A great deal seemed to have happened since my last steak and kidney in the same window seat, and not much of it came under the heading of good news. I had escaped playing host to Aunt Agatha and the blighter Thomas in London, though a part of me – not the largest part, I suppose – felt ashamed of what my late father might have thought of my giving his sister the miss in baulk. The only other item in the credit column was having successfully misled our hosts as to our identity, and my aching back prevented me from taking much pleasure in this minor triumph.
The real business of the trip – the attempt to reunite the sundered hearts of my oldest friend and his beloved – had been an utter washout: a fiasco, a lulu, a damp squib from start to finish. I had tried my best to play Woody out of trouble and give him a decent shot at the green; I had left the poor chap playing five off the tee.
I didn’t like to think what the repercussions of the failed Plan B might be. Venables didn’t seem by nature a hothead, but no one likes to see his fiancée kissing another bloke. It would take all the oratory of Gray’s Inn and the charm of Bedford Square to persuade the tireless traveller that things were not as they appeared.
The time had come to sound the retreat, and it was with considerable relief that I stuffed the spare clothes and washbag into Jeeves’s modest holdall the next morning. I said my goodbyes to my fellow scullions, and in the case of Mrs Tilman and Mrs Padgett, they were fond ones.
‘I’m sure we’ll see you again soon, Mr W,’ said Mrs Tilman.
‘’Appen I’ll make another of them pies Miss Georgiana took you,’ said Mrs Padgett.
‘I hope so. Toodle-pip,’ I said – to the obvious amusement of these two good-humoured domestics.
Remembering not to cross Bicknell’s mighty palm with silver, I collected Lord Etringham’s cases and stowed them in the back of the two-seater.
The dogs barked, but the caravan moved on. Vishnu Venables and his memsahib were collected by a driver in what looked like a hearse; Dame Judith was to take the train after lunch. Jeeves started the engine and we were about to escape when Sir Henry ran alongside and thrust a newspaper through the window.
‘By the way, Etringham, I thought you’d like a copy of the Melbury Courier. It’s just arrived. The report of the game’s not up to much, but it’s got a splendid picture of the team.’
With a crunch of gravel, we were gone. There was much to say, but I wanted to put a fair bit of distance between ourselves and Melbury Hall. As soon as we agreed the coast was well and truly clear, we swapped hats and places.
‘So, Jeeves,’ I said, ‘what was the aftermath of Plan B like? How did young Venables take it?’
‘Mr Venables made an early departure, sir. He left before dinner.’
‘He must have driven past me in the Hare and Hounds.’
‘Very likely, sir. He is expected back on Saturday for the Midsummer Festival, where he is to read some of his poems.’
‘He’s a poet, too, is he?’
‘Light verse, I gather, sir, of a pastoral nature.’
‘I wonder how that’ll go down with the lads from the Red Lion.’
‘I understand the verses have brevity on their side.’
‘Unlike the travelogues.’
‘An unkind observation, sir.’
‘But not an unfair one, Jeeves. Golly, I felt as though I’d walked to Peking on my own two feet. Perhaps that could be his follow-up. By Shanks’s Pony to Shanghai. Anyway, he didn’t at once break off the engagement?’
‘No, sir. I gather Mr Venables was greatly disturbed by the turn of events, but did not wish to be seen to lose face, as I believe the expression is. I understand he has given Miss Meadowes two days in which to offer an explanation of herself.’
‘Stern stuff, eh? And what about Woody?’
‘Relations between the two gentlemen were not of the most cordial before the incident. Mr Venables is conscious of a sense of inferiority. He believes Mr Beeching’s athletic accomplishments and ease of manner show him in an unfavourable light.’
‘That’s hardly Woody’s fault.’
‘Certainly not, sir. But it is conceivable that Mr Venables’s natural unease could work to the advantage of all concerned.’
‘You mean he’ll think twice before making an ass of himself.’
‘Exactly, sir. Though if he concludes that he has already been humiliated beyond repair …’
‘You mean …’
‘I gathered from Miss Meadowes that his return is far from guaranteed.’
‘Then bang goes Hickory Hot Boy, Jeeves. In come the blackboards, the chalk and the cupboardful of canes.’