Jeeves and the Blind Master
by Gracefultree
Chapter 10: The Matter of Biffy and Mabel
Posted: July 3, 2015
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Our first evening back in London I allowed the conversation we'd been putting off while we stayed with my friend Chuffy. That Jeeves's sister was right there, with her family, didn't help matters, either. She'd come to love me, as a brother, of course, and cried when we left.
"You be good to Reggie, now, you hear?" she asked me in a whisper as she hugged me goodbye. "And don't put up with his guff either. He needs someone to knock him down every so often."
"Jeeves," I said, calling him over to the sofa, happy to be back on familiar ground, so to speak. In my own flat, with what things of mine remained after the fire, and Jeeves in his lair down the hall from me. "Sit with me."
He stopped doing whatever he was doing and glided over, taking a careful seat on one of the chairs.
"No, next to me," I told him. "And get us both drinks."
"Very good, sir," he responded, doing as I asked without hesitation. He knew this talk had been coming as long as I did, and knowing him, he had spent days worth of hours thinking about it. I might not have put as much effort into it, not being as gifted with the grey matter as he, but I'd done my fair share and I wanted him to know it.
"I always —"
"I never —"
We started talking at once, of course.
"I always intended to return to your service, sir," he said, touching my hand to tell me he wanted to talk first. "I intended to teach you a lesson, to show you that you needed me," he continued, his voice full of shame and guilt. "I would never have put you in a situation as dangerous as the one posed by Brinkley if I had known, sir."
"Dash it, Jeeves, I already knew I couldn't go on without you!"
"I was being arrogant, sir," he admitted reluctantly. "I was wrong."
"Yes, you were," I said firmly.
He paused, perhaps surprised at my stance. I wasn't usually that resolute.
"But so was I," I amended. "I brought up things I shouldn't have."
"Sir, you were correct in assessing my aloofness."
"But there was no need for me to mention, you know." I looked away from him, not wanting to see his reaction. There are times, and this was one of them, when I was glad I couldn't see. I didn't want to see the anger on his face. The fear of exposure my comments must have made in him.
"You were, perhaps, a bit hasty in your comments, sir," he said. I didn't hear anger in his voice. It was more like dull resignation to the circumstances. "A hotel suite is hardly the location to have such a discussion," he added.
"No, probably not," I agreed. "I knew it then, but I'd already said it."
"I accept your apology, sir," he responded.
We sat in silence for a minute, our hands clasped, digesting what had just been said. Had I just apologized without knowing it? I must have, for him to say that. I broke the silence to ask a question I thought I knew the answer to but wanted confirmation about.
"Why, Jeeves? Why were you so cold? Just answer me that."
He hesitated. "I —"
"Just say it, Jeeves. Whatever it is. We need honesty if we're going to make this work, don't you know. Gentlemen, we are, yes, but so are we men. Polite words and flowery sentiments and generalizing whatsits won't cut it any longer."
"You shame me with your forthrightness," he murmured. "Would that I could be as direct."
Direct… It was time to throw off the blanket of propriety for a few moments and be as direct as possible. We needed to fix what was between us, as I'd said, and it seemed I was more likely to be direct. As a wealthy gentleman, I had the advantage over him that I could be. "Shall I say it, then? You're attracted to me. You hold a tender pash for me, even now."
"Yes, sir."
"You were hurt when I rejected you."
"Yes, sir."
"You wanted to get back at me somehow. You wanted to hurt me."
"Not deliberately, sir. Perhaps at first, the first few days, but I thought I had moved beyond that petty thought."
"You didn't. I felt like I was losing my best friend."
"Are we friends, sir?"
"I'd like us to be," I whispered. I squeezed his hand. "I want to be more than your master. I can't be anything else but a friend to you, though."
"I know, sir," he answered.
"Do you? Really? Me touching you like this, it's platonic. It can only ever be platonic."
"I know, sir. Forgive me for wishing it could be more."
"I'm sorry for showing off my body that day in Westcombe," I said in a rush of embarrassed confession.
"For what, sir?" He sounded genuinely confused.
"In the bath. I stretched out, showed everything, even…" I trailed off. There were some things one couldn't say, no matter the need for honesty. "When you washed my hair."
"Sir, that did not even pass into my notice," he said after a long pause to remember of what I spoke. "It happens to every man at one time or another. It has happened with previous masters. It is of no import."
"Even though you…"
"Even so, sir. As I said months ago, I have spent my life suppressing my desires and nature, no matter how attractive to me my master has been. Not noticing such things is a part of that, along with part of my training."
