Jeeves and the Wedding Bells(52)

‘“O grim-look’d night!”’ I growled. ‘“O night with hue so black! O night, which ever art when day is not!”’

‘Is that Monty Beresford’s voice?’

‘To a tee.’

‘He sounds like Mrs Padgett.’

‘You speak true, young Meadowes. He did indeed. “O night! O night! Alack, alack, alack! I fear my Thisby’s promise is forgot.”’

‘Carry on.’

‘One of the nobs says something now. It’s not my line.’

‘Hold on a minute. Uncle Henry must have a Shakespeare somewhere.’

‘After the end of the Hundred Years War but before the start of Wisden. By the window, therefore, I should say.’

‘Have another brandy.’

‘Perhaps just a dribble.’

‘Here it is. One minute,’ said Georgiana, riffling through the pages. ‘All right, so Theseus says, “The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.” Should I do that with a more aristocratic voice?’

‘Not at all. A Midlands garage mechanic is the effect you’re after. You’re supposed to sound like Bony Fishwick.’

‘Who on earth is Bony Fishwick?’

‘He was the school chaplain. “We ’ave left oondoon thowse things which we ought to ’ave doon.”’

‘I’ll have another go. More brandy?’

‘Just a suggestion.’

What with one thing another, we rather entered into the spirit of it, and Georgiana made a much livelier Thisby than had been on offer from Corbett-Burcher.

‘Tell you what,’ I said. ‘If you stand on the sofa there, I’ll stand on the ottoman, and then this standard lamp can represent the Wall.’

‘Good idea. By the way, Bertie, I’ve just had a thought.’

‘Doesn’t surprise me, old thing. Not one bit. Think on.’

‘What I thought was this. You know “The Repudiation of the Scarlet Woman by the Virtuous Lawyer as witnessed by his Innocent Bride”?’

‘I thought we’d ditched that.’

‘We had. But suppose Woody was in on it. That way he could keep a straight face when I gave him the come-on. There’d be no misunderstanding afterwards between the two of us. And it would help me in my part, too.’

I swilled the brandy round the glass – in much the same way that I revolved the matter in the cranium. From where I stood, on the ottoman, it all looked rather promising. Foolproof, you might say.

‘By Jove,’ I said, ‘I think you’ve hit the jackpot.’

‘Thank you. Shall I ask Woody, or will you?’

‘I think it would come better from you. He hasn’t quite forgiven me for making up to Amelia.’

The thought gave me another brief Gonville and Caius wobble, my foothold precarious for a moment on the tapestry-covered lid.

‘I shall fix it for five to three on Monday,’ said Georgiana. ‘It’s when the pro from Blandford Forum comes in to give Ambo a tennis lesson.’

‘Will Woody still be here?’

‘Yes, he’s catching the late train for a case on Tuesday.’

‘Where were we?’

‘“As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.”’

‘“O! Kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.”’

I leant forward to mime the action, as I had done all those years ago, when the Wall – some new bug whose name I can’t remember now – held up his parted fingers to represent a crack in the masonry.

It’s possible that on that occasion I had dined on little more than the house supper and a glass of lemonade; I had certainly not got outside a half-pint of Sir Henry’s five-star. Or perhaps the lips I could not reach in Melbury Hall induced a greater sense of urgency.

For some reason, anyway, I lost my footing and pitched forward from the ottoman. An instinct made me grab at the standard lamp as I fell. This deflected me for a moment and may have slightly lessened my impact on Georgiana, who ended up, not for the first time in our short acquaintance, sitting on the floor.

Once the racket had subsided, there was the sound of angry footsteps in the hall.

We looked at each other for a second, then, as one, made for the window. I say ‘as one’, though of course it took Georgiana a moment to heave herself up from the Aubusson. Meanwhile, ahead at the casement: up went the sash, over went the foreleg, smack went the skull into the woodwork … I looked back from the outside world and, as on the previous occasion, felt tempted to bestow a parting peck, when there came a mighty rattling at the locked library door, followed by some hefty thumps on the panelling.

Georgiana called out, ‘Stop, thief!’