Indeed, Sir

Chapter 2

While the damned lawyer might have been wide of the mark as regards Jeeves' guilt, he was right about the difficulty of finding another lawyer. I asked everyone I knew for recommendations, but every single one I phoned told me it was hopeless and they weren't interested in taking the case. Realising that breaking him out of the police station and absconding abroad wasn't an option, I decided I'd have to inform his family of what had happened, so I called his Uncle Charlie. Better that they heard it from me than from the police, I thought.

As soon as I explained the situation, good old Uncle Charlie said I should leave it to him and that he'd be with me as soon as he could, lawyer in tow. With that done, I took what seemed like the obvious course of action and after a good effort at depleting the household supply of brandy, passed out on the sofa.

I woke with a terrible ringing in my ears, which I soon realised was actually the doorbell. For a moment I wondered why on earth Jeeves hadn't answered it and why he'd not put me to bed and then it all came back to me and I wanted to scream. I threw myself in the general direction of the door and opened it to find Uncle Charlie stood there with a rather toothsome looking young filly. Had I never met Jeeves, I dare say I might have been tempted to see if she might be agreeable to pairing up for life, but I suppose if I'd not met Jeeves, my chances of meeting her would have been fairly slim. I stood back to let them in, shut the door behind them and then collapsed back onto the sofa.

Uncle Charlie had disappeared, but the filly perched herself primly in an armchair clutching an absolutely enormous handbag on her lap. I gawped at her a bit, trying not to be too obvious about having noticed that her skirt had caught on the cushions and that she was flashing a sliver of stocking-clad thigh, but she was too busy casting an eye around the place to notice.

A glass appeared in front of my face, and without thinking I downed the contents. Apparently the family-recipe restorative works just as well for suddenly sobering a chap up as it does for chasing away the associated unpleasant morning. The faculties snapped back into place, leaving me with the thought that I might never again wake up with a pounding head and roiling stomach, only to be revived by my man's miracle potion. The thought set my stomach on a whole new roller-coaster.

What Uncle Charlie served me up had worked, don't get me wrong, but it just wasn't the same. What I needed most of all was the calming presence of my man, and it was the one thing that no amount of money could get me.

“You're back to being yourself, I trust, Mr Wooster? Good, now, I hope you'll forgive me, but I can't manage the professional demeanour right now, I'm too shook up, so you'll have to take me as I am. Give us the full story.”

“What, with a lady present?” I said, somewhat horrified. I was thrown enough at hearing Uncle Charlie speaking in a distinctly un-butlerish manner.

“I understood you wished to engage my services as a lawyer, Mr Wooster,” The young lady said, in a most businesslike manner which didn't really match with the pretty face and blonde curls. “I am sure I have heard worse before. As it is now past three in the morning, I would request that you proceed with all due speed.”

“She's one of the best, Mr Wooster.” Uncle Charlie informed me. “Don't let the pretty face fool you. She'll let the prosecution underestimate her then eat them for breakfast.” She smiled at that, and I found that I didn't doubt it. Perhaps not wise to pursue the earlier line of thought after all.

I explained everything as best I could, and then pointed at the copies of the photographs which the lawyer had left. Uncle Charlie looked through them, shaking his head as he did so, passing each one to the girl as he'd seen it. She looked through them impassively, the barest hint of a twitch to her eyebrow as she looked at certain ones, and it reminded me so much of Jeeves that I felt my throat closing up against a fresh desire to scream. It was a nightmare, all of it. It couldn't be happening. I'd wake up any moment with the sun streaming through the curtains and Jeeves at my bedside, bearing the morning Darjeeling.

“It's a very clever piece of work,” she said at last. “Expertly done. They say the camera never lies, but the eye is all too ready to be fooled. I believe that even if I cannot have access to the unmodified originals, or better yet the photographic negatives, then I can still prove this evidence to be inadmissible. You said that there was more, Mr Wooster?”