"You valets train against noticing something like that? Really?"
He smiled. I could see it when he leaned closer to show me. "I jest, sir. But it is something that I have had to become accustomed to, in my chosen profession. Unmarried gentlemen, as a rule, experience it with more frequency than married gentlemen."
"Oh."
"Is that why you were crying that evening?" he asked, showing a streak of boldness of his own in asking the question. I didn't think he'd mention that.
"I didn't want to be teasing you," I admitted.
"You have never been anything but honest with me, sir. It is I who have deceived you, and myself. I thought I could mold you, make you want what I, myself, wanted, but those thoughts were foolish and cruel to you. I am truly, truly sorry, sir."
"Jeeves…"
"Can you ever forgive me, sir?" he asked, his free hand reaching for me, though he dropped it before touching me.
I scooted closer to him and put my arms around him. After a long moment, he returned the embrace. "I forgive you on one condition, Jeeves." We sat in silence for a long time, holding each other. "Please don't leave me again," I whispered when I could find the courage.
"Never, sir," he answered. "I promise."
We kissed then, me finding his lips with mine. It felt like hours, exchanging kisses back and forth, the heat bubbling between us in a new way. I don't know where it came from, my sudden desire to feel his lips on me, but I did. There was something about hearing that he wouldn't leave me that filled my heart with joy. He kissed my face and neck, my cheeks, behind my ear, and I returned every kiss, finding a spot on his neck that made him shudder when I touched it. I had a similar place behind my ear, it seemed.
The whole thing felt so much like the dreams that had been plaguing me that I fancy I lost myself to the wonder of kissing him for real.
It all shattered when he placed my hand on his cockstand and I felt the hardness against my palm. I gasped and pulled away, startled, any arousal I'd been feeling withering away in an instant. He noticed, of course, as I moved halfway across the sofa away from him.
"Sir," he gasped. "Sir, I —"
"I'm so confused, Jeeves," I murmured, moving back to my place and resting my forehead against his shoulder. "I — I don't know why I — But it feels good… I know it shouldn't, but doing this, it helps me know how much you care about me. That you like me. That you mean it when you say you won't leave."
"I won't leave, sir," he said again. "But —"
"Only kissing," I told him. "Only that." I closed my eyes and kissed his cheek.
"Yes, sir," he responded, moving to kiss me in return.
The clock chiming the hour of ten woke me from the haze of passion that had fallen over me, and I disentangled myself from him reluctantly, kissing him firmly one last time. We sat beside each other, our bodies touching, his arms around me.
"I'm so confused," I whispered again. He paused before answering.
"Who in your life has ever given you physical affection, sir? Who has offered you love?"
"My parents, I suppose," I answered. "But I lost them so long ago…" I jerked my head up suddenly. "But I don't think of you as my parent!" I exclaimed.
"No, sir, I understand that. My point is merely that you have had a dearth of affection in your life, and it is natural in such a case to desire it. I am —" He broke off, needing to choose his words, I fear. "I am convenient, sir. I have a deep affection for you, I have expressed said affection, and have shown my willingness to offer it in a physical form. You, who have not had such an expression of positive regard, crave it."
"The psychology of the individual, Jeeves?"
"Precisely, sir."
"I don't mean to hurt you," I said, echoing what I had said when he first expressed his feelings for me.
"Sir, this time of separation has shown me that ours is a much more complicated relationship than I ever conceived. We each care for the other deeply, each in his own way, and those ways are, perhaps, more aligned, and also less so, than I had once hoped."
"What do you mean?"
"For you, sir, physical touch gives you more information about how your conversational partner is feeling and what he is thinking in a way that I rely on eye-contact and facial expression. You do not have the option of seeing my face, of seeing my smile or frown, the way I can see yours, unless we take extra care. Touching my face or hand, holding each other, kissing, it all gives you the reassurance that I am here with you, caring about you, wanting you to be happy and comfortable. You said as much not five minutes previous."
"And yet, to you, kissing is romantic. It's a sign of love," I protested.
"That may be, sir, however I am willing to revise that definition."
"What do you mean?" I said again, feeling almost like the parrot with one phrase to its voice.
"I mean, sir, that if an embrace or a kiss will reassure you that we have mended our relationship to your satisfaction, it is a small thing to give you for such peace of mind." He cupped my cheek in one large hand and kissed me again. "From now on, sir, I will consider these embraces and kisses we have exchanged as mere forms of communication between us, if that pleases you."
"You will? You can?"
"Yes to both, sir."
