Norbert and Smedley
Norbert and Jeeves trotted off down the hall, while Jonesy, a frown creasing his face, lagged behind. Margaret remained in her room, closet doors open before her. When Jonesy last saw her, she was eyeing over-stuffed drawers and rack upon rack of hanging garments and bemoaning the fact that she “simply hadn’t a thing to wear.”
No, she hasn’t got a thing to wear—she’s got a great deal too many things to wear. Life would be simpler by half if she gave up the lot and started over. Jonesy hoped Norbert would tire of the dear girl before he went so far as to marry her. It wasn’t that he disliked Margaret—he liked her very much—but she was the prissy sort, and Jonesy had very little patience for a woman who couldn’t be more definite.
Take Norbert’s mum, Lady Bennington the II, for example. Now there was a definite women—not the ambiguous type like Miss Margaret—her wardrobe was grey, all grey. Need a dress? Choose the grey one, no choice more complicated than the light dove versus the darker charcoal, and even that choice was made based on season and weather. None of the froufrou fol-de-rol Miss Margaret would introduce into Jonesy’s life. His head hurt just thinking about it.
Then again, thought Jonesy, perhaps if Norbert brought the young woman home for keeps, he could also be convinced to bring home a darling little lady’s maid with her. A single lady’s maid, the kind that could eventually become a married lady’s maid—married of course, to Jonesy. It was lonely of an evening, when Mr. Norbert was out and Jonesy had no one for company except Woofington. For too many years, Jonesy’d slept alone. (He’d last shared his bed at the age of nine, and had been happy to sleep alone then—Jeeves kicked and offered nothing by way of comfort. Jonesy was ready for feminine company now. He was waiting for the right woman, though—or he’d have to answer to his Mum, and truth be told, he’d been raised to be too much a gentleman to do otherwise, anyway).
“Jonesy, I was asking if you knew where my car and Smedley’s, er, whatever it is he drives—can you call it a car?—were taken?”
Jonesy started. “What? Oh. No, sir. Perhaps Peter Martin will know, sir. We can ask him. And yes, I do believe Mr. Smedley’s vehicle is properly called a car. A mini-cooper. Quite colorful, too, I might add. A bit like a Rubik’s cube on wheels.”
“Patrick Martin, did you say? Not Patrick Martin of the Cove on Marshwillow Martins?”
“No, sir. Peter Martin. The Bobby that we had to unlock.”
“Right. Unlock. There’s a story there, no doubt, but I’m not sure I’ve the stomach for it.” Norbert turned to rap on Sofia’s door.
“Who’s there?” called Sofia.
“Norbert.”
“Are you done snogging Margaret already?” Smedley opened the door, laughing heartily. “What did you do? Insult her like you did Heather?”
“No, old chap. For your information, she’s packing her things to spend the weekend in the country with me.”
“What? That’s a quick bit of work, don’t you think?”
“No. We’re taking you home to Tremblepop Downs.”
Penelope’s eyes lit up at the prospect. She’d come up and put her arms around Smedley, holding him tight about the waist.
“Tremblepop Downs? Whatever for?” asked Smedley.
“Blimey! Do I have to teach you everything? So you can announce your engagement. You need to tell your relatives first, before word gets out. You’ll also want to tell the young lady’s family.”
Smedley nodded. He scratched his chin, knit his brows together, then sank into a chair, his face a ghostly white. “Snow, my darling. I can’t be engaged to you. I’ve made a dreadful mistake. I’m so sorry.” He dropped his head onto his arms, which he’d folded on the table, and began to cry. “How could I have done such a thing? I should have known better.”
“Now what? Smedley, you must tell me,” said Penelope.
“I can’t. It’s too awful. Give me a moment with Jonesy, if you will.”
37: Right and Wrong
Penelope, Sofia, Peter Martin, Jeeves and Norbert reluctantly filed into the hallway, leaving Jonesy alone with a sobbing Smedley.
