indeedsir_backup | Fic: One Last Chance (G)

Promt fill! for

krisreinke , who wanted a little Madeline-something.
Pairing: Madeline-Spode, Madeline-Gussie, Madeline-Bertie, Bertie/Jeeves
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I make no money from the lovely works of Wodehouse.

Madeline, the Lady Sidcup, dabbed at her eyes with her rose chintz hanky, gazing over the collected revelers with a feeling of bittersweet euphoria. It was such a lovely garden party, with boughs of flowers- chrysanthemums for fidelity, peonies for love, hyacinth for constancy. Her great nephew Charles was delighted with his new bride-to-be, young Lillian Travers. She remembered her own wedding day wistfully. The clouds had agreed to part, letting the sun send down little beams of happiness from heaven. The birds had sung with such sweetness, and she was fairly certain that she had seen a wee fairy among the topiaries.

Madeline adored flowers. She gently pulled a purple hyacinth bloom from its vase and inhaled the dear, poor thing’s scent (such a noble sacrifice these flowers make for human happiness!, she mused) and sighed. Constancy. With that thought, her eyes travelled across the vast lawn to rest on a solitary figure, her dear friend Bertie Wooster. Oh, was there ever a man so constant!

He was very much as he had been in his youth, having never married. His figure was still upright and lean, and clad in immaculate, expensive finery. He had a good deal less hair than he’d once had, and expressive lines marked his pale face, but his cheerful blue eyes were as soft and kind as ever.

Bertie kept a man, one of the few people she knew who bothered with a valet in this day and age. Butlers and maids were still in vogue, but Bertie, poor wee lamb, had no other company, she supposed, and kept his household as it had been. Stagnant, she thought. Who could blame him? She watched his man, Jeeves, his name was, fill his glass and converse briefly with his master before departing.

Seeing Bertie all alone on the cold stone bench wrenched her heart. She floated across the veranda and sat beside him. “Hello, Bertie.” She lisped, sweetly.

He smiled, his eyes lighting up in a friendly way. He was still handsome, for a man of his age, she reflected.

“Hello, Madeline. Spiffing day for the festivities, what?” he asked.

She nodded, and patted his hand, wordlessly. Would her guilt never cease? It was her fault that this dear, sweet man had pined his life away. Tears brimmed behind her lashes, and she touched the ring on her left hand, briefly.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Bertie asked, gently. “I’m sorry.”

Bertie was so thoughtful! Always the gentleman, when it came to her heart. “Sometimes I do.” She said, forming her thoughts as she spoke. “I know you had quarrels with him sometimes, but he could be a nice man, so devoted. I suppose… I wear it out of habit.”

“Don’t rush it, old thing.” He said. “You’ve always been the sentimental sort, after all. It’s natural.”

She nodded. It had been several years now, but it was kind of him to say that as though she were recently bereaved. She was quiet as she turned the thought over in her head. Of course she loved her husband, he had been so fond of her, and that was quite lovely, of course. Yet- perhaps it was time to set things right.

“Bertie.” She began, shyly. “You never married, yourself. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, I’m quite content to be a bachelor.” He replied, putting on his brave face, bless him!

“You’ve suffered so.” She continued. “And I am grieved to be the cause of it. Bertie, dear, you know that you have always been my lifelong friend, and I want you to be happy.” With a small frown of determination, she removed her wedding ring, and placed it in the small zippered compartment of her handbag. “I think that we should start over. I’ll do my best for you.”

He stammered, and looked about him, frantically, before turning to meet her eyes. “Madeline… you know that I’ve always been fond of you, of course. But… but I’m quite fine, you know, set in my ways, and doing well…”

“Bertie, you mustn’t throw away your last chance for happiness.” She sniffled. “Please, let me atone for the great wrong I’ve done you!”

His gingerly placed his arm around her, patting her shoulder. “Madeline… shhh. It’s not your fault. Don’t cry, what? Today is a happy day.”

“Oh Bertie!” she sobbed. He produced a starched white hanky and blotted away her tears. “I’ll never forgive myself!”

He was red in the face now, and began to talk to her in a soothing murmur. “Madeline… I’m telling the truth, you know. I’m dashed pleased that you are so worried about me, but you mustn’t cry. I say… you’ve always been a good friend to me, you know. Can I trust you with a secret?” he asked, quietly.

Her interest roused, she blinked up at those kind eyes. “Of course, Bertie. I treasure our friendship, and would never betray you.”

He winced, slightly, and lowered his voice , further. “I have a secret, Madeline, that you must never tell, or it would be the end of me. Do you promise?” he asked, earnestly. Gulping, she nodded.

“I’m not a bachelor. I eloped. Years ago.” He began, quietly.

She opened her mouth, stunned. “Bertie! You… why would you?”

He pressed his lips together, firmly. “It wasn’t the done thing, you know. It was a servant.”

“Oh.” She breathed, softly. “Oh, Bertie, that’s so romantic!” she exclaimed, before remembering herself and lowering her voice. “I will keep your secret to the grave.” She swore. “My dearest friend!” He smiled at her, and squeezed her fingers.

A shadow fell over her shoulder. It was the large, silent man, Jeeves. “Good afternoon, Lady Sidcup.” He greeted her. She gulped , and offered him a feeble smile. “Sir.” He said to Bertie, adjusting the white rose in his buttonhole.

Bertie’s blue eyes lit up like the heavens themselves, and with a feeling as though she’d been travelling on a particularly fast lift, she knew. “I should help with the guest book.” She managed, removing herself as gracefully from the scene as possible.

It was late that evening when she heard the knock on the door. Assuming it to be a maid, she was surprised, and a bit embarrassed, to see that man Jeeves. He bore a tray laden with tea and biscuits, and a single bloom of camilla. Gratitude, she translated, as she admired the flower despite her sad thoughts.

“Madam, may I come in?” he asked, and she nodded.

He placed the tray on her night stand, but did not sit.

“Thank you for keeping Mr. Wooster’s secret.” He said, bowing his head.

“Bertie deserves to be happy.” She replied, wistfully. “Please, Mr. Jeeves. Please take care of him, always.”

The man looked taken aback, before gracing her with a smile. Odd, she thought, she never knew men of that sort were able to smile.

“I wlll, milady.” He replied, and pulled a folded note from his jacket pocket. “If you will excuse my interference, I am sorry to hear of your upset today. It must be terrible to lose one’s spouse.”

She shook her head, embarrassed. “I’m all right now. Thank you.”

“Just as well. If you will excuse my boldness, milady, it does help sometimes to remember that you are not alone. There are other people who have suffered the same loss.” He placed the paper on her tray, and bowed. “Good night, madam.” And with that, he was gone, the light meal being the only evidence of his presence.

She sat on the edge of her bed, and unfolded the letter, penned in a neat hand that must have belonged to Jeeves.

Mr. Augustus Fink-Nottle
34 Spruce Street
Sag Harbor, New York 11963

Her fingers trembled, and the paper slipped from her hands. She retrieved the note, and, smiling through her tears, clutched her prize to her breast.