Norbert and Smedley
101: A Small Wedding
Margaret’s mother, who had been reaching toward Norbert, froze, her hand suspended mid-air as if she were a marionette whose operator had forgotten what came next, then her mouth opened and closed, emitting a tinman-like squeak in place of words. Her already bulbous nose grew in its unfortunate proportions as the nostrils flared, and her formidable chest heaved so violently that Smedley felt compelled to stare in fascination. Margaret, however, behaved as if nothing were amiss. “Oh, yes, yes, Mummy. I know how excited you must be about the news after I turned the Prince down last year, but please don’t get yourself worked up. Norbert and I have just now made our decision to marry, and we have months and months to do the planning.” She patted her mother’s back comfortingly. “And I’m determined to have a smallish wedding. No more, say, than four or five hundred guests, and I’d like to have the reception here, in the back garden. Do you think that would be all right? I know it’s not so fashionable anymore, but I do so love our garden.”
As Margaret chattered on and on, Lady Frembleysmithercup remained in a state of stunned silence and her face began to turn the palest shade of blue.
“I say,” Smedley whispered in Penelope’s direction, “shouldn’t we do something? The woman looks as if she’s about to die of apoplexy.”
Penelope raised her eyebrows and shrugged, a worried expression on her face. Just then, a serving girl appeared with a chair, cool cloth and smelling salts. She left the items with Margaret’s father, curtsied, then exited hastily.
“There, there, Carol Ann. Quite the exciting news, isn’t it? And not what we were expecting.” Margaret’s father led his stupefied wife to the chair. “Perhaps it would be wise if you dined in your room?”
Margaret’s mother swallowed, then looked slowly from one guest to the other. “No,” she said. “I shall not. I should like to dine in the parlor, with the future Lady Nilpaster for company.”
“As you wish, dear,” said Margaret’s father.
It was Penelope’s turn to gasp and grow pale.
102: Smedley's Family Secret
Margaret’s jaw dropped, but only for a moment. “Her? Why would you want to dine with her? And in the parlor, no less?”
But Lady Frembleysmithercup didn’t answer. She’d made a miraculous recovery and, leaping to her feet, had taken Penelope by the arm and pulled her into the parlor. Before anyone could object, least of all Penelope, Lady Frembleysmithercup was closing the door behind them. “Do have cook send our meals in right away, my love, will you? There’s a dear.”
“Certainly,” said Margaret’s father. “Well, well, my sweets,” he continued, turning to the remaining three. “Without my battle axe of a wife—I say that in the most loving terms, mind you—I predict we shall have a delightful feast.”
“But Penelope—”
“Come, come, dear boy,” said Lord Frembleysmithercup. “What does not kill us only makes us stronger. Now, I say, are you all old enough for a nice strong drink? Because I, for one, am in need of one. Hargraves, if you will, please.”
Out of nowhere, a squat little man with short, skinny little legs appeared. About as wide as he was tall, he put Smedley in mind of a brandy snifter. “Your usual, sir?”
Lord Frembleysmithercup nodded vigorously.
“And for the young folks?”
“After meeting her Ladyship, I would suggest you make theirs double.”
“Daddy!” Margaret scolded. She turned to Hargraves. “I think we’ll do fine with gin and tonic, easy on the gin.” She looked sternly in her father’s direction. “The evening is young.”
“I was only having a bit of a joke, darling. Willy Nilly’s heir here does turn such delightful colors.”
He aimed a clap at Smedley’s back, but Smedley saw it coming and ducked. There were benefits, thought Smedley, to having Norbert as a roommate, not the least of which was having learned to dodge overzealous claps on the back.
“Oh, sir, I am relieved then,” said Smedley. “I’ve only just become engaged to Penelope. I should hate for your wife to scare her off.”
“Scare her off?” Margaret laughed heartily. “No. She’s probably filling her in on the local gossip.”
“Or pumping her for everything she can learn about you,” added Margaret’s father.
“Then I’m the one she should be dining with,” said Norbert. “I’ve been his roommate nigh on to forever. The stories I could tell…”
“Which is exactly why we shall keep the two of you miles apart, thank you very much,” said Smedley.
“Dear boy, I don’t think that will be possible. It is customary, I might remind you, for sons-in-law to associate with their mothers-in-law.”
“Oh. Forgot about that. Well, then. Perhaps I shall have to buy Norbert’s silence.”
“Yes. Perhaps you shall. You could start by entertaining us on the weekends at Nilpaster Manor. There are interesting things afoot there, not the least of which is what’s behind the doors of that locked room and why there isn’t a television or radio in the whole blessed place.”
“Locked doors? No radio or television? Then the rumors are true?” Lord Frembleysmithercup leaned eagerly into the conversation. “And the garden? Is there really a garden with no gate? Or was that tale made up by disgruntled employees?”
