Norbert and Smedley
Penelope and Margaret went ahead up the stairs, while Jeeves and Jonesy labored under the weight of Margaret’s two wheely bags, steamer trunk and cosmetic bag. Norbert and Smedley each carried their own bags, and Smedley gallantly volunteered to carry Penelope’s modestly-sized bag, as well.
“Shall I help your young lady with her unpacking, sir?” asked Jonesy.
“No!” said Penelope. She blushed. “I mean, no. Thank you, Jonesy, but I can manage it myself. Perhaps you could see to Smedley, instead, so that his shirts don’t get wrinkled.”
“Certainly, miss.” Jonesy nodded his head. “After you, sir.” He followed Smedley to the boys’ quarters—an enormous room with two large beds, two even larger armoires, and a fireplace the size of a walk-in closet. Logs were set, but the fire was not lit, nor was one needed on such a warm June morning. “I expect this room will do for now, sir, don’t you?” he said. “But you’ll be wanting your own room once you’ve had a look about the place, and of course, you and Miss Penelope will want a suite of rooms for after your wedding.”
“We will?”
Jonesy coughed. Oh, dear. It’s worse than I thought. This boy does need an education. “Why, yes, sir. You will. But this will do quite nicely for now. Would you like to change before luncheon?”
“Whatever for?”
“Smedley, you nitwit,” said Norbert, “the gentry always change before dining, and you’re gentry now.”
“But why would they do that? I like this shirt. It’s my favorite. Can I put it back on after I eat?”
Norbert rolled his eyes. “Fine. Don’t change. I think I’ll change, though. Perhaps you can get me an introduction to the Queen once you get to know her. Maybe she’ll give me a title.”
Jeeves suppressed a chuckle. “Perhaps, sir. But I doubt it. Unless you write music or a book or do something besides lead poor Smedley here into trouble.”
Norbert looked at Jeeves in dismay. “Jeeves, did I just hear you getting cheeky with me?”
“Did you, sir?” He raised his eyebrows, then made a show of checking his watch as if he’d forgotten an important appointment. “Oh, dear. It’s five minutes of eleven. Let’s hurry. We’d best not get on Ms. Maple’s bad side our first day.”
They grabbed the girls on their way to the dining room, where, as promised, luncheon awaited them. Jonesy and Jeeves stood at attention and helped to serve the four young people. Talk was animated—much had changed since they’d arrived at Smedley’s aunt’s that morning, after all—and there was much mirth, until Smedley saw the peas. Then, he fell immediately silent, and his face matched the vegetable in color. He passed them to his right with taking any.
“No, sir. Not if you wish to have your pudding,” called Ms. Maple, from the corner of the room. She took the bowl of peas back from Penelope and spooned a modest serving onto Smedley’s plate. “And you’ll eat every one, too.”
Smedley looked at her, and swallowed hard. “Y-y-yes, M-m-ma’am,” he stuttered. He said little for the rest of the meal.
When the plates were returned to the kitchen, not a pea was visible on Smedley’s plate.
Jonesy returned with raspberry treacle for Norbert, Penelope and Margaret. “I’m sorry, sir, but Ms. Maple says there’s to be none for you,” he said to Smedley.
“But I ate my peas.”
“No, sir, you did not. She said she found half a dozen peas under a spoonful of mashed potatoes.”
Penelope leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Oh, poor Smedley, my dear. Here, I will share mine.”
Before Penelope could straighten in her seat, her dessert was gone.
“There will be none of that,” said Ms. Maple. “Each action has its consequences; each will pay for his or her own mistakes.”
“But my dessert,” said Penelope.
“Precisely. It was your mistake to share it with Smedley.” Ms. Maple grinned at them like a sleepy cat. Jonesy intended to see that he and Smedley didn’t end up playing the parts of the mice.
