Every year, I take a holiday to Bognor Regis, primarily for the shrimping. For myself, it is an anticipated diversion. However, as my week off approaches, Mr. Wooster invariably becomes increasingly distraught, though I always recommend a capable valet to serve in my place - if never one whom I believe would be qualified to replace me.
There is something to be said for absence making the heart grow fonder, however in this instance, I felt that my presence - or rather Mr. Wooster's - would afford me with more opportunities, especially as the small seaside village of Bognor Regis where I intended to pass my vacation has some charms of its own.
Despite its charms, I was not overly hasty in suggesting such a plan to Mr. Wooster. If I broached the matter at an inopportune moment, I had few illusions that Mr. Wooster would favor his position as my employer over our nascent friendship and refuse outright.
Instead I bided my time and waited until one afternoon when I was ostensibly doing some dusting in the sitting room, having already lit Mr. Wooster's cigarette and poured him a glass from the decanter on the sideboard.
"Say, Jeeves," Mr. Wooster said, "when you're done with the dusting and whatnot, would you care to pour yourself a glass and pull up a chair?"
"That is very kind, sir."
I promptly completed my task and joined him on the sofa.
"I say! That was dashed efficient of you, Jeeves." Mr. Wooster regarded me with a particularly bright smile.
"Thank you, sir."
As encouraging as Mr. Wooster's smile was, the matter needed to be approached delicately.
I gave a slight cough, indicating my desire to speak.
"What is it, Jeeves? Speak freely," Mr. Wooster decreed, his tone less amicable than I would have prefered.
However, it was unlikely that a perfect opportunity would ever present itself, certainly not in the next few weeks. I had no choice but to make do with what I had.
"You are aware, no doubt, sir, of my upcoming vacation," I began.
"Yes." Mr. Wooster's displeasure with the prospect was plain.
Delicately, I continued, "I will be unable to serve as your valet for the duration, however you would be welcome to accompany me to Bognor Regis in the capacity of a friend if you so desired. The standard of living would not be to the standard you are accustomed to, however I assure you the accommodations are comfortable and the town pleasant."
I considered it to be as much an opportunity to have the pleasure of Mr. Wooster's company in a charming seaside village, outside of the constraints of my position, as it was a means of testing Mr. Wooster's priorities and coaxing him to favor any personal feelings he may have had over aristocratic pride. I would not be present to serve as his valet regardless, but if his dismay at my absence was in any part on account of some personal regard for me, the choice ought to have been clear.
For all my careful deliberation, I was relieved when Mr. Wooster almost immediately exclaimed, "Rather! I mean if you really want the y.m. there on your vacation from said y.m., that is. I would hardly want to intrude."
"I would welcome your company, sir, as long as it is not in your capacity as my employer," I cautioned.
"Right-o!" Mr. Wooster said, though again he quickly corrected himself. "If you're sure I won't just be in your way."
"Not at all, sir," I said, quite pleased with the effect I had produced. I may have even smiled.
Dashed if I knew why Jeeves had invited me along on his vacation, which as far as I knew was supposed to be a sort of break from yours truly, but it hardly does to look such a gift in the mouth, especially when it spared me the usually dreaded Jeevesless weeks. Our journey out to the seashore passed normally enough. Jeeves packed the luggage as for any other trip, and I drove us down in the two seater, sparing the chap a few hours on the train. It was one of those beautiful days Jeeves likes to wax poetic about, driving through the rolling countryside, the sun shining above, as we bantered back and forth or sat in a comfortable sort of silence.
At last we pulled into a bit of a town nestled against the southern coast. Jeeves - need I say infallibly - directed me to a little cottage a small ways from the nearest pier. It wasn't a terribly impressive establishment, a bit on the windblown side as these seaside shanties frequently are, but passable enough for a few weeks in residence, with Jeeves's approval besides.
"Your bags, sir," Jeeves brought my attention back to the car just as I had begun to step down the walk.
"Yes, bring them in, Jeeves," I began to say without thinking.
"Sir," Jeeves made a pointed injunction - if injunction is the word I mean.
I was about to protest at the chap's tone when I abruptly recalled the terms of my presence. I hastily endeavored to recover, though I knew it was a little too late for that. "Yes, not another word, I'll get them."
"Indeed, sir," Jeeves replied, still rather soupy.
I raised my chin and endeavored to look down my nose at the chap as I went to retrieve my bags from the car and lug them up to the house. I didn't remember packing them so heavily. I had the feeling I was lugging the entire contents of my flat and then some as I hauled my bags up the stairs into my little bedroom, all the while cursing Jeeves under my breath for making a fool of me by having stuffed them so.
