Fic: Troubled Times chapter 30 Part 1

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Title: Troubled Times
Chapter 30
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.
My stories: www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml

 

 

 

 

I was removing the blackout curtains early the next morning when the telephone began ringing. I hastened to it. I doubted that it would wake Mr. Wooster, who was sleeping soundly, but I did not want to take the chance.

 

“Wooster residence,” I said to the caller.

 

“Jeeves, Erlin here. I apologise for calling so early. I have some information for you, but first I trust all is well with you and Mr. Wooster.”

 

“Indeed. He is tired from training all weekend but doing well. I am fine. Are you and Mr. Margesson well?”

 

“Yes. He finds the constant bombing to be wearying, but we are both holding up under it. Well, I called to tell you about Mr. and Mrs. Powell's butler. His name is Henry Faulkner, and he has been with the family for thirty-seven years. He is not a member of the Junior Ganymede Club, but his son is a member. I spoke with his son, and he called his father. Faulkner is willing to talk to you; in fact he is eager to do so. I talked to him last night and would have called you right afterwards, but the alert started, and I had to take shelter. Here is his number...”

 

I wrote the number down and replied, “This morning is more convenient for me. Thank you for the aid. I appreciate your assistance.”

 

“I am always willing to aid you, Jeeves. One more thing. I met your friend, Wright. I like him; a very common sense man and extremely devoted to his employer. He reminded me of myself. Remember telling me that I need to have a life of my own, and I stated that Mr. Margesson was my life?”

 

I smiled and answered, “I do, and I also know which one of us had a change of heart regarding his employer.”

 

“Ah, well, I won't tease you about that. I will even resist the urge and not say I told you so for the hundredth time.”

 

We both laughed.

 

He said, “Wright reminded me of all that. I suggested that he take some free time while Mr. Heflner was having tests done, and he said that he had to be near his master in case he was needed. I said I understood, and I am sure you are very aware of how much of an understatement that is. I recall you teasing me once about being permanently affixed to my employer.”

 

“I remember. I would have teased you a great deal less, if I had known what the future held.”

 

“Yes, but you were still denying it when I suggested that you might just be a little fond of your master yourself.”

 

I replied, “Well, I had my Waterloo. You will receive no more jests from me.”

 

“I miss having you here, Jeeves, but I am glad you are not in London at the same time.”

 

“Understandable. I miss you, too.” I missed Erlin and my friends and the Junior Ganymede Club. I suspected that I had lost that part of my life forever. The war would sweep away the way we had once lived, leaving us to try to be content with what was left.

 

Erlin said, “I know I do not need to tell you to take care of Mr. Wooster, but take care of yourself, too, old friend.”

 

“I will and Erlin, I want to be able to sit with you after this is all over and talk and laugh once more.

 

“I understand. Give Mr. Wooster my greetings.”

 

“Please give mine to Mr. Margesson.”

 

After we had said our farewells, I placed a call to the Powell's butler. The telephone had rang three times before it was picked up and a voice said, “Powell residence, Faulkner speaking. How may I help you?”

 

I smiled. I knew Wright worried about his accent, which was barely noticeable due to his constant effort to remove it. Faulkner, however, had a very obvious accent. I said, “This is Reginald Jeeves, Mr. Wooster's gentleman's personal gentleman.”

 

“Yes, I was expecting your call. What can I do for you?”

 

“Are you aware of Mr. and Mrs. Powell's plans concerning their daughter and Mr. Wooster?”

 

“I am.”

 

His voice was very serious and sad, and I already knew the answer when I asked, “Do you know if Miss Powell desires a marriage with Mr. Wooster?”

 

“Well now, nothing against Mr. Wooster, but Miss Cora's heart has already been taken.”

 

“Mr. Wooster has been a bachelor for close to forty years now and would like to remain one. This arrangement is his aunt's desire for him.”

 

“I see. It's quite a problem, and I have no idea how to help Miss Powell.”

 

I heard fondness in Faulkner's voice when he spoke of Miss Powell and felt confident that he would tell me anything I needed to know to aid her.

