ext_157474 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
iambic5.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
indeedsir_backup2009-08-18 11:28 am
iambic5.livejournal.com) wrote in indeedsir_backup2009-08-18 11:28 am
Entry tags:
I come bearing fic!
I've had this plotbunny for the better part of the summer, but it started gnawing at me mercilessly a few days ago, so I wrote it. At work, no less. Et voila, a fic!
Title: Mrs. Wooster Sorts It Out
Chapter: 1/possibly 3
Summary: Jeeves has disappeared to parts unknown. Bertie's miserable and, even more disturbing, he's married. Something has clearly gone wrong, and Honoria's going to find out what.
Pairings: Bertie/Honoria (well sort of), eventual Bertie/Jeeves
Rating: G
Part One
"Do you, Honoria Jane Glossop, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
I sighed, somewhat exasperatedly. "I do."
"And do you, Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"Er-- yes, well, I suppose I do."
"Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."
I looked at Bertie.
Bertie looked at me.
He swallowed. "Here goes," he said, and leaned in.
It couldn't have been more than a month ago that Bertie ran me to ground at Brinkley Court. I had been visiting his aunt for a bit of hunting-- a keen hunter, Mrs. Travers was in her youth-- and he'd cadged an invitation, for the food, I assumed. On the second day he was there, he asked me for a walk on the grounds.
"Look, Honoria," he said, when we'd fetched up on an ornamental bridge. "I won't mess about. You've got to marry me."
"What? Why?" The words were out of my mouth before I could think. I mean, it's the sort of thing that might take any girl by surprise. And from Bertie Wooster, of all people, to whom I'd been engaged three or four times already and who'd shown little or no enthusiasm at the prospect any of those times? Well, I mean to say. He must have had an aunt setting him on, I reasoned, or else it was part of some plan.
But he looked so desperately woebegone that I relented a little. "All right, then, why not?"
Bertie blinked. "Really? Er, right. Yes. Good. Let's go and... make the announcement, then, shall we?" He set off in the direction of the hall, and I followed, wondering what on earth was going on.
A week went by, then another. Arrangements were made. I expected my father to object, or some forgotten suitor to appear and threaten to beat Bertie to a jelly, or Bertie's man Jeeves to turn up with one of those neat solutions that I suspected had ended several ill-advised engagements. But there were no objections, no threats, and, most mysteriously, no sign of Jeeves. Before I knew it, I was walking out of the chapel a married woman.
It might not be so bad, I thought. All right, he didn't hunt or shoot or anything, but he'd at least go along on the walk. He could be quite entertaining, he was good-natured and, I supposed, not unattractive-- all in all, quite a decent sort of chap. One might even say we were friends, after a fashion. Being Mrs. Wooster might actually be-- I dared say-- pleasant.
Bertie, apparently, had other ideas. We drove his two-seater out to the coast, where Mrs. Travers had recommended a little village called Regisleigh-on-Sea. He didn't speak a word until we stopped for lunch and a change of drivers, and then only a bare few. I drove the rest of the way, and he sat in a brown study in the passenger seat.
I thought his mood might improve when we reached Regisleigh-on-Sea. It was a pleasantly quiet place, with yellow-painted cottages, picturesque strolls, and little boats that one could rent to go out and catch interesting fish. But I was wrong again. Bertie became, if anything, more morose. He hung about the cottage and moped, or walked along the beach and moped. I coaxed him out fishing and he sat in the boat and moped. After several days of this behavior, I couldn't stand it any longer.
"That is enough," I snapped, as he sat at the upright piano listlessly picking out a minor chord or so. He stopped picking altogether and looked up, shocked.
"If you're at all happy to be married, then dashed well act like it," I continued, "and if you're not then for goodness' sake at least tell me why."
Bertie opened and shut his mouth a few times, looking rather like one of the fish he had failed to catch."It's-- well, it's Jeeves," he said finally.
