Jeeves And Wooster.

When we Woosters detect a chance of falling fowl to bribery, we may kick against it like a mule. Unless it affects our diets, then we submit to whatever the demand. I Bertram Wilberforce Wooster will do anything to keep in the same feeding trough when Anatole is at his finest. Then again I was seriously re-thinking my values when I was out in the cold walking up a steep hill in the snow. My feet had long gone numb along with my face. Was it worth the imagined bribe that Jeeves had brought up? Would Aunt Dahlia really be pleased with her dear frozen nephew for using his initiative? Or was Jeeves getting his own back by dreaming up this ludicrous scheme to get his master back over the you know what?

I had decided that it almost was not worth it when I came in to find a hot bath just waiting for me to take a dip in it. So I did and obliged my body to melt.

“Did you have a pleasant walk Sir?”

I swear the man was smirking, yes smirking under that stern exterior! So I addressed him in a firm way. “I'm sure you have a very nasty streak in you Jeeves!”

“Sir?”

“Don't give me that Sir bit! I swear you have a very vicious streak in your blood and that you enjoyed watching your master freezing out in those hills.”

“Perish the thought Sir!”

“Perish the thought indeed!” While I still had my authoritative train of thought in my head I told him to, “Try and lose that nasty streak in you.”

“Very good Sir!”

As I lay in the bath I conversed this way. “Do I have to see this painting thing today?”

“It would be very advisable so as to avoid our host feeling as if he was not doing his job properly.”

“He might be feeling that he had somehow offended the old Prof, eh?”

“Exactly Sir.”

After grooming the old face and making sure the tash was neat I decided to head down the stairs only to bump into that reporter girl.

“Hello Professor! Nice to see you up and about.”

“Oui!”

“Feeling better?”

“Oui!”

“Will you be joining our party for dinner tonight?”

“Oui!”

“And will you be viewing the painting I have heard so much about?”

“Oui!” As you have gathered by now that the conversation with this young lady was going well until she asked...

“Do you know Bertram Wooster?”

“Ur, oui!”

“What is he like?”

My ‘Oui's' were not going to bail me out here. Then like an angel of mercy, Jeeves came floating over. I slapped the fellow on the back and while smiling at the girl. I made some noises like a French man would and pushed him towards the girl while gesturing as I went.

“Jeeves! Wooster!”

“Am I to ascertain miss, that you are trying to locate the whereabouts of one Mr Wooster?”

“Yes I am Jeeves.”

“He will be arriving presently.”

“Ah, good!” She looked at me and said, “I'm so eager to meet him. I know his Aunt!”

“Mom?”

“Agatha, I know Aunt Agatha.”

“Ahhh!” I yelled as the shock of my Aunt's name hit me. Both looked at me and I pretended that I had hit my elbow on the staircase.

“Are you all right Professor Renée?”

“Ah, oui!” Thank goodness for the French and their ‘oui's'. Providing me the ideal opportunity to get out of there and run for cover in the library while Jeeves had to entertain the young miss and her tails of my Aunt. If this episode was to break that I was impersonating a Professor, then my Aged ‘A' would send one Bertram off to the loony bin and probably under the eye of Sir Roderick Glossop the well known nerve specialist. He would watch me from the confines of my padded cell and shake his head while saying something in the effect of, “I told you so!”

My nerves were already frayed when I heard a voice yell out at me. “My god it's that man Wooster!”

Turning round rapidly from the closed large wooden door, I spied two men. One I hated! Sir Watkin Basset and the other I had lived in dread of since I first set my eyes on the man.

“What are you doing here Wooster?”

“Ah! Hello Spode!”

“It's Lord Sidcup to you, you miserable worm!”

“Steady on old chap!”

“No! I won't steady on. I haven't forgotten my wedding day!”

As the man closed in, I had to defend myself. “That was Tuppy's doing not mine!”

“Who?” Asked Sir Watkin.

“You know! Plumbo Jumbo's.”

Watkin thought this through and you could see the light dawn as he raised his eyes to the heavens. “Oh that plumber fellow! Sorted out me pipes in the end!”

With Watkin appeased I only had Spode to calm down, sadly he wasn't going to calm down at all. “I still blame you for ruining my Madeline's wedding day!”

“How is Madeline?” I asked as I felt my back slap hard against the door I had just come through.

