First Meeting, a jeeves fanfic

"Come on, Pauline!"

Pauline sighed and walked up to the gates of Chufnel Hall. "Daddy, do we have to do this?"

"What's wrong, honey?"

"This isn't a museum or an amusement park. It's someone's home. People live there."

"Yeah, and those people are accepting money to let other people see their house. It's business."

"I don't care. I still feel like a peeping..." Pauline's voice trailed off as a man came out of the hall to open the gates. He was certainly handsome; tall, sandy blond hair, boyish smile with impossibly deep dimples.

"Welcome to Chufnel Hall. I assume you are Mr. Stoker and his daughter Miss Stoker here for the tour."

"Right on the money!" Mr. Stoker stuck his hand out for the young man to shake which he did. "And you'll be our guide?"

"Indeed. I am Baron Chufnel, at your service."

Baron...

"And here's my daughter, Pauline Stoker."

"Miss Stoker." He bowed, kissing her hand. Pauline blushed and yet a little more as he straightened and she realized his eyes were hazel, flecked with dark green. "Shall we?"

The hall was beautiful. Clearly people had worked hard to keep the place up. Yet, the only servants appeared to be an ancient butler, a cook, two maids and a grounds keeper.

They came to a parlor.

"Whereas this..."

But Pauline's father had spotted a case on the other side of the room. "Say, what are these medals for?"

"Oh..." a slight look of anxiety seemed to cross the Baron's face for a moment. "They're really nothing."

"Sure look like something to me."

"Daddy, Baron Chufnel clearly doesn't want to..."

"Who's paying for this tour anyway?"

"Daddy!"

"It's quite all right, Miss Stoker." He looked at her father. "Those medals were awarded to myself and my brother in law at the close of the Great War. In his case, posthumously." His chin quivered for a fraction of a second.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Pauline nearly reached out and touched his arm.

"Thank you, Miss Stoker. You are kind." He tried to conjure up that broad grin from before but it didn't quite come off.

"Daddy, I think we've seen enough of the house for now, don't you?"

"Oh, are you tired, Miss Stoker? I am sorry. I ought to have thought."

"It's all right."

"Would you care to join me for tea?"

"That would be lovely. OK with you, daddy?"

"Sure! Why not?"

"I'd best go and get the service. I fear the old family retainer isn't up to much lifting these days."

"I'll give you a hand."

"Miss Stoker, I won't hear it. You're a guest."

"Nonsense. Besides, it's every girls dream to play house in a castle. It'll be fun." Pauline walked to the door. "Coming?"

The Baron followed her with a look of wry amusement after inviting her father to take a seat.

Pauline carefully sliced cucumbers into almost transparent rounds and placed them on the lightly buttered bread.

The Baron smiled at her as he poured boiling water into the tea pot. "Thank you for your help, Miss Stoker. My sister normally does the sandwiches but she had to take her son Seaburry up to London for some sundry purposes."

"Oh thats good... I mean I'm glad that you've got family here. I thought apart from those couple of servants that you live here by yourself."

"Oh no."

Pauline started cutting the sandwiches into triangles. "I'm sorry if I'm getting a bit personal here but... does it bother you to have strangers just walking through your home like this?"

He shrugged. "I have responsibilities Miss Stoker. And whether it bothers me or no, the money from the tours helps me meet them."

"Of course. Well that's the sandwiches ready." She picked up the tray of sandwiches and placed it on the trolly along with the tea set and half a seed cake.

The Baron wheeled the car out. Pauline followed and smiled as she noticed how his otherwise sleek blond hair fluffed at the back.

It was not long before the Stokers heard from Baron Chufnel again. He was looking to sell the hall.

"He's coming to New York?"

"That's right, honey."

"But... daddy that doesn't make any sense. The property is in England. Why can't we go there?

"The upper hand, Pauline. You want your dad to have the upper hand, don't you?"

I'm not so sure...

At about 8 am, Pauline came inside, fresh from her daily ride. Her mother had taught her the value of taking care of her own things so the bucket she'd used to rub down her horse after wards still swung from her arm. She was about to take off her riding gloves when she noticed a suitcase in the hall and peered round to the main entrance area.

The Baron had arrived and was asleep in one of the chairs. Pauline smiled but that faded as she got nearer. He was terribly pale, almost gray. There was a thin film of sweat on his face and as Pauline touched his shoulder to wake him, she winced at the heat he radiated.

"Baron..." She shook his shoulder gently. "Baron...wake up."

"Huh?!" He startled awake and looked at her, confused at first but then his face cleared a little. "Miss Stoker. So sorry... I must have dozed off."

"That's ok. Nothing to be sorry for. Pardon me for saying so but, you don't look very well."

As if on cue, he began to shiver violently, teeth rattling. Pauline looked around for a blanket, something to put round him. She found his own coat on the floor so got that about his shoulders.