I sighed. "Somehow I thought it might be." Until the man's inexplicable disappearance, they had been practically inseparable. I had an old uncle who'd been similarly attached to his manservant, although he had never married--
I stared at Bertie. "What about Jeeves?"
He got up and paced, nervously. "Well-- the thing is-- you see, I made some, er, confessions that, well, perhaps I shouldn't have. And then he said he had to consider the situation from a distance and took himself off."
"Confessions? What sort of confessions?"
"Oh, no." He shook his head. "You'd call the authorities. Or your father. Or both."
"I will not," I said. "Or have you forgotten that I'm your wife now, and if you've got some scandal or whatever blasted thing it is it's bound to affect me as well?"
"You could still get an annulment," he persisted. "I mean, we haven't, you know--" he waved his hands expressively-- "consummated, er, anything."
"Bertie, you fathead, I will do no such thing. I do like you, if you can believe it, and I have no more desire than you to have you locked up for being an invert!"
Whoops.
Bertie turned red and sank into a chair. "All right," he muttered. "I'd protest, but it's bally well true, isn't it?"
I did a spot of chair-sinking myself. For several moments I could think of nothing to say.
"I'm sorry, Bertie," I said at last. "About Jeeves and-- you know." He just shrugged, looking more miserable than ever.
"So that's why you had to get married in a hurry," I mused, half to myself. "In case he--"
"--told anyone, right. Look, I'm sorry if I led you on or anything. I don't know what else I could have done."
"Neither do I," I said. "But I know what we're going to do now. We are going to finish out this holiday and dashed well enjoy ourselves. Then--" I took a deep breath. I could hardly believe I was saying it. "Then we're going to get Jeeves back."
eta: Goodness, so many comments! I feel all warm and squishy inside. *blushblush* I think my fingers'll drop off if I try to reply to all of them, but thank you, guys!
Title: Mrs. Wooster Sorts It Out
Chapter: 1/possibly 3
Summary: Jeeves has disappeared to parts unknown. Bertie's miserable and, even more disturbing, he's married. Something has clearly gone wrong, and Honoria's going to find out what.
Pairings: Bertie/Honoria (well sort of), eventual Bertie/Jeeves
Rating: G
Part One
"Do you, Honoria Jane Glossop, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
I sighed, somewhat exasperatedly. "I do."
"And do you, Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"Er-- yes, well, I suppose I do."
"Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."
I looked at Bertie.
Bertie looked at me.
He swallowed. "Here goes," he said, and leaned in.
It couldn't have been more than a month ago that Bertie ran me to ground at Brinkley Court. I had been visiting his aunt for a bit of hunting-- a keen hunter, Mrs. Travers was in her youth-- and he'd cadged an invitation, for the food, I assumed. On the second day he was there, he asked me for a walk on the grounds.
"Look, Honoria," he said, when we'd fetched up on an ornamental bridge. "I won't mess about. You've got to marry me."
"What? Why?" The words were out of my mouth before I could think. I mean, it's the sort of thing that might take any girl by surprise. And from Bertie Wooster, of all people, to whom I'd been engaged three or four times already and who'd shown little or no enthusiasm at the prospect any of those times? Well, I mean to say. He must have had an aunt setting him on, I reasoned, or else it was part of some plan.
But he looked so desperately woebegone that I relented a little. "All right, then, why not?"
Bertie blinked. "Really? Er, right. Yes. Good. Let's go and... make the announcement, then, shall we?" He set off in the direction of the hall, and I followed, wondering what on earth was going on.
A week went by, then another. Arrangements were made. I expected my father to object, or some forgotten suitor to appear and threaten to beat Bertie to a jelly, or Bertie's man Jeeves to turn up with one of those neat solutions that I suspected had ended several ill-advised engagements. But there were no objections, no threats, and, most mysteriously, no sign of Jeeves. Before I knew it, I was walking out of the chapel a married woman.
