Norbert and Smedley
The driveway was smooth and in good repair, better than the road Jonesy and Jeeves had driven to reach it, and lined on either side by a carefully-trimmed hedge and a line of trees. Occasional breaks afforded them a view of grassy meadows, some filled with sheep and others with cows, but they saw no barns to house them or humans to care for them. The brothers began to wonder just how large an estate they’d come upon and just how much wealth Margaret’s family possessed.
Finally, they came around a bend and a mansion, larger and more imposing than Margaret’s apartment building, came into view. Jeeves pulled the Bentley to a stop, and the two brothers sat staring, open-mouthed, at the sight.
A young boy, perhaps ten years of age, with a smudge of dirt on his cheek, a leather pouch attached at his waist and a bird of prey sitting on his shoulder, stopped to greet them. “Hallo. And who might you be?”
“Jeeves, young sir, and my brother, Jonesy. We were sent by Miss Margaret.”
“Peggy? Did she get herself in trouble again?”
Again? thought Jonesy. “Trouble? No, not really. But she was hoping that someone here could give us a bit of help. We’ve lost a dog, you see.”
The boy looked them up and down. “A dog? What sort of a dog?”
“Sheepdog.”
“What would Peggy be doing with a sheepdog?” When the bird on the boy’s shoulder became impatient, he lifted the hood from the bird’s head briefly and spoke to it, then gave it a piece of meat from the pouch about his waist. “A moment, my good girl. I know I’ve promised you a hunt, and so you shall get one. Let me settle these fellows first. Here’s a tidbit for your wait.” The boy returned his attention to Jonesy and Jeeves. “The dog isn’t hers, is it? A boyfriend’s perhaps?”
Jeeves colored and nodded.
“Best not let my mum know, or you won’t be getting any help from her. What kind of assistance will you be needing?”
“The dog ran off after a fox and hounds on a hunt that passed through the grounds of Nilpaster Manor today. Your sister thought perhaps your parents might know where we should go to look for the dog.”
“And the dog’s owner doesn’t?”
“He’s not from around here.”
“Ah, well, then. Yes, my mum should have a few ideas, though you’d best let me do the talking. I’ll just return this girl to her cage for a moment. Wait here.”
The boy returned before they’d even had a chance to take in their surroundings. “Follow me,” he said. He led them around to the back of the mansion, through a narrow entryway into a dark cloak room and on into a back hallway which led past servants’ quarters to the mansion’s kitchens. “Mum?” he called.
A stocky woman, her hair done up in a bonnet, turned around from the stove to face them. Her face was coarse, with a bulbous nose and red cheeks, but her merry smile was reflected in the twinkle of her eye.
“I’ve brought these men to see you,” said the boy. “Our Peggy has sent them. They’re on a mission to retrieve a sheepdog that’s run off from Nilpaster Manor, and our Peggy told them you would know where they should look for the dog. I’m sure it will reflect well on our Peggy if you can give them the answer.”
“Our Peggy?” The woman eyed Jonesy and Jeeves. “And how would our Peggy be knowing them?”
“We’re friends, Ma’am. Valets from London. Jonesy, and my brother Jeeves, at your service.” Jonesy bowed low.
“I see. And how am I to know where the dog has gone?”
“He ran off after a fox and hounds that passed through Nilpaster Manor today,” said Jeeves.
The woman scratched her chin for a moment. “Ah, yes. Tom did say he was preparing the Master’s horse for that hunt today. Starting at, oh… where? Tommy run and ask your father.”
The boy raced off, while Jonesy and Jeeves fidgeted. The woman returned to stirring the pot on the stove, taking no further notice of the two of them. When Tommy returned, he said but two words, “Burgher’s Bottom.” Then, he turned, presumably to resume his birding.
“Thank you,” Jeeves called after him.
67: Burgher's Bottom
Jonesy and Jeeves returned to the Bentley, where Jeeves pulled a map from the glovebox. After a moment of hunting, he tapped the map with his finger. “Here it is! Burgher’s Bottom. Let’s go, shall we?”
When they approached Burgher’s Bottom, they stopped a boy walking his dog by the side of the road to inquire whether there had been a hunt that day. They found the lad all too eager to tell them about it.
“Why, yes. But they didn’t catch a fox—it was a dog. The biggest I ever seen. They’re at Sir Trebscott’s, trying to decide what’s to be done with it.”
Jonesy elbowed Jeeves and grinned. “Well, my lad, we have a solution. Can you tell us where we might find Sir Trebscott?”
In a matter of minutes, Jeeves found himself flat on his back on Sir Trebscott’s muddy drive, thanks to the boy’s directions and a little help from an over-enthusiastic Woofington. He was not amused. “Jonesy, will you stop looking at me like a blithering idiot and get this infernal dog off me? No wonder Norbert sent you to that half-wit Smedley. You two deserve each other.”
“Speak to me like that, and I’ve half a mind to leave you there. You’ve left the keys in the Bentley.”