She thought about asking if he wanted her to show him to a guest room but judged that he was shaking too hard to stand. He gestured emphatically towards the bucket she held.

"Forgive me... I..."

Pauline thrust the bucket under him just in time. He vomited. Pauline instinctively placed a steadying hand against his forehead and used the other to rub his back.

When it was finally over, he leaned back against the chair with a groan.

"Done?"

He nodded, looking equal parts miserable and ashamed.

"It's ok." She stood up. "I'll be right back."

"Beatrice!"

"Miss Pauline."

"I need you to dump and clean this bucket for me. And call Doctor Jones. Daddy's guest the Baron is sick."

"Yes, Miss Pauline."

Pauline swung by the sitting room and pumped some plain seltzer water into a glass. She brought it back to where the Baron sat, color improved marginally and shaking less hard.

"Try and sip this. It's just some seltzer water."

He took the glass from her and did as she said.

After a time, she asked. "Do you think you could manage to get to your room? It's the first guest bed on the second floor."

He nodded and stood up slowly. Pauline walked beside him up the stairs and down the hall.

Upon arrival, he dropped down on the bed. Pauline placed a hand against his forehead. He was burning up.

She looked at him sprawled on the bed in his tweed suit. There was no help for it. He was going to roast to death in all that. She took off his jacket and dress shirt and decided she was making the right call. His shirt was damp with sweat. She left the undershirt and blushed more with shame than embarrassment as she noticed his broad shoulders and trim waist. It just seemed wrong to ogle an exhausted, delirious man with no notion of what was happening. Especially when she noticed the scar on his shoulder.

Was that from the war?

She shook her head and considered for a moment how to do the rest. Then she remembered a trick her mother had taught her. In life, she had been determined that she and Em had learned among other things, practical nursing. She got the Baron under the blankets, pulled them up to his knees to take off his shoes, socks and garters. She covered his legs and rolled the blankets down to his waist and undid the flies. Then she tucked the blankets back up over his chest and went to the foot of the bed and removed his trousers starting from the cuffs. Those came away but whatever he used for underwear stayed on and a mystery under the blankets.

She then removed the down comforter and placed that at the foot of the bed, leaving the young man covered by the sheet and a single light blanket.

There was a knock at the door. Pauline went to answer.

It was the housekeeper. "Doctor Jones is on his way, Miss."

"Thank you, Beatrice. Could you send up one bowl of ice water, another of ice chips and a clean bucket?"

"Of course, Miss."

Pauline touched an ice chip to dry, cracked lips. "Here. I need you to take this and let it dissolve slowly, ok?"

He did.

Pauline pressed a cool cloth to his forehead. "Our doctor is on his way to take a look at you."

"I fear I've been a great deal of trouble. It's kind of you to bother about me."

"Don't be silly. It's awful to be sick and away from home."

"Um... if it's not an indelicate question... what's happened to my suit?"

"I sent it down to be laundered. You'd pretty much soaked it through."

"Who..."

"Uh... me." Pauline found she couldn't lie about that to him.

"You?" His face colored from something other than fever.

"Under the blankets." She hastily explained. "I promise I did not see anything more than arms on one end and knees on the other."

"Ah..." He sounded relieved but then the shakes returned. He sat up.

This time Pauline was ready. She grabbed the fresh bucket Beatrice had brought for her and put it to use.

It was long, painful, brought up nothing but water and stomach acid and left the sick man with tears on his cheeks as he lay down again.

Pauline wiped the tears away, wanting to cry herself and so glad she had Beatrice call the doctor.

Pauline came downstairs, finally showered and changed out of her riding gear. Doctor Jones had arrived a while ago and Pauline left him alone to examine the Baron.

Her father was downstairs. "Hi Honey. Have you seen the Baron?"

"I have as a matter of fact." Pauline spoke tersely.

"Well where is he?"

"Upstairs with Doctor Jones."

"Upstairs with..."

"He's sick dad. He has a fever and has been throwing up all morning." Pauline shook her head. "Is that enough upper-hand for you now? It's bad enough he's having to sell his own home, get dragged halfway around the world for the 'privilege' of doing so and now on top of all that he can't hold down water!"

"You watch your tone young lady! And it's not my fault he caught something on the ship!"

"You sure contributed!" Pauline turned around and stalked back up the stairs.

"And where are you going?"

"To see if Doctor Jones is finished and check on our guest!"

"What is it, Doctor?" Pauline had not been at the door more than a few minutes when Doctor Jones left the room, closing the door behind him.

"I would say the 24 hour flu. Most likely he caught it near the end of his voyage over or upon arrival in New York. With proper rest and fluids he should be better by tomorrow morning."

"Beatrice, more ice chips please."

"Yes, Miss."

