‘Oh, just came to see her, you know.’ I had rather a bright idea. ‘My uncle heard she was seedy, don’t you know, and asked me to look in and make enquiries,’ I said.
‘Your uncle?’
‘Lord Yaxley.’
‘Oh! So you are Lord Yaxley’s nephew?’
‘That’s right. I suppose he’s always popping in and out here, what?’
‘No. I’ve never met him.’
‘You haven’t?’
‘No. Rhoda talks a lot about him, of course, but for some reason she’s never so much as asked him to look in for a cup of tea.’
I began to see that this Rhoda knew her business. If I’d been a girl with someone wanting to marry me and knew that there was an exhibit like this aunt hanging around the home, I, too, should have thought twice about inviting him to call until the ceremony was over and he had actually signed on the dotted line. I mean to say, a thoroughly good soul – heart of gold beyond a doubt – but not the sort of thing you wanted to spring on Romeo before the time was ripe.
‘I suppose you were all very surprised when you heard about it?’ she said.
‘Surprised is right.’
‘Of course, nothing is definitely settled yet.’
‘You don’t mean that? I thought—’
‘Oh, no. She’s thinking it over.’
‘I see.’
‘Of course, she feels it’s a great compliment. But then sometimes she wonders if he isn’t too old.’
‘My Aunt Agatha has rather the same idea.’
‘Of course, a title is a title.’
‘Yes, there’s that. What do you think about it yourself?’
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter what I think. There’s no doing anything with girls these days, is there?’
‘Not much.’
‘What I often say is, I wonder what girls are coming to. Still, there it is.’
‘Absolutely.’
There didn’t seem much reason why the conversation shouldn’t go on for ever. She had the air of a woman who had settled down for the day. But at this point the maid came in and said the doctor had arrived.
I got up.
‘I’ll be tooling off, then.’
‘If you must.’
‘I think I’d better.’
‘Well, pip pip.’
‘Toodle-oo,’ I said, and out into the fresh air.
Knowing what was waiting for me at home, I would have preferred to have gone to the club and spent the rest of the day there. But the thing had to be faced.
‘Well?’ said Aunt Agatha, as I trickled into the sitting-room.
‘Well, yes and no,’ I replied.
‘What do you mean? Did she refuse the money?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘She accepted it?’
‘Well, there, again, not precisely.’
I explained what had happened. I wasn’t expecting her to be any too frightfully pleased, and it’s as well that I wasn’t, because she wasn’t. In fact, as the story unfolded, her comments became fruitier and fruitier, and when I had finished she uttered an exclamation that nearly broke a window. It sounded something like ‘Gor!’ as if she had started to say ‘Gorblimey!’ and had remembered her ancient lineage just in time.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘And can a man say more? I lost my nerve. The old morale suddenly turned blue on me. It’s the sort of thing that might have happened to anyone.’
‘I never heard of anything so spineless in my life.’
I shivered, like a warrior whose old wound hurts him.
‘I’d be most awfully obliged, Aunt Agatha,’ I said, ‘if you would not use that word spine. It awakens memories.’
The door opened. Jeeves appeared.
‘Sir?’
‘Yes, Jeeves?’
‘I thought you called, sir.’
‘No, Jeeves.’
‘Very good, sir.’
There are moments when, even under the eye of Aunt Agatha, I can take the firm line. And now, seeing Jeeves standing there with the light of intelligence simply fizzing in every feature, I suddenly felt how perfectly footling it was to give this preeminent source of balm and comfort the go-by simply because Aunt Agatha had prejudices against discussing family affairs with the staff. It might make her say ‘Gor!’ again, but I decided to do as we ought to have done right from the start – put the case in his hands.
‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘this matter of Uncle George.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You know the circs?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You know what we want.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then advise us. And make it snappy. Think on your feet.’
I heard Aunt Agatha rumble like a volcano just before it starts to set about the neighbours, but I did not wilt. I had seen the sparkle in Jeeves’s eye which indicated that an idea was on the way.
‘I understand that you have been visiting the young person’s home, sir?’
‘Just got back.’
‘Then you no doubt encountered the young person’s aunt?’
‘Jeeves, I encountered nothing else but.’
‘Then the suggestion which I am about to make will, I feel sure, appeal to you, sir. I would recommend that you confronted his lordship with this woman. It has always been her intention to continue residing with her niece after the latter’s marriage. Should he meet her, this reflection might give his lordship pause. As you are aware, sir, she is a kind-hearted woman, but definitely of the people.’
‘Jeeves, you are right! Apart from anything else, that orange hair!’
‘Exactly, sir.’
‘Not to mention the magenta dress.’
‘Precisely, sir.’
‘I’ll ask her to lunch to-morrow, to meet him. You see,’ I said to Aunt Agatha, who was still fermenting in the background, ‘a ripe suggestion first crack out of the box. Did I or did I not tell you—’
‘That will do, Jeeves,’ said Aunt Agatha.
‘Very good, madam.’
For some minutes after he had gone, Aunt Agatha strayed from the point a bit, confining her remarks to what she thought of a Wooster who could lower the prestige of the clan by allowing menials to get above themselves. Then she returned to what you might call the main issue.