 

“If you would tell me what they are using to persuade her to marry against her wishes, I might be able to help her.”

 

“Could you wait a minute? I'm in my office. I want to go shut the door and make sure that no one is listening to us.”

 

“I will wait.”

 

When he returned to the telephone a few moments later, he said, “Normally I would not give information about the family to anyone, but I've known Miss Powell since she was four, and there is little I would not do to help her.

 

“I'll need to explain a few things first, though. Shortly before war broke out, one of Mr. Powell's cousins fled to Canada. Mr. Powell raged for over a month about what he said was cowardice worthy of being hanged for. He made it very clear that anyone leaving the country was, in his opinion, a coward and a traitor. What he did not know was that Miss Powell wanted to go herself. She felt that another war would bring back her loss of the first one and would be unbearable. Naturally, she could not ask to leave after her father reacted in such a manner to his cousin departing.

 

“So after speaking with Mrs. Gregson, he told Miss Powell that he would ship her to Canada, if she did not consent to marry Mr. Wooster. She carried on something awful, but we both knew that she really wants to go. If it was just the threat of being sent to Canada, she would act upset to be sure that they would actually punish her in that fashion, but she would be happy enough to refuse Mr. Wooster and be sent. Her father feels that she understands that she would be disgraced and shamed to be sent. She does not feel that way, however.

 

“The thing that is breaking her heart concerns her horse. The man in charge of our stables has been called up. He leaves to serve in the Army in two weeks. The Powells had two of the horses put down and plan to sell the rest. Mr. Powell has threatened to have Miss Powell's mare put down or sold to the highest bidder, if she goes against his wishes. She knows the horse will have to be sold, but she wants a say in who gets the horse. The idea of Fleetfeather being put down tears her apart. She has had that horse for ten years now.”

 

My heart went to Miss Powell. It was cruel beyond words for a father to treat a daughter in such a manner, and I could not help but wonder if he loved her. I asked, “Would she marry Mr. Wooster to save the horse?”

 

He sounded almost tearful when he replied. “No. She's done nothing but spend time with Fleetfeather, but she does not plan to marry Mr. Wooster. She told me that if it were only her happiness at stake, she would, but it would be unfair to Mr. Wooster to marry him when she could not love him. If you could...”

 

He paused, and I comprehended that he was trying to rein in his emotions.

 

“If you could persuade Mr. Wooster to show her a little kindness, I'd be greatly obliged. She needs him to pretend that they are trying to like each other long enough so she can know the fate of her horse and completely fool Mr. Powell into believing that she does not wish to go to Canada in order that he will follow through on his threat to send her there.”

 

“You need have no worries on that score. Mr. Wooster is a very kind gentleman and will be cooperative.”

 

“Oh, I am so glad! I have been so worried. She has enough to bear now. If he was harsh with her or refused to help her my old heart would just break.”

 

I could not imagine my employer showing anything but compassion toward her. Being harsh toward a woman would not occur to him as a possible course of action. “I can assure you that Mr. Wooster will do all in his power to aid her. Do you know why Mr. Powell wishes his daughter to marry so strongly?”

 

“That story goes back to before I was here, but I've been told about it. Mr. Powell wanted a son and was bitterly disappointed when Miss Powell was born. He had all these plans for a little boy and was not happy to be given a girl. I was told that he did not even see her until she was almost a year old. Mrs. Powell had a difficult time bringing her daughter into this world. As the years went by, and they had no more children, he came to resent his daughter more and more. He blames her for the fact that he has had no more children; as if she could choose the manner of her birth. Before the Blitz, she spent a lot of time in London. With all the bombing, Mrs. Powell wants her daughter at home. Mr. Powell does not appreciate her company. He also says that the least Miss Powell could do for him in life is to marry and give him grandchildren.”

 

Once more I had sympathy for Miss Powell. How difficult it must be to live in a house where her own father made her feel unwelcome.

 

I said, “Tell me about Fleetfeather.”

