Jeeves and the Wedding Bells (6 page)

‘Most satisfactory, sir. I have already consulted the books in question and it seems that the present Lord Etringham is seventy-eight years old.’

‘Golly, Jeeves. Just as well, what?’

‘Indeed, sir. I have further established—’

But at this moment there came the sound of someone hammering at the front door of Seaview Cottage and Jeeves disappeared to investigate. I toyed with the idea of picking up
By Pullman to Peking
again, but decided against.

‘Mr Beeching, sir.’

I stood up to see the friend of my infancy coming over the lawn with an anxious look on his face. This in itself didn’t concern me; he would wear that air of startled apprehension even when the Rev. Aubrey Upjohn was announcing that yet
again the Mrs Montague Prize for Latin Verses had gone to Beeching, P.

‘What ho, Woody. All well at the Hall?’

Woody let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Yes and no. Or perhaps that should be no and yes. In the sense of the background picture, I suppose one—’

‘Do get to the point, old chap.’

‘Things are looking bleak for Sir Henry. His accountant is coming down from London. He’s in a filthy temper. Amelia won’t speak to me. And Jeeves is coming to dinner.’

‘Yes, I heard you got into a stew and made up some silly name. Who is this Etringham fellow?’

‘I got his name from a friend of mine in chambers. He’s a real person, but he’s a recluse. He lives in Westmorland and studies fossils. He hasn’t left his house for years. This pal of mine always signs himself into the loucher establishments in the West End under the name of Lord Etringham. He says it’s an absolutely bulletproof alias.’

Jeeves shimmered up with a cup of tea for Woody.

‘It may be bulletproof to the heavyweight on the door of the Pink Owl in Brewer Street,’ I said, ‘but not to a raving snob like old Hackwood.’

‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ said Woody. ‘He’s going to look him up in—’

I held up a hand for silence, then broke the good news.

‘I say, that was quick work,’ said Woody. ‘Both books safely out of sight?’

‘Think nothing of it, young Woody. Now you’d better brief
his lordship here,’ I said, nodding towards Jeeves, ‘about the Hackwood ménage – subjects to steer clear of, buttons to push and so forth.’

In short – though it was far from short in the oratory of Gray’s Inn – the set-up was as follows: Sir Henry Hackwood was a peppery old cove whose main interests were horseflesh, cricket and hanging on to his house. Lady Hackwood was his glacial consort, someone whose manner apparently made the Arctic Circle look balmy and who was deeply disappointed by the turn of financial events. Amelia and Georgiana completed the home team. The visitors included Georgiana’s intended, R. Venables – who must have been the lean party I glimpsed through the drawing-room window – and his parents.

‘Sir Henry’s keen to get the parents onside for obvious reasons,’ said Woody. ‘So he’s rather pushing the boat out for them. You may remember the father. They call him “Vishnu” Venables because he’s always going on about his time in India. He bores for Bengal. He made those two speeches when his daughter married Reggie Wentworth.’

‘Golly,’ I said, ‘was that him? I’d forgotten Reggie’s bride was a Venables. I knew the name rang a bell.’

Reggie Wentworth was an Oxford chum whose wedding reception had been at Claridge’s a couple of years back. The old family friend who was billed to recall bouncing the bride on his knee as a child had cried off sick, so the father took it on himself. But himself was also what he talked about. There was no mention of Reggie and scant reference to the bride. What there was, on the other hand, was twenty minutes of
the achievements of Sidney ‘Vishnu’ Venables as Collector of Chanamasala and how the Viceroy had told the Governor of Uttar Pradesh that S. Venables was the finest thing to have come out of England since the Thames at Tilbury – and a great deal more in this vein. The audience had given him a warmish, if baffled, hand as he sat down. But blow me down if ten minutes later he didn’t spring up on to the stage and call us to order so he could have a second innings, including, if I remembered right, details of his exam results at Oxford.

‘And what’s Mrs Venables like?’ I asked. ‘Apart from long-suffering?’

‘Almost silent,’ said Woody. ‘She looks like a large cat. She smiles and purrs, but seldom speaks.’

