Usual disclaimer. Getting somewhat soppy. I just wondered what would
actually happen if the things below happened in the books. Uh oh.
Chapter Nine
That night, after Jeeves had popped off to sleep, I turned on the light, and lifted my love letter from my bedside table's locked draw. I gazed at it, longingly. I couldn't believe that this girl knew who I was. And if she did, why on earth she seemed to hold this undying love in her bosom.
I have been used, by at least two of my female pals, as a threat to their uncles. In short, when they wished to marry a bloke who their guardian was sure to disapprove of, they dragged me in, and threatened to marry me if the uncle, father or carer did not allow them to marry the man of their dreams. I am sad to say this usually worked.
These proceedings upset me. Being told in this round-a-bout way that I was no woman's choice for a husband, and if chosen at all only for money, or in most cases a challenge to improve my intellect. It lowers a fellow's moral.
But the arrival of this letter gave me new hope. The only trouble was I knew not where, or when to meet Miss Emily Cooper. Dashed difficult. I also decided not to reveal my letter to Jeeves. I am not that idiotic, as to show a declaration of love from her to me, to the girl's uncle. Uncles are known to chafe a bit. And by golly, knowing what Jeeves thinks of me, he was going to cut up as rough as Ooffy Prosser of the Drones, when he gets touched for money.
I gazed, possibly with the love light in my eyes, at the paper. I so wanted to get at that other half of it.
A most welcome surprise awaited me at breakfast. A small envelope, containing a scrap of paper. 'The' scrap of paper. Emily must have found it and sent it on. I closeted myself in my room, and read:
". . .the column of Nelson in Trafalgar square, on Tuesday 6th, 10:00"
Today. I dug up the other piece, and legged it for the open spaces. I arrived somewhat late, but quickly spotted the female I was after. Short blonde hair, with slim figure.
I wandered over, and 'hullo-d' a bit. The girl looked at me with perpetually wide eyes, giving her a deer like appearance. She seemed to a trifle shy, a sentiment I sympathised with. I knew how she felt.
It is a strange feature of such matters, that when I am trying to soften up a girl for a friends impending proposals, the sweet nectar runs from my lips like water from a tap, usually landing me in the soup, engaged to the bally female with the friend's curses in my ears. But now I was trying to win the heart of the angel before me, the honeyed words vanished, and I felt so devoid of debonair-ness and manly spirit, it was as though I had been filleted.
The girl eyed me in a frightened manner, and began speech.
"I-I am so sorry. I really shouldn't have called you here."
"Sir." She added, un-certainly.
I waved a weak hand vaguely, and endeavoured to find my voice. It proved tricky, but I managed it.
"Oh, not at all. I expect it was for some secret plan for your Uncle Jeeves, my valet. I was guessing that you made all the stuff up about love and hearts up, to get my attention, what?"
It was all I could say. I hadn't wanted to say it, mind you. I had wanted to invite her for a spin in my car about the country, or a quiet picnic in some pleasant spot. Instead I had rather chucked the idea out of her head that I might at all return any feelings described in her letter. Not a good start, I felt.
The effect it had on her was immediate. She gulped, she gasped. The signs of a woman's impending grief came to the fore. Emily turned, and began to walk, sobbingly away.
My next move was, thankfully, not due in any part to the quickness of my brain. It was due; I like to think, to the swift reactions of my heart. In a trice I was darting across the square at a fair rate of knots. Leaping into her path, I hastily tried to put in some of the old Wooster charm.
"Oh, I say, I didn't mean all that rot. Merely grabbing for words, don't you know?"
The girl looked sadly up at me. The tears began to disappear, the girlish hope came into the eyes like the sun rising.
"Really?"
"Of course. Just a merry jest."
Emily smiled prettily.
"I suppose you're wondering how I know anything about you."
"Well, yes, rather."
Then, with sudden presence of mind, I said:
"How about you tell me as we go for a drive in my car?"
She said Yes, and then I said What Ho Then, and off we popped. Jumping into the car, we were soon off down some picturesque lane, biffing along at a comfortable speed.
Emily started off.
"You see, I want to be an actress. I have been working as various sorts of maids in various houses for ages. So one day I decided to hand in my notice, and shoot off for fame and fortune. One of my cousins did very much the same thing. To achieve the fame and fortune bit, I decided to start off in London, in some theatre or other. But I needed cash, so I got a job as a house maid in the employ of a Mrs Travers."
I gargled.
"My Aunt!" I cried in surprise.
