Chapter Text
Long-term readers of mine will surely know that I have over the years grown rather fond of using a certain expression that has to do with soup. After all, there are few phrases quite as descriptive that can capture the essence of ordeals the likes of which this Wooster has had to endure over the course of his life. Ordeals including, but certainly not limited to, finding yourself charged at by an angry swan, coming into close quarters with the swinging fists of one Roderick Spode and trying to escape the clutches of two googly-eyed women that were both trying to bring you to the altar at the very same time.
Yet even with such an impressive record, none of these previous incidents could even compare to the mess I had managed to get myself entangled in this past summer. In faith, I wouldn’t just call it being in the soup, but that I was practically marinated in it. Anyhow, as is often the case (despite what my ill-reputed aunt Agatha would have you believe), this soup had not initially been one of my own making, though I had had my fair share of stirring the pot.
But before I get to this disastrous concoction and its rather unexpected consequences, let me first set the scene and lay out all the main ingredients, namely a quaint seaside town, a surprise reunion with an old schoolmate and a rather confused Cupid still trying to figure out how to use his bow.
As luck would have it, the events in question unfolded in this exact same order, so I will cut corners and just tell you that after a very taxing spring involving not one, but two of my aged relatives, the risky retrieval of a club book that I had explicitly been told would never get stolen and a flock of women desperate to mould me into their image, I had found myself so thoroughly fed up with my daily surroundings and social circle that I had decided to rent a cottage in Hastings where I intended to spend the rest of the summer. It certainly helped matters that Jeeves – my valet and personal encyclopedia – was rather fond of the ocean himself and was grateful for this opportunity to go fishing on his afternoons off.
We had only spent two weeks in town when I happened to strut along the local market and spot an eerily familiar looking redhead bobbing in the crowd. I was almost positive I knew the person it was attached to, and so couldn’t help but shout, “Hey, you there! Nutter!”
Perhaps it wasn’t the best thing to yell out in a crowded alleyway, as I was met with not only the sought individual but a number of angry looking faces who thought I had taken it upon myself to insult poor innocent strangers. But I wasn’t actually calling out to some random lunatic on the street, you understand, but to my good friend back from Oxford – viz. Patrick ‘Nutter’ Nutford.
“As I live and breathe, if it isn’t Bertie Wooster!” the man exclaimed in delight and pushed his way through the crowd to greet me, sliding a friendly arm over my shoulder, “Fancy bumping into you in here!”
“You don’t say! What brings you to Hastings?”
“Why, the same as you, I’d imagine – I’m here on holiday.”
“Then you imagine correctly. But how long has it been? Five years? Seven? You must come by my place for a glass of sherry, spill all about what you’ve been doing since Oxford! I’m renting a cottage just over there, it’s not a far walk from here.”
“Don’t mind if I do, don’t mind if I do. And while we’re at it, there’s actually something I’d love to discuss with you. Could even use with a little bit of your help.”
“Then let this Wooster lend you an ear or two, old pal – always happy to help as best I can!”
As we were walking towards my lodgings we caught up with what the other had been doing since we had last met. I doubt any of it is all that interesting to you reading this, so I will instead take this opportunity to explain why Nutter is in fact called the way he is.
When talking about Nutter, you can’t possibly go about it without also mentioning Barmy, another school chum of mine who had likewise earned his nickname based on his intellectual prowess, or rather, the lack thereof. It will perhaps come as no surprise to you to learn that the two of them were practically inseparable back in school, having so much in common. But whereas Barmy knew he wasn’t particularly brainy, Nutter, regrettably so, did not. Also, while anyone who knew Barmy could attest his head was most certainly empty, the same could not be said about Nutter. Only, it wasn’t any of that famous grey matter that he filled his noggin with, but the most insane ideas that he insisted followed their own logic. Which is a small comfort, I suppose, as there was certainly no one else in this whole wide world that could follow it.
But perhaps most revealingly of all, whereas most men would have felt embarrassed over being called a madman, Nutter wore it like a badge of honour. He not only seemed fine with the fact that others called him so. He frequently saw to it that they did.
Even so, what Nutter lacked in intelligence, he made up for with his sprightly personality. He was a happy-go-lucky sort of chap and rather entertaining company, rarely wallowing in self-pity or low moods for long, and always willing to explore new things and take his friends along on adventures with him. Though little did I know what he was yet about to drag me into.