A thought came to me. ‘By the way, Woody, are you sure you can a keep a straight face when Jeeves sits down to dinner with you?’

‘Of course I can.’

‘Might I suggest, sir,’ said Jeeves, ‘that since Miss Meadowes is already aware of Mr Wooster’s presence in the village that it would be a good idea for you to inform Miss Hackwood of the true nature of the situation? One would not wish the young lady to betray surprise at any future turn of events.’

‘All right,’ said Woody. ‘I suppose the whole thing’s my fault anyway. I’ll tell Amelia that Lord Etringham is an imposter and not to be startled if she bumps into some prize lunatic in the village. She knows Bertie by reputation anyway.’

I allowed this slur to pass, and it was a somewhat reassured Woody who made his way off some minutes later to prepare
for the wassail, while Jeeves and I repaired inside to consider the delicate question of what he should be wearing.

He was got up in a pretty convincing combination of his and my evening clothes when I shoved him into the old two-seater at the cocktail hour and waved him off Hallwards.

As the car disappeared from sight, I felt a sharp sensation in the pit of the stomach. For a moment I thought it was an unwelcome revisitation of the ham sandwich from lunchtime, but then I thought it might be something else that was giving me the gripe. Could it conceivably be the idea that it was ‘Lord Etringham’ and not Wooster, B. who would be dining with, and very possibly sitting next to, Georgiana Meadowes?

Turning on my heel and re-entering Seaview Cottage, I dismissed the thought as unworthy and put my mind to the question of how best to reconcile Amelia Hackwood to the worthy case of P. Beeching, barrister-at-law.

WHATEVER COURSE DINNER
might be taking at Melbury Hall – and the possibilities made the head spin a bit – I felt it important to keep my own strength up for what lay ahead, so soon after eight I sallied out in search of sustenance. The Red Lion was a four-ale bar with a handful of low-browed sons of toil who looked as though they might be related to one another in ways frowned on by the Old Testament. The Hare and Hounds, a hundred yards further up the road, at least had a saloon where the traveller could feel he wasn’t dropping in on some Saxon blood feud. I was soon settled into a window seat with a pint of local ale and plateful of hot steak and kidney p.
The Mystery of the Gabled House
helped beguile the hour, and it was a contented B. Wooster who ambled back to Seaview Cottage inhaling the whiff of hawthorn from the hedgerows.

Night had fallen some time since and I had got as far as the
discovery of the second corpse in Chapter Five when I heard the rumble of the two-seater pulling up outside. I was already at the front door by the time Jeeves had extricated himself and turned off the headlights.

‘Well, Jeeves? I’m all ears.’

‘I trust you passed a satisfactory evening, sir. I’m sorry I was unable to be of—’

‘To hell with
my
evening. What happened at the Hall? Were you discovered?’

‘No, sir. I am happy to say the impersonation aroused no comment.’

‘Jeeves, this is no time for reticence. I want a full report. Omit nothing, however trivial.’

‘Very well, sir, I shall endeavour to paint a coherent picture.’

After a cocktail in the drawing room, it seemed, the company had moved into a great barn of a dining room at the front of the house. Jeeves had found himself placed between Georgiana Meadowes and Eileen Venables, mother of the intended Rupert.

‘And what about Sir Henry?’ I asked.

‘He seemed keen to impress his visitors. His hospitality was marked.’

‘The wine flowed in torrents? Second helpings of foie gras?’

‘One gained the impression that this was perhaps a last throw of the dice, sir.’

‘I see. And how did the … happy couple appear?’

‘It was somewhat difficult to form a judgement, sir. The conversation was dominated to a great extent by Mr Sidney
Venables, who told a number of stories of his time as Collector of Chanamasala.’

‘You surprise me not at all, Jeeves. All of them perhaps reflecting well on S. Venables?’

‘The gentleman appears to have been held in high esteem by all who encountered him.’

‘And Georgiana? How was she?’

‘A most enchanting young woman, sir. I have seldom encountered anyone with whom I have been able to discuss the work of Schopenhauer in a manner so informed yet so light of touch. Miss Meadowes mixes high seriousness with a most playful outlook. She would also appear to have a rare concern for the welfare of others. I formed a most—’

‘All right, all right, Jeeves. Don’t forget I do know the girl pretty darned well myself.’