"Exactly. That was when I first saw you. You must understand that my father wants me to chuck the whole acting thing, and marry some other domestic staff man, and live happily cleaning houses. That was all fine with me until I realised that in the three houses I was at I couldn't find anyone I liked. So, as I say, I had just arrived in London, been employed by your aunt, and then I saw you."
She sighed, dreamily. I couldn't believe that the mere sight of me ambling across a lawn or something could have inspired this girl's affections. It made me wonder whether she was the 'Madeline Bassett' sort of female. The Bassett disease was a girl who firmly believed that the stars were God's daisy chain. I really hadn't seen myself being the sort of man to hook up with a girl like her. If this girl was of similar make, I couldn't see myself traipsing up the aisle with Emily Cooper either.
"Oh, I knew from the moment I saw you that you were the one for me. You looked so, so. . ."
"Handsome?" I queried, as she struggled for words.
"No. More like, kind, or gentlemanly. The sort of chap I was after."
This remark didn't fill me with happiness. It is somewhat of a blow to discover that the girl of your dreams, although she finds you kind looking, doesn't think much of you on the handsome side. However, I kept my peace, and Emily sallied forth with the rest of her story.
"But, even though I had found you, the difficulty was telling you how I felt. You left the next day, and shortly after, I moved away to the Georgehath house. It pained me so much to hear that you were engaged to Olivia. And when I saw your face as you went in, I knew you weren't keen, so I penned the note, and gave it to you. All hopelessly silly and romantic I know, still there it is."
I nodded. There it was all right. It still astounded me that she could've liked me so much without even talking to me. I found the thing incredible. But, as one of those poet people say: love works in mysterious ways.
Something was still hanging about and troubling me though. I remembered seeing Emily at that theatre Bingo and me went to. I put this to her.
"Oh, that!" she cried airily. "That was because Olivia had no one else to go with. It may seem strange, but I had to tag along with her to all sorts of places. I would pretend to be a friend of hers. That was when I got my big break."
She beamed at me. This was obviously something big.
"A talent scout heard me singing at one of the dances. I've been signed for a very minor role in some romantic play. I can't wait to leave the Georgehaths."
We drove on sometime, talking of this and the other, when we decided to return homeward. We arranged to meet same time, and same place next week, as that was when Emily had her day off. I dropped the heavenly vision off outside the 'House of Hell', and carried on to the flat. I skipped in like the high hills, cheerily requested a w. and s. and then settled down on the sofa, feeling full of human kindness.
Chapter Nine
That night, after Jeeves had popped off to sleep, I turned on the light, and lifted my love letter from my bedside table's locked draw. I gazed at it, longingly. I couldn't believe that this girl knew who I was. And if she did, why on earth she seemed to hold this undying love in her bosom.
I have been used, by at least two of my female pals, as a threat to their uncles. In short, when they wished to marry a bloke who their guardian was sure to disapprove of, they dragged me in, and threatened to marry me if the uncle, father or carer did not allow them to marry the man of their dreams. I am sad to say this usually worked.
These proceedings upset me. Being told in this round-a-bout way that I was no woman's choice for a husband, and if chosen at all only for money, or in most cases a challenge to improve my intellect. It lowers a fellow's moral.
But the arrival of this letter gave me new hope. The only trouble was I knew not where, or when to meet Miss Emily Cooper. Dashed difficult. I also decided not to reveal my letter to Jeeves. I am not that idiotic, as to show a declaration of love from her to me, to the girl's uncle. Uncles are known to chafe a bit. And by golly, knowing what Jeeves thinks of me, he was going to cut up as rough as Ooffy Prosser of the Drones, when he gets touched for money.
I gazed, possibly with the love light in my eyes, at the paper. I so wanted to get at that other half of it.
A most welcome surprise awaited me at breakfast. A small envelope, containing a scrap of paper. 'The' scrap of paper. Emily must have found it and sent it on. I closeted myself in my room, and read:
". . .the column of Nelson in Trafalgar square, on Tuesday 6th, 10:00"
Today. I dug up the other piece, and legged it for the open spaces. I arrived somewhat late, but quickly spotted the female I was after. Short blonde hair, with slim figure.
I wandered over, and 'hullo-d' a bit. The girl looked at me with perpetually wide eyes, giving her a deer like appearance. She seemed to a trifle shy, a sentiment I sympathised with. I knew how she felt.
It is a strange feature of such matters, that when I am trying to soften up a girl for a friends impending proposals, the sweet nectar runs from my lips like water from a tap, usually landing me in the soup, engaged to the bally female with the friend's curses in my ears. But now I was trying to win the heart of the angel before me, the honeyed words vanished, and I felt so devoid of debonair-ness and manly spirit, it was as though I had been filleted.