I explained the reason the chaps faces had been scrawled over, and she nodded.

“Again, not an insurmountable problem. I believe that it should be permitted that I research into the backgrounds of the individuals in question, so long as I do not reveal their identities in court. I have no doubt that a considerable amount of what is termed 'dirt' might be discovered. Mr Wooster, I have much work to do, however, I would suggest that you get some rest. There is nothing which you can do at this juncture, I will inform you if that situation changes. I trust that any costs I incur will be met?”

I leapt up, and went to my bureau. “Consider yourself to have carte blanche.” I told her. “Who should I make out the cheque to?”

“Bates and Co,” she told me, and named a not inconsiderable figure which, she said, she would need to be going on with. We shook hands, and she glided out with a nod to Uncle Charlie.

“Gosh,” I said, “I'm dashed glad that she's on our side.”

“Like I said, Mr Wooster, if anyone can get our Reggie off, it's her. I'd originally meant to bring her father, but I'd trust her with it just as much, guilty or not.”

“Good lord,” I said, “You can't possibly think he might be?”

Uncle Charlie winced and rubbed at his neck. “He's a good man, is Reggie,” he said, “I've known him since he was a nipper, so I know... let's just say I know things about him that he'd never have dared tell his parents, and I'm sure as hell not telling her. I trust you'll not think the less of him for it? Ain't no law against wanting to do a thing, thank God, or there's hardly a man in the country as wouldn't be serving time for murder. As far as I know he's never given in to temptation and put thought into practice, but it's not outside the bounds of possibility that he would, is all I'm saying.”

I sat down, hard. Without actually saying the words, Jeeves' esteemed Uncle had told me that my man was an invert and there might be a ring of truth to these terrible accusations after all. The thought of him having to resort to dalliances with chaps like those in the pictures made me feel quite unwell. On top of everything else, I was feeling dashed hurt that Jeeves hadn't felt he could trust me enough to let me in on so important a piece of information about himself, and the idea that he might have foolishly trusted these others with it quite knocked the wind out of my sails.

“But...” I still couldn't believe it, not of Jeeves. “They're saying he made them do things,” I protested. “Surely Jeeves wouldn't ever... I mean, giving in to temptation is one thing, but they're saying they were unwilling. I'll not believe that of him, never.”

“No, well,” Uncle Charlie said, handing me a rather anaemic brandy and soda and taking a rather stronger one for himself. “They'd not be the first chaps to find themselves in a jam and let the other man swing for it saying their arms were twisted. Plenty of men caught by a girl who's been willing enough on the night but changed her mind in the cold light of day, an' all. Assuming any of it's true, which I ain't saying it is, I'd be more inclined to think that any cajoling that was done, it wasn't our Reggie as did it.”

I nodded, sipping at the brandy and staring at nothing.

“Still, the lady was right, you'd be best getting some rest, Mr Wooster,” he said with an attempt at his more familiar demeanour. “I'll lay out your pyjamas.”

“I can't sleep,” I told him. “Not when I know Jeeves is stuck in a cold cell.”

“Worrying about it isn't going to help him any,” he told me. “It's all in her hands, now, hers and the Lord's. Dare say a prayer for him wouldn't hurt, but they might let you see him tomorrow, and it'll do him no good at all to see you fretting. Better for him to see you're confident we'll see him right.”

“What if we don't? They said it could be life.”

“Then we'll just have to pray that it doesn't come to that, but that Reggie's man enough to cope with it if it does. Come on, to bed with you.”

I went, and after the most heartfelt prayers I could remember uttering since I'd childishly asked for my parents back, I did manage to sleep, though I dare say not for long. It was rather earlier than my accustomed hour when Uncle Charlie came and gently shook me awake. Jeeves nearly always let me wake up on my own, or at most opened the curtains and started talking to me, so there was no possibility of my forgetting what had happened even for a moment.