 

“The horse is ten years old and thoroughbred. She has Arabian stallions in her bloodline. She's a bay and has won several races.”

 

I thanked him for the information and assured him once more that Mr. Wooster would be willing to help Miss Powell.

 

Faulkner thanked me profusely. After I had placed the receiver back into its cradle, I returned to my task of removing the curtains to let dawn come into the house.

 

Mail arrived while I was cooking Mr. Wooster's breakfast. Mr. Wooster had received two letters; one from Mr. Pirbright and another from Mr. Fink-Nottle.

 

When I brought in the trays for our breakfast, Mr. Wooster sat up in bed. He frowned and rubbed his back. Concerned I asked, “Is your back bothering you, sir?”

 

“Somewhat. The old frame objected to kipping on the ground Saturday night and has now decided to lodge a formal protest.”

 

“I will rub your back after breakfast, sir.”

 

Silence ensued while we both ate. Mr. Wooster was almost finished when his gaze centred on the mail. He seized Mr. Pirbright's letter and tore it open. After a second, he said, “I don't know whether to laugh or cry, old chap. He says, 'I'm going to try to write a real letter to you. I'll have to be careful what I dash down into words, but I imagine the censers will catch anything I missed'.”

 

“This,” said Mr. Wooster “is what he missed.” He held up the paper. The entire middle section had been cut out. “What is left is a paragraph at the top, one sentence, and a paragraph at the bottom. At least, he is still alive.”

 

I refrained from stating that a missive simply meant that Mr. Pirbright had been alive at the time of its writing. Mr. Wooster would already be aware of that fact and did not need me to cast gloom on his day.

 

My employer said, “Well, here's what is left of it.”

 

He gave me the note. Silently I read the letter. It said, “What ho, Bertie,

 

all is well with me. I'm going to try to write a real letter this time as you said you'd join the Navy, if you had to serve. So I'm going to tell you what my day is like. I have to be careful as I don't want to endanger anyone. I'm sure the censers will catch anything I miss, though.

 

“My day begins at seven fifteen and...” The rest had been removed except for some sentences at the end of the message stating that he hoped all was well with us.

 

I set the letter aside and glanced at Mr. Wooster, trying to find something cheerful to say.

 

He looked over at me and smiled. “Plenty of useful information in that letter, what? I'll tell him in my letter that they snipped out most of it, and they'll probably remove that, too.”

 

“That is always a possibility, sir. However, I suspect that someone was being a bit overzealous with Mr. Pirbright's missive.”

 

“I jolly well hope so. Otherwise we'll be restricted to hello and good-bye pretty soon.”

 

“Hopefully that will never happen.”

 

Mr. Wooster opened Mr. Fink-Nottle's missive and perused its contents. Putting it aside, he said, “Gussie and his are fine. He's doing Home Guard patrols.”

 

My employer was finished with his breakfast except for a piece of toast. As my own meal had been consumed, I related to him the latest news I had received about Miss Cora Powell. He chewed on his toast and looked thoughtful.

 

After the toast was eaten, he said, “Her father must be a real cad. I'm glad my parents didn't take one look at me and say send it back we wanted a girl. Of course I'll help her. I don't mind keeping her company for a time unless she's like The Bassett or you object.”

 

“I am hoping that will not be the case. I have no objections to you keeping her company, as long as you remember that you belong to me.”

 

“I won't forget, love. Jeeves, would you mind if I bought the horse? I could do it through Heffie, so her father wouldn't know.”

 

“That is a good idea, sir; however a horse requires a great deal of care.”

 

There was a slight pause. He said, “You're right about that. Rummy. Isn't there something that can be done about the horse?”

 

“I would suggest that you discuss the matter with Mr. Heflner when he returns home. He has raced horses for quite some time. He might know someone who would buy the horse that will take good care of it. I intend to converse with Wright about this issue. Between Mr. Heflner and Wright, we should be able to find a good person to buy the horse. It is possible that Mr. Heflner will purchase the horse himself. That would be ideal as Mr. Heflner is not one to deny her access to the horse. I am certain that when she returns to England, he would allow her to see Fleetfeather as often as she wished.”