“Now, Mr. Smedley, what can you have done that is so bad as to make you break off your engagement to the love of your life?” asked the valet. Jonesy wanted to take Smedley in his arms and rock him like a baby to comfort him, but the blinds were open, and he had a feeling Sofia’s was the sort of building occupied by nosy neighbors, the kind who owned binoculars ostensibly for birdwatching, but the birds they watched didn’t all have feathers. Jonesy still hoped to find Miss Right. Because it wouldn’t do to give Miss Sofia’s neighbors the idea he was Mr. Wrong, he stood by and watched Smedley weep, wringing his hands helplessly instead.
“I forgot to ask her father for her hand in marriage,” said Smedley. “If I don’t do that first, I’ve gotten it all wrong. That’s how it’s done in the movies, you know, especially if I want her to be able to tell the story all romantic-like to our children. You have to help me fix it.” Smedley clutched the front of Jonesy’s waistcoat. “You have to drive me to Plumgorn Manor tonight. I’ll stay somewhere close by, visit her father first thing in the morning, pose my question, and then we’ll make haste back here. If her father says yes—and he must say yes or my heart will be broken—then we’ll make our way to Tremblepop Downs for the happy announcement.”
“Smedley, dear boy, I see two problems with that plan.”
“You do?” Smedley’s face fell again. “What are they?”
Jonesy’s face already blue, turned a deeper hue by the second, but it was not from sadness. Smedley grasped his waistcoat so tight, Jonesy could not breathe. “Smedley,” he spluttered. “Could you,” gasp, “let go?” wheeze, pant, “Please?”
Smedley released him.
Jonesy coughed, adjusted his tie and the cuffs of his sleeves, and straightened himself to his full and proper height as if there had been no insult to his person. “Thank you, sir. Now, as I was saying, I see two problems. The first is that you’ve broken off your engagement to the young lady. By tomorrow, she will probably have decided never to speak to you again. The second is this...” Jonesy pulled the folded piece of paper from the pocket of his waistcoat, smoothed it open and handed it to Smedley. “Norbert hasn’t been quite honest with you, and I risk my job in showing this to you, but I think perhaps you should read it.”
Smedley squinted at the pink scrap of paper, turning it first one way and then another. Then he looked at both the front and the back. Finally, he handed it back to Jonesy, completely mystified. “I’m afraid I can’t make sense of it. I’m as blind as a bat right now. My eyes are swollen from crying, and, I’m shamed to admit, I wear contacts for reading and I forgot to put them in with my haste to get ready. Could you read it for me?”
“Certainly.” Jonesy cleared his throat. “Smedley, come home at once. Emergency.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Smedley.
“What? That I can read?”
“No. The news. Almost anything could be an emergency to my Aunt Cloris. Maybe she’s heard from my parents and doesn’t want the authorities to know.”
“Why wouldn’t she want the authorities to know? Are your parents fugitives?”
“They might be. They left before, well, let’s just say they didn’t wait to find out. The Lighthouse Incident and all, you know.”
“I don’t know.”
“A story for the journey, perhaps. It’s a skeleton in our closet. It sounds as if I’d best collect my bride-to-be and get packing.”
“Your former bride-to-be, sir.”
“I think, Jonesy, I can fix that easily enough—I’ll just have to propose again. I’m getting good at it, don’t you think?” Then Smedley’s face grew panicked. “But I still haven’t solved the problem of her father.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that, sir,” said Jonesy. “These days, you only see that in the movies. The larger problem, I would think, will be convincing Miss Penelope you didn’t mean it.”
“Leave that to me, Jonesy. I feel up to handling anything.”
38: Out of Mind
When Sofia shut the door of the apartment on Smedley and Jonesy, she turned to Penelope intending to ask her what she planned to do next, now that that dope of a Smedley had botched things up again; she intended to ask why Penelope didn’t try dating a policeman. Sofia was sure there was much to recommend it—-already, she was finding Peter Martin to be the best of the beaux she’d had that year, if not that decade (though she’d had so many, it was hard to tell). Sofia wanted to give Peter another quick kiss, just to be certain, but she had no time—Penelope was already tearing down the hall as fast as her legs would carry her.
