indeedsir_backup | Fic: Kitty, Rosemary, and the Knight of Cups (5/?) (Reply)

This is one is short, but there's a reason for it: the next part has the past relationship of Bertie and Rosy, plus later some attempts at Jooster.

So yes, just a quick thing. Enjoy!

Sorry it takes long, though, the muses leave when homework becomes abundant.

-Jeeves-

The weekend went by with one major problem being that Miss Winceson, on Sunday, took to being rather sick for the first half of the day, both Miss King and Mr. Wooster being quite worried about the whole thing and both seeming to be uncertain if tea would be the best thing for her or if she should have a doctor look over her. I must admit that I was also worried over the sudden development, as well as the fact that despite attempts at two remedies which worked the best, mostly for stomach illnesses or the beginnings of any sort of illness, both ended up in the facilities and Miss Winceson was quite miserable until about seven that night.

At that point, she wandered out and asked if she could have some soup. While I prepared some, both Mr. Wooster and Miss King attempted to address what might have caused such a horrid reaction, Miss Winceson agreeing she herself didn’t know and Mr. Wooster shifting, finally moving in the kitchen as Miss King took care of Miss Winceson, his body language speaking of his worry over what had happened that day.

I frowned after giving Miss King the soup and a few sandwiches, in case Miss Winceson was open to it, before looking over at the very-worried Mr. Wooster. He seemed very young, and almost too tense as I sat next to him. I was quite worried on this turn, as I have almost always seen Mr. Wooster as a quite happy person and one of the few that could remain naturally buoyant. I had, though, seen him during his times when his Aunt Agatha forced him to meet a possible female courtier, or when he suddenly had a friend in a very hard area. I had seen him become rather morose and perhaps even depressed.

“Jeeves, this is bad,” he muttered, looking down at his hands, which were linked and seemed jumpy, “I mean, I shouldn’t be so worried, but she was so sick before that once, and then she skipped off and left me alone.”

It was very odd to see him shift in this manner and look very much like he was lost. I had to remind myself that Mr. Wooster had lost his family at a very young age and was uncertain how to deal with loss as well, which was perhaps why he would often allow himself to be pushed around by his friends and remaining relatives. The odd connection to Miss Winceson’s illness and her leaving seemed to make little sense to me, other than perhaps her going somewhere to recover, but as it had been six years since they’d last seen each other, it made little to no sense.

“Sir, if I may ask…”

This question was interrupted by Miss King rushing in with Miss Winceson, who sadly could not make it to the nearest facility besides the kitchen sink before being violent sick, which caused all of a great deal of worry as she sat down and looked rather miserable as we decided water or some sort of broth that was watered down would be the best.

“I feel like when my wisdom teeth were taken out,” she muttered as she sipped the water slowly, looking rather like she was quite angry at her body for acting as it did.

“Rosy, it’s not like--.”

“No, last time was a fever too. This time it’s just feeling awful.”

I watched as Mr. Wooster seemed to fuss more over her, Miss King retiring from the room to see about clearing out the room and volunteering to sleep on the couch, though Mr. Wooster seemed to not want to inconvenience anyone with this.

“It’s probably a stomach flu or something, and I’m dashed, as you’d say, if I’m going to get it too,” Miss King said, stalking off to move the appropriate items from one room into the main one, I deciding to leave and help, placing a hand on Mr. Wooster’s shoulder.

I suppose I have been around Mr. Wooster for far too long, for when he stiffened at it and seemed somewhere between startled by the contact (which I admit had been simple on my part) and also uncertain if he was to relax into the comforting hand or dart like a deer was, to say the least…rummy.

Miss King noticed my frown as I entered the sitting room, some bed sheets now placed over the Chesterfield. “What now?”

I looked over at her and crossed her arms. “You can tell me, you know. I’m not going to run to your employer with your intimate secrets.”

“I am simply worried over Mr. Wooster. He seems…rather frightened, over this turn of events.”

Miss King let out a rather unladylike snort at that. “I’m worried too, so it’s quite an understatement. Plus she doesn’t usually get as sick as this, at least she hasn’t for as long as I’ve known her.” Miss King shifted before saying, “Jeeves what did Bertie say that got you this worried about him?”

I frowned at the question then said, “He mentioned that she was like this the last time she and he were engaged, M-Catherine. Why?”

Miss King let out a rather annoyed snort. “Great. Just perfect…” she looked up at me and said, “I’ll explain all tomorrow, I promise, but for right now I think we should make sure she doesn’t get any sicker or make more messes to clean up.”

I nodded, disliking the fact that I was being talked around on the subject but deciding that I had no other choice but to wait for the commotion of this day to end.

I was quite surprised but rather happy (in my own way) to find Miss Winceson not only awake and free of the mystery illness, but raiding the kitchen for various particulars, specifically chocolate-type and dairy. I was uncertain if this would be the best idea, but consented as I took in Mr. Wooster’s tea and, after the morning routine, he went into the sitting room and happily embraced Miss Winceson, who had been drinking good-sized glass of chocolate milk.

“Bertie! I don’t want to get this all over the floor and down your nice clothing!” she chided him as Miss King wandered in, took a glance at the happy couple, then wandered into the bathroom to, I believe she said, ‘make something of herself’.

The change of Miss Winceson’s health was quite odd and despite said oddness, Mr. Wooster insisted on taking her out to eat and wander around the city as Miss King said she would rather stay and plan the next challenge for Mr. Meyrick with me. I did not object to it and the two, after changing and ensuring Miss Winceson was in good health, took their leave.

It was shortly after this that Miss King sat with the book, looking over at me as I cleaned around her, the young lady looking up at me at one point. “So, you need to know,” she told me with a smile. “It’s kinda odd, apparently Wooster knows too, and how he kept his mouth shut for so long.”

“M-Catherine, I hope you will excuse me, but Mr. Wooster is a good man, and can keep a secret.”

Miss King continued to smile as she said, “Whatever you say. Anyway, the thing is--.”

It is not that Miss King was interrupted in a classical sense. Indeed, had it been that I think I could account for some anger at the fact, which seemed to be a world attempting to keep me away from this odd secret that everyone in the household knew save me. The uncharacteristic display that I gave, then, was more on account of the real interruption.

Said interruption, it seemed, was simple, and in fact still causes me to blink in confusion and with chills. For you see, this interruption was the non-existence of Miss King before my very eyes, the sound of the book she’d been reading hitting the floor seeming to be a rather loud and almost casual reminder that yes, this was a very real thing.

I found myself calling the Drones Club to speak to Mr. Wooster, and was a little frantic, for upon hearing that Miss King had disappeared, and hearing the circumstances of said disappearance, he became quite serious.

“Jeeves, don’t you worry, we’ll be there in a jiffy. All will be explained then, and no, no one is about to go off again like Miss King.” With that, he hung up, and I am happy to say he was in the flat in record time, Miss Winceson walking in before him before she stumbled, nearly fell flat on the floor, and backed away as her hand seemed to fade from existence then return.

“I say! That’s never happened before!” Mr. Wooster exclaimed, both of us going to check on her as she blinked, apparently in need of a restorative.

She took a breath, then looked at me. “Well, Jeeves, I’d take a seat here. This might take a while, and I don’t know what else to do but sit here until I can stand up and actually move around the room.”