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Chapter: 2/5
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves, Stinker/Stiffy
Summary: The Reverend and soon-to-be Mrs. Pinker arrive; Bertie is endearingly clueless
Rating: PG? G?
Words: 1,174. Next bit will be longer.
Disclaimer: Once again, all credit to Plum and
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All went according to plan re: the Stinker situation. The respectable soon-to-be-vicar and soon-to-be-vicar’s-wife made their way to chez Wooster at the designated time and were greeted with the customary embrace.
“You know, I never did get to ask... what exactly brings you to the metrop.?” I asked casually over diner.
“My uncle, you know Uncle Rupert; looks a bit like a koala with a terminal disease?”
“Good lord, sorry to hear that old boy...”
“No, the koala does, not my uncle. Anyway the point is he’s part of this awful correctional clinic for juvenile delinquents... and he wanted me to give a few speeches to boost the morale. You know, spiritual solace, hope, that sort of thing.” He seemed less than enthused. More like a man trying to make the best of a bad situation. I certainly knew the feeling.
“Oh! Well sounds right up your alley, old thing.” What does one say at a time like that?
“He’s willing to pay me a small fee if I get good results.”
“If you’re not jeered off the podium, you mean.”
“Exactly. Convince one or two little brats that the good, honest life is worth living and peace comes in Heaven and all will be well, he said.”
“I take it your uncle hasn’t gotten word you’re willing to steal policeman’s helmets, then?” He quirked a smile in response, but Stiffy was happy to trod over my remark like a thing that trods. Treads, Jeeves tells me. ‘Trods’ isn’t a word. Well, jkluge the man knows best... anyhow...
“Harold is going to do wonderfully. But we thought, well, why spend what little he could make on a hotel-”
“If I make any at all.” He interrupted; an air of insecurity and worry crossed his features long enough to be seen by this Wooster.
“Shush. Why spend what little he could make on a hotel when one of his oldest school chums lives right here in Berkeley Square? The institution is just in Spitalfield. Not too far from here; well, closer than Totleigh anyway. The presentation is all day tomorrow, and he’s expected to make an appearance. His segment is scheduled for the day after. It’s a two-day affair, and then he’s meeting with his uncle on Thursday. Then I’ll come and pick him up Friday morning.”
“Thanks ever so much for this, Bertie. I won’t forget it.”
I gave Jeeves, whose shadowy presence was only known by self, a brief knowing glance over Stinker’s shoulder. His eyebrows lifted a fraction in response and his lips nearly a curved into an almost-smile.
“Any time, my good man. Any time.”
“And I will be visiting periodically. You know, to check up on things. Smooth out anything that gets too hard for poor Harold here. Calm him down. You see what I mean.”
She seemed as if she was directing all this towards me, though her eyes were locked with Pinker’s. A sort of chemistry seemed to flow between them. I assumed it was the love light, or maybe I’d missed some sort of private joke, but the way they looked at one another was... different. Different than I’d ever seen between two people, and certainly different than I’d ever seen between old Stinker and Stiffy.
“Oh, well... jolly good.” I said. Well, I mean, what could I say?
Jeeves cleared the dishes away with his usual efficiency, which meant the moment they had finished serving their purpose, they seemed to disappear before my very eyes. I was sure there was some sort of metamorph there.
Sorry, metaphor, Jeeves informs me.
Anyhow, all went smoothly and we retired into the sitting room. Well, that’s when the circs got a bit curious. My two guests kept eyeing at each other through the conversation. The conversation itself was robust and energetic at first; all participants gladly... well, participating. After a time, though, it seemed Bertram could have been talking to the wall. Pinker and Stiffy dropped out of the once r. and e. c., I mean to say. As I said, they kept eyeing one another. Stiffy would steal a sideways glance to Stinker and smile, and then turn her eyes back to me and pretend nothing was amiss. Stinker did much the same thing, though he would shift slightly in his seat rather than smile. He had his legs crossed awkwardly in front of him, too, which I’d never seen before. Not with Stinker, at least. Bingo used to cross his legs like that all the time back at school. Well, that determined it then. It must be the tender pash kicking in for the Reverend Pinker.
“I say, ah... would you two...that is two say, would you like a moment of privacy?”
Stinker, at my words, arranged his face in the most bizarre, half-scandalised, half-grateful expression I’d ever seen on a chap. Stiffy, at my words, simply blushed, and turned to her beloved.
“B-Bertie... you, erm... you don’t have to do that, old thing. It’s...”
“No, not at all! All’s fine. I’ll just, er, go keep Jeeves company in the kitchen for a few mo.s. See if he needs any help.”
“Bertie, that... you can... don’t have... that is...” I was sure I’d never seen quite that shade of red on any chap but Spode.
I’m also sure that whatever Pinker had to say, it was of minimal importance in Stiffy’s opinion. No sooner had I mentioned I’d leave than she’d gotten up and begun tugging poor Stinker’s sleeve. She practically pulled him into the guest room before he could finish his thought. Or, rather, he followed her into the guest room, no doubt for fear of ripping his jacket, before he could finish his thought.
She door slammed behind him, and I heard the doorknob click just as Jeeves shimmered into the room.
“Can I be of any assistance, sir?” Well, now, this might be a perfectly ordinary question to hear from the ordinary valet, and would usually earn an ordinary yes-or-no answer. As Jeeves said it, however, it equated to a very polite version of ‘what-the-bloody-hell-just-happened?’
“Dashed rum to me, Jeeves. I mean, I told them I’d go into the kitchen and give them some privacy. It was clear they wanted some, anyhow.”
“Sir?” Were Jeeves capable of normal human expressions I’ve the feeling his facade at this juncture would have been either scandalised, or desperately confused, or both. As it is, he lifted his eyebrow an extra fraction of a centimetre and awaited a thorough explanation. He needn’t have asked twice.
“Sinker and Stiffy are ill, Jeeves. That’s not to say, not up to snuff. Something’s rum, Jeeves. Very rum. Well, I mean, I’ve never seen a chap blush like that before!”
“I take it the Reverend Pinker and Miss Byng are in... good spirits, sir?”
“Yes indeed, Jeeves. Well, I mean, they kept looking at each other like... And I just assumed they wanted some privacy!” I recounted the sitch to Jeeves, and with each pause his stuffed-frog mask became more and more blatant.
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One quibble: Jeeves is incorrect re: trods/trots. It should be "treads" instead of "trods."
http://www.thefreedictionary.com/trod
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Keep writing. ;-)
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And, will do. ^_^
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Oh, tosh, as Bertie would say. No need!
And, will do. ^_^
Atta girl! :-)
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First of all, this is great. I love Jeeves's hesitation over Stiffy and I love Bertie's confusion over how they were acting. I can't wait to see the next part!
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Hopefully will post part three either tonight after work or in the morning. :]
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Is this going to be a Bertie-discovers-the-concept-of-sexuality fics? Because I love those.
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And, what was your first clue? ;-P Yes those are always fun, aren't they? "Let's make him the sweet innocent wide-eyed child and make him have mansecks!" Not original, but I enjoy them. Glad you do, too.
Should be fun. :)
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Very interested to see where this goes :D
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