Somehow I managed to get washed up and shaved and pour myself into a suit I knew Jeeves approved of, and let Uncle Charlie steer me down to the station. They'd only let one of us see him, and Uncle Charlie insisted it should be me. I wasn't so sure I'd be of any use, but I followed the officer to his cell anyway.

The place stank of effluent and vomit with an undercurrent of tramp, Jeeves having been placed in a cell which it seemed was cleaned rather less often and with less care than the ones I had been held in when I'd been brought in as a result of youthful high spirits. Still, I recognised the bucket that one was forced to consider a toilet, and the hard pallet chained to the wall which served as chair and bed. Jeeves looked utterly broken. His usually immaculate suit was crumpled where he'd slept in it, his hair was awry and his hat and tie were discarded beside him. He seemed to have aged ten years since I'd seen him the previous morning.

“Sir,” he said quietly. “You should not be here. The gentleman who was here yesterday told me that it's likely the prosecution will accuse you of willingly indulging in unnatural practices with me and that you will be arrested and convicted with me. I beg you, leave the country while you still can.”

“Nothing doing, old thing,” I said with a brightness I didn't feel. “We both know you're as innocent as a babe, and your Uncle Charlie has replaced that old fool with a far superior specimen.”

Jeeves looked horrified. “My family know?”

“Well, yes, though I don't know if your Uncle's brought the rest of the clan up to speed. I thought he had a right to know and would rather hear it from me. Besides, I thought that if I couldn't have your formidable brain to sort this mess out then your Uncle Charlie's would be the next best thing. He drove down here as soon as he heard, bringing the lawyer with him.”

Jeeves nodded but stared at the ground. “The evidence does appear damning, Sir, and there have been several cases successfully prosecuted with less.”

“I'm sure there have, Jeeves, but if I run now, how will it look, hmm? I'd be as good as locking you up myself.”

“Nevertheless, Sir, I could not forgive myself if you were imprisoned. I am accustomed to work and find solitude no great hardship. I am sure I would cope, but you, Sir... prison would destroy you. Simply the thought that I could be responsible...” I never thought I'd hear my man's voice crack like that, let alone have to watch him fighting tears. This Wooster has faced many challenges in his time, but remaining cheerful while my man fell apart in front of me was by far the worst to date.

“Now, now, Jeeves, we can't have you thinking like that. This new lawyer is quite sure the whole thing will be shown to be bunk.”

“I remember most of the situations in which the photographs were taken, Sir, but while I know the truth in each case, I cannot help but think that my explanations do not seem convincing. Others I cannot remember at all, and so I am at a loss as to how a jury would ever be persuaded, especially when there is testimony to the contrary.”

“Yes, well, I dare say these places are designed to make a chap think that way, and I wish there was a way I could get you out right now. A decent cup of tea and a prime cut of fish for your supper and I'm sure you'd have it all sewn up in a jiffy. As it is that's down to Bates and Co., so it'll probably take them a little longer, but I've no doubt it'll all get sorted out. Once it is, we'll go on that cruise you've been wanting, let the sea air get you back up to full speed, what?”

“I thank you, Sir, but I could not think of remaining in your service after this. Even if I am acquitted, suspicion will continue to follow me, and I suspect that your Aunts will find it all the more imperative that you marry.”

“All the more reason for me not to let you go, then.”

“I trust I do not need to remind you, Sir, that it was my attempt at relieving you of an undesirable fiancée which led to this situation. I do not believe it would be wise for me to undertake such a course of action again.”

“Nonsense, Jeeves. Just because one girl is insane enough to do something like this doesn't mean they all are. Besides, a hint of scandal might just keep the bally lot of them away, leaving me to lead the desired carefree bachelor existence.”

“I wish I could share in your optimism, Sir.”

“Well, I shall do what I can to have enough for the both of us, Jeeves.”

The policeman who'd been waiting outside coughed meaningfully.

“I think that's the call for me to be off.” I said. “You just try to remember that everything that can be done will be. Chin up, eh?”