With that question Spode stopped! A little smile came over his face. “She is fine. I'm going to be a father Wooster!”

“Congratulations!”

His smile faded. “Don't think you can come and visit. I do not want you upsetting Lady Sidcup's pregnancy!”

“No, wouldn't dream of it.”

Sir Watkin came to my rescue as Spode's nose touched mine. “Leave Wooster alone Spode!” Then pointing his walking stick at me he asked. “Why are you here? Not thinkin' of stealing anything are you?”

I straightened myself up and gave him one of those indignant looks. “I'm down here as the Professor am.. guide on behalf of Aunt Dahlia.”

“You a guide?” Lord Sidcup scoffed as he walked round the large sofa to fetch himself a drink from the cabinet. Then added. “The only guide you would be good at is in the girl guides!”

“Ah yes, good joke!”

The man glared at me. “It wasn't a joke!”

“No.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Who?”

“Professor Renée!”

“Oh, me!”

“What?”

In one thoughtless word I had almost given the game away! “I, ur, said search me?”

“You are his guide and you don't know where he is?”

“What I mean to say is, he has not returned from his walk. Goes out for hours you know!”

“Walk does he?” Spode asked with one unnerving glint in his eyes.

“Yes! Walks for miles you know, early every morning like clockwork.”

“I used to walk for miles with my legions of black shorts. Very invigorating! We travelled for miles and miles!”

As if you didn't already know, Spode was once the leader of a political group called the black shorts. It was full of old men of young, very young boys, all with knobbly knees. The sight of these parading round the city of London was enough to put one off one's feed! Disgusting sight and one constant source of embarrassment to Sir Watkin and friends. Best thing Spode did was to give the old black shorts the heave ho!

At this point the conversation stopped and I took the opportunity to grab a big book, one of the largest I could find and sat myself down, just hiding behind it to avoid anymore unpleasant conversation. As it turned out this was the brightest thing I had done for a long while. Lady luck was on my side when Lord Hastings walked in.

“Sir Watkin! Is the professor in here?”

“No! Haven't seen the fellow yet!”

“Oh! I was informed that he was in here?” I could only imagine the look on the fellow's face, one full of disappointment. I by this time had sunk down behind the sofa out of sight and hopefully out of mind.

“No one here except Sir Watkin, myself and that nuisance Wooster!” Spode said, as he must have turned to find that Bertram was no longer there. “Oh, he was here just a second ago.”

“Mr Wooster is here? Good!”

“What's so good about that?” Spode scoffed as he downed his drink and failed to notice that yours truly was just a few feet away and visible if he had looked down.

“Wooster said he was out for a walk.” Watkin added like an after thought.

“Fantastic walking!”

Spode was off again as Sir Watkin butted in with, “As soon as you find the Professor, please inform him that Lord Sidcup and I would like to see him about some business.”

So my aged Aunt was right! Spode and Watkin were after our Professor! I almost stood up to accuse the man and just remembered to stop myself going all the way as they left the room. The last remnants of conversation I overheard was that Sir Watkin and Spode were off to the local village, while Lord Hastings was in search of Jeeves. I in turn just laid behind the sofa getting ones breath under control from nearly blowing the game when I decided to get up. Moving to the door I opened it to be faced by a tall man who made me jump!

“Ahh!”

“They have gone into the village Sir and after off to the local town. I‘m sorry to have startled you.”

“I should bally well think so! Where's the girl?”

“Gone with them. When she was getting into the car she was asking about you to Sir Watkin.”

“Me?”

“Yes, the lady seemed quite determined to find out from the party about your background.”

“How odd?” I scratched the moustache and I observed the man wince a little, so I stopped as a suggestion fell over my mind. “Do you think she is a spy?”

“A spy Sir?”

“Yes! For my Aunt Agatha. Watching every move I make, just waiting for yours truly to show signs of lunacy and off to the mental institute I go!”

“I would hardly think...”

“No Jeeves!” I said stopping the man in his tracks. “This woman as pretty and as friendly as she is, is up to no good!”

“Very good Sir.” Then he added another of his suggestions, “May I suggest that now would be a very good time to view the painting, while the other guests are absent.”

This was a good suggestion. “Very good Jeeves! Show us the way.”