‘Bertie,’ she said, ‘you will go and see this girl again to-morrow, and this time you will do as I told you.’
‘But, dash it! With this excellent alternative scheme, based firmly on the psychology of the individual—’
‘That is quite enough, Bertie. You heard what I said. I am going. Good-bye.’
She buzzed off, little knowing of what stuff Bertram Wooster was made. The door had hardly closed before I was shouting for Jeeves.
‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘the recent aunt will have none of your excellent alternative schemes, but none the less I propose to go through with it unswervingly. I consider it a ball of fire. Can you get hold of this female and bring her here for lunch to-morrow?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. Meanwhile, I will be ’phoning Uncle George. We will do Aunt Agatha good despite herself. What is it the poet says, Jeeves?’
‘The poet Burns, sir?’
‘Not the poet Burns. Some other poet. About doing good by stealth.’
‘“These little acts of unremembered kindness”, sir?’
‘That’s it in a nutshell, Jeeves.’
I suppose doing good by stealth ought to give one a glow, but I can’t say I found myself exactly looking forward to the binge in prospect. Uncle George by himself is a mouldy enough luncheon companion, being extremely apt to collar the conversation and confine it to a description of his symptoms, he being one of those birds who can never be brought to believe that the general public isn’t agog to hear all about the lining of his stomach. Add the aunt, and you have a little gathering which might well dismay the stoutest. The moment I woke, I felt conscious of some impending doom, and the cloud, if you know what I mea
n, grew darker all the morning. By the time Jeeves came in with the cocktails, I was feeling pretty low.
‘For two pins, Jeeves,’ I said, ‘I would turn the whole thing up and leg it to the Drones.’
‘I can readily imagine that this will prove something of an ordeal, sir.’
‘How did you get to know these people, Jeeves?’
‘It was through a young fellow of my acquaintance, sir, Colonel Mainwaring-Smith’s personal gentleman’s gentleman. He and the young person had an understanding at the time, and he desired me to accompany him to Wistaria Lodge and meet her.’
‘They were engaged?’
‘Not precisely engaged, sir. An understanding.’
‘What did they quarrel about?’
‘They did not quarrel, sir. When his lordship began to pay his addresses, the young person, naturally flattered, began to waver between love and ambition. But even now she has not formally rescinded the understanding.’
‘Then, if your scheme works and Uncle George edges out, it will do your pal a bit of good?’
‘Yes, sir. Smethurst – his name is Smethurst – would consider it a consummation devoutly to be wished.’
‘Rather well put, that, Jeeves. Your own?’
‘No, sir. The Swan of Avon, sir.’
An unseen hand without tootled on the bell, and I braced myself to play the host. The binge was on.
‘Mrs Wilberforce, sir,’ announced Jeeves.
‘And how I’m to keep a straight face with you standing behind and saying “Madam, can I tempt you with a potato?” is more than I know,’ said the aunt, sailing in, looking larger and pinker and matier than ever. ‘I know him, you know,’ she said, jerking a thumb after Jeeves. ‘He’s been round and taken tea with us.’
‘So he told me.’
She gave the sitting-room the once-over.
‘You’ve got a nice place here,’ she said. ‘Though I like more pink about. It’s so cheerful. What’s that you’ve got there? Cocktails?’
‘Martini with a spot of absinthe,’ I said, beginning to pour.
She gave a girlish squeal.
‘Don’t you try to make me drink that stuff! Do you know what would happen if I touched one of those things? I’d be racked with pain. What they do to the lining of your stomach!’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’
‘I do. If you had been a barmaid as long as I was, you’d know, too.’
‘Oh – er – were you a barmaid?’
‘For years, when I was younger than I am. At the Criterion.’
I dropped the shaker.
‘There!’ she said, pointing the moral. ‘That’s through drinking that stuff. Makes your hand wobble. What I always used to say to the boys was, “Port, if you like. Port’s wholesome. I appreciate a drop of port myself. But these new-fangled messes from America, no.” But they would never listen to me.’
I was eyeing her warily. Of course, there must have been thousands of barmaids at the Criterion in its time, but still it gave one a bit of a start. It was years ago that Uncle George’s dash at a mesalliance had occurred – long before he came into the title – but the Wooster clan still quivered at the name of the Criterion.
‘Er – when you were at the Cri.,’ I said, ‘did you ever happen to run into a fellow of my name?’
‘I’ve forgotten what it is. I’m always silly about names.’
‘Wooster.’
‘Wooster! When you were there yesterday I thought you said Foster. Wooster! Did I run into a fellow named Wooster? Well! Why, George Wooster and me – Piggy, I used to call him – were going off to the registrar’s, only his family heard of it and interfered. They offered me a lot of money to give him up, and, like a silly girl, I let them persuade me. If I’ve wondered once what became of him, I’ve wondered a thousand times. Is he a relation of yours?’
‘Excuse me,’ I said. ‘I just want a word with Jeeves.’
I legged it for the pantry.
‘Jeeves!’
‘Sir?’
‘Do you know what’s happened?’
‘No, sir.’
‘This female—’
‘Sir?’
