Chapter one: And Then Our Eyes Met
He hated this, the deafening clink and clatter of cutlery on fine China grated on his nerves, remembering to nod and mumble in agreement to his Aunt Agatha's meandering drivel about how he ought to change his ways and how beneficial having a wife would be.
"Bertie, you are cursed with having too much money and waste your time on frivolous pleasures!"
"Oh. Right, well y'see-"
"You need a wife to take you in hand, Bertie!" She barked back, silencing him. "You're becoming a lout and you need molding."
"Oh Aunt Agatha, really? I don't need molding, I'm not a jelly!"
"Well, that is a matter of opinion Bertie!"
His lower lip fell agape, his characteristic dumbfounded look turning his attention back to the overcooked vegetables on his plate.
"Society needs more upstanding gentlemen, not antisocial drones who need vanquishing. You need a wife who has a strong character, who is self-reliant and values sensibility."
"No, I don't," Bertie murmured.
"To counteract the deficiencies of your own character. And by very good fortune, I have found the girl."
Bertie looked up from the table curious as to whom his Aunt saw fit to fix his flaws, "oh, who is it?"
"Sir Roderick Glossop's daughter, Honoria."
Bertie's blue eyes blew wide and he jumped up from his seat jostling the tablewares in the process. "No! Not Honoria!"
"Sit down Bertie! You're being silly, eat your lunch!"
Like a chastised child Bertie slumped back down into his seat, the wind truly knocked from his sails.
"She is just the wife for you."
"Oh look, really Aunt Agatha…" Bertie reasoned knowing deep down the battle was lost before it ever really began.
"Lady Glossop has very kindly invited you to Didderidge Hall for a few days, they're hosting a get-together tomorrow. I've told her you would be delighted to attend and would be there this afternoon."
"Ah! Well that's just a rotten bit of luck, as it happens I have already got a dashed important prior engagement this afternoon and I-"
"Nonsense! You will go to Didderidge Hall!"
Bertie sighed, no point in fighting anymore. "Alright."
His Aunt fixed him a hard stare making sure he knew what was expected of him before turning her attention back to her lunch.
-x-x-x-
Stepping into his apartment looking as though he had the weight of the world upon his shoulders, Jeeves immediately sought to fix Bertie a healthy measure of whiskey to soothe his woes.
Bertie slumped down into his low-slung chair, head in his hands moaning with a pitiful sigh of defeat. His nose merely lifted an inch as Jeeves presented him with a tumbler of whiskey.
"It's not fair Jeeves, I don't want to have a stern wife who will mold me like a jelly." Bertie necked down the alcoholic beverage in one ungentlemanly swig. "I like being freeform!"
Jeeves retrieved the glass from his boss, "am I to understand that the luncheon with your Aunt Agatha didn't go well, Sir?"
"No, it did not, Jeeves! Quite the opposite in fact! Aunt Agatha has been conspiring to find me a wife to extinguish my drone lifestyle."
While it clearly wasn't what his boss deemed he wanted, Jeeves could very clearly see his Aunt Agatha's perspective. Since being in Mr Wooster's employment there had been six occasions where he had been arrested and fined for stealing police constables hats as part of a loutish game of The Drones Club.
Whether it was a wife he needed or something more drastic, Jeeves wasn't in the position to comment only being his valet, but something needed to change in Mr Wooster's life.
"Might I suggest Sir that your Aunt, although frightfully frustrating for yourself, is merely acting in your best interests? A somewhat maternal instinct that she isn't able to convey in the proper tone?"
Bertie's lower lip pouted in thought. "Huh, I suppose you're right Jeeves, doesn't stop it from being frightfully frustrating as you put it."
"Of course Sir."
Bertie managed to haul himself up from the easy chair somewhat appeased by Jeeves' smart words, in search of a cigarette. "She's told me I am to attend a get together this afternoon at Didderidge Hall, can you get my things together?"
"Certainly Sir. Will we be travelling by train Sir?"
"By train yes, people under the name Glossop." He replied inhaling deeply on the smokey nicotine.
"Ah, that wouldn't be Sir Roderick Glossop, the noted nerve specialist, Sir?"
Bertie pointed the cigarette in his direction. "That's the one."
That made all the more sense why Mr Wooster was so upset by his Aunt's actions. While Sir Roderick's daughter Honoria was a fine young woman in every sense of the word, but when it came to her being potential wife material for a character such as Mr Wooster, her strong will and slightly domineering personality would be crushing.
"Forgive me for speaking out of turn here Sir but while Miss Glossop is a healthy young woman, I understand why you aren't as keen as your Aunt to marry her."
"Yes, well. The less said about that the better."
Jeeves nodded, ending the topic. "Very good, Sir."
-x-x-x-
The steam from the engine billowed on the platform, swirling around the ankles of his harris tweed suit whilst he waited patiently for Jeeves to have their luggage loaded on board. He was dreading the weekend that lay ahead, rather hoping for some sort of mechanical failure of the train or some last-minute engagement would spring up that requires his urgent attention but alas, the train was reliable as ever and no last-minute engagements had otherwise engaged him.