Be that as it may, a mere fifteen minutes after our crossing paths we already found ourselves at my cottage, reclined on a pair of armchairs and pouring sherry into our glasses. Jeeves didn’t appear to be in, so I figured he must have run out on some errands while I was out. I told Nutter as much.
“Jeeves,” He repeated, as though tasting the word, “why does that name sound so familiar?”
“I don’t know. Why does my valet’s name sound so familiar?”
“Ah.” Realisation dawned upon his features as he snapped his finger and pointed at me, “‘Very capable fellow, brains like a Greek philosopher, has a face sculpted like a statue?’”
“I say! Do you know him?”
Nutter snorted.
“No, those would be your words. Relayed through the mouth of Barmy, that is.”
“Well, that makes sense. But really now, if you’ve gone to see Barmy you should have come to see me. It really has been too long.”
“You’re right. But oh well, we’re here now, aren’t we?”
“That we are.” It was then I remembered his cryptic words at the market. “So tell me, what’s this thing you need my assistance with?”
“Oh, right.” Nutter coughed nervously into his fist and put his tumbler down. “Now that I think about it, you might be the perfect person to consult given your, erm, experience.”
I was moved by his faith in me despite still being very much in the dark. I certainly liked to think I had been of help to my friends over the years and had more to offer than what my relatives sometimes seemed to insinuate.
“The thing is, my aunt has been pressuring me for a long time now to settle down and get married.”
I nodded empathetically.
“As so many aunts do.”
“Quite. Well, you know me, I haven’t exactly been keen on the idea, but I gave the matter some more thought and realised it has its perks. Flash forward to now, there’s this girl I’ve been seeing that I thought I’d ask to marry me.”
“But Nutter, that’s great news!” I said, giving my friend a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. Although this Wooster had sworn off romance for the foreseeable future and currently had an allergic reaction to the mere notion of getting married to some beazel, I was still perfectly capable of feeling happy for my friends. Nutter seemed especially deserving of this support considering he was one of the very few of my friends who had all this time remained a bachelor. It simultaneously meant one more down from my own team, of course, but a gentleman must take these things in stride.
“Yes,” Nutter drawled somewhat distractedly, “At least it would be, if she didn’t act as if I didn’t exist.”
I blinked. I confess he had lost me.
“Why would she act as if you didn’t exist? Surely you must have done something right if this has been going on for a while now?”
It was most peculiar indeed. Although Nutter clearly left room for improvement in the intellectual department, he was reasonably easy on the eyes and, as already established, perfectly good company. So long as he didn’t run his mouth for too long I thought he was going to do just fine. Though upon second thought, maybe that was precisely what was going on.
“That’s what I thought. I mean, it’s hard to tell sometimes. Some days she gives me one of those long ardent stares, as if gazing deep into my soul, but other times it’s as if there’s no connection.”
“That does sound confusing. Though I shouldn’t be surprised at this stage – women are a whole species of their own. Who knows what goes on in their head.”
“Tell me about it.” Nutter huffed, “Anyhow, that’s what I wanted your help with – how does one go about proposing to someone? It’s utterly nerve-racking! I’ve already come close to doing it a couple of times, but then all courage fails me. However you’ve managed to do it as many times as you have is beyond me.”
“I wasn’t even aware I had been doing it about half of those times, being alerted to the fact only afterwards. But, well, the most important thing is to make sure you’re on the same wavelength, I suppose. I mean, the surer you are of the answer being ‘yes’, the easier it is to pop the question, what?”
“Hmm, you’ve got a point. Though that still poses the question how I can make sure she’s on the same wavelength. I’m telling you, Bertie, it’s so hard to figure out what she’s thinking sometimes. Men are so much more straight-forward.”
“I can’t disagree with you on that, of course.”
Nutter regarded me with a thoughtful look.
“You don’t think your man Jeeves might have any ideas on what to do, do you? Barmy said there’s not one problem he hasn’t been able to solve, and that makes up quite a record knowing the amount of people that have come to his aid.”
I wanted to correct him and say most of those people had technically come to my aid, but realised then that Jeeves was fully deserving of the praise. Aside from his great intellect and vast knowledge of the psychology of the individual, as he likes to call it, I knew Jeeves to be something of a romantic at heart despite his stoic looks. He frequently liked to cite poetry and clearly enjoyed helping long-lost lovers reunite. And, perhaps most revealingly, he seemed to have taken a liking to the literary works of none other than Rosie M. Banks, namely a rising romance novelist and also the wife of my good friend Bingo Little. But I digress.