It was hardly the sort of work for a gentleman, but, as I reminded myself, huffing and puffing upon the threadbare cot, I was there on Jeeves's goodwill and it would hardly be preux to complain, especially not when the man did more for me on just about any day without a word of protest. However, by the time I had collapsed back on the couch, my labor complete for the time being - unpacking was beyond even thinking about for the moment - I was in no cheerful mood. I was contemplating an s. and b. and on the verge of wondering why one hadn't materialized in hand when the man shimmered in, as always looking none the worse for his labors - his bags doubtless the lighter. He had changed from his usual livery into a no less conservative sort of casual suit which I hadn't even known the chap had.
Instead of offering a glass of the needful, Jeeves suggested, "There is a most pleasant promenade along the waterfront, if you would care to join me."
"Right-o," I said, wearing the mask as a fellow must do.
I gave a bit of a shove and miraculously managed to land on my feet, and followed Jeeves out the door, on to a quiet street. Jeeves seemed to be rather pleased with the whole thing, enjoying the salty sea breeze and the distant crash of the waves - I have often wondered if the chap doesn't have a bit of Viking blood in him. I couldn't very well begrudge the man, but I couldn't help but make some small noise of discontent.
"I say, Jeeves, you are aware there's a hotel just down on the waterfront that would very well suit our needs."
I could tell Jeeves's tone was going to be less than agreeable before he even opened his mouth to reply. "That is very kind, sir, however I find the cottage to be perfectly suitable."
"Very good, Jeeves," I said, "the cottage will do."
We continued down to the waterfront in a sort of solemn silence, I endeavoring to maintain some dignity, and Jeeves presumably wishing he'd left the feckless young master behind at the cottage, or better yet in London.
We came to the end of the street and found ourselves just a hop away from the crashing waves. I'm hardly what you'd call a susceptible chap; you could not count me in sympathy with the Madeline Bassetts of the world who are struck dumb or urged into soulful poetry at the slightest whisper of the wind, and despite Jeeves's love all things nautical, I am not a frequent visitor to the seashore, generally preferring the haunts of the metrop. to oceanic splendor, but I dare say there was something enchanting about the way the water stretched out before us, glinting in the lowering sun, shifting with the tireless ebb and flow of the tides. It didn't hurt the image that Jeeves seemed rather rejuvenated by it all. He went from a regular stuffed frog to a man of flesh and blood, looking just about on top of the world, rather like one of those paintings or statues of the soulful man of action, staring out at the crashing tides, if I said so myself. It makes a chap feel dashed small in comparison with a wonder like him in his natural element, glinting with his own sort of splendor.
"I say!" I declared, because it felt like something had to be said.
"Indeed, sir," Jeeves replied with a bit of understatement, gracing me with a glowing sort of look.
"I say!" I said again, for emphasis.
Jeeves cut the cycle short there, probably for the best, and led on along the seashore. We may have kidded back and forth a bit, but mostly we just strolled side by side, looking out over the shimmering waves. Every few yards, we passed a pier running out from the boardwalk, off into the water, where men were unloading their boats, just having docked for the evening.
"Say, Jeeves," I remarked, "you'll be going out on one of those dinghys for your shrimping, what?"
"Yes," Jeeves said, "a friend of mine is kind enough to lend me the use of his boat."
It's a rummy thing - one of many rummy things, to tell the truth. Jeeves will occasionally mention chums of his, doing him favors, entering into schemes with him, and calling upon him in their hours of need - just as my pals have learned to turn to Jeeves when they find themselves in the soup - not to mention all the lads of the Junior Ganymede and their occasional rubber of bridge. And I would never doubt that Jeeves is on good terms with just about any fellow he happens to meet; there's just something about the chap that says he is just the sort one ought to get to know - those eyes gleaming with intelligence, perhaps, and his head sticking out in back to hold all that grey matter. However, at the same time, Jeeves somehow gives an almost friendless impression, as though he may as well have no life at all outside of his function as the perfect valet. And I very well know that it's all a part of wearing the mask, as it were, but then I could only wonder what could possibly compel a chap to invite the young master along on his vacation if he had plenty of pals of his own to call upon. That is to say, what need did Jeeves have for me?
However, instead of lending voice to any of the aforementioned, I replied with a dignified, "Very good, Jeeves, if that will suffice. I expect you to bring back a sizable haul."
"I will endeavor to do so," Jeeves replied, with such a tone that it was hard to tell what the chap really meant by it.