But, oh my! Before Penelope reached her door, she was scooped up in the arms of that giant of a man, Jeevitha—what a peculiar name—who had recently appeared on the scene, and who appeared to be somehow related to Norbert and Smedley (Sofia hadn’t paid enough attention to figure the whole thing out, so taken was she with her darling Peter).
“Miss Penelope, begging your pardon, but you must forgive Smedley. He isn’t in his right mind,” said Jeeves.
“I’ll say he’s not in his right mind, nor am I in mine for ever having fallen in love with him in the first place.”
“That’s not what I meant, Miss Penelope,” said Jeeves. He set her down gently. “Please, dear girl, you must listen. For Mr. Norbert’s sake, for I’m afraid it is all his fault.”
“What? Are you blaming this on me? Where’s your loyalty, Jeeves?” said Norbert.
“Mr. Norbert, I’m sorry. But for once, I must say that this is your doing. Not Jonesy’s. Not mine. Not Smedley’s. You have meddled one too many times, sir, and it is to poor Smedley’s undoing.”
Jeeves hung his head, but due to his excessive height, only Sofia, who stood quite some distance away watching the scene unfold, was able to tell. The others still looked at the underside of his chin.
Jeeves knelt to look Penelope in the eyes. “Miss Penelope, Mr. Smedley has some trouble. We received a message that he is to come home at once, there has been an emergency. The trip is not for your engagement. It is to get him home in one piece, surrounded by friends, to face whatever news he must hear.”
Penelope’s chin jutted out defiantly. “Well, it’s a good thing, since we’re no longer engaged.”
“I wouldn’t be worrying about that, Ma’am. If I know my brother, he’ll have that sorted out straightaway, just you wait and see. What you should be worrying about is what you’ll be packing in that bag of yours, because we’ll be needing to leave before long. Please, now. Will you give the boy a chance?”
Sofia watched with curiosity as Penelope considered Jeeve’s request for a moment, then turned on her heel and retraced her steps, positioning herself outside the apartment door. “Just this once, Jeeves. But would you try to keep a better eye on Norbert? Because if you don’t, I’m afraid I shall have to kill him.”
39: In a Fix
Smedley took leave of Jonesy, who stood shaking his head in dismay, and dashed out the apartment door headlong into Penelope. So intent was he on reaching his former fiancée that he didn't bother to see who it was that he'd knocked to the floor. He merely reached out a hand absently, heaved the inconvenient female to her feet (in an women's building, that seemed a reasonable assumption), muttered something about “That’s what eavesdropping at the door will get you, I tell you. Living in women’s buildings like these is bad for you health,” and continued on his way at something that resembled a lope.
“But Mr. Smedley, sir!” called Jonesy.
“Not now, Jonesy. I haven’t got the time. I need to make things right by my Penelope. I expect the dear girl is crying her eyes from her broken heart. She’s probably in her cups at this very moment. Tea, that is. My Penelope would never touch alcohol, you know, at least not without someone to pour for her.”
“But Mr. Smedley, sir!”
“Which part of not now gave you trouble, Jonesy? The not or the now?” Smedley spun around in irritation. “I was really starting to become attached to you, but if you can’t be listening to me any better than that, we’re going to start having problems, now, aren’t—” He stopped short. “Oh. Oh, dear.”
“I’m to be crying my eyes out in my cups, am I?” said Penelope, her eyes on fire. “And why would I be doing that after the way you’ve treated me today?”
“Because it has all been a dreadful misunderstanding. Explain it to her, Jonesy. It seems that every time I open my mouth today, I get myself in more trouble. I do believe I’ve been hexed.”
And so Jonesy led Penelope and Smedley back into the apartment, explained to Penelope the cause of Smedley’s most recent upset and then showed Penelope the note. Jonesy, who knew how to speak without offending the lady, had things sorted out in no time. “So, my dear, I think we’d better get you and Miss Margaret packed. Do you think you could be helping her? She’s the complicated sort, and without a little prodding, I think she’ll be taking the whole night and packing her entire closet. We’d get a late start, and you’d have no place to sit, either.”