I felt the clang of the door closing behind me like a lead weight landing in my stomach. Uncle Charlie clapped me reassuringly on the shoulder and I let him lead me away, unable to maintain the façade I'd had to fight for in front of Jeeves.

“Moping, is he?” he asked once I was safely in the car.

“He was untidy,” I said, and I've no doubt Uncle Charlie understood quite how disturbing a sight that was. “I've... I've never seen him look anything less than perfect before, and he didn't do a thing about it.”

“He'll be himself again, soon enough. Always did knock him for a loop when he got into trouble as a lad, no reason to expect him to be any different now.”

“This is a bit more serious than getting the belt from his father!”

“That's as maybe, but he's not a child any more, either. He'll sit around feeling sorry for himself for a while, but I'm sure he'll perk up once he's spoken to Miss Bates.”

The date for the trial was set as about a month later, and I simply drifted about, eating and sleeping when I was told to, and spending the rest of my time trying to not worry, or not cry, or not do any number of other things I found it quite impossible to stop doing. My sleep was plagued with nightmares where Jeeves was sentenced to death or transported to Australia and I was forced down the aisle with a series of progressively more alarming women.

They didn't let me see Jeeves again. His Uncle Charlie stayed with me, recovering his professional demeanour for most of the time, but dropping it again when it looked like I needed a reassuring word or a friendly ear. He dealt with Miss Bates for me and assured me that she had everything firmly under control, so by the time Jeeves was due in court, I'd almost come to terms with the situation. The worst, however, was yet to come.

They'd taken away his own clothes and so he was presented in the dock in prison uniform, his hair in utter disarray without his usual brilliantine to tame it. He was deathly pale, had clearly lost weight and the sparkle was gone from his eyes. He looked, I couldn't help thinking, like a guilty man. I tried to smile encouragingly at him, but he looked straight through me, as though he wasn't even aware that I was there. When he was called upon to plead, his answer of 'Not Guilty' was met with disbelieving jeers from the gallery.

The lawyer for the prosecution was a middle-aged hawk-like man who looked as though he'd been born to wear the damned wig. He towered over Miss Bates, who just sat there, her pretty curls sticking out comically from beneath her own wig, looking dwarfed by her robes, shuffling her papers and worriedly chewing her lip as he made his case. When it came time for him to question Jeeves, the replies came in a dull, defeated tone. Many of my man's answers were cut off and challenged before he'd finished and the subsequent questions and demands for clarification came thick and fast until all he could manage was “I don't know, Sir.” He eventually fell silent in the face of the man's brutal verbal assault.

Jeeves sat in silence, staring at his hands and barely moving as the witnesses' statements were read out. I listened, scandalised by the catalogue of crimes that they would have people believe that this paragon was capable of committing. The disgusting vultures who surrounded me whispered and sniggered as they speculated on what was meant by the precious few things not made entirely explicit. Whether they were there for the titillation of hearing such language, the spectacle of a man brought so low or some combination of the two, I couldn't help thinking that respectable as you'd have thought most of them if you'd passed them in the street, these were the very dregs of society.

I've never been a sort to find amusement in another's misfortune, no matter how objectionable I might have found them, but if I could have seen every one of them hanged I would have taken great pleasure in it. I would have gladly pulled the lever myself. At the very least I wanted to yell out that it was all bunk, but I knew I'd be removed if I did, and whether he knew I was there or not, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving Jeeves to face this horror alone.

When the judge called an adjournment for lunch, I went immediately to the gents to part company with my breakfast, and then had a good go at throwing up the lining of my stomach too. I'd never seen so sickening a spectacle in all my life, and, I realised, it was all my fault. If I'd not needed to be rescued from Miss Cartwright, none of this would have happened.

Once the digestive system had proved to its own satisfaction that there was no more to be given, I put myself as much to rights as I could. Uncle Charlie insisted I get outside a cup of tea, but I couldn't keep it down. I must have still been in the toilets when the call came that interested parties should be making their way back into the court, because when I came out, those who'd been milling about had gone, leaving only the chaps who stood by the doors denying entry and a couple of policemen.