“And the rumours are not untrue, Nutter. I could have a word with him when he gets back if you wish.”
“Thanks.” The man picked out his pocket watch and grimaced, “Alright, I’d better dash, I already made an appointment at a club for this evening. But what say we have lunch tomorrow?”
“Sounds like a plan, there’s still much we need to catch up on. I say, why don’t you come here? You could have a word with Jeeves while you’re at it.”
Nutter thanked me for the offer, and after we had agreed on the particulars, he was off, leaving me to sip the rest of my drink in thought.
Truth be told, there was one thing I hadn’t had the heart to tell my friend that cast a bit of a rain cloud over our current plans. Namely, I wasn’t altogether convinced Jeeves was currently in the mood for wanting to help either me or Nutter whatsoever. Now, I hear your protest loud and clear – but Wooster, you would say, what’s then all this about Jeeves rallying for the romantic cause and wanting to reunite long-lost lovers? And to that I say you would be correct. Or at least you would have been up until a week ago. You see, there was one new variable that had thrown a spanner into the works. And that was the fact that the air between Jeeves and self had not been the best as of late. In fact, I might go so far as to say it was currently strung like a violin string plotting its next move against a musician that had greatly hurt its sensibilities.
The only reason I wasn’t biting my fingernails and dreading Jeeves’s imminent resignation – a scene straight cut out of my worst nightmares, you understand – was that this was by no means the first time something of this sort had happened. In fact, it had become semi-regular in the years I had known the man, and concerned, as it nearly always did, a disagreement on an article of clothing that I found to be à la mode and Jeeves wanted to burn in Purgatory. The a. of c. that is, not Jeeves himself. At least I think so. Who really knows how badly these things affected him.
Now, there is one more thing you must know about these sartorial disagreements of ours, and that is that they come in two categories, one less serious than the other. I namely have this guilty pleasure of mine when it comes to Jeeves, and it’s that I like to tease him sometimes, knowing his traditional sense of fashion. I do so enjoy trying to elicit reactions out of him, as he is normally so statuesque in both his speech and manner and frequently likes to adopt the expression of a stuffed frog. It is thus a rare treat for me to see his composure shattered, even if only for a moment. I derived a similar sort of pleasure out of teasing him, I suppose, as a parent might from feeding their newborn child a piece of lemon just to see what sort of faces it would pull. The range of emotion visible on Jeeves’s map was quite a bit more contained, of course, but I certainly never grew bored at the display. That, and it was simply good – necessary, even – for me to see the man express some human emotion every now and then as he was already far too godlike as it was.
Either way, this was not one of those times I had simply wanted to tease Jeeves. I really had grown to love the tie that was the reason for our current dispute. I had bought it on a summer fair around a week ago and it had this large chequered motif that made it look a bit like a chessboard – I mean, an absolute corker – but Jeeves, for whatever unfathomable reason, did not appreciate it, going so far as to call it ‘an unfortunate marketing mishap, being undoubtedly originally designed as a rag to be used in the kitchen’. We had not spoken of it since, my feelings thoroughly insulted.
While some of you may think oh, grow up, Wooster, it’s only a tie, I implore you to think twice. There were in fact many areas in my life that I entrusted to Jeeves fully and unconditionally, and it was not a rare occurrence that I allowed him to persuade me to change my mind on nearly any given topic. But dash it all, a man must stand his ground in some fights at least, mustn’t he? And if I could not so much as choose what to wear on my own person, what dignity did I have left? No, I was quite firm on this one.
Even so, I did not actually enjoy fighting with Jeeves, and so I was hoping Time, the great healer, would do its magic and that the man would either develop some semblance of remorse and take back the words he had said or at least have the decency to move on.
As I mulled these things over in my head, an hour passed, perhaps two, until the sound of the front door awoke me from my thoughts.
“Good afternoon, sir, I see you have returned ahead of schedule. I trust you have not had to wait too long for dinner?”
“No worries, Jeeves, I had company till a moment ago.” I answered, relieved to hear that Jeeves didn’t at least currently sound as though he had just come from Antarctica.