"Earlier, when you moved my hand…"
"I forgot, sir, where I was for a moment. It won't happen again."
"You won't, um, forget, and think that this kissing means that I love you as you love me?"
"Sir, you have said on more than one occasion that you do not think you are capable of romantic or sexual love. Your reaction today confirms that stance. If that is truly the case, then there is no sense in hoping for that to change. I will adapt, sir. I will not treat you coldly because these kisses do not lead to love or sexual acts. You so clearly did not enjoy when I placed your hand in that intimate location, and as I said, I will not repeat such an action."
I sighed. "You would change all that for me?"
"I would, sir."
"I'm still sorry it couldn't be more," I whispered.
"I know, sir, but we will adapt to this change. I promised that I won't leave you again, Mr. Wooster, and I intend to keep my promise."
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After resolving things between us, we quickly fell back into our routine. The next morning, Jeeves began reordering the flat and cleaning to his heart's content, returning it to its pre-Brinkley splendor, while I visited with friends at the Drones, now that I was able to walk about unaided. Jeeves took to giving me a good morning kiss with my tea, and I offered a good night kiss at the end of the day in exchange. It seemed to suit us, and there was none of the coldness from him that had characterized our interactions after the first 'kissing incident,' as I called it. And if the evening kisses lasted longer than the quick morning greeting, well, neither of us said anything about it.
It was taken as read that we would never be able to do such things were someone else in the flat or when we were visiting somewhere, though I did take it upon myself to inform Jeeves that I was aware of the consequences of our activities becoming known and was therefore more than willing to be complicit in keeping them secret. We might know between the two of us that the kisses weren't more than communication and reassurance, but anyone else seeing them would think we were inverts of the highest order.
A week or so after reconciling completely, Jeeves was reading me the Society pages as I mangled the eggs and b., when the most curious thing happened.
"I say, Jeeves? Did I hear that correctly? You said that Biffy's engaged to Honoria Glossop?"
"Indeed, sir," he answered, his voice cool.
"But he was supposed to marry that girl Mabel!"
"Perhaps Mr. Biffin is of a more flighty nature than once believed, sir," he said in a rather soupy tone. "I shall prepare your bath, sir," he added, flitting off to accomplish said activity.
I ran into Biffy at the Drones several hours later. We greeted each other, him without his usual vigor, and he returned to staring into space, the activity my arrival had interrupted. I crunched on a few nuts, just to entertain myself. The boys were doing something loud behind me, so I wasn't able to hear the differences between the sounds each kind of nut made. It was driving me to distraction.
"Bertie?"
"Still here, old fruit," I answered.
"Is it true that you were once engaged to Honoria?"
"It is."
"How on Earth did you manage to get out of it?" He drew back and reordered his thoughts. "I mean, what was the nature of the tragedy that prevented your marriage?"
I leaned closed to him. "Biffy, old egg, as man to man, do you want to oil out of this thing?"
"Bertie, old cork, as one friend to another, I do."
"How the dickens did you get into it?" I asked, wondering if it was anything like what happened to me, with a misplaced word or two and an assumption on her part of feelings in the Wooster heart that, well, frankly weren't there.
"It just sort of happened," he answered. "You know how it is when you're heart's broken. You get absent-minded and cease to exercise proper precautions." I nodded thoughtfully. Yes, Biffy and I had fallen into the same situation in re: Honoria Glossop, though mine didn't involve broken hearts. Only one thing to do about it: Ask Jeeves.
The only problem with the situation, aside from Biffy's engagement to Honoria, was that Jeeves flatly refused to help. He declared that it was improper to intercede in a matter that did not involve me, and that it would be taking far too much of a liberty, something he was strongly opposed to doing. I reminded him that he frequently took liberties with me, at which point his entire posture stiffened and he left the room with the most abrupt 'excuse me, sir' I'd ever heard from the man.
I came to the conclusion, all on my own, that he might be worried that the kissing wheeze could be construed as 'taking liberties,' but I reminded him that evening as I kissed him goodnight that it was merely our way of communicating and not a liberty at all, since we'd agreed to it, and to what it meant. I kissed him quite passionately to prove my point. He softened towards me again, and the next morning allowed me to wear a rather fruity blue and purple paisley tie to the Drones which got more compliments than Offy Prosser's newest girlie magazine. The magazine in question had far fewer unclothed women than the one I'd seen months before, and the boys thought it was in rather bad taste for him to advertise it as such when all the women were wearing lingerie. Turns out it was a catalogue for a store called Eulalie, or some such place.
