Jeeves and the Wedding Bells(56)

‘Look what you’re doing, man!’ said Sir Henry, as I bent down to pick up the pieces of a Spode side plate that had slipped from my grasp.

‘Yes,’ went on Dame Judith. ‘It was at a Victorian house near Ludlow.’

‘Beautiful county, Shropshire,’ I heard Georgiana interject gamely, as I headed out to the kitchen.

The rest of the day passed off without incident, for which relief the entire household, I imagine, gave silent thanks. Lady Hackwood and Mrs Venables went to church; Georgiana played croquet with old Vishnu (the lawn was nowhere near as flat as that of Government House in Simla, it appeared), while Amelia gave Venables junior a straight-sets bashing at tennis. Mrs Padgett had the day off and Mrs Tilman conjured a creditable joint of roast pork for lunch. Woody made himself scarce doing some papers in his room and Sir Henry, I fancy, had another crack at the accounts, hoping that this time they just might come out right. The groans from behind the library door did not fill one with hope. I busied myself disposing of the dust sheet in a bonfire area behind the stables.

Sometimes when you get a breather like that, though, the respite can seem ominous – as though fate is merely taking time off to refill the sock with wet sand. And so it proved; for Monday was the day that mayhem had marked down for her own.

First thing in the morning, I took Lord Etringham his tea.

‘Jeeves,’ I said, placing the tray beside the bed. ‘Plan B swings into action shortly before three pip emma.’

‘Indeed, sir? Might I be so bold as to inquire into the nature of the stratagem?’

‘Georgiana is to come over all flirtatious with Woody and he’s going to give her the bum’s rush just as Amelia comes on the scene. She’ll see that he’s a parfit gentil knight who only has eyes for her.’

Jeeves took a sip of Oolong. ‘I am somewhat surprised that Miss Meadowes has consented to such a scheme.’

‘She didn’t at first. Then she hit on the idea of getting Woody in on the act.’

‘A wise precaution, undoubtedly, sir. And Miss Meadowes is a high-spirited young lady who doubtless enjoys a prank – especially in a good cause.’

‘Spot on, Jeeves.’

‘And where is the assignation to take place?’

‘Next to a rhododendron bush with a bench seat in front of it on the gravel path. Not far from the tennis court. Why do you want to know?’

‘I was merely trying to envisage the scene, sir. Assuming all passes off without incident, how will Miss Meadowes subsequently repair her friendship with Miss Hackwood?’

I hadn’t really considered this angle. ‘I’m sure she’ll think of something,’ I said.

‘One can but hope, sir. They seem the best of friends.’

‘I expect when the dust’s settled, she’ll tell her the truth. Amelia will be so dashed happy she’ll forgive and forget. She’ll probably thank Georgie as the – who’s that chap who brought people together?’

‘The willing Pandarus, sir. He was the uncle of Criseyde in the poem by Chaucer, who enabled—’

‘That’s the chap. Is all quiet on the intruder front?’

‘For the time being, sir, though I fear that Dame Judith remains in a state of agitation.’

‘And what about me, for heaven’s sake? It was one of the most terrifying sights of my life.’

‘One can well imagine, sir.’

‘So that’s it, Jeeves. Back to the old metrop tomorrow and no harm done. Or not too much, anyway.’

Jeeves did a bit of throat-clearing. I knew of old what this meant.

‘Something on your mind?’ I said.

‘Yes, sir. Sir Henry has invited me to return next weekend for the Midsummer Festival at Melbury Tetchett.’

‘You declined, I suppose. And don’t give me that “in the circumstances I deemed it best to accept” routine.’

‘I temporised, sir.’

‘You did what?’

‘Prevaricated, sir.’

‘Come again?’

‘I played for time. I told Sir Henry I would endeavour to return, though I warned him that once back in London I should need to confirm that no more pressing matters had arisen.’

‘Well, you’d better think of something pretty sharpish, Jeeves. Much as I love Dorset, I can’t stand another night on that fakir’s couch.’

‘I believe it is Sir Henry’s intention to reconvene many of this weekend’s house party.’

‘Why? Has he gone barking mad? Think of the cost, apart from anything else. Say what you like about the old fox, he knows how to push the boat out.’

‘The Midsummer Festival is something that the Hackwood family has patronised for many generations. I understand it was Sir Lancelot Hackwood who initiated the celebration in 1705. And I fear that in financial matters Sir Henry has thrown caution to the winds.’