Fic: Troubled Times chapter 34 Part 1

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Title: Troubled Times

Chapter 34

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

A/N: Towered cities please us then and the busy hum of men. John Milton. Are we not like two volumes of one book? Marceline Desbordes-Valmore

 

When we arrived back at the cottage, we found that Mrs. Wright had kindly stocked the refrigerator for us, and Wright had left our mail waiting for us on the table. Mr. Wooster's attention was instantly drawn to a small package addressed to him. He said, “It's from Cora.”

 

I was inspecting the contents of the refrigerator when my employer's gasp caused me turn toward him. He said, “Jeeves, she sent us candy. I told her that I missed chocolate more than anything else, and she sent us chocolate.”

 

By the time I arrived at his side, he had the candy out on the table and was reading the enclosed note. He shifted the paper to his other hand, so I could read it, too.

 

It said: “Dear Bertie,

 

I've arrived in Canada and all is well. I found a nice place in a good location to start my toy shop.

 

I am grateful for your help and wanted to send you a small token of my gratitude.

 

Your friend,

 

Cora Powell.”

 

I glanced at the items she had sent: 3 Musketeers Bars, 5^th Avenue Candy Bars, Mars Candy Bars, Hershey's Milk Chocolate Bars, and Valomilk Candy Bars. What once could be easily bought now seemed like a small treasure- trove.

 

Mr. Wooster grabbed a 3 Musketeers Bar and waved it around in the air. “Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry! I didn't realise how much I missed these!”

 

I said what was in my heart, “I am touched by her kindness.”

 

Opening the wrapper a little, he brandished it under my nose. “It was your wheeze that rescued us both. They're yours.” He made a sweeping motion over the table.

 

I had felt touched by Miss Powell's gift, but Mr. Wooster's generous offer stunned me. We might not have candy again for years. Clearing my throat, I said, “Thank you, Bertie, but I cannot accept such a benevolent gift.”

 

He grinned and pulled me into an embrace. “Have I told you lately what you mean to me? You're the light that guides me, your love means that even if all the world is in a bally winter storm I'm still in spring with all its glory. You give me your brain, your heart, and body.”

 

I added, “My soul belongs to you, too.”

 

He continued, “Are we not like two volumes of one book? So, if you won't take the candy, you'll share it with me, what?”

 

He was so hopeful that even if I had not longed for a taste of the candy, I would have agreed. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

 

He beamed happily at me as if he was receiving a present instead of me. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

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

 

 

Two days later, I was playing table skittles with the other men when a messenger came to our table. “Mr. Jeeves, you are to report to Mr. Chandler's office.”

 

I felt Mr. Wooster tense beside me. Since Chandler had made him our unit's leader, none of us had been summoned to the office. Chandler did not deal with us directly. He would call Mr. Wooster to his office and let my employer decide how to handle any situation concerning his men. Giving Mr. Wooster a brief reassuring glance, I followed the messenger out into the hall.

 

Once we were in the hallway, he said, “There is someone who wishes to talk to you in Mr. Chandler's office.”

 

For a brief moment worried thoughts about my family's welfare came to me, but I quickly realised that if bad news concerning my relatives had reached Chandler he would have either summoned Mr. Wooster as was his usual custom or told me himself.

 

The messenger left me at the office door. As I came into the room, I saw a man with grey hair and dark brown eyes sitting behind Chandler's desk. I noted that the thick folder in front of the man had my name on it. He said, “Have a seat.”

 

I have learned that first impressions are not always accurate in life, but there was something in this man's tone and the way he looked at me that I did not like. My instincts were screaming for me to watch what I said with this person, and I intended to obey them. I took a seat and waited for him to speak.

 

His first words were, “You are Reginald Jeeves?”

 

“That is correct,” I answered.

 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jeeves. I am Mr. Smith.”

 

The feeling that he was lying about his name came strongly to me. He opened the folder on the desk to the first page. “You have worked as a butler for a Mr. Bertram Wooster for the last seventeen years, correct?”

 

“That is incorrect.”

 

Mr. Smith frowned and glanced down at the page. “Incorrect? Your record seems quite clear.”

 

“Then there are errors within it. I have been Mr. Bertram Wooster's gentleman's personal gentleman for sixteen years.”

 

He looked up at me and sighed. “Very well. You have been Mr. Bertram Wooster's valet for sixteen years and ten months. Would you consider that to be correct?”

 

“Yes,” I replied.

 

Mr. Smith turned several pages while muttering, “That's a very long time to work for one employer, especially considering you could not even manage to stay a year in any one else's employ. Your former employers have nothing bad to say about you, although one states that you left his service simply because you did not like his hunting jacket.”

 

His gaze returned to me as he asked, “I take it you have very high standards?”

 

“The highest,” I answered.

