm just feeling a bit gloomy.”

 

“Very understandable. I was wondering, if perhaps, you would aid me at a task?”

 

A smile graced his face and he said, “You want me to help you with something?”

 

“Yes, your aid is essential.”

 

“My aid is essential?”

 

“Yes, my echo,” I teased.

 

Laughing, he followed me into the kitchen.

 

Once we were both seated, I said, “This task should have been done months ago, but our Guard duties have kept me busy. The object is to cut out patterns from the sticky paper to put on the windows. I doubt we will be bombed in this rural area, but if we are, this will keep the glass from shattering into pieces. My friend, Erlin, in his last letter told me that many houses in London have them now, and I noticed residences in town with them when I was there yesterday. Common patterns are lattice squares and diamonds. I also saw a sun ray and an Union Jack. The main thing to remember is that I would like to continue to be able to see from the windows; therefore do not make your pattern too stripy.”

 

I finished and took a sip of my glass of water.

 

He asked, “That's it? Don't make it too stripy? You're giving me freedom to put any pattern I want on the windows?”

 

Reaching out, I placed my hand over his and squeezed it. “I am attempting to give you that freedom, and I hope you do not cause me to bite my tongue too often.”

 

He laughed. “I will try not to cause you anguish. Would stars with rays be a tongue biter?”

 

“No. In fact that sounds lovely and appropriate.”

 

He beamed at me and I smiled.

 

I was pleased with the result of my enlisting his aid. We worked in happy companionship and for the rest of the day he sang merry tones under his breath.

 

*****

 

Our duties with the Home Guard kept us occupied. In the last week of September, we were at home, when the doorbell chiming claimed my attention. I answered the door and escorted Chandler inside. If he was surprised at my appearance as Mr. Wooster's gentleman's personal gentleman, he gave no sign of it. He said, “Good afternoon, Jeeves. Is Wooster here?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

I brought him into the lounge where Mr. Wooster was reading a book. He started to stand, but Chandler said, “At ease.” He glanced at me and back to my employer before saying, “Is he considered on duty or something? I'd like to talk to both of you, and it would be convenient to do it once instead of twice.”

 

My employer replied, “You can chat with Jeeves whenever you want.”

 

Mr. Wooster's eyes met mine, and I perceived the amusement in them as he asked, “Join us, Jeeves?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Half an hour later Mr. Chandler departed. I returned to the room where Mr. Wooster sat staring at the papers he had been given. I sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. I asked, “Would you like me to call everyone and arrange a meeting at Last's residence?”

 

Mr. Wooster nodded. “Please, Jeeves. The sooner the better. We need to plan.”

 

I started to get up when an idea occurred to me. Here, placed in my hands, was an opportunity that I had been hoping would come to pass. “Sir, would you have any objection to me telling the group to meet at Jasmine's residence?”

 

“No, but why would you want to do that?”

 

“Well, the practical reason is because it is possible that Jasmine could help us. She told me once that she sells butter, eggs, and milk to nearby neighbours. The exercise is to take place at Mr. Wendall's home, which is not far from Jasmine's farm, so it is likely that she is at his residence occasionally and could tell us the layout of the place.”

 

Mr. Wooster nodded. “And the non-practical reason?”

 

“Jasmine always sets aside some butter for me, so I have talked to her frequently. She has a fondness for band music, especially Jack Hylton.”

 

I knew he would not understand my motives from that brief explanation, and the expectant look on my employer's face confirmed my belief. I continued, “She loves chess and teaches the game to the younger members of the family.”

 

There was still no enlightenment in his countenance. I added, “The sitting room in her farmhouse has a bookcase with many books on the Renaissance. I asked her about them, and she informed me that she loves that time in history. She was studying to become a history teacher. She had one year of school left when her father died, and she had to return to help her brother with the farm.”

 

He stared at me for a moment and then shook his head. “I'm sorry, old chap. I know you're waiting for the Wooster bean to catch up to your mysterious ways, but I'm far behind here.”

 

“Understandable. Mr. Buchanan told you that he had never married because no one loved him; they were just after his money. You stated that he was afraid of being hurt. My own opinion of the man's psychology agrees with yours. I would also say that his fear of being hurt has made him very lonely.

