Norbert and Smedley
It was full dark when the group made their first stop for petrol. With Jeeves driving, Jonesy riding next to him and Woofington crammed into the space at Jonesy’s feet, the front seat was less than spacious. The back seat wasn’t spacious, either; Norbert, Margaret, Smedley and Penelope rode there, along with two ladies’ purses, one very large and one quite small.
“I don’t want to stop long,” said Jeeves. “But stretch your legs a bit if you’ve a mind to. It would be nice to make Tremblepop Downs before midnight.”
“I can’t get out looking like this!” said Penelope, half her hair hanging in her face, and her fingers tangled in the half which had been up against Smedley’s shoulder. She opened her small purse. “Oh, fiddlesticks. I’ve forgotten my mirror.”
“No problem!” sang Margaret. She opened her bag, the size of half the state of Wisconsin, and pulled out a mirror larger than the one Smedley used when he shaved. “Here you go. Do you need a hairbrush, too?”
While the girls fixed their hair and makeup so they looked presentable enough for the trip to the less-than-presentable public restroom (Jonesy didn’t like to point that out, but he did have to wonder), Jonesy took Smedley aside. “My dear boy,” he began, “as we were setting off on this journey, I happened to hear a comment you made to the young lady. It would appear to me that you are confused on certain, er, important matters, shall we say.”
“Matters? Did you say matters, Jonesy?”
“Yes, Smedley. I did.”
“And what matters would those be?”
“Well, sir, the question of sleeping with the girl comes to mind, sir.”
“Sleeping? It’s simple really, isn’t it? You close your eyes and you nod off. Been doing it since I was a child.”
“Not quite, sir. Not when a lady is involved.”
Smedley, who had been walking, stopped dead in his tracks and opened his mouth in dismay. “You mean to say the rules change when you’re with a woman? Or that the technique differs? Well, tell me, man, what do I need to know?”
“Well, when you sleep the normal way, it’s still just sleeping. It doesn’t count.”
Smedley breathed a sigh of relief. “So, Miss Penelope hasn’t besmirched her reputation.”
“No, sir. She has not.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“When you have relations, though, you will need your silver envelope.”
“I have it right here. So it’s for the relations, eh?”
Just then, Jeeves said, “Enough jabber-jawing, you two! Back in the car. Time’s up.”
Smedley hurried off towards Norbert’s family Bentley.
Jonesy called after him, “But sir, you haven’t got—”
Smedley didn’t hear him.
42: Innocent as a Lamb
Jonesy was still muttering to himself when he got back in the Bentley. No wonder Smedley had such trouble. He never listened to everything a bloke had to say, was always going off with only half the information. That boy was going to be the death of Jonesy, yet. And Jonesy was only responsible for him until Monday. After that, it was anybody’s guess what would become of the lad. Perhaps the young lady would be able to straighten him out.
They drove in silence for the most part. The young ladies slept, cradled against the shoulders of their respective gentlemen. The young men tried to sleep, but had a time of it, given the awkward positions they were forced into in order to make their respective ladies’ comfortable. Jonesy watched Mr. Norbert try to adjust his position and shake out his hand without waking Miss Margaret; he grinned. He remembered having done much the same thing with Miss Olive Prendergast when he was that age. Nearly married the girl, too, but then she’d run off with Billy Gatswallop. Served her right, too. The bloke was always in his cups, couldn’t hold a job, and now she had ten little ones. He’d talked a right nice tune,that Billy, but he hadn’t followed through. Jonesy shook his head. That’s what I get for trying to be a gentleman. Them what shows the girls some excitement gets to keep them, but the girls lose in the long run. Well, maybe someday. Some of those same girls are coming single again, and not all of them are weighed down by more kids than I care to take on.
Jonesy was jolted from his thoughts by a loud noise, like a balloon bursting only louder, and the car skidding to a stop.
“Blast it!” said Jeeves. “Give me a hand, will you?”
“What?” Jonesy looked at his brother, confused.
“It’s going to take the two of us to unload the boot. I need the tyre iron. We’ve had a blow-out, and we’ve got Miss Margaret’s trunk in the way.”
Jonesy nodded and set to helping his brother heave Miss Margaret’s trunk and the rest of the luggage out of the boot and onto the side of the road.
Norbert rolled down his window and stuck his head out. “Say, what, Jeeves? Have we got a problem?”
“Nothing that can’t be fixed, sir. Just a tyre.”