We meandered along a bit in silence, nearing what passed for the center of town where the larger boats were coming in to dock. The water and the shore alike seemed to glow in the orange-ish evening light. A little ways down was a particularly grand old sailing ship bobbing up and down in the water, the sunlight glinting off its mast.
Jeeves followed my gaze and remarked, "If you would like to go out on the water, there is none to compare with the Royal Fancy."
"Rather!" I agreed, spotting the name on the side of that impressive ship. It certainly seemed a particularly distinguished sort, and I find it's best to appear up on such things.
If there was anything lacking in my tone, Jeeves didn't seem to notice it as he continued, "It is of a particular attraction, but unfortunately its owner, Lord Grubing, does not see fit to open it to anyone but the members of his own club."
"I say! If I had such a ship with none to compare to it and all that, I daresay I shouldn't want the populace running about on it either, ruining the patina and what not."
Jeeves appeared less than pleased with such an expression of sympathy.
Not long after that, we turned ourselves around and headed back to our own little cottage - I confess I eyed the hotel a bit enviously as we passed it by. However, Jeeves made a valiant effort - if valiant is the word I mean - to draw me back into conversation, and I'd just about forgotten all about it by the time we arrived.
I settled on the sofa with a gasper as Jeeves flitted into the kitchen. It took me a tick to realize that Jeeves wasn't going to appear with a light - or a glass of the needful, for that matter - and another to realize that I had no lighter of my own.
So, there was nothing to do but call out, "Jeeves, a light if you please."
He shimmered back in from the kitchen after a goodish moment or two bearing the necessary implement.
"And a glass of the needful would be just the thing," I added, seeing that the chap hadn't thought of it.
"You may wish to look in the cabinet," was Jeeves's reply. "I will be making dinner soon, if you would care to join me."
I'd set about procuring a glassful and waved off the suggestion. "You're free to go spend the evening with your chums." I could hardly imagine he truly wanted to spend his vacation hanging about with the y.m.
"Yes, I am aware. I would prefer to spend the evening in," Jeeves said pointedly.
I emerged from the cabinet, glass in hand. "If you're certain."
"I am quite certain. I would be most obliged if you would set the table while I prepare dinner." With that, Jeeves rippled back into the kitchen and in just a shake, I heard him hard at work.
I gulped down the rest of the glass and followed him into the kitchen to uncover these dishes of which Jeeves spoke. After all, it was hardly preux for me to sit at leisure while the chap was hard at work, on his vacation no less.
.
The next morning, I was rudely shoved from the dreamless by a bit of pain somewhere around the middle of my back. And thus, I found myself awake betimes, well before my usual custom. I blearily blinked the sleep from my eyes and fought the harsh glare of the early sunlight streaming in through the window, with more than half a mind to bury my head under my pillow and give the whole thing a pass. However, at that juncture, my back gave another protest against the ill-placed lumps in the mattress, and I found I had no choice in the matter.
I pushed myself upright in expectation of the morning oolong to find that no such nectar was forthcoming - of course, as it was Jeeves's vacation after all. I silently cursed the dashed cottage, resolutely intending to have a word with Jeeves and declare that we would be going to the hotel with nothing else for it. I hobbled out of bed and into my robe.
I found robe and slippers awaiting me just where I needed them, rather than tossed haphazardly about as I'd left it all the night before. I confess, that small comfort was enough to cause me to unbend a goodish bit and look a little more kindly upon my fellow man - in particular the remarkable chap who could only have been the cause of it.
However, it was still not quite a cheery Bertram W. who descended into the living areas at that unspeakable hour in the morning. I prowled the confines of the small cottage, only to find that Jeeves was nowhere to be found, and there were hardly more places to look for him there than in my London flat. That the chap was still asleep was unthinkable, further supported by a pot of tea still sitting on the stove, now cold - but that, at least, could be rectified easily enough.
By the time I'd had a few steaming cups of the restorative and shimmied into the raiment, I was feeling rather more like myself. My only regret was that Jeeves had gone before he could see me remarkably up and about well before the day rightly began. An early morning stroll seemed just the thing; a chance to breathe in some of that fresh sea air and amble about along the shore, and perhaps spot Jeeves at his shrimping along the way.
I'd only just made it to where the road met the sea, when I spotted a chap working at one of the nearby piers. There was nothing so unusual in that alone; most of the piers were empty, but there were still a few chaps hauling this and tying that, presumably to ready their boats for the day's outing. This particular pier had been empty when Jeeves and I passed it the evening before, but now there was a boat at the end, and the thing that had really drawn my attention; the particular chap working at the end.
