Norbert and Smedley
When Norbert saw the hounds, followed by a dozen men and women on horseback bearing down on Penelope and Smedley, he knew that without immediate action, Nilpaster Manor would be burying its second Lord in as many weeks. He touched Margaret’s arm to gain her attention, but found he needn’t have bothered. Her eyes were already on him, waiting for his instructions. “You grab Penelope,” he said, “and I’ll grab Smedley. Our only hope is that coop*.”
“Right. That’s what I was thinking.”
“Now!”
Screaming, they leapt forward, tackled Smedley and Penelope, who were still stooped over and calling to the “nice little doggies,” and knocked them to the ground. Then, through sheer determination—and, no doubt, a will to live, themselves—they forced them under a coop.
“Norbert, well I never! What is the meaning of this? I’m a muddy mess, now. Eh, what? And you, too. Jeeves and Jonesy will have a fit!”
“Not half the fit they’d have had if I hadn’t tackled you, you idiot!”
“Idiot? Are you calling me an idiot?” Smedley started to splutter and raise his fist in anger, but Margaret sat up between the boys.
“Blast it, Smedley,” she said.
“Blast it?” Smedley turned to Penelope, mouth agape. “Did Margaret just say ‘blast it’? What kind of friends do you have, darling? That’s no language for a lady!”
Penelope slapped him squarely in the face. “How dare you comment on my friends. Margaret is so a lady, and from a fine family, too. If she said ‘blast it,’ then I’m certain she had a perfectly good reason, you idiot!” She folded her arms across her chest and turned her back on Smedley in a pout. “Didn’t you?”
Margaret had no time to answer. The first of the dogs began to cross, and one of them stopped to investigate, sniffing Norbert a wee bit closer than he would have liked. When it began to growl, he forgot his anger towards Smedley and inched his way towards the middle of the coop. Both he and the dog forgot each other, however, when the first of the horses jumped over.
“Oh,” said Penelope. “Oh, my. I never quite expected this view. Oh, and I quite hope I shall never have it again.” She clutched Smedley, buried her head in his chest and closed her eyes. “Do you think we’ll get out alive.”
“Dunno, darling. I hope so, or Aunt Cloris will be terribly disappointed. She’s expecting us for dinner tomorrow.”
*A coop is a double-walled latticed fence; the walls may meet at the top but be separated by a few feet at the bottom, or there may be a hinged top. They are built to house chickens, etc, but they also make nice jumps for horses and, hiding places (in a pinch) for humans.
57: Mud Bath
By the time the last of the horses had jumped the coop, Norbert, Margaret, Smedley and Penelope were covered in mud. Smedley scrambled out from under the coop, brushed the mud from his lips, pulled Penelope to him and kissed her, then hugged her tightly, his hands roving up and down her backside in a friendly, reassuring fashion. “Oh, my dear Snow. I was so afraid I was going to lose you—” He stopped short when he realized Penelope was struggling against him, while at the same time he felt something wallop him upside his head. “Ouch, what was—”
“You shall lose me, Smedley, if you don’t let go of Margaret this instant!” said Penelope. “And I daresay Norbert will have a few things to say to you, as well.”
Smedley let loose of Margaret. He felt color rise to his cheeks, but he was certain his friends couldn’t see if he were covered in half as much mud as they.
Norbert clapped Smedley on the back, sending clods of dirt flying. “I say, she’s quite a kisser, though, isn’t she?” Norbert coughed when Margaret walloped him in response. “Well. Now that we seem to have survived our, er, ordeal, although somewhat the worse for wear—”
“Somewhat!” said Penelope. “You call this somewhat?”
She took a deep breath, intending to continue, but Norbert raised his hand. “Might I point out, that I have a problem?” he said calmly.
“What? That you’re as muddy as the rest of us?”
“No. I seem to be missing a dog.”