The doctor smiled. "You seem to have things well in hand as usual, Pauline. Call me in the morning if the fever has not broken or he still can't keep anything down."

"I will. Thank you, doctor."

He tipped his hat and left.

Morning sunshine streamed in through the window. Baron Chufnel sat up in bed sipping a cup of beef tea. Pauline briefly placed the back of her hand against his forehead.

"Well your fever hasn't come back since I took your temperature earlier. And if that tea settles, I think we are out of the woods. You'll just need to take it a little easy today.

"Miss Stoker I... I'm a bit overwhelmed. You've been so terribly kind through this whole sorry affair."

"Sorry... Baron what did I say about apologizing for being sick?"

"That I mustn't."

"Exactly."

"I just don't know what to say otherwise."

"How about saying 'Pauline' instead of 'Miss Stoker?'"

He turned a little red. "Miss Stoker if I were to do that I should have to tell you my given name and I confess I have been avoiding that."

"Why? What is your given name?"

He winced. "Marmaduke."

"Marmaduke it is then."

"And I will endure it for the pleasure of calling you Pauline."

"Deal."

The last night of Marmaduke's stay in America, Alexander Worpleston was throwing a party. The Stokers and their guest were invited.

Amid the soft music and candle light, Pauline sipped a glass of champagne and thought what a fine figure Marmaduke cut in Gent's evening attire. She approached him.

"Marmaduke... we have been here for nearly an hour and I haven't seen you dance with a soul, let alone ask me."

"I fear I am not much of a dancer, Pauline."

"Nonsense! I don't believe it. Besides, even if you're not it doesn't matter. I'll be your secret weapon."

"How?"

"Ask me to dance and I'll show you."

"Very well. May I have this dance, Pauline."

"Thought you'd never ask."

She set her now empty glass down on the tray of a passing waiter and they went onto the floor together.

"Mr. Worpleston likes old-fashioned music. There's a waltz playing which is really easy." She took Marmaduke's right hand in her left and placed her other hand against his back. When he did the same to her, it felt like a circuit completed. Even through his slight nervousness his hands were both strong and gentle.

They began.

"I say!" He exclaimed. "You are a bit of a secret weapon, aren't you?"

"Told you!" Pauline laughed. She was suddenly giddy with the wine and having Marmaduke so close to her. "It's a knack I have for making men feel like they can dance. And trust me you are a piece of cake compared to our host."

"Mr. Worpleston?"

"Uh huh. Last year, daddy was trying to cut a deal with him for some jute to use in his car interiors. Amid the negotiations we went to a party and I took a few turns with the old fellow just to help daddy sweeten and seal the deal."

"Really?"

"Sure. I help daddy with his deals all the time. They call it the old soft-soap."

"I see." Marmaduke's back suddenly stiffened. He dropped her hand. "Excuse me, Miss Stoker."

"Marmaduke?" She called after him as he walked away.

The realization of what she just said sobered Pauline like a splash of icy water to the face. "He thinks I was just... oh no!" Pauline ran out to the garden and burst into tears.

The initial storm was over but Pauline still felt much to upset to show her face at the party. She decided to walk around the garden first.

As she did she found Marmaduke, sitting on a bench much like the one she had just vacated. His head rested in his hands and he berated himself for being a fool.

"Marmaduke?"

He startled and looked up at her. "Miss Stoker!" He stood. "I do apologize. I should not have walked off so abruptly. I trust I didn't hurt your feelings?"

"Oh stop!" Pauline felt her eyes welling again. "You didn't hurt my feelings, Marmaduke. I am mortified that I think I've hurt yours." She sat down beside him. "Nothing I said applied to you at all. I swear it didn't. Though I don't blame you if you don't believe me." She brightened a bit as she thought of something. "There is one thing though. Something I swore on my mother's grave that I would never ever do to help dad in a business deal, ever."

"What?"

"This..." She took his face in her hands and kissed him, full on the mouth. He began to reciprocate and the kiss deepened.

It lasted longer than anticipated but not long enough. They drew apart and held each other's gaze for a time.

Finally Marmaduke spoke. "Pauline... we never did finish that dance. Would you care to?"

"Of course." She took his hand and they went back to the party.

"Goodbye Pauline. Sweet of you to see me off." Marmaduke stood in line at the gang plank.

"My pleasure. I just didn't want you leaving in the same manner as you arrived."

"After two weeks of your chef's cooking as opposed to cruise fair that would seem unlikely."

"I meant by yourself."

"Ah. Well thank you... for that and everything."

"I'm looking forward to September, when we'll come see you at the Hall."

"As am I."

Pauline reached up and kissed him once more, as she had at the party, save it was perhaps a bit longer.

Even so as they drew apart Pauline thought Is it September yet?

"Goodbye."

She watched him walk up the gangplank onto the ship, watched the ship pull away.

"September..."