Penelope laughed, a musical laugh that made Smedley’s heart sing with joy. “Of course I will, Jonesy.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Jonesy on the chin, because that was as high as she could reach, which was still a good deal higher than she could have reached on his brother, Jeeves. “You are a gem, you know. I hope Norbert appreciates you.”
“I doubt that, Miss. He’s used to me brother, don’t you know, and rather set in his ways, too. But my brother and me, we switch off a bit these days, so I have something to do and get to see the world a bit. It’s lonely in the country, you know, especially since Mr. Norbert’s grandfather died. I used to do for him, you know. But I haven’t got so much of a job anymore. I think his family keeps me around just because they like to keep things in the family.”
“Well, I appreciate you, Jonesy. And I’ll bet Smedley does, too. Don’t you Smedley?”
“I do now,” said Smedley. “I most certainly do.” He beamed at his bride-to-be and thought that the day could turn out perfectly after all. There were only a few hours left. Not much time left for things to go wrong, really. And it promised to be a lovely weekend. Tremblepop Downs was a fine place, and it had been months since he’d been home to see Aunt Cloris and Uncle Robynne Christopher.
40: To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
With Jonesy and Jeeves in charge, Margaret and Penelope were packed in no time. Jonesy, who considered himself the smarter of the two brothers, spoke first, “I’ll just be grabbing Miss Penelope’s bags, Jeeves. You’ll take care of Miss Margaret, eh? Seeing as how she’s Mr. Norbert’s girl and you’re Mr. Norbert’s favorite and all.”
Jeeves glared at him but said nothing as he first hooked his elbows through the straps for two wheely bags then hefted Margaret’s steamer trunk onto his back. “Right-o, Jonesy,” he said aloud. “I’ll be getting you for this,” he added under his breath.
“Oh, Jeeves. Wait just a minute,” trilled Margaret. “One more thing. You’ve forgotten my cosmetics case.” She dashed out of the apartment and clipped it onto the smaller of the wheely bags, then stood up straight and squeezed his large bicep. “My, what a muscle man you are; my father’s valet would have taken three trips.”
Jeeves beamed, stood to his full 6’6”, and lumbered down the hall.
Jonesy beamed, too. Thank God Mr. Smedley had chosen an uncomplicated girl. Such a lot of luggage that girl Margaret needed—and for a mere two days in the country, too! He hated to think what she’d pack for a fortnight. Jonesy followed his brother, carrying bags that were light as a feather in comparison.
Peter Martin and Sofia saw the party off. “Have a wonderful weekend!” said Peter. “I’ll see to it that your impounded cars are brought round while you’re gone.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to keep Woofies?” asked Sofia. “Your trust wouldn’t be misplaced, you know. I’m great with dogs.”
“After the handcuffs? No, I think I’ll keep him with me,” said Norbert.
“That was an accident—”
“Ssssh, honey,” said Peter. “It’s useless to protest. Besides, we’ll have more fun together without the dog.”
“But—”
Peter silenced her protests with a kiss.
The party stopped only for a few minutes at Norbert and Smedley’s, because Jeeves and Jonesy would not entertain the possibility of the boys getting out of the car. “We know the things you need and where to find them,” said Jonesy with all the authority he could muster. “We’ve a long drive ahead of us. Why don’t you, er, converse with the ladies while we do the packing? It will be much more efficient.” He winked. “You’ll be wanting to rest once we’re on the road, so now’s your chance to, er, discuss, er, your plans.”
Norbert and Smedley looked at each other, while the girls giggled. Norbert put his arms around Margaret and said, “I think we’re past that first date, now, don’t you?”
“Quite,” she answered.
“So, what would you like to do this weekend, Snow?” asked Smedley. “Would you fancy seeing the countryside by horseback?”
“Prince, you dolt. Come a bit closer. I can’t hear you,” said Penelope.
When he did, she pulled him in for a kiss, then snuggled against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “I’m dreadfully tired. Rub my back, will you, love? So I can dream of you while I sleep? I’ll be a fright tomorrow if I don’t take a nap.”
“Certainly, my love. But do you think you should sleep? With me, now? We’re not married yet.”