All of that aside, I wanted to help my friend. I invited myself to lunch at his flat when the Glossops were expected, and the lunch went as well as could be expected. I deliberately encouraged Biffy to squirt old Glossop with Boko's buttonhole wheeze, which, rather than making Honoria disinclined to marry Biffy on account of the friends he kept and his overall clumsiness, made her more desirous of the union. She cornered me afterwards to explain that I was sweet to want to get back in her good graces by making Biffy look bad so I could marry her myself, but that a romance between us would never work. I didn't shoot or hunt, after all, and she couldn't abide by Jeeves. Well, that was the limit for my cordiality, don't you know, and I stormed off home with barely a tootle-pip to Biffy.
I spent an hour pacing around my sitting room complaining about Honoria and her opinion of Jeeves to the man himself, not to mention her father, then threw myself into a chair and bemoaned Biffy's fate and how he'd only ended up engaged to Honoria because his heart was broken. Jeeves had a thoughtful air about him as he set out my evening attire. He listened to my explanation quite attentively, don't you know.
My ankle, though healed, was more weak than it had been before the accident at Chuffy's, and all the pacing about earlier had made it start to throb by the time I got out of the bath. I needed to hold onto Jeeves to be sure I didn't slip. I stopped him from walking away immediately upon settling me to rest before dressing me.
"You'll come with us?" I asked.
"I do apologize, sir, but I only acquired tickets for the gentlemen and ladies of your party for tonight's performance," he answered. "It would be inappropriate for me to be seated with you in such a venue."
"Oh," I said with a sigh of disappointment. "But you could stand by, make sure I have enough champagne, couldn't you?"
"Sir, that is the job of the theatre waitstaff."
"Oh. Well, that's rather rummy, don't you think? I wanted to be able to talk about it with you afterwards."
"I've already seen the production, sir," he said as he held open my trousers for me.
"You have? It that why you know that we'll all like it?"
"Yes, sir," he said. "I thought it was a very diverting performance, and one of the female actresses has a lovely voice that would perhaps soothe Mr. Biffen in his emotional distress."
"Oh? And how do you know that?"
Jeeves remained quiet as he did my shirt studs and cufflinks. He selected a tie and began turning it into a perfect butterfly knot. "Mr. Biffen's former finance, Mabel, happens to be preforming in this particular musical, sir," he finally said. He remained close to me so that I could see his eyes. "Her full name is Mabel Powderhouse."
"Your niece!" I exclaimed.
"Indeed, sir."
"Good Lord! I mean to say, Good Lord!" I accepted the cigarette case and lighter he offered, depositing them in the appropriate pockets. "Do you mean to tell me that your niece Mabel is Biffy's missing fiancee Mabel?"
"Yes, sir."
"But how long have you known?"
"I spoke to my niece when I returned to London during the unpleasantness at Westcombe, sir," he answered. "She informed me of his identity at that juncture."
"You've known this whole time and not said anything?"
"I was under the impression, as was my niece, that Mr. Biffin was jilting her by not meeting her at the hotel that afternoon. In hearing your explanation today, however, I was forced to revise my opinion. As the young lady has not stopped loving her absent suitor, I though that having Mr. Biffin attend her performance would be an excellent opportunity to reunite them."
"I say, Jeeves, that's brilliant!"
"Thank you, sir."
"Now you must come to the performance. You've got to be there to see —"
"I will wait here at the flat for your return, sir. I do not wish to intrude on such a private personal affair."
"Come, come. Who else is going to describe the activity on stage to me?"
"I believe Mr. Biffin would eagerly undertake that role, sir."
"True enough, Jeeves. It would be like we were back at school again."
"A pleasant memory for you, sir?"
I shrugged. "It was fine. I've known Biffy since I was in short trousers, you understand. He's a good friend."
"I am glad to hear it, sir." He finished brushing off the lint and dressed me in my coat, hat and gloves. "And now, sir, I will escort you to the taxicab," he informed me, giving me my stick and offering his arm. I took it, but paused at the entryway to lean up and give him a quick kiss.
"Thank you, Jeeves. This means a lot to me."
"You're welcome," he answered, kissing me in return. "I am endeavoring to inform you of my 'schemes,' as you call them, before they come to their conclusion, so that you will be prepared."
"Oh, Jeeves!"
We stood kissing for several minutes until the buzzer from the foyer rang to inform us that the taxi with Sir Roderick and co. was waiting downstairs. "Enjoy the performance, sir," he said. "I will be here when you return."
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