“Do that, and you’ll have hell to pay with Mum—and you know it.”
“Not if I tell her what you said.”
“When you two, er… gentlemen are done with your bickering, I don’t suppose you’d like to identify yourselves?”
Startled by the new voice, Jeeves and Jonesy turned to find an elegant man in his late twenties, dressed in riding boots and breeches and still wearing a red hunt coat, next to them. He held a fluted champagne glass in his hand. Jonesy’s face and bald pate turned as red as the man’s coat, and Jeeves shoved Woofington aside and scrambled to his feet.
Jonesy bowed, a proper valet bow. “Jonesy, representing the new Lord Nilpaster of Nilpaster Manor, and doing a poor job of it, I’m afraid. And this is my brother Jeeves, representing Norbert Bennington the Third of Wembley on the Snippet. At your service.”
The red-coated man pursed his thin lips and looked down his aristocratic nose at them, eyeing them appraisingly. At last, he spoke. “This dog joined our hunt. Highly irregular.”
“Yessir, we’re—” Jeeves began.
“In the history of our club, we’ve only allowed dogs descended from treasured bloodlines on our hunt.”
“It won’t—” Jonesy tried.
“But he picked up the scent when the dogs lost it. We’re considering whether to adjust our bylaws to allow him to join the regular dogs, based on talent alone. He seemed to enjoy it.”
“Really, sir?” Jeeves could not contain his surprise.
“Yes. Do you think the owner would allow it?” The gentleman reached down to scratch Woofington between the ears. “I rather like this fellow. Walter Trebscott, by the way. Sir Walter Trebscott. I’ll be looking to stop by and meet the new Lord Nilpaster when he’s ready to receive visitors. Or perhaps he’d like to drop by and introduce himself? Do let him know he’d be welcome.”
Jonesy nodded.
“I say, is there a Lady Nilpaster? Or shall we be hunting wives together?” Sir Trebscott winked.
Jonesy coughed, cleared his throat. “Oh. Oh, no, sir. Lord Nilpaster is engaged. He’ll marry Miss Penelope Wainscoting within the year.”
“Then I shall doubly look forward to the meeting. Miss Wainscoting undoubtedly has friends. I’ll pray they are charming, beautiful and single. Do tell her she must invite them often.” He smiled. “Well, I must return to my guests. You’ll be taking the dog then?”
He turned and strode away without waiting for an answer, leaving Jeeves to do his best to remove the mud from his uniform before seating himself in the Bentley for the drive back to Nilpaster Manor.
68: Humped Zebra Crossings
When Jonesy finally agreed that Jeeves was clean enough for the Bentley, they set off for Nilpaster Manor, Jeeves driving, Jonesy in the passenger seat, and Woofington sprawled across the backseat and snoring loudly.
Jonesy checked his watch. “Oh, dear, I think you’d better step on the old gas pedal as much as you dare, brother—never mind those humped zebra crossings unless you see gramps, granny or someone’s nanny in the middle of it. We’ve got but a half hour until the evening meal, and I don’t intend to go without.”
Jeeves gave his brother a sidelong glance. “We could stop at a pub somewheres. We heard a great deal of gossip the last time we stopped in at one. Station ourselves at another corner table, and there’s no telling what we’ll find out.”
“We could,” allowed Jonesy. “But I worry about the boy. There’s no telling what kind of trouble Mr. Smedley could get himself into if I’m not there to look after him.”
Jeeves looked at Jonesy in surprise. “Blimey. I believe you’ve gone soft. You’re getting fond of the boy, aren’t you?”
“And what if I am? Tell me you haven’t got a soft spot for Mr. Norbert—though why, I haven’t the faintest. He likes to put on airs, that one does. Well, he’s going to get what’s coming now, isn’t he?”
“What do you mean?” Jeeves frowned, but before he could ask Jonesy to elaborate, something caught his eye in the rearview mirror. He leaned forward so he could squint into it for a better view. “Who’s that behind us? You don’t think we’re about to get in trouble for speeding do you?”
“No. Not unless they’re driving Jaguars these days. Still can’t tell your cars, can you?”
The black Jaguar pulled alongside and motioned them to the side of the road. It was Sir Walter Trebscott. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you, but I thought it would be civil if I sent you with a bottle of something for the new Lord Nilly. I don’t suppose he’s a Willy, is he?”
Jonesy shook his head.
“No. I didn’t expect so. A shame, really. We had such fun with the name.” Sir Trebscott brightened. “Oh well. I shouldn’t keep you, but do give him this. It’s a bottle of my best brandy. Tell him if he’ll save some of it, I’ll help him polish it off one of these evenings.” He touched his cap then, and was off.
“Now we’re really going to be late,” muttered Jeeves. “One of us will have to head for the kitchen and butter up the old bat.”
“Not me.”
“Why not?”
“You’re the charming one of the bunch,” said Jonesy. “You’ve always said so.”