52: Draft or Daft
Smedley and Penelope sat in uncomfortable silence while Norbert and Margaret ate their rasperry treacle, then, as soon as was polite, they excused themselves from the table. Smedley could tell from the color of Penelope’s face, which nearly matched the remnant of raspberry treacle at the corner of Norbert’s mouth (Smedley tried to catch Norbert’s attention to tell him to wipe it, but Norbert mistook his gesture for an odd sort of wave and merely waved back) that his beautiful Snow White was angry. Livid, in fact.
As soon as they were out of ear shot of Ms. Maple, Penelope exploded. “Well, I never. The woman is a beast. No wonder Jonesy refused to work for you at first—that he’s changed his mind now simply tells me he’s taken leave of his senses. You must fire her, Smedley. You must.”
Smedley took Penelope’s hands in his. “But that’s just it, dear girl. I cannot. Why do you think my Aunt was crying so? If I’m to be Lord Nilpaster, and I think I must, how can I let Uncle Willy Nilly down? I have to abide by the stipulations in his will, and there were but three. The first was that I must marry within the half year. The second, that I must find a staff to properly care for Nilpaster Manor, and that will be a task in and of itself. And the third, if you’ll remember, is that I must keep Ms. Maple.”
An icy wind blew through the hall just then, causing Penelope’s teeth to chatter. Smedley put his arms around her. “You haven’t caught a chill darling, have you? You aren’t to be taken to your death bed, lost in some fever, unable to utter a word of sense? That only happens in old books by the Brontës or Jane Austen or DuMaurier, right? Please tell me that’s so.”
“For heaven’s sake, Smedley. I’m fine. Didn’t you feel that draft? Ms. Maple does give one pause, though, doesn’t she? I don’t suppose there’s any hope of changing her. More than likely, she’ll train us to do her bidding. What will we do?”
“I don’t know, Penelope. I don’t know. But if Jonesy is staying, I suspect he may have a plan. I’m developing an uncommon good faith in the man.”
53: Comings and Goings
Smedley and Penelope cornered Jonesy as soon as he finished clearing the luncheon dishes.
“Jonesy, I’m counting on you. What am I going to do about Ms. Maple?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, sir,” said Jonesy. “But I’ve got an idea that all is not as it seems. Are you set on visiting Miss Penelope’s family today, or can we do so tomorrow on the way back to London?”
“Why?” Smedley eyed the bald valet. “Have you a plan?”
“No. But given time, I think one might come to me. Tell you what, why don’t you and Norbert take the young ladies for a stroll around the grounds? Have a bit of an explore, see what there is to see about the place and all? Jeeves and I will suss things out a bit in the village. Perhaps we can learn a thing or two. Besides, I’ll need to make a few inquiries if I’m to be hiring staff for you, and I’ll want to post an advertisement in the papers. Now, what is your official address in London?”
“London!”
“You weren’t planning on moving here immediately, were you?” asked Jonesy, his eyebrows raised. “Or have you taken a fancy to our dear Ms. Maple?”
“What? Oh, no. No, indeed.”
“I didn’t think so. Besides, the young lady will be in London until after you’re married, except for trips down on the weekends. To do otherwise wouldn’t be proper for the future Lady Nilpaster, you know.”
Penelope smiled and curtsied. “I never expected to be a Lady, you know, but I’m growing to like the idea. And won’t Mummy and Daddy be surprised! I’d told them I was dating an accountant.”
Jonesy smiled at Penelope’s innocent giggle. He did like this girl. It was unfortunate that Norbert did not have similar taste. Norbert had been pacing in the hall outside Margaret’s room for the past half hour while she rooted in her trunk for something to wear. Jonesy suspected Penelope would happily wear whatever item of clothing fell first to hand and wouldn’t give herself over to such agonies as “But I wore lavendar yesterday. Then again, the blue doesn’t match these contacts, and changing from the lavendar ones is too much work. I could wear green, but the matching sweater isn’t clean. Oh, dear. A compromise? Well, what about the yellow. Hmmm. Or maybe the pink?”
When Norbert, Smedley, Margaret and Penelope were finally sent off to explore the grounds, Jonesy collared Jeeves, and they headed to the village on foot.