‘I beg your pardon, sir. I had not intended to—’

‘What about young Venables?’

‘Mr Rupert Venables seemed most delighted with his situation in life, sir. I had the impression that he had inherited many of his father’s characteristics, though he was happy on this occasion to yield the floor, as it were.’

‘And what was his attitude towards Georgiana?’

Jeeves considered. One could almost hear the cogwheels of that great brain whirring as he selected the
mot juste
. It was a pity that, when it came, it was one with which I was unfamiliar.

‘I should say his attitude was complaisant, sir.’

‘Complacent, do you mean?’

‘I fancy either adjective might apply, sir.’

‘Hmm.’ While unsure of the difference, I was fairly certain neither was quite up to snuff.

‘Tell me, Jeeves,’ I said. ‘One thing I don’t understand is how this writer chap is going to rescue Melbury Hall. Do his books sell in such great quantities?’

‘I doubt it, sir. The literary life is famously ill-rewarded.’

‘So it’s the father’s loot, is it?’

‘No, sir. The Colonial Service pension, even for such a celebrated civil servant, would be a modest one. The family’s fortune derives from the mother’s side. Mrs Venables is a Spanier.’

‘A Spaniard?’

‘A Spanier, sir. Of Spanier’s Sausage Casings. They are a large Wiltshire company of considerable repute. They hold a royal warrant granted by the late queen. They were recently bought by an American processed-food concern. Mrs Venables was the majority shareholder following the death of her parents. She is now a non-executive director of Hickory Hog Holdings in Cincinnati.’

I let out a whistle. ‘That should cover it.’

‘The company also owns a proprietary relish or catsup, that you may have encountered in New York, sir.’

‘By golly, Jeeves, not “Hickory Hot Boy”—’

‘The very—’

‘“It’s Smokin’ Good!”’

‘So I am assured, sir, though I have not had occasion to sample the condiment myself.’

‘And you gleaned this from the horse’s mouth as it were?’

‘Mrs Venables was generous with the details, sir. While less garrulous than her husband, she appears similarly contented with the hand that life has dealt her.’

‘I’m not surprised. Which brings us to the case of poor old Woody. Any rays of light there?’

‘I fear not, sir. Sir Henry was somewhat offhand in his manner towards Mr Beeching. And Miss Hackwood refused to pass him the salt, repeatedly affecting not to hear his request.’

‘I see. The doghouse. Poor Woody. And Venables? Did he throw him a bone?’

‘Mr Venables’s attitude could I think best be described as patronising, sir. Miss Meadowes was the only person who attempted to include Mr Beeching in the conversation.’

‘What about Lady H?’ I said. ‘Surely the hostess was at least polite?’

‘Lady Hackwood’s manner was on the chilly side.’

‘Arctic?’

‘A degree or two above, sir. Enough to attain a modicum of civility, but little more. One had the impression that were it not for the cricket match on Saturday Mr Beeching’s presence would not be tolerated.’

I was turning this information over in the mind and I didn’t much like what I saw.

‘I trust the Côte d’Azur was not mentioned?’

‘It was briefly alluded to by Mr Rupert Venables, sir.’

‘Really? You surprise me greatly.’

‘He appeared to be chaffing or teasing his fiancée, sir.’

‘Golly. That’s a bit rich. And how did she take it?’

‘She was able to make light of it, sir, though I saw her
cast a warning glance towards Sir Henry, at which point the young gentleman desisted. Sir Henry’s expression was not encouraging.’

‘I should think not.’

‘Will there be anything else this evening, sir?’

‘Hang on, Jeeves. Were there any sticky moments when you thought you might be rumbled? Did Sir Henry mention Burke or Debrett?’

‘Neither, sir. The subterfuge passed off with an ease I had not foreseen. Having a long acquaintance with country houses, I was familiar with the etiquette. Mr Venables made it unnecessary for the other guests to speak to the floor, as it were, so I ran no risk of exposure there.’