“Oh, then, we do have a problem. Remember when I took the car out by myself a few weeks past?”
“No, sir, I do not.”
“I guess I didn’t tell you, then. But I, er, borrowed the keys and drove.”
“You drove, sir?”
“Yes, Jeeves. I did. Don’t look at me like that. All I did was run over a tyre barrier, but when I did, I damaged a tyre. We’re running on the spare. Smedley has a twitterbox, Jeeves. We’ll just call for assistance.”
“Twitterbox?” Jeeves raised his eyebrows.
“That would be a cell phone,” said Jonesy.
Jeeves sat down on the boot. “We can call, but we aren’t going to get it fixed in the middle of the night. Unless a car comes along, I believe we’re stuck.”
Jonesy looked about him and spied a light in the distance. “No, Jeeves. I believe we are not. That looks to be an Inn over there, doesn’t it?”
The group set out on foot, carrying the girls’ cosmetic bags (Margaret’s was a ghastly yellow marked with a giant initial; if Jonesy squinted, he thought he could make out the letter 'F,' but even the curly-q’s had curly-q’s, so he really couldn’t be sure) after having finally convinced Margaret that in any case, she would have to leave the remainder of her luggage locked up tight in the Bentley, that it was just one night for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t far and the weather was fair, but there was no path and the girls complained bitterly the entire way.
When they reached the Inn, the proprietress didn’t seem to mind that Jeeve’s knock had called from her bed to check them in, nor did she look too far askance when she handed them the key. “But there’s one thing you should be knowing,” she said. “I’ve got but one room, with three beds—two singles and a double. How you pay for the room is my business. How you divide yourselves up between the beds would be your business.”
Jonesy smiled at her and took the key. He motioned to the group, “Let’s get you on upstairs, then. There’s a bed for Mr. Smedley and one for Mr. Norbert, and the girls will have to share. Jeeves and I will sleep in the car. I’m sure I can trust you to behave yourselves.” He gave them the same stern look his father had given him when he was their age.
“Do you think that’s proper?” asked Jeeves.
“Proper enough,” said Jonesy. “Smedley is as innocent as a lamb, and Norbert is gentleman enough, at least, to save his relations for when he’s in private.”
“Relations are in private, then, when girls are involved?” asked Smedley, his curiosity piqued.
“Yes,” said Jonesy, waving Smedley off. He returned his attention to Jeeves. “Smedley is going to be a real problem. The poor boy’s been raised without a father, and he’s got no idea what lays ahead of him—no idea of the fun or the games, if you catch my drift.”
“No, Jonesy, I don’t. And if you talk in circles like that around Smedley, I guarantee he won’t, either. Before his wedding night, one of us will have to set him straight. Given the temptations these days, however, I don’t think we need to be in too much of a hurry. It’s probably just as well he doesn’t know the kind of trouble he could be getting himself into.”
43: Midnight Shuffle
After unlocking the room and seeing Norbert, Smedley, Margaret and Penelope settled into their beds—the girls in the double bed and a young man in each of the singles—Jonesy said, “Come, Woofington.” He cast one last stern look at the four young people. “Now I’ll be expecting you to behave yourselves. I’ll keep the key so I can let myself in in the morning and be helping Norbert and Smedley get dressed. I’ll be knocking first, of course, so I don’t startle the ladies. Good night.”
Norbert, Smedley, Margaret and Penelope said their goodnights, but Woofington growled and refused to budge. When Jonesy reached for the dog, Woofington snapped at the valet’s hand.
Jeeves chuckled. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“And why not?” asked Jonesy.
“The dog hasn’t spent a night away from Mr. Norbert since he was a pup. Unless Norbert walks back out with you and makes him stay, Woofington will be staying here and sleeping with Mr. Norbert.”
“Sir?” Jonesy looked to Norbert.
“Better leave the dog, even though he’s almost as big as the bed.” Norbert sighed. “Perhaps I can get him to sleep on the floor. Woofies, drop.”
Woofington laid down on the floor beside Norbert’s bed, paws covering his eyes and whimpering, but he obeyed.
“We’ll be leaving then.” Jonesy turned out the light and shut the door.
It was some time before Norbert fell asleep. Between Woofington’s whining and the drip from the faucet, and the quiet breathing of three other people, Norbert had trouble drifting off, but eventually Woofington stopped crying and Norbert headed, together with his dog, towards dreamland where he picnicked with Margaret on the croquet lawn until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and heard a whisper in his ear.