 

“Rather. Heffie would understand her love for the horse. It's a corker of an idea, Jeeves, as I think Heffie would be willing to take the horse, if Wright is agreeable to it.”

 

I stood up and took both of our trays. I said, “When I return I will give you a back rub.” I was halfway to the kitchen when the telephone rang once more.

 

I quickly went to the kitchen and set the trays aside. After answering the telephone I spoke with the caller and then placed the receiver down. As I went to Mr. Wooster, I reviewed the best way to inform him of the call. If I stated my news wrongly, I would unnecessarily upset him.

 

My employer was reading the newspaper when I entered the room. I asked, “Do you recall writing a note for Mr. Heflner to give to Dr. Bridgeman?”

 

“Rather.”

 

I saw the concern start to take place in his countenance and hastily added, “Dr. Bridgeman wishes to speak to you about Mr. Heflner's performance in the Home Guard.”

 

Mr. Wooster left the bed and headed toward the telephone. I followed him. Some people were uncomfortable having their telephone conversations listened to, but I knew that my employer liked to have me close by.

 

 

He picked up the telephone and said, “Wooster speaking, sir.”

 

He looked to me and gave me a grin. I knew we were both remembering that when he had started to serve in the Home Guard Mr. Wooster had often forgotten to add the sir at the end of a sentence. Chandler had yelled at him more than once due to the omission.

 

There was a long pause then Mr. Wooster said, “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

 

A shorter pause before my employer said, “I'm not allowed to speak about our guard work, but I have permission to tell you what our exercises are like.” He proceeded to do so adding at the end of his account that Mr. Heflner had performed all his duties in a satisfactory manner. There followed a series of questions that were answered with a “No, sir.”

 

A short silence and then Mr. Wooster said, “I'm glad to hear that. Thank you, sir.”

 

When the receiver was back in its cradle, my employer came to me and hugged me. He said, “Well, it's done, Jeeves. The Dr. told me that with the kind of surgery Heffie had years ago, there is usually scar tissue, but they didn't find any. He considers that unusual. He thinks that there might be hidden scars that they can't detect, but Heffie has passed all their tests. That's why he called here. He wanted to know if I had seen any sign of certain thingummys. I believe he called them sympathies; wait, no symptoms that's the word.”

 

He continued, “I've never seen Heffie struggle to breathe or have more trouble doing tasks than the rest of us. He's quite capable of running distances without falling behind. The nub of it all is this: he told me that as tests show no reason for Heffie to be denied the right to serve England, Dr. Bridgeman plans to list him as qualified and have him put on the list of possibilities for call up. He didn't mention Heffie needing a board to approve his decision.”

 

Holding him close, I replied, “Dr. Bridgeman has a great deal of power within the military. His gentleman's personal gentleman is a man by the name of Collier. Collier is Erlin's first cousin.”

 

Mr. Wooster smiled. “And you knew all the time that if Heffie passed the tests, this Dr. could bypass the usual procedures and just have him cleared.”

 

I gave my friend a smile in return. “I suspected that such might be the case, but I did not know it for a certainty. Would you like a back rub now?”

 

 

“I would. I'm glad you love me, Jeeves, because I'm not sure that marvels should be giving back rubs.”

 

“I can only hope that the day does not come when you decide that I am too marvellous for my position.”

 

Mr. Wooster laughed. As I followed him back into the bedroom he said, “That happened long ago, but your position is safe. The master loves and needs you.”

 

A short time later as my employer lay stretched across the bed, and I was massaging his back, he said, “It must be very rummy in the metrop. these days.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“Bridgeman said that he had Heffie run for him, so he could see how his lungs and pumper did after a long run. That's one reason he's passing Heffie. He said Heffie did well despite the ash in the air. Rummy. The ash, I mean, not Heffie's doing well. All the doc. wanted, I believe, was confirmation from me that Heffie is fine.”