They took their seats in the First Class carriage sitting opposite one another. Jeeves buried his nose in a book whilst Bertie alternated between pitiful attempts at reading the newspaper or staring out longingly at the passing scenery.
The train pulled into the next station with Bertie getting more and more twitchy and anxious with every mile closer they got. Jeeves was feeling the brunt of it too, the incessant tapping of Wooster's shoe and the repetitive opening and closing of his lighter had him on the verge of losing his place in his book and his otherwise calm nature snapping.
Bertie's attention was soon caught by the attendant leading a passenger to her seat. His blue eyes popped wide and his jaw hung loose, ceasing all annoying tapping and clicking. She was incredibly beautiful, he paused for a moment realising that was the first time he had ever thought a woman beautiful. But she was, her mousey brown hair hung in lightly curled tendrils framing her soft, rosy cheeks and perfectly formed bow lips.
His boss suddenly falling silent caused Jeeves' to look up from the page. "I say, Sir. Are you quite alright?"
"I-I-I-I-I," he babbled, his tongue flapping in his jaws, unable to find the words.
Jeeves peered over his shoulder, somewhat discreetly for a man of his stature, spotting what had caught Mr Wooster's attention. The young lady in question hadn't noticed that she was being observed from a distance, much too busy searching through her holdall for a lost item.
He turned back to Bertie who was busy craning his neck awkwardly, trying to get a better view. "Seen something you like, Sir?"
Too busy looking like a guppy fish, it took Bertie a minute or so to register Jeeves' question. "Oh come now Jeeves! Don't be so absurd. Tsch!"
Bertie shook his head and picked up his newspaper, strategically holding it so he could still see the young lady in his eyeline, a move Jeeves noticed but chose to ignore, going back to reading his book.
"I say, Jeeves. I don't suppose you would happen to know who that young lady is by any chance would you?"
Jeeves quirked his eyebrow but Bertie kept babbling, "not that there is any more to it other than a-a-a healthy curiosity in fellow First Class passengers, you understand. Seems rude to not know with whom you're sharing a carriage with, don't you think?"
"Indeed Sir," lowering his voice just a fraction given the delicate nature of the topic, "I believe that is Miss Amelia Trelawney, Sir Philip Trelawney's daughter, Sir."
Bertie's eyes widened, Trelawney was a fearsome Judge, a lawman who treated his profession with the utmost respect and to the letter of the law. He was famed for dishing out the strictest and most harsh terms of punishment, though he himself hadn't faced the wrath of Judge Trelawney, Bertie knew of many who hadn't been so lucky as to get off a charge with a measly fine and a slap on the wrist.
"Good heavens, Jeeves! He's the damned Judge who got Boko Fittleworth locked away for a fortnight! Poor Boko, missed out on so much, Drones Club just wasn't the same."
His outburst was a little louder than he had intended, such was his shock, that he inadvertently garnered Miss Amelia's attention away from the novel she was engrossed in. Bertie schooled his features into an impish dimpled grin which he hoped would reflect as charming rather than idiotic and was pleasantly surprised and relieved to win a soft smile in return which didn't leave her for the rest of the journey.
The miles passed by with Didderidge Hall getting ever closer and Bertie was still on the same newspaper page, completely entranced by Amelia, the pair exchanging smiles and subtly waving above their reading materials. Whilst he longed to, Bertie didn't dare approach her, he wasn't schooled in the art of talking to women and the very notion of courting had him all shook up.
He made the executive decision to talk to her on the platform once they reached Didderidge, comment about the journey as an icebreaker, maybe the weather too.
Sadly his plan didn't come to fruition, Amelia retrieved her holdall and smiled at him one last time before disappearing into the steam and passenger heavy platform.
"Damn and blast, Jeeves! She's gone!"
"I'm sorry, Sir."
-x-x-x-
After a frankly painful evening meal making small talk with the Glossop's who seemed to be a concoction of bemused and confused by his witty anecdotes, Bertie finally retired to his room for the evening.
Laying in bed he stared up at the ceiling, his mind still reeling with the sense of impending doom at Honoria's arrival due on the morrow. But what was on his mind most was Amelia, sweet, beautiful Amelia…
His mood hadn't improved much the following morning. He bathed and shaved before heading downstairs for an awkward breakfast dining in the company of Lady Glossop, frightfully aware that should he, unfortunately, become engaged and married to Honoria, she would be his mother in law.
The thought sent a cold shudder through him which Lady Glossop noted. "I say Mr Wooster are you quite alright?"
"I'm fine, it's rather brisk this morning, nothing hot tea and breakfast won't cure I'm sure."
He did his best not to roll his eyes when Lady Glossop took an intake of breath, gearing up for another probing question no doubt. "Do you...work, Mr Wooster?"
Ah, that old chestnut. The subject matter for many a conversation from his Aunt Agatha. The truth of the matter was he needn't work, his parents may have left him orphaned at the tender age of 13 but in terms of wealth, he was able to live comfortably for the rest of his days, wife or no wife.
"Work, as in honest toil?"
"Yes."
"Hewing the wood and drawing the old wet stuff and so forth?"