“Oh. Oh, dear. We can’t have that, can we?” said Smedley, though privately he was thinking that perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible if Woofington spent one night away from home, just so that he, Smedley, could get up in the middle of the night without having to worry that he’d lose his spot in bed. Smedley had a feeling Ms. Maple wouldn’t tolerate the bed-hopping that had occurred the previous night at the Inn. “But what can we do? We can’t go after him looking like this.”
“No. I suppose not. I’m not sure we can even go back to Nilpaster Manor like this. Do you suppose we can find a hose by the barn?”
Margaret shook her head. “Oh, no. You’d better not be thinking what I think you are—”
Norbert nodded.
“Not me. You have got to be kidding. Absolutely not. I couldn’t possibly.”
“Well, have you got a better idea? Have you?” asked Smedley.
58: Just a Rinse
When Smedley, Penelope, Norbert and Margaret arrived at Nilpaster Manor, caked with mud, they found the place deserted. After some searching, they discovered a garden hose near the back of the house, and Norbert proceeded to rinse the worst of the mud from Smedley and Penelope. He turned towards Margaret.
“No. Absolutely not. I will not be hosed off like some cur you found cowering under the shrubbery. I will not.”
“Well, you can’t go in the house like that, now, can you?” asked Norbert.
“I don’t care. I won’t be rinsed.”
“Why not?” Water dripped from Smedley’s hair into his eyes. He shook his head in response, sending a shower of droplets in Margaret’s direction. She glared at him.
“Because I won’t be reduced to behaving like Smedley.”
Just at that moment, the absent valets, Jonesy and Jeeves rounded the corner of the building, Jonesy whistling a Londonderry air. He stopped short, mid-tune, when he caught sight of Smedley. “Oh, sir, what have you done? Don’t tell me you’ve found a lake. You didn’t tell me there was a lake, sir. Did you have a bit of a swim?” His eye then fell on Penelope and the hose in Norbert’s hand. “Or a fight with Miss Penelope? And Norbert had to break it up? I take it you were mud wrestling, sir. Do you think that was proper, seeing as you’re the new Lord Nilpaster and all? There’s likely to be talk.”
“Oh, there’ll be talk all right,” spluttered Margaret. “These two got themselves in the middle of a fox hunt, and we had to save them. We shoved them under a coop and found ourselves covered in mud for our efforts. Nearly got ourselves killed.”
“A fox hunt?” said Smedley. “That was a fox hunt? I thought they were trying to get their dogs back.”
“The only dog we have to get back is Woofington,” said Norbert. “He ran after them. But the first thing we have to do is get ourselves cleaned up, and we can’t do that until we persuade Miss Margaret to let us hose off this mud. She can’t go in the house looking like that. She’ll track mud all over the place.”
“Oh, but she can,” said Jeeves. He rolled up his sleeves, walked over to Margaret, who stood with her hands on her hips next to the water spigot, picked her up as if she were a sack of potatoes, and slung her over her his shoulder. “She’ll be in the tub in the ladies’ bathroom. I reckon she can hose herself off in there, clothes and all, and come out in a towel to find herself something presentable, don’t you? I’ll come back for Mr. Norbert.”
Norbert turned the hose on himself. “No, thank you. I’ll hose myself off right here. But if you could bring us a round of towels, that would be most welcome. And the sooner the better. I’d like to get started on my search for Woofington.” He turned to Jonesy. “So, while we’re waiting, what did you learn in town?”
Jonesy pulled a notebook from his pocket. “You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you.”
59: As Regards Laundry
Jonesy looked at Smedley for a moment before transferring his attention to Norbert and Penelope. "Well, sir," he said, "seeing as how you are surrounded by your best friend and the future Lady Nilpaster, I suppose now is as good a time as any--"
"As good a time as any for what?" interrupted Smedley. "Get on with it, will you?" His voice shook and his eyes were wide with fright.
"You won't be liking what Jeeves and me learned in town." Jonesy ran his hand over his bald pate as if he'd forgotten he had no hair to smooth. "You'll want to be careful around the townfolk, sir. They are rather chatty."
"But that's a good thing, Jonesy. I like a friendly town."