It might not be so bad, I thought. All right, he didn't hunt or shoot or anything, but he'd at least go along on the walk. He could be quite entertaining, he was good-natured and, I supposed, not unattractive-- all in all, quite a decent sort of chap. One might even say we were friends, after a fashion. Being Mrs. Wooster might actually be-- I dared say-- pleasant.
Bertie, apparently, had other ideas. We drove his two-seater out to the coast, where Mrs. Travers had recommended a little village called Regisleigh-on-Sea. He didn't speak a word until we stopped for lunch and a change of drivers, and then only a bare few. I drove the rest of the way, and he sat in a brown study in the passenger seat.
I thought his mood might improve when we reached Regisleigh-on-Sea. It was a pleasantly quiet place, with yellow-painted cottages, picturesque strolls, and little boats that one could rent to go out and catch interesting fish. But I was wrong again. Bertie became, if anything, more morose. He hung about the cottage and moped, or walked along the beach and moped. I coaxed him out fishing and he sat in the boat and moped. After several days of this behavior, I couldn't stand it any longer.
"That is enough," I snapped, as he sat at the upright piano listlessly picking out a minor chord or so. He stopped picking altogether and looked up, shocked.
"If you're at all happy to be married, then dashed well act like it," I continued, "and if you're not then for goodness' sake at least tell me why."
Bertie opened and shut his mouth a few times, looking rather like one of the fish he had failed to catch."It's-- well, it's Jeeves," he said finally.
I sighed. "Somehow I thought it might be." Until the man's inexplicable disappearance, they had been practically inseparable. I had an old uncle who'd been similarly attached to his manservant, although he had never married--
I stared at Bertie. "What about Jeeves?"
He got up and paced, nervously. "Well-- the thing is-- you see, I made some, er, confessions that, well, perhaps I shouldn't have. And then he said he had to consider the situation from a distance and took himself off."
"Confessions? What sort of confessions?"
"Oh, no." He shook his head. "You'd call the authorities. Or your father. Or both."
"I will not," I said. "Or have you forgotten that I'm your wife now, and if you've got some scandal or whatever blasted thing it is it's bound to affect me as well?"
"You could still get an annulment," he persisted. "I mean, we haven't, you know--" he waved his hands expressively-- "consummated, er, anything."
"Bertie, you fathead, I will do no such thing. I do like you, if you can believe it, and I have no more desire than you to have you locked up for being an invert!"
Whoops.
Bertie turned red and sank into a chair. "All right," he muttered. "I'd protest, but it's bally well true, isn't it?"
I did a spot of chair-sinking myself. For several moments I could think of nothing to say.
"I'm sorry, Bertie," I said at last. "About Jeeves and-- you know." He just shrugged, looking more miserable than ever.
"So that's why you had to get married in a hurry," I mused, half to myself. "In case he--"
"--told anyone, right. Look, I'm sorry if I led you on or anything. I don't know what else I could have done."
"Neither do I," I said. "But I know what we're going to do now. We are going to finish out this holiday and dashed well enjoy ourselves. Then--" I took a deep breath. I could hardly believe I was saying it. "Then we're going to get Jeeves back."
eta: Goodness, so many comments! I feel all warm and squishy inside. *blushblush* I think my fingers'll drop off if I try to reply to all of them, but thank you, guys!
no subject
no subject
no subject
Delightful start! I'm eagerly looking forward to more.
no subject
The only thing I might have added are a few lines where Honoria could show she's puzzled by Bertie's lack of, er, manly urges. Or was it common in those days for the couple to wait a few days before consummating the marriage? That I don't know.
I'm looking forward to the next installment.
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Waiting for then next bit eagerly.....
no subject
And she could, too. He may have 6 inches and 50lbs on her, but in a tussle, my money's on Honoria.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
no subject
Oh, wow, I love this already.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Good job, you! I eagerly await more!
no subject
I cant wait for the next part!