"Yes, quite." Lady Glossop encouraged him with a pressing nod.
"I've known a few people who worked, absolutely swear by it, some of them." He tilted his head, furrowing his brow a little, "yes, I seem to recall Boko Fittleworth almost having a job once."
"Who is this Boko Fittleworth you keep referring to Mr Wooster?"
"Boko? You don't know Boko?" Lady Glossop merely shook her head in response, clearly none the wiser. "Good Lord, I thought everybody knew Boko! Well, apparently not! Huh!"
"No, I can't say I've ever had the pleasure of meeting Boko, Mr Wooster."
"Yes, well, I'm not sure there's any pleasure to be had Lady Glossop. He's rather an acquired taste is Boko."
Lady Glossop's face was a mirage of distaste, this was the man whom they were hoping to marry their only daughter, but now she was beginning to regret ever being open to such a notion.
"How would you...support a wife, Mr Wooster?"
Bertie paused for a moment, thinking carefully. She was clearly asking in relation to her own daughter. If he answered truthfully and with care and thought, she would have them engaged by tea time and marriage plans by sundown…
He decided to go with his baser instinct.
"Well, it really rather depends on whose wife it was…" He tailed off looking quizzically, "perhaps a bit of gentle pressure beneath the left elbow when crossing a busy street usually fills the bill!"
He went back to finishing off his breakfast doing his best to hide a smirk of triumph seeing Lady Glossop's look of horror in his peripheral gaze.
-x-x-x-
Once breakfast was finished, Bertie took himself off for a stroll around the gardens, enjoying the fresh air and tranquillity. He'd overheard that guests of the Glossop's had begun to arrive ahead of the get together they were hosting.
He had to admit it really was a beautiful place, he just wished he were visiting under different circumstances and of his own volition.
The sound of a car trundling down the driveway pricked his ears, being ever curious he headed back towards the front house to catch a glimpse of the new arrival from his vantage point on the veranda. The taxi cab was greeted by one of the Glossop's many aides, Birkett, who was busy tending to retrieve the occupant's luggage from the trunk.
Bertie's eyes widened in recognition of the guest, none other than Miss Amelia Trelawney, the girl from the train. Like a rabbit caught in the headlights, Bertie's head scrambled, looking from left to right but quickly acknowledged he was cornered and couldn't make an escape without being incredibly rude.
Amelia caught his gaze, waving softly, "hello, I recognised you from the train."
Her voice was delicate, soft as silk Bertie mused as a shiver ran through him.
"Aha! Yes, indeed." He laughed nervously, kicking his shoe, coming over all bashful. "Hello, I should say. Bertie, Bertie Wooster."
Bertie took out his cigarettes, twirling the aforementioned with nervous fingers before holding one to his lips.
"It's nice to put a name to a face. I'm Amelia Trelawney, I don't suppose you could spare me one of those? That cab ride was most awful, we hit nearly every pothole possible, my nerves are shot to pieces."
Bertie nodded in sympathy, "ah yes, well, the perils of taking a taxi. Just a moment."
He made his way down the stairs, his heart beating decidedly faster with every step closer he got. He felt his cheeks tint with a rosy hue as he stood mere feet away from her. She was even more beautiful up close, her silvery blue eyes sparkled in the morning sunlight, Bertie hadn't been able to tell their true shade during the train ride.
Their fingers brushed exchanging over a cigarette, both feeling the frisson of a spark. Bertie proffered his lighter for Amelia, holding it up so she could light up and inhale deeply the nicotine smoke.
"Much better," she exhaled, "thank you Bertie."
"You're very welcome, Amelia. So, what brings you here?"
"My father," she rolled her eyes taking another lungful of nicotine, "he's best friends with Sir Roderick and being that I still live under his roof I had little say in the matter. What about you?"
"My Aunt Agatha," Amelia winced in sympathy. "She enjoys taking control of my life and making arrangements on my behalf, so rather like you, I had little say in the matter."
They shared a smile, maybe the weekend wasn't such a lost cause after all.
The butler then chose to spoil the moment, advising Amelia that her luggage had been taken up to her room and for her to follow.
Both feeling somewhat deflated, Amelia's silver eyes flashed over with disappointment. "Hope to see you later, Bertie."
"As do I, see you later Amelia." His impish smile and wave put a smile back on Amelia's face as she followed the butler inside leaving Bertie grinning like a loon for a split second before an idea popped into his head. "Oh! I say, Amelia?"
She stopped in her tracks, "yes Bertie?"
"Um, will you come for a walk with me?"
"A walk?"
"Yes, you know," he held up his hands and gestured with his fingers, "a walk?"
Ignoring the impatient butler who was rolling his eyes at the scenario unfolding, Amelia giggled at Bertie's actions. "I would love to Bertie, have I got time to go up to my room and freshen up?"
"Yes!" He blurted out rather too excitedly, "I mean, yes. Yes, of course. Shall I meet you in the foyer in…" He reached for his pocket watch, "twenty minutes?"
"Perfect."
He smiled and waved watching her retreating figure, "yes, perfect."