“Monsieur Renée at last!” The pale faced man exclaimed as he clasped his hands together and showing the happiness of allowing me his inner sanctum. “Please take a look at the masterpiece!”

The man seemed to be staring at one of many possibilities in a room full of paintings that all looked the same to me. I moved by Jeeves and whispered in his ear “where is it?”

“Monsieur Renée, this is ‘Flowers in the Rain' by Andorran.”

“Is that it?” I said out loud and got one raised eye from the Lord!

“Pardon?”

“Professor Renée was just using a few words of euphoria Sir.”

I stared at the man who stared back at me as I started to wave my hands about in a pretence of showing appreciation for a painting that looked to me like a load of yellow, red, blue, green and grey blobs which had indeed run in the rain!

“Magnificent isn't it?”

“Oui!” Those ‘oui's' were saving my soul again.

“He had a hand of a genius with those brush strokes of an angel!”

“Oui!”

“I shall leave you to ponder over this masterpiece and look forward with anticipation of hearing your views over dinner this evening!”

I gawped at Jeeves who was doing some dashed good interpreting. The Lord must have noticed my concerned look. “Oh don't worry Wooster's man Jeeves shall do the interpreting!”

“Ah, oui!”

“Would you like anything while you compile your thesis?”

I could not wait for the man to go. Dinner tonight would be the time that Bertram's game would be up! I was in the soup big time!

“Jeeves! We are sunk! At dinner tonight you will see your master eaten alive by Spode and company!”

“I hope not Sir! I will see what I can do.”

“It had better be a miracle; otherwise yours truly will be out on his ear.”

As it turned out, dinner was a serious let down. Not that I was complaining. It was myself, the pretty young spy and our host who must have talked all the way through the meal without taking a single breath. He talked and talked about paintings while our spy looked on board out of her skull.

All she said was, “Do you think Mr Wooster will come tonight?”

To this Jeeves replied, “It is hard to say mom. The roads are very treacherous at the moment.”

“Oh.” Then she proceeded to poke her dried piece of beef around her plate looking as if a child had been hoping to go out and play, only to find that it was still raining and no outdoor activities in sight.

This was going on as I was feigning enthusiasm over Lord Hastings' description of several (what Jeeves told me later) well known paintings. When I had made it to the sanctuary of my room I had a question which had been burning my lips for the past two hours!

“Where was Sir Roderick Spode and Watkin Basset?”

Jeeves pulled a small smile as he hung up my dinner jacket in the wardrobe. “Out chasing shadows Sir.”

A cloud obscured the Wooster clear thinking. “Elaborate Jeeves?”

“I merely informed his Lordship that Professor Renée was eating out at a local restaurant. Desirous as they are to make the Professor's acquaintance that they felt compelled to follow him. They seemed even more eager to do so, when I added a reminder.”

“What's that Jeeves?”

“That you Mister Wooster would be at dinner tonight.”

I sat with my feet up with a smile wafting over my face along with the smoke that had just come back down the chimney. “What did the old fathead say in reply?” Knowing full well what the old judge would say.

“His words were to the effect of ‘oh no! not him!' Then he proceeded to walk away in search of Lord Sidcup.”

I smiled even more before feeling able to praise Jeeves with a simple but effective solution to avoid being left in the soup! “Well done Jeeves!”

“Good morning Sir!”

“J, Jeeves, what time is it?”

“Five thirty Sir!”

“Oh no! I'm not getting up!”

“Very good Sir. I shall inform Mrs Travers...”

“I know! It feels like deja vu.”

“I'm glad to hear that your French is improving!”

I gave the man a half-sarcastic look. Half was all I could muster as the other side of my face was still slumbering as I crawled out of the warm bed to take a peek out the window and even though it was dark, the snow was hitting the window.

“Dash it Jeeves! Does it always snow in the mornings up here?”

“I cannot say. Maybe a hot toddy will warm you up?”

The man was always one step ahead of mortal man's thinking ability. Was he a god? An angel sent by god to always bail out Bertram Wooster? No, on second thoughts, he was a mortal with a gifted outlook on life and blessed with marvellous inner vision.

I was warmed with the drink and went out on that blasted walk! Halfway round one of the many frozen fields, I stopped and noted the sun making its way up into the sky. The snow had passed over and the sky was blue mixed with vivid colours of orange. The world that I knew was now taking on a more civilized look. Reaching into my thick coat, I pulled out a cigarette and lighting it I took in the day.