We had a quick exchange about what I wanted to eat, and when Jeeves still didn’t give me apparent signs of hostility, I felt myself relax a little and felt comfortable enough to tell him about my encounter with Nutter.
“Oh, by the way, Jeeves, earlier today I came across Nutter—” I started excitedly, till I caught sight of Jeeves’s eyebrows rising an eighth of an inch and realised that I perhaps ought to explain, “Ah, I see your confusion, Jeeves. Not to worry, this Wooster’s not so far gone as to rejoice at meeting some random loony on the street – it’s my old schoolmate from Oxford, you see. Patrick Nutford, or Nutter as we call him.”
”I see, sir. An amusing twist on the gentleman’s last name.”
”Actually no, Jeeves!”
”No, sir? Surely the family name plays some part in the diminutive, sir?”
”You’d think that, wouldn’t you, but no. He earned the nickname through his intelligence alone, or should I say the lack thereof. He’s got a skull as thick as a brick where no grey matter can squeeze itself through, though miraculously he’s still found some means to stuff his head with a bunch of nonsense. Oh, and he’s best friends with Barmy out of all people, would you believe it.”
Jeeves did not answer me verbally, but I thought I could see in his expression that he could, in fact, believe it.
“Anyhow, he confided in me and told me he’s in a bit of a pickle.”
At this very moment Jeeves suddenly started busying himself with all sorts of tasks in the kitchen and stopped having eye contact with me altogether. I felt a little out of sorts, having hoped for at least some level of acknowledgement from him that he was listening, but apparently he found the potatoes he was peeling more fascinating and deserving of an audience. I nevertheless powered through, knowing from several past incidents of eavesdropping that Jeeves was by no means deaf.
“So, yes, erm… Right. The thing is, Jeeves, Nutter’s in love. He’s so in love, in fact, that he’d like to ask this girl he’s been seeing to marry him. The only catch is, she’s been giving him slightly mixed signals as of late, and he can’t quite seem to muster the courage to pop the question. And, well, er… He was rather hoping you might be able to help him.”
“I fail to see what I could do for the gentleman, sir.” Came the deadpan and frosty reply that I had so feared, yet it still caught me by surprise.
I gave him a piercing look. Suddenly all my foolish hopes were crushed and my emotions got the best of me.
“Oh, so this is how we’re going to do it, is it? Is it still about the tie? I’ve already told you I’m not going to give it up!”
But Jeeves had apparently pledged his loyalty to play the immovable rock.
“I am not sure I know what you mean, sir.”
“Dash it all, Jeeves!”
“Sir?”
“I know I’ve let you have your say in a lot of things in this household, but the line must be drawn somewhere! If a chequered tie is what I wish to wear, then wear it I damn well shall!”
“As you say, sir.” Jeeves said with the most dripping tone of soupiness.
I spent the rest of the evening seething in silence and tried to stay clear of Jeeves’s way, seeking comfort from petting my new friend Checky the tie, as I had named him, and lay me down to sleep with his smooth frame in my arms.
When the first rays of sunlight hit me in the morning, I noticed something different in the manner with which Jeeves had opened the curtains.
“What sort of day is it, Jeeves?” I yawned, as I stretched in bed, my animosity from the previous night now gone. Us Woosters are never angry for long, you see, though I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t get riled up again if Jeeves decided to take things that way.
“Extremely clement, sir, with a hint of a soft breeze coming from north-east.”
Now, to my readers who are following this exchange through the literary medium, you may not notice anything out of the ordinary in the words just spoken. But let me tell you, as someone who has grown rather experienced in reading Jeeves over these past few years, not only was the weather clement, it seemed, but the man was pure clemency itself, all harsh lines from his face now long gone and replaced by relaxed brows and a beaming countenance. Which I suddenly found highly suspicious given the cold manner with which Jeeves had borne himself the past week up until yesterday.
“Has something happened, Jeeves?” I asked, trying to decipher what could have brought about such a drastic change, “You seem in rather high spirits today.”
“Perhaps it is the pleasantly bright dawn to a so far gloomy week, sir, that has me revitalised.”
Though not altogether convinced, I let the matter rest for the time being and went on to have breakfast in the kitchen as I observed Jeeves thoughtfully. If he had been the sort of chap that hums cheerfully to himself whenever life smiles back at you, he might have done that, but as Jeeves is quite beyond such mortal behaviour, he simply went about his duties with a slightly lighter air than usual.