The girl eyed me in a frightened manner, and began speech.
"I-I am so sorry. I really shouldn't have called you here."
"Sir." She added, un-certainly.
I waved a weak hand vaguely, and endeavoured to find my voice. It proved tricky, but I managed it.
"Oh, not at all. I expect it was for some secret plan for your Uncle Jeeves, my valet. I was guessing that you made all the stuff up about love and hearts up, to get my attention, what?"
It was all I could say. I hadn't wanted to say it, mind you. I had wanted to invite her for a spin in my car about the country, or a quiet picnic in some pleasant spot. Instead I had rather chucked the idea out of her head that I might at all return any feelings described in her letter. Not a good start, I felt.
The effect it had on her was immediate. She gulped, she gasped. The signs of a woman's impending grief came to the fore. Emily turned, and began to walk, sobbingly away.
My next move was, thankfully, not due in any part to the quickness of my brain. It was due; I like to think, to the swift reactions of my heart. In a trice I was darting across the square at a fair rate of knots. Leaping into her path, I hastily tried to put in some of the old Wooster charm.
"Oh, I say, I didn't mean all that rot. Merely grabbing for words, don't you know?"
The girl looked sadly up at me. The tears began to disappear, the girlish hope came into the eyes like the sun rising.
"Really?"
"Of course. Just a merry jest."
Emily smiled prettily.
"I suppose you're wondering how I know anything about you."
"Well, yes, rather."
Then, with sudden presence of mind, I said:
"How about you tell me as we go for a drive in my car?"
She said Yes, and then I said What Ho Then, and off we popped. Jumping into the car, we were soon off down some picturesque lane, biffing along at a comfortable speed.
Emily started off.
"You see, I want to be an actress. I have been working as various sorts of maids in various houses for ages. So one day I decided to hand in my notice, and shoot off for fame and fortune. One of my cousins did very much the same thing. To achieve the fame and fortune bit, I decided to start off in London, in some theatre or other. But I needed cash, so I got a job as a house maid in the employ of a Mrs Travers."
I gargled.
"My Aunt!" I cried in surprise.
"Exactly. That was when I first saw you. You must understand that my father wants me to chuck the whole acting thing, and marry some other domestic staff man, and live happily cleaning houses. That was all fine with me until I realised that in the three houses I was at I couldn't find anyone I liked. So, as I say, I had just arrived in London, been employed by your aunt, and then I saw you."
She sighed, dreamily. I couldn't believe that the mere sight of me ambling across a lawn or something could have inspired this girl's affections. It made me wonder whether she was the 'Madeline Bassett' sort of female. The Bassett disease was a girl who firmly believed that the stars were God's daisy chain. I really hadn't seen myself being the sort of man to hook up with a girl like her. If this girl was of similar make, I couldn't see myself traipsing up the aisle with Emily Cooper either.
"Oh, I knew from the moment I saw you that you were the one for me. You looked so, so. . ."
"Handsome?" I queried, as she struggled for words.
"No. More like, kind, or gentlemanly. The sort of chap I was after."
This remark didn't fill me with happiness. It is somewhat of a blow to discover that the girl of your dreams, although she finds you kind looking, doesn't think much of you on the handsome side. However, I kept my peace, and Emily sallied forth with the rest of her story.
"But, even though I had found you, the difficulty was telling you how I felt. You left the next day, and shortly after, I moved away to the Georgehath house. It pained me so much to hear that you were engaged to Olivia. And when I saw your face as you went in, I knew you weren't keen, so I penned the note, and gave it to you. All hopelessly silly and romantic I know, still there it is."
I nodded. There it was all right. It still astounded me that she could've liked me so much without even talking to me. I found the thing incredible. But, as one of those poet people say: love works in mysterious ways.
Something was still hanging about and troubling me though. I remembered seeing Emily at that theatre Bingo and me went to. I put this to her.
"Oh, that!" she cried airily. "That was because Olivia had no one else to go with. It may seem strange, but I had to tag along with her to all sorts of places. I would pretend to be a friend of hers. That was when I got my big break."
She beamed at me. This was obviously something big.
"A talent scout heard me singing at one of the dances. I've been signed for a very minor role in some romantic play. I can't wait to leave the Georgehaths."
We drove on sometime, talking of this and the other, when we decided to return homeward. We arranged to meet same time, and same place next week, as that was when Emily had her day off. I dropped the heavenly vision off outside the 'House of Hell', and carried on to the flat. I skipped in like the high hills, cheerily requested a w. and s. and then settled down on the sofa, feeling full of human kindness.