“Mr Bertram Wilberforce Wooster?” one of the aforementioned plod said, and I agreed that I was. They took an arm each and led me away; it was my turn to be thrown in a cell. They had me hand over the contents of my pockets as well as my tie, braces and shoelaces, so apart from anything else the gasper I was starting to feel a quite desperate desire for was out of the question.

It was explained to me that I had been placed under arrest to prevent my making a break for it, as it had been deemed likely I would do so before formal charges could be brought. I was also told that I should consider myself lucky that I was to be held in the court building, at least for the time being, where conditions were considerably better than I might expect elsewhere. Having seen the deplorable state of the accommodation Jeeves had been provided at the station, I had no doubt that this place was the Ritz in comparison to a lot of the penal system.

I can't say how long they left me there – I was checked on occasionally, and at intervals given water and something which a generous man might term food, but I can't say I paid much attention. I wasn't even really able to mark the passage of night and day, what with the cell lacking a window. The light was left on at all times, presumably to make it easier for the johnnies charged with making sure I was still there and breathing. Sometimes it seemed that I'd been there forever, and other times it seemed like no time at all. That first morning of the trial was still too fresh in my mind for me to believe that it had been more than an hour since it had happened, though I knew it had been far longer.

A couple of times I somehow slept, and occasionally I managed to drink some of the water and move the food around the plate but I couldn't bring myself to eat. At some point my clothes were taken away and replaced with a different set which I suppose Uncle Charlie had brought, and then the originals were returned, rather inexpertly laundered and pressed. Shortly after that, I found myself being hauled up and given back my braces so that at least I didn't have to walk around holding my trousers up myself. Without anyone bothering to tell me what was going on I found myself being planted into the witness box, announced and made to swear on a bible.

“Mr Wooster,” the hawk-like creature began. “You are a generally amiable man, one who, I am given to understand, has been engaged to be married on numerous occasions. Would you care to explain why it is that you remain unmarried?”

I answered him, and all the other questions which he threw at me, and when he'd finished, I was marched back out again and dumped back in the cell with another plate of the supposed food which, I was informed, I was going to eat or there would be trouble. I remembered the tales of force-feeding that the suffragettes had endured so I forced down as much of it as I was able, and again, I slept.

The hawk-like man had been almost as vicious with me as he had with Jeeves, and I knew how he'd made it sound. It seemed that everything I'd said, intending to show that Jeeves was beyond reproach, he had twisted in some way and made our entire situation seem sordid. Jeeves had looked up only once, just as I was being led away, and if I'd not already been numbed with horror, the sight would have broken my heart. His cheeks were streaked with tears and I'd never seen such sorrow in any creature's eyes.

I no longer cared what happened to me, all that mattered was that I was the one who had done this to him. After everything he had done for me this was how I repaid him and I couldn't help but wish, for his sake, that I'd never been born. I knew that no matter how long I lived, that look on Jeeves' face would haunt me forever more, but I was sure that no matter how much I tortured myself with the image, Jeeves' suffering must be greater than my own.

I was hauled up into the witness box again some time later, this time to be questioned by Miss Bates, but I couldn't tell you what she asked or how I answered. I couldn't have told you whether Jeeves looked up or not, or whether Uncle Charlie was still there. I suppose I mumbled, staring at my hands as he had done. Frankly I'd stopped taking an interest in life altogether, convinced that the pair of us had nothing more to look forward to now than the occasional silent shuffle round the exercise yard.

Never mind what I'd been told in Sunday school, I now knew what Hell was, and that I was living in it. Worse, that I'd done the unthinkable and pushed Jeeves in ahead of me. I would gladly have married a thousand Miss Cartwrights, or confessed to any number of crimes, if only it would have meant that Jeeves could go free.