It took me a whole hour and a half to crack the case when it was finally time for me to get dressed and I suddenly couldn’t find Checky anywhere.
“Jeeves!” I yelped, casting an accusing look at my man, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t have the audacity to look smug, “What have you done with my tie?”
“What tie, sir?”
I gave him a sharp look.
“Oh, don’t give me that, Jeeves, you know perfectly well which tie. The chequered one. Looks like a long chessboard.”
Jeeves’s nose twitched slightly as if someone had tickled him with a feather.
“I seem to recall which one you refer to now, sir. I’m sure I could not say, sir, though one could easily mistake it for a used towel – are you certain it has not got mixed with the laundry, sir?”
“A used towel! Mixed with the laundry! Now you are just throwing insults at the poor thing!” I sputtered, till I had an epiphany, “Hang on, Jeeves, how could it possibly be mixed with the laundry? I remember falling asleep with it in my arms last night, and now it’s just suddenly in the laundry basket, you say?”
“Forgive me, sir, it may have accidentally travelled with the linen as I took to wash them.”
“You… you monster!” I cried, then started pushing him towards the bathroom, “You go and show me what you’ve done right now!”
And Jeeves did. And there, as I feared, did I find my deceased tie Checky, may he rest in peace, hanging from the laundry line, looking like some giant troll had first used him as a tissue, diluting him of all colour, and then thrown him to the dogs that tore him to pieces, several loose threads hanging from the sides serving as proof of the horrors he had had to witness before his demise.
“H-how did you even manage to get it to look like this, Jeeves?” I stammered, “You wash these by hand!”
“Washing cloths and towels requires more rigorous scrubbing, sir, to get rid of all the stains.” He replied very matter-of-factly as though I had not just caught him red-handed at the most horrific crime scene, “I confess I may have in dim light mistaken this particular one to have been covered in large coffee stains and thus gotten somewhat carried away with the task, sir.”
“The levity with which you speak of this massacre astounds me, Jeeves…” I sniffed, taking the thing down and cradling it in my arms like a fallen comrade. “The least thing you could do is show him some respect in his death.”
For a brief moment Jeeves seemed to heed my words, bringing his hands in front of him in a reverent pose and bowing his head, but I swear, once the solid minute had passed, he was already off doing who knows what, leaving me to mourn my friend without so much as a supporting pat on the shoulder.
What I will say in Jeeves’s defence is that once he realised my dark mood wasn’t going to dissolve on its own, he did step up his game and offer various olive branches in the form of a foot bath, a shoulder massage and proof reading one of my manuscripts. But the thing is, I never know with him when such acts come straight from his heart and when it’s just him being calculating. He is dreadfully good at manipulating people when he wants to, you see. I had come to learn about that side of him not too long after he had stepped into my employ, but considering how Jeeves’s good characteristics made up about 90% of the whole mix, I had thought I just had to tolerate it. But sometimes I wished he knew what it felt like when someone played with your emotions like that.
Anyhow, what ultimately made me agree to a ceasefire between the two of us was when Jeeves offered to lend a helping hand to Nutter despite his immediate rejection the day before.
“If you will forgive me for diverting your attention to another topic, sir, you mentioned a friend of yours requesting my assistance yesterday. Perhaps you might elucidate the matter for me?”
I relayed Nutter’s problem to him once more, hoping he was ready to put in the work as a way of apology. Jeeves turned thoughtful.
“Well, does anything suggest itself to you?”
“Not right this moment, sir, beyond some general advice. But I shall dwell on it as I prepare for luncheon.”
“Very well. If you can think up of something by the time Nutter comes over, that would be much appreciated.”
“I shall do my best, sir.”
At around 1 pm the doorbell rang and I went to answer the door myself as I had just come out of the toilet.
What awaited me on the other side wasn't quite what I had expected.
“Hullo, Bertie…” Nutter said with the energy equivalent to a bank accountant ready to hit the sack at five pm on a Friday afternoon. Which was odd given how it was currently a Wednesday.
“What ho, Nutter. Do come in, do come in,” I greeted him just as Jeeves joined us.
“Ah, Jeeves,” I addressed him, motioning towards my friend, “this is Nutter. Or, well, Patrick Nutford to you I suppose—”
“—Oh, please, everyone just calls me Nutter.”