 

“Mr. Buchanan loves band music. He has a special fondness for Jack Hylton. He loves chess. He has been teaching the game to Ralph during our days at the farm.”

 

I perceived in Mr. Wooster's face dawning comprehension. He had begun to grin, too.

 

I continued, “His major is in history and judging by the books he brings to read while at the factory, he likes the Renaissance poets, Milton and Spenser. I have often had enjoyable conversations about Shakespeare's plays with him. He has written and had several papers published comparing the differences and similarities of the English and the Italian Renaissance.”

 

I discerned that Mr. Wooster understood my motives fully now. I continued, “Marriages have been built on less. What is more, Jasmine is a very kind, sensible woman. I doubt Mr. Buchanan would ever feel she is only interested in his money. She is very content with her life despite the hardships she has experienced and that serenity shows in her nature.”

 

Mr. Wooster smiled. “I see all. You must believe that she can handle that stubborn 'I won't be told what to do' streak in him.”

 

“I believe that he always behaves as a gentleman; although occasionally a stubborn one. I suspect that a woman would find him easier to deal with than a man. His attitude toward women is very similar to that of yours and Mr. Heflner's. A woman would have to push him far indeed to provoke a major quarrel. Jasmine is wise enough to discern this and to work around his flaws.”

 

“You don't feel the difference in their ages to be a problem?”

 

“No, sir. Jasmine is twenty-five, and he is thirty-four. Nine years is not so much. I would remind you that Wright is nine years younger than Mr. Heflner.”

 

My employer grinned. “Yes, but Wright is in his thirties. Still, I trust your judgement. May your plans prosper.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

I went to the telephone and called Jasmine. As I expected, she cheerfully agreed to letting our unit meet at her residence. I told her that the group would start arriving around two o'clock. After speaking with her, I proceeded to call everyone in our section, informing all of them that the gathering would start at two-thirty-five, with the exception of Mr. Buchanan. I told him that we would be meeting at two. This would give the two time to meet and a chance for him to view the books in the sitting room. Hopefully they would discover their shared love and begin talking.

 

The afternoon of the meeting, Mr. Wooster and I arrived at Jasmine's residence at two-fifteen. As we were ushered into the sitting room, I saw that, so far, my scheme had been successful. There was a copy of Tamburlaine the Great open on the table. Mr. Wooster asked if they had been discussing it, and they returned to the conversation that apparently been going on before we arrived.

 

It was another fifteen minutes before the rest of our section began to arrive and by that time the friendship I had hoped for had been formed.

 

When our section had gathered around the table, Mr. Wooster put our orders on the table and said, “The Regulars wish to play. Chandler is agreeable to it, as he wants us to have plenty of practice in re-claiming what is ours, in case the factory ever falls into enemy hands. The other sections are being assigned drills, too. Chandler believes the Regulars don't think we're up to muster. I've looked the exercise over, and it's possible we can give them some things to chew over.”

 

He explained, “We're to pretend that the Jerries have invaded. They're using Mr. Wendall's house as their headquarters. We are to take the house back so they have to use the roads and fields again. The exercise is scheduled for a week from today.”

 

Jasmine had taken the book and was sitting in a nearby chair as we talked. Now she said, “I ...” She paused and looked to Mr. Wooster.

 

He said, “You're free to talk.”

She smiled and said, “I sell milk and butter to Mr. Wendall's butler, Mr. Crombie. We're friends. I can get a map of the inside of the house from him. I know the grounds very well. I can draw you a diagram of them that includes a path into the place that doesn't use the roads, if you'd like.

 

Mr. Wooster replied, “That would be great! Why don't you pull the chair up and join us?”

 

“Well, I ...” She looked around at our group to see if the other men would protest a woman in their presence. No one did, and Mr. Buchanan moved his chair to make room for her next to him.

 

I listened carefully to the planning that followed. Mr. Wooster was not left to decide everything on his own, as the other men readily volunteered thoughts and ideas.

 

It was not until everything else had been decided that we came to a point where for the first time in our planning a decision was given to Mr. Wooster and left to him to decide. The exercise was scheduled to commence at three pm., but it was generally agreed that we should actually start at two pm., as they would not be expecting us then. The trouble with that notion was that it was as Mr. Wooster put it, “Not exactly cricket.”

