Jeeves and the confounding matter of the incredible Jelly
It is illogical. Ridiculous even, humiliating. Completely unbefitting of any man, let alone one of Jeeves' disposition.
He cannot help himself. He is jealous.
It is the food called "jelly" that has him disconcertingly experiencing such an un pleasant emotion.
To be more exact, it is the jelly and his master joined in passion on the settee, Bertram clutching the bowl to his bosom protectively and, forgetting himself, lavishing the spoon with little licks of his tongue quite impolitely, moaning for more and adamantly professing his love as though he were a lover and it his beloved.
He does not think claiming that Bertie quite firmly intends for it to become one with him would be exaggerating matters. One might even go so far as to say that Bertram Wooster has intentions towards this jelly. The jelly has no such intentions. It merely lays there, patiently waiting to be devoured.
Jeeves subtly peeks at his master cheerfully waving the spoon around, managing to splatter the glaucous grey shirt Jeeves had lovingly picked out for him in the morning with small green specks without a care in the world, as though a great calamity was not happening at the very moment. And yet the reason he cannot avert his eyes is not because of horror, though naturally, he wishes it was.
If he truly does tend to appear as imperturbable as a statue, as he has on many occasions been equally accused of and admired for, often by the same individual at once, this time it is not due to superior self-control and acting, but merely because he is frozen in befuddlement and surprised arousal.
But it is almost unbearable, how far he has fallen and how quickly, and all because of such a silly man and his fervent appreciation of a yet sillier food.
Some miniscule part of him that he quickly stifles shamefully admits that right now, he wants to be that jelly.
It is a deeply confounding sensation.
Fortunately sanity returns to him in time to prevent having to seriously question whether prolonged sexual abstinence is indeed starting to get to him; if he is not quite as above such matters as he thought he was. If his body rules his brain, after all, not the other way around, as he had previously liked to assume. Not that he isn't aware of his body's needs; he simply believed he had them under better control than this. But perhaps it's merely that the way Bertie looks right now, so joyful and enraptured, is bound to enchant anyone who is inclined towards men in return, Jeeves included, to gaze upon him with similar desire. Quite possibly Jeeves is simply biased due to his own substantial affection for his master.
Unseen by the man, who in any case is busy giving his undivided attention to a blob of wiggling green slime instead of his valet - who, in his own humble opinion, is perhaps less ravishing in looks but still of far superior nature - Jeeves' eyebrows are telling a tale of woe and anger. No, it cannot be borne any longer.
His return to the kitchen is swift, and silent. He immediately proceeds to dispose of the remaining jelly, quick, efficient, and if it is also done somewhat wrathfully, no one need ever know that Reginald Jeeves was once moved by jelly.