See? I told you, even when he’s given the way out, Nutter still chooses to answer to one name and one name only. It calls for some level of respect, I suppose. Few of us are quite so dedicated.
“How do you do, sir.” Jeeves replied politely despite being introduced to one with such an ominous name. “Mr Wooster has already laid out the facts for me regarding your dilemma, sir, however I may require some more time to dwell on it. Might I suggest you start luncheon, sir, and I will get back to you after the meal?”
Nutter waved his hand in a tired manner and then placed it on my shoulder to steady himself as he tried to clean his shoes on the doormat.
“Yes, yes, whatever you prefer.”
I watched the man struggle to straighten himself. Jeeves seemed to fix him with a similarly long stare. Had the man been drinking?
“I say, what’s gotten you looking so worn out?” I asked as Jeeves finally led us to the dining table, “Partied long into the night, have you?”
This question seemed to perk him up a bit.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. There’s this new club I’ve been hearing about that I finally got to visit last night, and oh, it’s simply a corker. You’d love it too, Bertie, I’m sure.”
“Then you must tell me about it sometime. But really now, Nutter, if you’re thinking about getting hitched, you’ve got to tone down the carousing. Women don’t exactly appreciate this sort of a thing, let me tell you.”
Nutter looked as though he had just sucked on a lemon. Wanting to make sure just in case, I peered down at our plates, but no, Jeeves hadn’t actually been feeding us anything remotely citric.
“That’s precisely why I’m in such a foul mood today, Bertie. It occurred to me that once I get married, I won’t exactly have this sort of freedom any more, will I?”
My heart went out to the man. This loss of freedom he referred to was one of the many reasons why the idea of matrimony did not sit well with me, but I felt I had to play the devil’s advocate here. Truth be told, I had somewhat dreaded this sudden change of heart in my friend, and now my instincts were proven correct.
There is namely one more thing you must understand about Nutter’s character, and it’s that he possesses the attention span of a hummingbird that moves from one flower to the next quicker than the human eye can follow. More than once I had started a conversation with the man on one topic only to find out half-way through that we were talking about two entirely different things, as his interest had pivoted elsewhere.
It was for this very same reason I had been a tad sceptical re the matter of him having found a girl to settle down with. I couldn’t be happier for him if it was the case, of course, but knowing his history I had my suspicions. Furthermore, whereas most of my friends had found themselves engaged at least once in their life by this point, Nutter had still to join them. I reckoned it must have something to do with this same issue.
Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to give up so easily. Nutter had personally come to me in the hopes of my assistance, and assist him I would, even if it meant redirecting his attention to wedlock no matter how the thought alone caused a shiver down my spine.
“Well, a certain loss of freedom is simply the price one must pay when binding yourself to another,” I admitted, “but think about all the rewards, Nutter, that await you instead!” There was a pregnant pause as I realised I myself needed to have a good think about what any of those supposed rewards might be, “Like... you get to have your wife all to yourself and… and, erm…” I frantically looked around the room in search for some visual clues when I happened to lay eyes on Jeeves and was suddenly flooded with all sorts of ideas, “and she’ll take care of you, she’ll be your best friend and closest confidant, she’ll defend your honour and no other man can take her from you because there’s a tie that binds!”
I thought I saw a ghost of a smile pass Jeeves’s lips. At once I was feeling better as I realised I had nothing to complain whatsoever despite not having a wife who doted on me. I mean, who needs a wife when you’ve got Jeeves?
Nutter still hadn’t said anything, but he looked more contemplative now, which I took to be a positive sign.
“Speaking of future wives, Nutter, I’d love to hear more about this mystery woman of yours. Tell me, what’s she like? She must be really pretty to have caught your eye?”
“Pretty… Yes, of course she’s pretty, that’s one of the main properties of a wife, isn’t it?” Nutter replied rather defensively.
“Well, do go on.” I said, expecting a little more juicy details.
Nutter inclined his head as though rummaging through a drawer of memories.
“The brightness of her cheek would shame the stars as daylight does a lamp, her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing, and think it weren’t night.”
In my peripheral vision I saw Jeeves stop mid-air while pouring water into my glass and then resume his task with the tiniest jolt as if he had just been assaulted by a silent hiccup. Dashed odd. Either way, as strangely familiar as Nutter’s words sounded to my ears, they had impressed me.