 

From underneath my folder he pulled out another one, thicker than mine. I noted the name across the top: Bertram W. Wooster. He said, “As I said your former masters had nothing bad to say about you. Mr. Wooster, however, once called you a household Mussolini. He has, on more than one occasion, declared that you boss him around to the point of bullying. He has complained of harsh treatment numerous times at the Drones Club with charges such as you lie to him, and put him, in his exact words, 'in the soup on purpose'. Yet he has kept you in his employ for seventeen... no, I remember you want strict accuracy. Sixteen years, ten months, and fifteen days. A very long time considering all his complaints.”

 

I knew Mr. Wooster had said all these things but still could not prevent the slight feeling of hurt at his words. I told myself that I deserved anything my employer had said and listened as the man continued.

 

“What is more, you evidently have no respect for him. I have here excerpts from the Junior Ganymede Club book, and frankly, Mr. Jeeves, if you were my valet, you would not stay in my employ for that many years. But perhaps Mr. Wooster has no idea of your censure. Despite your words in the book, you have stayed with him close to seventeen years. A long time for two men, who clearly do not like each other, to stay together, in my opinion.”

 

Thoughts raced quickly through my mind. The first was whether I was required to remain here and listen to the man speak in that insinuating tone. I wondered what would happen if I got up and walked out. I did not dare do so, because if Mr. Wooster and I were in danger due to our relationship, it was best that I knew it.

 

I was also curious as to how this man had obtained accounts from the club's book. I resolved to speak with Erlin about the matter as soon as I possibly could.

 

I saw a horrible flaw, too, in my method. I had thought that by pretending to have some disrespect for Mr. Wooster, I could hide the truth about our relationship. Now the error of this premise glared at me, followed closely by regret for all the unneeded criticism of my master. Obviously my pretence could easily cause people to speculate about our relationship. They might wonder why we stayed together and imagine exactly what we did not want them to think.

 

A wild impulse to tell Mr. Smith what I thought about his opinion occurred to me, and I forced the words back. Instead I asked, “What do you want?”

 

“Want, Mr. Jeeves? I want nothing at all. It's what England wants that concerns me. Plainly you can stay in a position if you desire to. That is my only point. My personal feelings and conclusion about what your record reveals does not matter. If you will just answer a few questions, we can finish this interview. According to your records, you speak some French. Is that accurate?”

 

“Yes,” I replied.

 

“How well?”

 

“Moderately so,” I answered, confused at the change of subjects.

 

“Do you know any other languages?”

 

“A little Latin and Greek.” I watched as he began to write my answers down and once more I reminded myself to be careful with my words despite the apparent harmless nature of the questions.

 

“No German?”

 

I barely prevented a frown. Was his opinion of me so low that he believed I was a Nazi sympathiser? “No German.”

 

“A shame that. We need people that know German. Is Mr. Wooster right in saying that you are not only capable of lying, but very good at it?”

 

This time I did frown. Was the man implying that I was being dishonest with him? I said, “Do you have a good reason for asking such a question?”

 

Mr. Smith nodded. “Yes, and I assure you, it's not a personal question. It is a standard question. Answering my enquiries are part of your duty to our country.”

 

I doubted that, but I replied, “I can lie, if I need to.”

 

“Good! Can you keep a secret?”

 

“Yes,” I stated, although silently I added that I kept nothing from Mr. Wooster.

 

“Wonderful!” He opened my folder again and said, “It says your health is good. Is that correct?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Looking back up at me he said, “Do you have any scruples about reading other people's correspondence?”

 

Completely bewildered now as to the possible motive for these questions, I swiftly debated what I should answer. I could see no reason for being dishonest, so I said, “No.”

 

Mr. Smith's expression revealed that he was pleased with my reply, although I could not imagine why. He said, “Now if you will just fill this out for me, we will be almost finished here.”

 

He passed a pencil and a crossword puzzle across the table to me. He glanced down at his watch and said, “Tell me when you've started.”

 

I had no notion of why Mr. Smith desired me to complete a crossword puzzle, but it was quickly enough done. When I handed it back to him, he took almost as long checking my answers as I had to finish it. Then he said, “Astounding! I've never seen one completed so fast! I guess Mr. Wooster was right, also, when he told people that no one could match your intelligence.”

 

This statement was encouraging. It was probable that Mr. Wooster had made complimentary statements about me that had gone into my record as well as the negative comments.

 

Mr. Smith got up and went to the door. He opened it and looked out, plainly checking to see that no one was listening to our conversation.

 

It was after he had seated himself again that he told me about Station X. He did not give me many details about the work that was being done there; only that it would require great secrecy on my part and that it was intelligence work. Most of his conversation concerned practical matters such as how much I would be paid and my days free. He also stressed that I would be serving our country far more by working there than I would be if I stayed in the Home Guard. He concluded with, “You are needed there.”

 

I considered his words. Finally I said, “I require some time to decide. I cannot just leave Mr. Wooster. I have been with him, as you said, close to seventeen years. I will need to make arrangements.”