“What are you doing out here Wooster?”

Having Spode bellow out at you from the blue makes a mortal man jump very high in the air whilst springing to a military position, bolt upright and in the process dropping one lit ciggi down one's jacket!

After fumbling around and getting it out to watch it fall into one of the only unfrozen puddles in Britain I managed to reply, “I, I was walking!”

“With Professor Renée?”

“No. He, ur, he went off towards the village.” I expected at this moment in time for the man to disperse in search of Renée. But instead he came close to me like yesterday.

“I know what you are up to!”

It was cold in Spode's shadow! “You do?” I asked as I fell against the hedge that lined the field.

“You plan to steal that painting, Flowers in the...” he paused as if trying to recollect the name of the cursed painting.

“Rain.”

“What?”

“It is called Flowers in the Rain.”

“Do not correct me Wooster! I know you are trying to steal it. Sir Watkin and I talked about this at great length. Your criminal record makes you the perfect candidate to take it and sell it on to the highest bidder.”

“No, no!”

“Quiet you worm and listen to me. If you go anywhere near that painting, I will snap you in two and send you by post to the nearest prison cell!”

“I'm worth that much?”

“Quiet!”

I was silent before he gave me that Spode look and was off towards the little village, dressed in black shorts looking like a village idiot. My nerves were in tatters as I scrambled for another ciggi out of the case and lighting it.

“I know who you are!”

Dropping the cigarette in fright, I watched in horror as this one too followed its brother to drown in that same puddle! “Dash it!” I cursed as I spun round to find that young lady spy staring at me. I readdressed my words, “Pardon?” I found the old French lingo hoping that this could save me.

“I know who you are Mr Wooster.”

“Pardon?”

“Your Aunt Agatha gave me a photo of you. It took me a while, as the picture was a little old.” She pulled out the photograph and it showed yours truly a lot younger stuffing his face with an ice cream.

“Just add the moustache and I have you, not a French Professor.”

I took out a third cigarette and successfully had it in one's mouth as I thought over my reply. I held out and offered her one, she declined. “I suppose you will inform Lord Sidcup and allow him to package me up in two parcels to the nearest nick!”

She smiled. “No. I do not want to know why you are doing this. I came here to find the real Bertram Wooster.”

I goggled at the woman, just wondering why she would want to find the real me? “Why?”

“Because silly! Your Aunt is trying to match us up!”

And there it was! “Who are you?”

“I'm Gloria Finknottle.”

Then it all fell into place. “So you are the Finknottle that my Aunt Dahlia warned me about in the telegram. She thought you were Gussie!” Then a thought came over me. “You are not a relation of Gussie's are you, you are not into newts?”

She laughed before taking yours truly by the arm and I found myself walking in time with her.

“No. There are three strands of the Finknottles. One, the Hertfordshire Finknotttles. Two the Devonshire Finknottles and finally the Lancashire Finks.”

“I think Gussie is the big L's.”

“I do not know them. I'm from the big D's!”

“And I my dear, do not know them.”

“Not much to write home about to Aunts! Except my father is into art and has much praised your Aunt's taste in paintings when he went to visit her. This gave your Aunt a warming towards our family and led me here to find you after you spurned a meeting over afternoon tea.”

“Ah, sorry about that.”

“Don't worry about that Mr Wooster for we both know quite well why we are here. I'm to check you out after the various reports about your sanity.”

“Ah, yes, well, my, ah, um, sanity.” I didn't know quite what to say to defend myself and I think this young Finknottle knew this and just carried on!

“And you are here for your Aunt Dahlia. Let's just keep things as they are Mister Wooster.”

This girls' eyes were like Jeeves'. They had the habit of piercing the soul and I found myself just blurting out the usual things like, “Just call me Bertie, my friends always call me that!”

“If we are to be friends, you must then call me by my first name.”

“Okay Gloria!” Then with arm in arm we walked and somehow conversed about a host of insignificant things that we knew about people and their funny ways, also about our past. I found out that she was a lot like myself, only that she was given to a little more common sense. The walk back to the house was a pleasant one filling myself with the joys of spring especially as Gloria was willing to keep our secret safe.