I had to get a bit closer to be sure my eyes hadn't deceived me, but sure enough, it was Jeeves, checking ropes and readying equipment, just like all the rest, but certainly Jeeves as I'd never seen the man before. I felt like one of those chappies in a particularly maudlin Rosie M. Banks novel, happening upon his lady love working at the factory, struck dumb at the sight of another side to his winsome filly - or Jeeves, as it was. I already knew, of course, that Jeeves stands above all else in brain and that he is in fact somewhat more inclined to throw around his brawn than one may, at first glance, expect. However, the sight of Jeeves, divested of his livery, shirt-sleeves rolled, hauling this and pulling that, as always in neat, efficient movements, without breaking a sweat, but which nonetheless strained muscles I hardly knew the man had, well, it was enough to put Bertram W. at his fittest to shame, and I was hardly in rowing form - I'd really only lasted a week or so on the team at Oxford.
I was rather struck dumb by the whole thing. I found myself marveling for the umpteenth time how Jeeves really was the most remarkable being I had ever chanced to encounter and how much of a fluke of luck it was that he had somehow happened to come into my employ - and in fact my life at all.
At last, I remembered myself and called out, "What ho, Jeeves!"
"What ho, sir," Jeeves replied, his voice carrying, but no less level than if he had been greeting me in the flat in London.
I beamed at the chap. "Going to do some shrimping, what?"
"Yes, I intend to go out at low tide, however I first needed to retrieve the boat."
"Rather!"
"Indeed."
I lingered about for a bit, watching Jeeves back at his work, but he seemed engrossed in it, with no time for standing about and chatting with the y.m. So, at last, I bid him toodle-pip, and continued off along the boardwalk. Not long after that, I glanced over my shoulder to find that Jeeves too had set out, in his case, onto the water in pursuit of shrimps, as he does.
I am certain the fresh sea air did wonders for my lungs, but it was not quite a cheerful Bertram W. who meandered hence along the docks. It was not exactly a new feeling, or a new thought to cloud my mind. I very well knew that I was hardly equal to Jeeves no matter which way you looked at it and I very well knew my efforts to prove myself to him had been lackluster at best, but somehow it had all come together into sharp relief. I didn't know why Jeeves had invited me along on his vacation because I certainly hadn't done anything to deserve it, especially not compared to an incomparable chap like him.
I felt just about fit to burst, to tell the truth; like if I didn't do something to prove to Jeeves I was equal to the chap, well, I didn't know what would happen, but I very well needed to try. And just as I was roaming along the shore, my footfalls becoming increasingly purposeful with each step, but to no particular ends. I sighted a boat docked in the middle distance, a sailing ship in fact, just sitting moored along the shore, the very ship which Jeeves had admired only the evening before, lamenting that it was the property of an exclusive club who allowed none but their own members aboard. If anyone could get aboard that ship it was Jeeves, and there seemed no better way to prove myself equal to him than to get him aboard by my own guile.
The more I thought about it, the more the pieces fell into place, and with a newfound sense of purpose, I strode to the post office, a plan of action already in mind.
Despite my efforts, the better part of a week had passed and Mr. Wooster was still as frequently masterful and distant as friendly, perhaps to an even greater degree than when we had been in London. At times he was perfectly amiable and "chummy", as he would doubtless describe it. However, he still appeared intent upon putting me in my place - at one point going so far as to ask after my tailor. I began to wonder whether he had in fact agreed to accompany me under the assumption that as he was present, I would continue my duties as his valet despite my supposed vacation and the injunction I had given him when I had extended the invitation.
I could only conclude that a more drastic step was needed to induce Mr. Wooster to decide that I was more valuable to him as a friend than as a servant. I was fortunate, however, that such an opportunity had already presented itself. As Mr. Wooster had mentioned, I have made several friends over the course of my annual vacations in Bognor Regis, among them the cook at a nearby manor who had fallen hopelessly in love with the young gentleman of the house, but did not dare make her feelings known. A solution to both problems naturally presented itself; after all, there are few greater motivators than jealousy.
I returned to the cottage that evening bearing the happy news. Mr. Wooster was, however, absent when I arrived, as was the case with increasing frequency. I suspected that he was occupying himself in the more affluent area, adjacent to the resort, in the company of those of his own station.
I had begun to make dinner, enough for both of us, but aware that there was a possibility I would dine alone, when Mr. Wooster arrived.
Again, he appeared somewhat distracted, greeting me with a less than enthusiastic, "What ho, Jeeves."