“Norbert? Norbert, are you awake?”
“What? Awake? Yes, of course,” he said groggily.
“Will you be a gentleman?”
A gentleman? In the middle of the night? “What?”
“Scoot over. I’m cold.”
“Cold?”
“Woofington stole my place in bed.”
Suddenly, Norbert was very awake. He saw up quickly and looked over at the double bed. Woofington was sprawled in the spot formerly occupied by Margaret, his head resting on her pillow. “How did Woofington get on the bed?”
“The faucet was dripping. It made me have to go pee, so I got up to use the bathroom. When I came back, there he was.”
Norbert laughed. “He does that to Smedley all the time.” He lifted the covers and pulled Margaret into his arms. “I’ll be the perfect gentleman, darling. No worries. Go back to sleep.” He slid his pillow over to make room for her head, cradled her neck with his arm, curved his body around hers and closed his eyes, thinking he’d have to buy some extra dog biscuits for Woofington in the morning.
***
Smedley had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. It had been an exhausting day, given the effort he’d gone to in order to get himself engaged to the girl of his dreams—and then he’d been engaged, then not engaged, then engaged again. Not to mention the trouble with the boots on the car and the locked up policeman in Sofia’s apartment. His head ached just thinking about it. He refused to think ahead, refused to worry about the message from Aunt Cloris and Uncle Robynne and what it might mean. He slept soundly, too. At least until a hand on his shoulder and a whisper in his ear awakened him.
“Prince. Prince, wake up. I need you.”
“What? What do you need, Snow?”
“Scoot over. I’m cold.”
“Cold? Don’t you have enough blankets?”
“I don’t have any blankets.” Penelope didn’t wait for Smedley to invite her. She lifted the covers, booted him over and climbed in, placing her icy feet against the middle of his back.
“Hey!”
“Complain to Norbert. It’s his fault.”
“Norbert! Why Norbert?”
Penelope pointed in the direction of the double bed. Smedley sat up to take a look. When he saw Woofington sprawled diagonally across the bed, legs out behind like a frog and head resting on Margaret’s pillow, he giggled.
Penelope grabbed Smedley’s pillow and clobbered him with it. “Would you mind telling me what’s so funny?”
“You didn’t, by any chance, get up to use the bathroom?” Smedley asked.
“Of course I did. I always get up at least once a night. I drink lots of water—it’s what keeps my complexion looking so fresh. Why do you ask?”
“Because Woofington lies in wait for me at home, just so he can steal my spot under the covers. In fact, sometimes I swear he makes the faucet drip just so I’ll get out of bed to turn it off. He’s a sly one. Well, we’ll just have to make the best of it. You said it’s okay as long as we just sleep, right?”
“Smedley, I love you, innocence and all.” Penelope put her arms around him and gave him reason to regret his innocence, a kiss that made him think that perhaps he should do something else besides drift back to sleep, but then she turned over, laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes.
“Goodnight,” said Smedley, his voice shaking. He really did need to have a talk with Jonesy.
***
“Jonesy, I have a bad feeling about this,” said Jeeves. “Putting those young folks all in a room together and no supervision. There’s no telling what kind of trouble they’ll have gotten themselves into.”
“Trouble? With Smedley? And Norbert’s a perfect gentleman. What could happen? Just you watch. We’ll find them exactly as we left them.” He knocked quietly, then turned the key in the door.
44: Tremblepop Downs
All was quiet in the room—no hushed whispers, no thud as feet hit the floor, no muffled footsteps to suggest a sorting into the proper beds. Jonesy opened the door wider. “See, Jeeves. I told you we had nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about at all.” He beamed at his brother, but only for a second, before he returned his attention to the room. All appeared as he’d left it, except Woofington alone was enthroned on the double bed, his head resting on the pillows and his tail wagging furiously. “The girls. What do you suppose has happened to the girls?”
The color drained from Jeeves’ face. He lifted a single finger an pointed. Jonesy turned, slack-jawed, to find Margaret sleeping on her side with Norbert curled round behind her, his arms encircling her. Penelope, likewise, slept in Smedley’s bed, his arms wrapped around her.
“You don’t think—”
“I don’t know what I think,” said Jeeves. “I think I’ll choose not to think at all. Thinking is what gets me into trouble in the first place. I’m a valet, not a babysitter, and Norbert is a grown man. So is Smedley, I do believe. But Jonesy, I think you’d better have a talk with the boy, and you’d better make it tonight, otherwise he’s going to get himself into trouble. Norbert seems to be rather gifted at leading the poor chap into temptation.”