Smedley looked from one to the other of the faces that turned upon him, but said nothing. He knew little more than they did, and what’s more, Uncle Willy Nilly had left instructions strictly forbidding him to ask questions. The last thing he wanted was to have his friends pressuring him to go against Willy Nilly’s wishes. “Oh, please. None of that is as interesting as our family’s greatest secret, the Lighthouse Incident of 1996. If I tell you the details, do you promise not to breathe them to a soul outside this room?”
103: Honk!
Instantly, there was an intake of breath around the room and Smedley felt as if they were sucking the air right out of his lungs. Forgive me, mother. But what else could I do? Those questions…
“Your family has secrets?” asked Margaret’s father.
“Yes. Doesn’t yours?”
Margaret’s father colored and choked back a cough. “Er… um… no.”
“So, Smedley,” said Margaret. “Are you going to tell us or not?”
Or not, thought Smedley, because just then, Lady Frembleysmithercup burst through the door dragging Penelope by the hand. “Thomas? Thomas! Come here this instant!” she trumpeted in a voice not unlike the call of a goose in mating season. Smedley half expected her to parade her enormous bosom in front of the group and ruffle her feathers, but instead, she waited imperiously for her husband to run to her side.
“What, my sweet petunia?”
Smedley fought back giggles because Margaret’s mother bore no resemblance at all to those delicate flowers of his neighbor Priscilla that he’d once had the misfortune of mowing down. My, oh my, but he’d gotten an education in petunias then!
“I’ve just had the most amazing idea!”
“What?”
Lord Frembleysmithercup looked aghast at whatever it was that Lady Frembleysmithercup whispered in his ear. The more she whispered, the more aghast his expression became. Finally, words burst forth, “But what if the children don’t want a double wedding?”
“But they must,” she said emphatically. “It will be the event of the season.”
104: Elope?
It took a moment for the group to recover.
“Event?” squawked Margaret. “I don’t want my wedding to be an event.” She glared at Penelope. “It was your doing, wasn’t it? Your parents can’t afford to pay for an expensive wedding, so you figure that if you piggyback yours onto mine, you’ll have everything taken care of, right? I see how it goes…”
“What? Surely you don’t think—” Penelope began, but Smedley cut her off.
“Oh, no,” he said. “Penelope and I wouldn’t think of interfering with your wedding. As a matter of fact, we’re favoring an elopement.”
“Smedley!”
“Now, my dear Snow, I’m sure our secret is safe with Margaret and her family.” Smedley took Margaret by the hand, one conspirator to another.
“But is your secret safe with me?” asked Norbert. “Come now, Smedley, you know your Aunt would never forgive you, and I’d hate to think I let you break her heart.”
“Yes, Smedley. I do believe I heard her say how much she looked forward to your wedding—and didn’t Willy-Nilly specify that it had to take place at Nilpaster Manor?” asked Margaret.
“What?” Smedley looked from Norbert to Margaret, puzzled by the turn in the conversation. “I don’t think—” He grimaced when Penelope stepped down hard on his instep, caught the look in her eye, then continued, “I mean, yes, that’s right. What a remarkable memory you have. In all the excitement, I’d forgotten.”
“Well, in that case, I have a brilliant idea,” said Lord Frembleysmithercup.
They turned towards him in trepidation.
“Let’s eat, shall we?”
105: Lovebirds
Smedley pulled Penelope aside as the group made its way to the dining room and tenderly brushed a brown frizz of hair from her forehead so he could see her face more clearly. “Darling? Was there really something in Willy Nilly’s will about the marriage taking place at Nilpaster? Because honestly, I don’t remember.”
Penelope removed her horn-rimmed glasses and rubbed her eyes. “No, my Prince Charming. There wasn’t. But I want a wedding, don’t you?”
When she turned her puppy dog eyes on him, Smedley’s heart melted. “Of course I do, my dear Snow White. And if you do, too, then a wedding you shall have. But a lie?”
“Smedley, you weren’t alone with the woman. She’s a force to be reckoned with—if indeed that’s possible! I’m surprised Margaret could be convinced to come within three counties of her mother. I’m sure that if she were mine, you could not convince me to do the same.”
“Don’t make such a face, my sweet. She’s not your mother and never will be. And we’ll steer clear of her somehow, I promise you.” He pulled Penelope towards him for a kiss.
“There you are! I see what you’re about, don’t think you can hide it from me,” honked Lady Frembleysmithercup. “I can see I’d best keep an eye on lovebirds like you.”
“No, honestly—” Smedley was silenced by Penelope’s foot coming down hard on his instep.
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Penelope, batting her eyes innocently. “Smedley is such a dear boy, I keep forgetting myself. You must remember how it felt when you were first in love? Tell us the story, won’t you?”
“My, my, my. Oh, yes.” Lady Frembleysmithercup pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “We were quite the handsome couple and no one—no one, mind you—could take their eyes off my sweet Thomas. The other girls hated me.”
I’m sure they did, thought Smedley. I’m sure they did.