They found it to be rather larger than they’d expected, given that there were four taverns, two butchers, two grocers, a mill and a baker, as well as various and sundry other shops lining the main street. Thirsty from their walk, the brothers decided that no business could possibly considered until they’d quaffed a pint apiece. They opened the door of the first tavern they came to, the Fox & Falcon, and Jonesy immediately felt as if he’d stepped back in time. The half-timbered building had white-washed wattle-and-daub walls and floors so uneven a drunkard would have great difficulty making his way to the door without first introducing himself rather unceremoniously to the other patrons, if he were lucky, or else to the floor. A haze of smoke clouded the upper half of the room.
“Here?” asked Jeeves hesitantly.
“Looks as good a place as any,” said Jonesy. “There’s plenty of locals from the looks of things.” He scanned the room. Most of the tables were occupied by laborers, farmers and plainly dressed folk who, Jonesy guessed, were employed in the surrounding manors. “Eh, there’s a table over there.” He nodded at the barmaid and headed towards a small table in the corner, outside the circle of light from the fireplace and the wall sconces.
“How can I be helping you boys?” asked the barmaid as she eyed them up and down, making no effort to conceal her appreciation of Jeeves’ size and physique.
“A pint each of your best ale, Miss,” said Jonesy.
“And a pork pie,” said Jeeves.
When Jonesy looked at him askance, he replied, “I’m a growing boy—I get hungry..”
“The only direction you’re growing is wider. You stopped growing the other direction years ago.”
Jeeves glared at him, but said nothing. Instead, he cocked his head towards a table in the center of the room, and indicated to Jonesy that the conversation was of interest.
“Did you see what drove up to Nilpaster Manor today?” said a man seated at the table.
“Yes,” said another. “A Bentley, it was. The new Lord Nilpaster, I’ll warrant. I heard tell it was to be the Christophers’ nephew.”
“The simple one?” asked a women in a peasant blouse pulled so low she mightn’t have bothered wearing it at all. The man she was seated so close to she hardly needed a chair of her own, gave her a pinch in the nether regions. She turned to him and gave him a playful slap. “I’m just saying Mrs. Goodnight-Fitzwilliam didn’t think much of the boy. That’s all.”
“Well that makes him the perfect choice, then doesn’t it?” said an older man in dirt-smudged coveralls and a gardening cap.
“Perfect choice for what?” asked the woman of the low peasant blouse.
“To keep his nose out of the comings and goings on up there. You must have heard about all that…” said the capped man.
54: Secrets
At the mention of “comings and goings” the room grew silent, and everyone at the table leaned forward. Jeeves and Jonesy leaned towards the capped man, too, but then sat quickly back so they were hidden in their booth when the man scanned the room. Having done so, he spoke in a loud whisper. “Why, haven’t you seen the Africans? In their wild costumes and the funny turbans they wear on their heads? Willy Nilly used to spirit them in and out at dusk, he did, through that old gate in the back, the one that’s always kept locked.”
“Ah, you’re full of it!” said a man in a rough work shirt whose bushy sideburns and mustache made him look like a walrus. Jonesy half-expected the peasant-bloused woman to throw him the half-eaten fish from the platter in front of her. “There’s no gate in back. I’ve been by there dozens of times, and if there was, I’d have seen it.”
“Oh, there is, all right. It’s just covered by vines. He moves them out of the way and unlocks it, he does,” said the women in the peasant blouse, her bosom bouncing. Jeeves’ eyes followed its rhythm until Jonesy thought Jeeves’ eyes would bounce right out of his head; he kicked his brother under the table.
“Sorry,” said Jeeves. “Some folks have no ideas about decency, you know. I was afraid she was going to lose them.”
“And if she had, what were you going to do about it?”
“Enjoy every blessed minute of it.”
The man with the gardening cap was speaking again. “She’s right, you know. She seen it all afore she was fired. And right unfair they was to her, too. But I learned me lesson. Keep me nose to the ground, and just tend the garden. Looks neither right nor left, does I. Nor pays attention whether it’s the main garden or the odd garden behind the gate when I does me work.” He winked and nodded significantly. “The garden that attaches to nothing, I might add. All’s I cares about is that I gets paid.”