‘She’s Uncle George’s barmaid!’
‘Sir?’
‘Oh, dash it, you must have heard of Uncle George’s barmaid. You know all the family history. The barmaid he wanted to marry years ago.’
‘Ah, yes, sir.’
‘She’s the only woman he ever loved. He’s told me so a million times. Every time he gets to the fourth whisky-and-potash, he always becomes maudlin about this female. What a dashed bit of bad luck! The first thing we know, the call of the past will be echoing in his heart. I can feel it, Jeeves. She’s just his sort. The first thing she did when she came in was to start talking about the lining of her stomach. You see the hideous significance of that, Jeeves? The lining of his stomach is Uncle George’s favourite topic of conversation. It means that he and she are kindred souls. This woman and he will be like—’
‘Deep calling to deep, sir?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Most disturbing, sir.’
‘What’s to be done?’
‘I could not say, sir.’
‘I’ll tell you what I’m going to do – ’phone him and say the lunch is off.’
‘Scarcely feasible, sir. I fancy that is his lordship at the door now.’
And so it was. Jeeves let him in, and I followed him as he navigated down the passage to the sitting-room. There was a stunned silence as he went in, and then a couple of the startled yelps you hear when old buddies get together after long separation.
‘Piggy!’
‘Maudie!’
‘Well, I never!’
‘Well, I’m dashed!’
‘Did you ever!’
‘Well, bless my soul!’
‘Fancy you being Lord Yaxley!’
‘Came into the title soon after we parted.’
‘Just to think!’
‘You could have knocked me down with a feather!’
I hung about in the offing, now on this leg, now on that. For all the notice they took of me, I might just have well been the late Bertram Wooster, disembodied.
‘Maudie, you don’t look a day older, dash it!’
‘Nor do you, Piggy.’
‘How have you been all these years?’
‘Pretty well. The lining of my stomach isn’t all it should be.’
‘Good Gad! You don’t say so? I have trouble with the lining of my stomach.’
‘It’s a sort of heavy feeling after meals.’
‘I get a sort of heavy feeling after meals. What are you trying for it?’
‘I’ve been taking Perkins’ Digestine.’
‘My dear girl, no use! No use at all. Tried it myself for years and got no relief. Now, if you really want something that is some good—’
I slid away. The last I saw of them, Uncle George was down beside her on the Chesterfield, buzzing hard.
‘Jeeves,’ I said, tottering into the pantry.
‘Sir?’
‘There will only be two for lunch. Count me out. If they notice I’m not there, tell them I was called away by an urgent ’phone message. The situation has got beyond Bertram, Jeeves. You will find me at the Drones.’
‘Very good, sir.’
It was lateish in the evening when one of the waiters came to me as I played a distrait game of snooker pool and informed me that Aunt Agatha was on the ’phone.
‘Bertie!’
‘Hullo?’
I was amazed to note that her voice was that of an aunt who feels that things are breaking right. It had the birdlike trill.
‘Bertie, have you that cheque I gave you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then tear it up. It will not be needed.’
‘Eh?’
‘I say it will not be needed. Your uncle has been speaking to me on the telephone. He is not going to marry that girl.’
‘Not?’
 
; ‘No. Apparently he has been thinking it over and sees how unsuitable it would have been. But what is astonishing is that he is going to be married!’
‘He is?’
‘Yes, to an old friend of his, a Mrs Wilberforce. A woman of a sensible age, he gave me to understand. I wonder which Wilberforces that would be. There are two main branches of the family – the Essex Wilberforces and the Cumberland Wilberforces. I believe there is also a cadet branch somewhere in Shropshire.’
‘And one in East Dulwich.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Nothing.’
I hung up. Then back to the old flat, feeling a trifle sandbagged.
‘Well, Jeeves,’ I said, and there was censure in the eyes. ‘So I gather everything is nicely settled?’
‘Yes, sir. His lordship formally announced the engagement between the sweet and cheese courses, sir.’
‘He did, did he?’
‘Yes, sir.’
I eyed the man sternly.
‘You do not appear to be aware of it, Jeeves,’ I said, in a cold, level voice, ‘but this binge has depreciated your stock very considerably. I have always been accustomed to look upon you as a counsellor without equal. I have, so to speak, hung upon your lips. And now see what you have done. All this is the direct consequence of your scheme, based on the psychology of the individual. I should have thought, Jeeves, that, knowing the woman – meeting her socially, as you might say, over the afternoon cup of tea – you might have ascertained that she was Uncle George’s barmaid.’
‘I did, sir.’
‘What!’
‘I was aware of the fact, sir.’
‘Then you must have known what would happen if she came to lunch and met him.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well, I’m dashed!’
‘If I might explain, sir. The young man Smethurst, who is greatly attached to the young person, is an intimate friend of mine. He applied to me some little while back in the hope that I might be able to do something to ensure that the young person followed the dictates of her heart and refrained from permitting herself to be lured by gold and the glamour of his lordship’s position. There will now be no obstacle to their union.’
‘I see. “Little acts of unremembered kindness”, what?’
‘Precisely, sir.’
‘And how about Uncle George? You’ve landed him pretty nicely in the cart.’