 

Mr. Smith nodded. “That's understandable. Would it be acceptable for us to meet again here a week from now?”

 

“Yes, that would be acceptable.”

 

When I returned to the room where our group was playing skittles, I met anxious eyes as soon as I entered. Mr. Wooster was not the only one concerned. Before I had taken two steps into the room, Mr. Heflner asked, “What was that about?”

 

“Nothing to worry about.” As I took the short walk to join the group, I wondered what to tell my waiting friends. Mr. Smith's question, “Is Mr. Wooster right in saying that you are not only capable of lying, but very good at it?” echoed in my mind. I could tell a falsehood to the people eagerly waiting an explanation, but my days of dishonesty with Mr. Wooster had long since passed. I could lie but to look my master in the face and do so would be painful. And, I reflected ruefully, if I look elsewhere, he will instantly know that I am not telling the truth. It had been many years since I had deceived my employer in any fashion and I did not fancy lying to him now. I decided to be as honest as possible.

 

I said, “I spoke to someone about an opportunity to serve elsewhere besides the Home Guard. I told him I would consider it. The position would not put me in any danger, however, I would not be allowed to talk about it.”

 

Mr. Buchanan said, “Come on, men, let's leave Jeeves with Bertie. It's Bertie that has to be concerned about this, not us. The game was over, anyway.”

 

When they had departed, Mr. Wooster said nothing. He studied the table and did not look at me.

 

I said, “I need to caution you. When the man first started talking to me, I believed he knew about us. Nevertheless, I do not think that we need to worry about it at this time.”

 

I saw the fear that swept across my friend's face, but he swallowed it down and said, “Go on.”

 

“He said that his name is Mr. Smith, but I am not certain that is true.” I began to relate my recent experience. When I came to the part where Mr. Smith had said that I had not been able to stay with an employer for even a year before Mr. Wooster, my spouse exclaimed, “I say! That's uncalled for!”

 

“It gets worse.”

 

A very serious expression came over Mr. Wooster as I told him about Mr. Smith's words pertaining to our relationship. Alarmed, he said, “By Jove, the chap knows about us!”

 

“I came to the same conclusion. However, Mr. Smith might guess, but he can not possibly know. He has only speculation. I do not think we need to worry. If he was going to make trouble for us, he would not have tried to persuade me to serve somewhere besides the Home Guard. It is very possible that his tone was due to not wishing to deal with me because he does not like inverts.”

 

Mr. Wooster glanced away, sadness in his countenance. “Plenty of people don't.”

 

“I do not care what other people like or do not like as long as they do not endanger us due to their beliefs. It is possible that I have misread the entire situation.”

 

Mr. Wooster poured us both a cup of coffee. Once we had taken a seat in nearby chairs, he asked, “How so?”

 

“Perhaps he was not remarking on our relationship at all. Maybe he simply disliked me. He clearly felt that I am a disrespectful servant.”

 

Mr. Wooster scowled. “That's for me to say not him. You're my servant. And I say that you're a wonder.”

 

I stared at him for a moment. I had never heard such irritation and possessiveness mingled in his voice before. “Thank you, sir.”

 

I continued my account only to be interrupted with, “I am sorry, Jeeves, about my criticisms. Most of the time I said them as a result of having my feathers ruffled but sometimes it was because you seem to believe that no one will suspect anything if we beef about each other. I do think it's a bit thick for him to tell you all my ballyrags and not mention the good things I've said about you. There's plenty of those, too.”

 

“He did mention one of them. Most of what you said does not bother me. Some of your comments I gave my approval to, if you remember, sir. I did believe that it would make people less likely to discern the true nature of our relationship. I do wish that you would refrain from referring to me as Mussolini. Do you really think of me that way?”

 

Mr. Wooster shook his head. “I haven't felt that way for several years.”

 

I debated whether I should pursue this matter and decided to let it rest for now. We had another pressing subject and it would not be good to cause discord between us. Additionally after everything I had put in the book about him, I felt I had no right to protest what was said about me.

 

I continued, pausing at one point to add, “I would really like to know how he managed to obtain excerpts from the club's book.”

 

Mr. Wooster was listening intently to me while sipping coffee. I paused, wondering if my employer would use this opportunity to remind me that he had known the club book was not safe. He did grimace, but he said, “Bally coffee is cold. Go on, old chap.”

 

When I was finished with my account, Mr. Wooster sighed. “Well, I'm not surprised that Ol' Blightly wants to make use of that great brain of yours. You should push out, Jeeves. I can stay at the factory full time.”

 

I shook my head. “I require time to think about it. Besides, we need to be home and rested, so we can talk more, before we make any decisions. The place is not that far from London and you were considering returning there. Whatever happens, I shall try to keep us together.”

 

 

 

Comments

[lawnnun.livejournal.com]

Gah! I hope they don't send Jeeves off to be James Bond. My tiny heart would crack like a champagne flute on concrete.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the reply! Hopefully the next part will ease your worries.