“Nutter, your words impress me.” I said, lifting my now refilled glass as a toast, “You must introduce me to this girl of yours at your earliest convenience.”
Nutter nodded with a hint of red now colouring his formerly pale cheeks.
We went on to have luncheon in somewhat better spirits than it had started and once we were done, now seated in a pair of armchairs, Jeeves followed through with his promise to share some advice with Nutter.
“The first thing I would recommend, sir, is to try and elicit more information out of the lady as to the level of her reciprocation.”
“Aha!” I exclaimed, earning a slight twitch of Jeeves’s left eyebrow.
“Sir?”
“Oh, it’s just that that’s basically what I told Nutter yesterday. I think I’m starting to get the hang of the psychology of the individual, what?”
“As you say, sir.” Jeeves said in a tone that seemed to leave some room for debate, “Secondly, sir,” Jeeves turned to face Nutter once more, “I would suggest you do some research on the things that the lady takes interest in and show that you in turn respect them, for instance discussing literature if she is an avid reader or taking her to a concert to hear her favourite piece of music.”
Nutter kept nodding as he listened intently.
“And finally, sir, when the time is ripe to propose, a romantic atmosphere is key. Too often have I come to see attempts of this nature fail when a gentleman has deemed it appropriate to get down on one knee in places the likes of a meat shop.”
I boggled at Jeeves.
“A meat shop?”
“Yes, sir.” Jeeves said in a regretful tone.
“Good Lord! Well, you mustn’t fall into that same trap, Nutter, you hear me? No matter how strong a calling you may feel towards the meatiest meat shop, you’ve got to go for something more romantic. Like... like a secluded restaurant or a beach at sunset, am I right, Jeeves?”
“Such alternatives would indeed be much more suitable, sir.”
“Right.” Nutter said, then added for good measure, “Right.”
Before I knew it, he had pushed himself up from his armchair and was already heading towards the door.
“Er, Nutter, old thing, are you quite alright?” I hollered after him.
“Never better! See you soon, Bertie, pip pip!” He replied, exited stage right and left us to our perplexity.
Jeeves and I exchanged meaningful looks but decided to say no more about it. It was clear what the other was thinking.
Nutter was brewing something, and it didn’t appear to be anything good.
To both our surprise Nutter came round to the cottage later that very same day, and whatever low mood had overtaken him before, it must have evaporated into nothingness while he had been out. I’d go so far as to say the man was practically beaming.
“This is the day, Bertie, I’ve just decided – the best course of action is to be over and done with it before the nerves get the best of me!”
I didn’t need any more clues as to what he was planning. But as confident as the man seemed to be, I felt my own confidence weaken by the second.
“Er, I’m pleased to hear you seem to have mustered the required courage, Nutter, but are you quite sure about this? I mean, isn’t this rather sudden? I remember Jeeves going over at least three points when it comes to this whole proposing saga and you seem to be skipping some parts. Have you really thought everything through?”
“Like what?”
“Well… Like starting with the fact, do you have sufficient proof she’s open to the idea of you popping the question?”
“That’s rich coming from you, proposing to people left and right with little regard to how long you’ve known them.”
I was taken aback by this sudden offence.
“I say, I’m only trying to help you, old thing. And there’s really no need to be so harsh – I can hardly help the fact that I’ve become a lightning rod of unsolicited engagements over the years. But even setting that aside, how about those interests of hers? Have you familiarised yourself with them at all?”
“I was rather thinking I could skip that part and get straight to the proposing. I mean, there’s all the time in the world afterwards for that sort of a thing, right?”
I felt deflated.
“Then what about the romantic atmosphere at least?
Nutter grinned.
“Now that I’ve got covered.”
“Really?” I said hopefully, “What’s the place you have chosen?”
“Oh, I haven’t chosen anything. She did.”
“Oh? So she knows something’s up?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Nutter said sincerely with a frown, and I believed him, “But it’s supposed to be a surprise, what?”
“Yes, but look here, if it’s a bad one—”
“—Anyhow, just wanted to come and tell you so you can wish me good luck!”
“Of course I’ll wish you good luck, Nutter, it’s just that this is most…” I didn’t even know how to finish my sentence.
Before I let Nutter take his leave, as he seemed quite eager to go and ‘prepare’, whatever that meant, I made him spill the beans as to where he was supposed to meet his girl and at what time. I had a really bad feeling about all this, you see, and I told Jeeves as much when he came out of the kitchen where he had been polishing the silvers and had apparently heard every single word.