"No, sir. I beg your pardon. That's not what I meant."
"He means they like to air your laundry," said Norbert knowingly.
Smedley continued to beam. "That's even better, especially since I've made such a muddy mess of my clothes. I expect I'll have a lot more laundry when I'm living in the country."
Jonesy looked heavenward and muttered, "Oh, dear God," under his breath. No wonder Smedley found himself in such trouble. Between his naivete and Norbert for a roommate, it was a miracle Smedley had learned anything at all about the world around him. "No, Smedley," Jonesy said, his voice measured and patient. "What I'm trying to say is that they like to gossip."
"Oh. Oh, dear. Well, if they're friendly and they'll do my laundry, I suppose I can forgive them for that. What do they gossip about?"
Jonesy tossed his hands in exasperation. Penelope, however, merely looked at Smedley and rolled her eyes. How, Jonesy wondered, did the girl put up with Smedley when he was like that? She had the patience of a saint. Jonesy cleared his throat. "Well, um, sir. They, um, gossip about the old Lord Nilpaster."
"Willy Nilly? I should think there were plenty of stories to tell. I've got a few myself." Smedley smiled, completely unperturbed.
"Smedley, please," said Penelope, who appeared to be reaching the limits of her patience. "I think Jonesy is trying to tell us something important."
"Yes," said Jonesy. He straightened himself, and looked ahead, donning the posture of a proper butler with the misfortune of bearing bad news. "They said that Afr--"
Before Jonesy could finish, Jeeves returned, hoisted Norbert over his shoulder and turned towards the house.
"But I just wanted a towel," said Norbert. "Put me down this instant or I'll have you fired!"
"Sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I can't. Maple's orders. She said to put you in the bath, that she'll not have you catching your death. I'll be back for Miss Penelope in a moment. Miss Margaret should be done in the ladies' bath by then."
"But Jonesy was telling us--"
Jeeves paid no attention. He merely continued on his way. "Doesn't matter. It will keep," he said gruffly as he carried a hollering Norbert out of earshot.
60: Boo!
Penelope and Smedley turned to Jonesy.
"Now, Jonesy," said Smedley. "What were you saying? We haven't got much time."
"The folks in town said Africans come and go through a fence on the property into a deserted garden, and a maid was dismissed for trying to clean the closed wing of the Manor. Curious goings on, if you ask me."
"What do you suppose it means?" asked Penelope, her eyes wide. She wrapped her arms across her chest and huddled against Smedley for warmth. Even so, her teeth began to chatter.
Smedley put his arm around her. "I don't know," he said. "They could just be friends."
"But why the secrecy? Maybe they were spies," whispered Penelope. "Or maybe he had a secret illegitimate child, maybe even with Ms. Maple.
Maybe that's why she can't be fired. Maybe the child has a rare disease, and the Africans are specialists he's bringing in to cure--"
"Did I hear my name?" Ms. Maple appeared behind them, seemingly out of nowhere.
Smedley fought the urge to cower.
"I should think at your ages you would know better than to go swimming in mud," Ms. Maple scolded. "Really, some behavior for the future Lord and Lady." She sniffed in disapproval. "The cook is drawing your baths now, and tea will be waiting in the dining room. You'll have supper in your beds. I can't risk pneumonia with either of you."
"But we're fine, really," protested Smedley.
Smedley's words did not fall on deaf ears; Ms. Maple had already disappeared by the time he spoke them. He turned to Jonesy and Penelope. "How does she do that? It's as if she's a ghost--here one moment, gone the next."
"Don't be silly, Smedley. Ms. Maple just popped round the corner; she's just got you so on edge, you can't think straight," Penelope laughed, albeit uneasily. "Right, Jonesy?"
Jonesy coughed. "Right, Miss."
"So, about the Africans. What do we do?" Penelope asked.
"I think we need to get some information from Ms. Maple," Smedley said. "See what you can find out from Ms. Maple, Jonesy."
"Me, sir? I don't think so. I'm not dealing with that woman."