 

So after thoroughly discussing it, a silence descended into the room, and the men waited for Mr. Wooster to decide. My employer glanced at me. Our gaze held for a moment. I knew that he was not asking me to make the decision for him; he was remembering my words about how I would have no hesitation shooting someone invading my country.

 

Mr. Wooster's gaze next fell on Mr. Heflner. I understood this, too. In many ways, Mr. Heflner was the most sensitive among us, but he was also a Great War veteran. He met my employer's eyes, sighed slightly, and nodded.

 

Mr. Wooster looked around at each of the men. He said, “If this wasn't an exercise; if it was for real, then my goal would be to accomplish our objective with everyone living when it's done. If I knew the Jerries were expecting me at three, I'd never be so foolish as to show at that time. So, we go in at two.”

 

I noted that Mr. Buchanan lingered behind us when it was time to depart. He did not question me as to why I had clearly given him an erroneous meeting time, but I had known he would not. My position as Mr. Wooster's gentleman's personal gentleman protected me from any enquiry from him. Both he and Mr. Heflner held that it was not proper to correct someone else's servant, unless that person was very out of line in their behaviour. A matter such as getting the time of a gathering wrong would be overlooked by both of them. Nor was it in Mr. Buchanan's nature to complain about a minor issue unless the rest of his day had also gone badly.

 

Later that afternoon, I placed a call to Jasmine to express my thanks to her for allowing us to meet at her place and for her aid.

 

She replied, “I am always glad to help the Guard and you, too, Jeeves. Oscar and I are going to dinner in town tonight to talk some more. I've enjoyed talking with someone who knows the Renaissance as well as I do; better even than I do.”

 

We conversed a little longer. I shared my schedule with her, aware that as Mr. Buchanan served in the Home Guard the same days that I did, I was giving Jasmine his schedule also.

 

As I concluded the call, I silently wished them both the best.

 

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

The exercise was almost effortless on our part. On the appointed day, we stopped first at a Mr. Lane's residence. He was to be the umpire for our side. He would keep us constant company, but he would not take part in the exercise. He was surprised to see us so early, but accepted Mr. Wooster's explanation with a nod and a grunt.

 

We went across the fields and through a small apple orchard. Having someone who was still very young in our section was an advantage that Mr. Wooster did not hesitate to use. As soon as we were in sight of the residence, Mr. Wooster had Ralph climb a nearby tree, so we could get an idea of how well-guarded the house and gardens were.

 

After close to five minutes, the lad slithered to the ground and reported, “Two guards patrol the gardens at intervals. If we were quick about it and stealthy, we could grab the first one before the second made it to the spot. I can't see much of the front of the house, but there is at least one guard by the driveway. He won't be able to see us get in through the hedge. He can't see back yard, either. Too much shrubbery in the way.”

 

His words were accurate. We slipped through the hedge and hid behind the various bushes. It was an easy matter for Andy Martin to step behind the first guard and put a gun in his back. He gave us no resistance. Mr. Wooster and I escorted him through the hedge where I swiftly gagged him and tied him to a tree. This was done because we had not officially killed him and therefore had to prevent him from warning the others.

 

The second sentry was more difficult. He struggled and tried to cry out, but Howard Last quickly clapped his hand over the man's mouth. He attempted to bite Last, and Mr. Wooster put his gun over the fellow's head. To the umpire he asked, “Can we declare him knocked unconscious?”

 

When Lane answered in the affirmative, he ceased fighting. We tied him next to the last man.

 

We could have declared either of them dead at any time, but that would mean firing a blank, which would make noise and alert the occupants that we had arrived. I knew Wright was carrying a dagger, but Mr. Wooster was aware of that, also. Wright would not offer to 'kill' someone with it unless it was clearly necessary or my employer asked him to dispense with a person.

 

The back door had been left unlocked for us by the butler, and we had no trouble gaining entry to the house. The three men in the kitchen were not expecting us and were briskly overpowered. Having learned from our previous capture that it was best to immediately state that they had been rendered unconscious rather than give them a chance to fight, Mr. Wooster made the announcement as soon as it was reasonable.