"Good evening, Mr. Wooster," I said in reply.
"I say, what's for dinner?" Mr. Wooster said with a little more energy. He had meandered into the kitchen and was eagerly sniffing the air.
"Fish stew," I replied, biting back the reflexive "sir," and instead adding, "if you would be so kind as to help chop the vegetables."
"Right-o."
Mr. Wooster made no argument, but nor did he make any attempt at conversation.
"I take it that you had a pleasurable day at the resort?" I asked.
"Oh yes, the resort, of course," Mr. Wooster said, as though he had hardly heard my question.
We worked in silence for several minutes before I finally saw fit to make my announcement.
"Mr. Wooster, I believe you may be interested to know that I am engaged to be married."
It had a remarkable effect. Whatever response Mr. Wooster may have initially thought to make died on his lips. His chopping, hardly a steady rhythm, faltered and then stopped entirely.
"I say, engaged to be married, Jeeves?" Mr. Wooster asked, as though he was unable to believe his ears. As I had foreseen, he could not conceal his displeasure at the announcement.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
As my employer, it would hardly be preux, as Mr. Wooster would say, for him to endeavor to dissuade me from matrimony, but as a friend there would be no such impediment, if only he could allow himself to see me as such.
"I say!" Mr. Wooster said again, a little more vehemently this time, again his displeasure went undisguised. However, he then forced out, "You have my congratulations, what?"
"That is most kind. However, I would regret losing your companionship," I prompted.
He waved it off in an attempt at a casual dismissal, but it fell flat. "That's awfully feudal of you, Jeeves, but I'm sure you'll be happier with the new missus. She's a lucky woman, what?"
"Thank you."
There was little more to say after that, only to allow the realization to have its desired effect.
Mr. Wooster was uncharacteristically quiet and morose all through dinner. Several times, he appeared ready to speak and then to think better of it, but it was only a matter of time.
I was clearing the table - it seemed exceedingly cruel to ask him to help - when he finally did speak, but only to assure me, "I'll give you a reference like no other."
"That is very generous," I said. "I would not wish to impose."
There was a pause before Mr. Wooster replied quite seriously, "Never, Jeeves."
.
The next day, I remained at the cottage to endeavor to encourage Mr. Wooster along. He came downstairs in his robe somewhat earlier than is his usual custom - after an uneasy first night in the cottage, he had seemed to return to his typical routine.
He greeted me in a manner I could only describe as bravely, with a stoic, "Good morning, Jeeves," as though there were nothing good about it.
"Good morning," I replied, with little more enthusiasm - it would not do for me to seem to await my upcoming nuptials too eagerly; the balance was a delicate one.
"What're you doing in?" he asked, abruptly remembering to be surprised by my presence. "Going to see your fiancée?"
"No, I merely fancied a relaxing day in."
"Oh, very good then," Mr. Wooster said, perhaps even a touch more morose than before.
I poured him a cup of tea and he sat down across from me at the table to brood over it. By the time he had finished the cup and another, he seemed a little more resolute, if not happy. I could not help but feel for Mr. Wooster, his usually bright blue eyes sadly downcast, but there is a saying I have always found most instructive, that in order to make an omelet, it is always necessary to break a number of eggs, and to continue the metaphor, the omelet appeared to be proceeding admirably.
Mr. Wooster's newfound resolution, however, took an unexpected turn. He went upstairs to dress for the day and, upon his return, announced, "I'll be going for a bit of a stroll, what? Don't wait up and all that."
I stood. "If I may accompany you."
Mr. Wooster waved me down. "It's hardly worth coming along, I'm just going around and back and whatnot."
"A stroll sounds surpassingly pleasant."
"Right ho, Jeeves," Mr. Wooster said, resigned.
We stepped outside and traced the familiar path along the seashore into town. I made some effort to stir him into conversation, but he was not to be enticed. And so, I allowed him the time with his thoughts.
As we reached the town, however, he stopped and said, "Thank you for coming along, Jeeves, you may as well head back now, I won't be long."
"Sir?" I asked.
But Mr. Wooster insisted upon sending me back to the cottage as he completed his errand alone - if it was an errand; I had some suspicion he merely desired the time to think. However, if he spent the time contemplating a course of action, nothing seemed to come of it. The next day passed in largely the same way.
Upon his return that next afternoon, I took it upon myself to suggest, "I may expect, may I not, that as my friend, you know that you are free to voice any feeling you may have."
He sighed and took a sip from his glass. "That's very kind, Jeeves," he said, but it was plain that my words had no effect.