“What’d she do?” asked walrus whiskers.
“I tried to open the locked doors behind the study. It was my duty to do the dustin’ and I was sure the room or rooms hadn’t been dusted in a year or more, so I only wanted to see they had a proper cleanin’. Lord Nilly accused me of snoopin’, and he fired me, he did. It was right unfair.”
“And a floozy,” said the man she was cozied up against.
“Ah, Jake, you’d be hopin’ that, wouldn’t you? But perhaps you’re not going to be findin’ out.”
Jonesy looked at Jeeves. “So what do you think? Has our Smedley gotten himself into a bit of trouble?”
“I don’t know, dear brother. I don’t know. But I can tell you a few things I know for sure. First, you’ll be needing a new gardener. Second, Smedley can’t be fired. And third, we’d best be keeping a lookout for Africans. But village gossip being what it is, the rest is very much in question. I suspect, however, that our Ms. Maple knows the answers.”
“Yes, but will she share them?”
55: The Streaker
Norbert and Margaret, Smedley and Penelope set off on foot to explore the grounds of Nilpaster Manor while Jonesy and Jeeves were in town. The weather had grown more typical of June in that part of the country, with clouds scudding across the sky and a nip in the air whenever the sun chose to hide behind them. A brisk breeze tore at their clothes whenever they left the shelter of the buildings or trees, but they didn’t mind—they were, as Smedley put it to himself, young and in love. And Woofington, who’d been cooped up in a car or in an Inn or house for far too long, was in need of an explore.
“Damn it, Woofies. Would you stop, already? My right arm is already a good meter longer than the left. Give me a chance to change the lead to the other hand, or I’ll be lopsided the rest of the day,” said Norbert.
Woofington took stop to mean “dance around in circles,” as nearly as Smedley could tell, because while the dog ceased forward motion, he began to spin like a top and bark eagerly. Smedley laughed and whispered to Penelope, “Well, I can’t see what good changing hands will do, really. So the right will match the left, but then Norbert will look like a gorilla, now, won’t he?”
Penelope kissed Smedley. “Oh, Smedley, you say the most charming things. I do love you.”
They continued on their walk, Penelope and Smedley lingering well back of Norbert and Margaret, whose pace was largely determined by Woofington.
After a bit, Penelope said, “Do you think Woofington’s got a bit of sled dog in him?”
“No, I’m quite sure he doesn’t. Norbert’s very proud of his heritage. Some fancy English sheepdog lines. Why?”
“Because Norbert and Margaret remind me of sleds. Look how he’s pulling them.”
“Quite right, Snow. Quite right. Jolly good.”
Just then, they heard the blast of a horn in the distance.
“Oh. Oh, dear. I thought my property was quite a bit farther from the highway than that,” said Smedley. “How disappointing. I’ll have to check a map.”
They’d stepped through a gate, made their way across a field, and were heading towards another, rather odd appearing gate when a flash of red streaked by.
“Why, look at that dog. Have you ever seen one more speedy?” asked Penelope.
“Why, no. I have not,” said Smedley. “Nor has Woofington, it appears. He seems to have taken a fancy to it.”
Woofington took a great leap, pulled his leash free, and was chasing after the streak of red. Within seconds, Smedley and Penelope heard a great baying. They ran forward to get a better look. “Why look, Snow. It appears Woofington isn’t the only dog in the neighborhood that likes that one. There must be twenty or more that are chasing it.”
“Oh, dear, Smedley. They are coming right at us.” She knelt. “Her doggy, doggy. Here doggy, doggy.”
Norbert yelled at her. “Penelope, whatever are you doing? You will get yourself killed.”
“I don’t think those owners chasing the dogs want them to chase the red one. I think they are trying to catch them. Look, Smedley, over there. See them on horseback? I thought I’d give them a hand. Perhaps I could catch at least one or two of the dogs. Come on Smedley, help me.”
“No, Smedley. No, Penelope. NOOOOO!” yelled Norbert.