“Well it’s high time you learned.”
“I’ll fight you for it.”
“No you won’t,” said Jeeves. “But we might flip a coin.”
“I’m not that naive,” said Jonesy. “You cheat at coins. Remember when I caught you with the one that was two-headed?”
“I was hoping you’d forgotten that.”
Jeeves and Jonesy continued to bicker until they pulled up at Nilpaster Manor. “Tell you what,” said Jonesy. “If she sees you first, I have to butter her up and vice versa. How’s that? A reward for the sneakier.”
“Sure. I’ve always been a better sneak than you.”
“See you at supper.” Jonesy flashed a grin and headed for the manor.
“Hey, wait. You’ve left me with the dog. I’ll never sneak past Maple.”
“Of course I did. I’m the smarter brother. It’s Mr. Norbert’s dog, and you work for Mr. Norbert. It’s only fitting, don’t you think?”
“Jonesy? Did you and Jeeves find the dog?” asked Ms. Maple.
Jeeves nearly fell into the mud again, this time from laughing. That woman did have a way of appearing out of nowhere.
69: Hunger Pangs
Woofington took one look at Ms. Maple and instantly stopped pulling against his lead, dropping instead and placing his muzzle between his paws. He looked up at her without lifting his head, following her movement with his eyes. Jeeves was stunned, but not so stunned that he didn’t take Ms. Maple and Jonesy’s preoccupation with the dog to sneak up the stairs. What a relief to be quit of them, he thought. There were things he wished to discuss with Norbert, important things that could only be discussed in private before they met up again with Miss Margaret.
He stopped short when he heard Jonesy’s hearty laugh and a girlish giggle behind him. No. Couldn’t be, he thought. Hunger was getting the best of him. But then he heard it again. Jeeves took a few steps backward on the stairs and saw Ms. Maple’s hand resting on his brother’s forearm and their heads leaning towards each other in a manner that was almost… intimate.
Jonesy’s eyes met Jeeves’ and he stiffened, and the timbre of his voice—and that of Ms. Maple’s—suddenly changed. She withdrew her hand, and her stern posture returned, and Jonesy once again had the look of a dog that expected to be kicked at any moment.
Jeeves shook his head. Devilish things hunger did to a bloke, played tricks on the eyes, it did. He continued up the stairs towards Norbert’s room and knocked quietly when he reached it. “Norbert, sir? If I might have a word before supper?”
“Certainly, Jeeves. Come in. Did you find Woofies?”
“Yes, of course. It’s something else. Miss Margaret’s—” Jeeves stopped short when he realized Norbert was not alone.
70: Great Unexpectations
Jeeves felt his face flush when he realized that Miss Margaret had found her way to Norbert’s room and seated herself next to the boy in the overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace. Norbert’s book, Great Expectations, lay closed on the table, as did Margaret’s copy of Pride and Prejudice, and Norbert had his arm around Margaret, who nestled against his chest and looked adoringly into his eyes.
“Yes, yes,” said Norbert impatiently. “About Miss Margaret’s parents?”
“I didn’t meet the father. The mother, however, was tremendously helpful. She took time from the kitchen,” Jeeves eyed Margaret meaningfully when he said this, but to his surprise, she did not show any response, “to answer our questions and sent the boy to inquire of the father. He sent us to Burgher’s Bottom—”
“Oh, then you must have met dear Walty!” exclaimed Margaret. “Jolly fellow, that one.” She turned her face upwards to Norbert. “He’ll be a favorite of Smedley’s, and yours, I’m betting. And will he ever be relieved to find the new Lord Nilly is young! He’s been looking for a wife for ages, and since I said I wouldn’t have him, he’s been devastated. He was after me to bring home my friends from London, but I never have. I didn’t want to be responsible. He’ll be after the two of you, now.”
You wouldn’t have him, or he wouldn’t have you? By golly, but you’re a brazen one. Jeeves raised his eyebrows, but made no outward comment. A proper butler wouldn’t, except in private. He’d just have to find some way of getting Norbert alone before it was too late. “Yes, Sir Walter seemed quite nice. He sent Smedley a bottle of something or other. And he asked if you might consider sending Woofington on another hunt. It seems the dog was quite a star.”
“Old Woofies?” Norbert chuckled. “How odd. Where is the boy, anyway?”
“Drying sir. We bathed him, and Ms. Maple wouldn’t let him upstairs until after he dried. That’s another oddity. Unless I’m mistaken, I believe I saw my dear brother with—”
Jeeves got no further. At that moment, the supper bell rang and the meek parlour maid appeared at the door. “You’ll be wanting to go down to dinner straight away, Ma’am, Sirs. I wouldn’t be keeping the Maple any longer. I don’t know as how you’ve done it. We’ve never had supper delayed before, but here it is six o’clock, and she’s not even angry.” The girl blushed, curtsied, then hastily scurried down the hall before they could question her.