“Right-o. Well. Now what?”
Jeeves scratched his head for a moment. “Perhaps we should go downstairs again and start over, maybe make a bit more noise this time?”
Jonesy looked at his brother and nodded. “Right.”
When Jonesy opened the door the second time, the girls were out of bed and brushing their hair. He put a hand to his face and pretended to scratch his upper lip, then looked over and saw that Jeeves was also struggling not to laugh at the young people’s efforts to hide their sleeping arrangements from the night before.
While they consumed their breakfast, the innkeeper arranged to have their tyre repaired so by the time they’d finished, Jonesy and Jeeves needed only to trudge back through the field to get the car.
“Are you sure you don’t want us all to go now?” asked Smedley. “The walk would do us good.”
“Oh, no. Absolutely not!” said Jeeves.
Jonesy smiled. While the gesture was kind, it would have meant trucking Margaret’s belongings back with them, a task Jeeves would not have relished. Jonesy was glad Smedley was his charge, and that Smedley had had the sense to pick the less complicated of the two girls.
Once they were back on the road, they made good time and arrived at Tremblepop Downs in short order. Smedley ran in ahead of his friends, entering through the front door without knocking. He waved off the house maid and went straight to the front parlor, where he knew he’d find his Aunt Cloris. He did not expect to find her weeping.
“Auntie?” Smedley knelt beside her.
“Oh, Smedley, my dear boy. I didn’t expect you so soon. Thank God, you’re home.” She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her ample bosom.
“Heavens, Aunt Cloris. What is it? It’s not Uncle Robynne, is it?”
“No, dear boy. Worse.”
“My parents? Tell me it’s not my parents.”
“No,” she sobbed.
“Then what?” he asked, a feeling of panic overtaking him. “What?”
45: Soccer Practice
Jonesy, Jeeves, Penelope, Norbert and Margaret followed Smedley as soon as the car was parked, and were directed to the sitting room by the maid. When they heard Smedley’s anguished cry of “What? What?” they hurried to his side.
“Smedley, you didn’t tell me you’d brought friends. A great many friends, it would appear.” Aunt Cloris straightened herself in the chair and dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. She cleared her throat. “Hello, and welcome to Tremblepop Downs. Friends of Smedley’s are always a blessing to receive within these walls, though I’m afraid there will not be much gaiety this time around.” She sniffed. “Prudence, would you be so kind as to prepare tea. There will be,” Aunt Cloris paused to count the group on her fingers, “seven of us, I think.”
Jonesy bowed low. “Oh, no, my Lady. My brother and I will not be taking tea with you. We’re here just to see to the young folk.”
“Auntie, my friends.” Smedley smiled uncertainly. “Penelope,” he winced as she kicked him, “Norbert and Margaret, and Norbert’s men, Jonesy and Jeeves.”
“Smedley,” said Penelope sweetly. “May I speak with you for a moment?”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.” She aimed another swift kick at his ankle.
“Ow, yes. But of course. I won’t be a moment, Auntie.” Smedley reached up to kiss his Aunt’s cheek, then stood and led Penelope to an adjoining room.
“Friend?” she seethed. “What do you mean ‘friend’? I thought we were going to announce our engagement. I should think I might be called something more than a friend, don’t you? We did sleep together last night, or have you forgotten?”
“I thought it didn’t count if we only slept?”
Penelope kicked him again. Smedley wondered if she’d played soccer when she was in secondary school. If she had, he suspected she was one of her team’s stars, because her aim for the tender spot on his ankle had been unerring in its accuracy.
“You wretch! Do you love me?” Penelope asked.
“You know I do, Snow.”
“Then you have thirty minutes to confess it to that woman, or I will be out of your life forever.”
“But Penelope, don’t you want to know why—”
“No. I know I love you. I know you say you love me. Now, I want you to prove it. Is there anything else that I need to know? Because if there is, by golly, then tell me.”
Smedley grabbed Penelope, kissed her as passionately as he knew how, then said, “Penelope, you know I love you, but Aunt Cloris says she has the worst news imaginable for me. Don’t you think I should find out what that news is first?”
Penelope was speechless. Smedley led her back into the sitting room, unsure whether his kiss or his words had caused her change of heart. He hoped it had been a little of both.