“Tell me, am I wrong for thinking there is something really fishy about this whole thing?”
“No, sir, one would be amiss not to give your observation merit.”
I was glad someone was on my side at least. Something told me I had better follow the man to see what he was up to. I asked Jeeves to join me, and he agreed that we had better gather some information first hand as my friend might not have been the most reliable narrator. That, and I thought it was good for Nutter to have some security forces on board in case something went horribly wrong.
And so it was a couple of hours later that we found ourselves seated at a table at this restaurant that was going to set the scene for the great spectacle. We looked around us in hopes we might see some lone woman waiting for her man to arrive, but we were practically surrounded by couples. Which made Jeeves and I rather stand out, what amidst all the lit candles and the romantic music playing in the background. I was just about to tell him this when I finally spotted my friend. He was handsomely dressed and wore a red carnation on his lapel, a fine touch I thought, and for a moment I was rekindled with hope that perhaps I had been too cynical about this whole thing and all would be well.
Nutter didn’t appear to have noticed us, which was probably for the best given how he had to be rather nervous as it was, and instead strutted his way towards a table where a fair-haired lady was currently enjoying her meal. It was at right this moment that I was faced with a third degree problem. Before you jump to any conclusions, however, let me make one thing very clear – there was absolutely nothing wrong with the woman in question. In fact, she was quite the beauty and certainly deserving of all the poetic praise Nutter had sung for her, but you see, she also happened to be in the company of another man. Now, it was perfectly possible of course that the man was simply her brother or perhaps some other relative. But it was also perfectly possible that he wasn’t.
Yet even adopting the most innocent assumption regarding the identity of the lady’s dinner companion, there is one rule all men should know, and it’s that you don’t make a move on fillies when they’re in the bally presence of another bloke!
But then, Nutter had never had a particular gift for either wit or discretion, and so, there he was, spouting away nonsense while he refused to read the increasingly awkward room.
“Er, good evening. So, yes, I... um… I was wondering if you would find it a terrible inconvenience to consider the possibility of my asking you to—”
“—This is painful to watch, Jeeves.” I whispered to Jeeves.
“Indeed, sir.” He agreed with feeling.
The poor girl gawked at Nutter for a split of a second, even that an act of great mercy if you ask me, then turned to face her companion and asked, “Darling, who in the world is this? Do you know him?”
My jaw fell to the floor. And I think I might have heard Jeeves’s do the same. No matter how much evidence had been piling up against him, I had truly wanted to give Nutter the benefit of the doubt, but clearly the man was a lost cause.
But the time for surprises wasn’t over, as Nutter had deemed this to be the proper moment to go down on one knee. We watched him in horror and disbelief, and before I knew it, I had grabbed onto Jeeves’s arm with such a vice grip that it made him wince.
“Good Lord, Jeeves, please tell me my eyes are deceiving me!”
“I fear that your visual perception in this instance is correct, sir. It would appear that your friend is just about to ask for her hand in marriage.”
“But surely a chap should know one cannot propose to a lady when she doesn’t even know you! Not to mention you can’t very well approach her, never mind pop the question, when she sits right next to her intended!”
“One might indeed consider it a fair question as to where Mr Nutford has gained his knowledge regarding the topic of social norms, sir.”
“If by that you mean to say one might consider it a fair question as to how many times Nutter has hit his head as a nipper to turn out like this, I would have to agree!”
But before Nutter could open his mouth once more, the man sitting by the table had sprung up from his seat and towered threateningly over him.
“I say, aren’t you the same chap who’s been stalking us on the beach for weeks now? What’s this? Trying to steal my girl, are you?”
“Oh, I do say—” Nutter stammered, his eyes suddenly wide, but he was robbed of his freedom of speech by being clocked square in the face.
I thought this was the perfect cue for me and Jeeves to come out of hiding and collect the stunned man to save him from further embarrassment and an increasingly likely trip to the hospital. We issued our hasty apologies to the couple, making up a cover story that the man had had an eye surgery gone horribly wrong and had simply mistaken the young lady to be someone else.
We dragged Nutter’s limp body away from the scene as metaphorical daggers were still glared at our backs.
“Nutter.” I said after a long silence when we finally found ourselves outside, “when you said there’s this girl you’ve ‘been seeing’…”