 

There was silence as I worked then he said, “That feels very good, old chap. I suspect that Heffie will call this afternoon. He doesn't know yet. The Dr. has an appointment with him at one. In the meantime, I'm going to have to haul the old frame up and report in to Chandler. Not yet, though. That does feel good. I think I slept on a rock Saturday night.”

 

“Most people, when they discover that they are sleeping on a rock, move either to the right or the left, sir, ” I teased.

 

He laughed. “I know that, old fruit. I did move when I discovered it but by that time I had already slept on it for an hour or so. I rolled onto it while dossing.”

 

Mr. Wooster was correct in believing that Mr. Heflner would call that afternoon. My employer had just returned from reporting to Chandler when the telephone rang.

 

I answered, saying, “Wooster residence.”

 

“Jeeves, its Heffie. He passed me!”

 

“Congratulations, sir.”

 

“Thank you, Jeeves, for the help you've given me! I could never tell you how much it means to me! It would have killed me to have Wright push off and me to have just stay home and worry. I'd go mad with anxiety.”

 

His voice became very serious as he said, “I don't want to be left at home, fearful of every knock on the door, afraid my whole life is going to be ripped away from me once more.”

 

“You are welcome. I am glad to be of service, sir. Would you like to speak to Mr. Wooster?”

 

“Rather! Thank you.”

 

I gave the telephone to Mr. Wooster. I listened to the excited chatter for a few minutes before taking the notepad and pen that stayed by the telephone. I wrote, 'When is Mr. Heflner returning home?' and gave it to Mr. Wooster.

 

My employer wrote something down and handed it to me. It read, 'Legging it in an hour. Arrive late. Trains bad.'

 

I understood this perfectly. Mr. Heflner was leaving London in an hour, but the trains were bad due to being crowded and the journey long. They did not expect to be home until late.

 

I wrote, 'If you wish, invite them to dinner here once they are home and have had time to freshen up.'

 

Mr. Wooster accepted the note, wrote something and gave it to me. I read, 'Wright won't.'

 

I discerned the meaning of this message, too. Mr. Wooster felt that Wright would not agree to taking a repast not only with his employer but also with my master. That would mean sitting down with both of them.

 

My answer took a minute to write. 'He will agree, if I talk to him. It will give them a chance to feel like partners, and Wright needs to learn to accept Mr. Heflner as an equal in private.'

 

Mr. Wooster gave me a grin upon reading the message. He spoke with Mr. Heflner for several minutes more before saying, “I'll be glad when you are home, Heffie. Before we hang up, hand Wright the phone, will you?”

 

I was given the telephone, and I issued the invitation. Before Wright could protest, I added, “There will be very little serving done. I intend to set the food out on the dining room table, and no one will need to get up frequently. You can tend to anything Mr. Heflner needs, and I will take care of Mr. Wooster. After the meal, we can wash the dishes together, and the gentlemen can talk. I know you will both be home quite late and will need to freshen up first.”

 

I heard amusement in Wright's tone when he replied. He was aware that I had quickly removed any objections he might have voiced. “It will be a relief to not have to cook when we arrive home. The journey is exhausting. Thank you.”

 

“I will be glad to see you again.”

 

Mr. Wooster had wrapped his arms around me as I spoke to Wright. When the call was concluded, he smiled and said, “You truly are a marvel. I wouldn't have thought Wright would agree, but you were very smooth with that. I'm always in awe of you.”

 

“And I will never stop admiring your kind heart and good nature. I will always be grateful that fortune brought me to your door those years ago.”

 

 

Comments

[georgeodowd.livejournal.com]

I must say, your dedication to this story is so inspiring. I have a massive plot bunny that requires some research, and frankly the idea scares me. But seeing someone else taking the time to learn all the details is wonderful!

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thanks! If it helps... research can be fun. If you have a good library take advantage of it. The Internet is a great source, but it can be limited and frustrating {sometimes just a difference in search terms determines whether the info. sought is found}. Sometimes my research makes me cry-watching London be bombed, for instance, but it can also be a very enjoyable process.
Best wishes and if I can help in any way, let me know.