 

Lane replied, “Done.”

 

Crombie had come into the room during the brief conflict, and we left him to watch the prisoners. We carefully proceeded through the house.

 

It was in a large drawing room that we came upon the enemy's Commander, the umpire for the other side, and the master of the house. We rushed into the room, forced Commander Llewellyn to leave his desk, and tied him to a chair.

 

The umpire for the 'Nazi' unit, a Mr. Wingham, protested. “It's only two-twenty! You're not to be here until three!”

 

To my surprise it was our umpire who promptly answered, “Their spies informed them that the Huns were expecting them at three. It seemed prudent, therefore, to arrive early.”

 

Mr. Wingham considered this and slowly nodded. “Approved.”

 

Having secured the house, our next objective was to call the Regulars. A note on the telephone, however, stated that the lines had been cut. We were not concerned as it was unlikely that reinforcements would have arrived in time to help us with our next orders.

 

Less than five minutes later, we were gathered in an upstairs bedroom. Mr. Heflner peered out the window and reported, “There's a guard walking the length of the driveway. Another two by the gate. Just outside the gate, there's this stand of trees. Possibly more men hiding there.”

 

Ralph volunteered, “This might help. I lifted it from the desk their Commander was using.” He presented some papers that he had folded and hidden in a pocket.

 

Mr. Wooster looked the papers over and said to Ralph, “Well done! This is their instructions. They're hiding in those trees because they expect us to come by the road. There are only six of them.”

 

A short debate on how to handle the situation followed. It was decided to go out through the hedge. Once outside the grounds Andy, Frank Brophy, and Ralph would separate from us. They would go by the opposite side of the road and throw 'grenades' into it as a distraction for us. These were not real grenades, but we had added crackers to the fake ones given to us, and the noise would be adequate to provide the misdirection we needed. When the guards on the road and at the gate rushed out to aid their team members, they would be captured by our three, who would be waiting for them. In the meantime, the rest of us would seize the group in the trees.

 

We anticipated a strenuous skirmish and while they offered a brief challenge to us; we had the advantage from the beginning because of the confusion brought about by the 'grenades' and the fact that they had assumed we would begin the attack at three o'clock from the road. By three o'clock, however, victory was ours, and we were headed back toward the house.

 

As we arrived at the front door, Ralph said to Mr. Wooster, “Sir,” he pointed to the Commander's car nearby, “We're supposed to report to the Regulars as soon as we can, and I happened to remove these as a souvenir,” he placed a set of keys in my employer's hand, “when I was lifting the papers.”

 

Mr. Wooster said, “You're the real Tabasco!”

 

My employer wisely used this compliment sparingly with Ralph, as it was the lad's favourite thing to be told.

 

A huge smile spread across his face and he said, “Thank you, sir.”

 

Mr. Wooster said, “Oscar, see if one of these keys will start the car, or if they've immobilised it.”

 

A few minutes later when Mr. Buchanan had the car running, Mr. Wooster said, “Take the car to the police station, so we can officially report to the Regulars. Ralph, would you like to go with him?”

 

Ralph asked, “Do you mean it? I could ride in that fancy car?”

 

“If you'd like to, yes.”

 

The young man exclaimed, “Would I! I mean, yes, sir. We have to report, after all.”

 

Mr. Wooster grinned. “Indeed we do.”

 

Comments

[ironicbees.livejournal.com]

Aww, Jeeves, the old softie. Can't resist fixing couples up, can he? ;D

That's strange that the term "umpire" was used for the exercise - do you know why? (I skimmed through the chapter quickly before reading and assumed there was a game of cricket or something going on!)

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

It's strange that I see Jeeves as a matchmaker, considering all the engagements he got Bertie out of. But I guess it's because I view Jeeves as being a romantic.

You think more British than I do. My trouble with the word 'umpire' is that I think baseball with it. I don't know why they used that word, but it was used in all the Home Guard books I read{three or four now}so I went with it. I think both the Guard and the Regulars perceived it as game, in some ways. There was a lot of desiring to win the exercise especially on the part of the H. Guard, who took exercises far more seriously than was expected.