Guess what? Usual Disclaimer.
Chapter Seventeen
Jeeves hopped into the front seat of Aunt Dahlia's car. I leapt into the passenger seat and Aunt Dahlia sat in the back.
"So, Jeeves, where has this fiend Binsley taken Bertie's Emily?"
"I believe he intended to take Emily back to her house. He is staying at a nearby hotel."
"Right then, Jeeves, to the metrop. with all possible speed!" I cried.
We arrived late on. After leaving the car goodness where, we wandered over to Emily's house.
I am not a particularly romantic man. Chocolates, flowers and all that rot are fine by me, but beyond that I didn't think I'd go. And here I was, about to rescue Emily Cooper from the clutches of this Binsley bimbo.
Jeeves walked up to the house, and knocked on the door. It creaked open to reveal Mr Cooper. Aunt Dahlia and myself were concealed behind a local tree, so we could see all.
Mr Cooper accepted Jeeves in, but in Jeeves would not go. He turned round and called us out of our hidey-hole. We came out. Mr Cooper proceeded to leap a foot in the air. Then he yelled:
"Wooster!"
He did a lot of that, I had noticed. I had to say I didn't think much of Jeeve's plan. It wasn't in his usual style. No finesse.
Jeeves pressed on.
"Mr Wooster wishes to speak with Miss Cooper one more time, Charles."
The newly named 'Charles Cooper' sneered in a general way, and permitted me into the house. Aunt Dahlia tried to follow, but was barred at the door by the wiry frame of Pop Cooper.
I loped into the inner sanctum. All was quiet and still, as they say in the movies.
"My daughter is in there."
I banged my head on the ceiling as the clipped tones of the ghastly father sprang out behind me. I opened the door, cautiously.
There was a startled gasp, and a blokey, built like an ape, but twice as tall launched him-self at me. There was another door opposite the one the bloke had just popped out of. Through we went, toppling down some stairs and into a large basket of white linen sheets.
By some miracle, I was out first. I hopped for the exit like a hyperactive rabbit, stumbling through into the room where Emily was concealed. However, I was caught in mid-stumble by a solid object.
Both said object and me shot through the other door like bally clowns and hit some sort of sofa. I rolled off it with a thump.
Untangling myself from the debris I had brought with me, like a sheet, and two cushions, I was able to sit up. The solid object turned out to be Emily. She was struggling out from the clutches of a pillowcase, a sofa throw, and the largest pillow in London.
When she had quite finished, she said;
"Oh, Bertie! My lamb!"
"Hello, Angel!"
I stood up, only to be knocked back by Emily propelling herself off the sofa at me. We stood for goodness knows how long, clasped together, whispering, what I believe are known as sweet nothings in each others ears. This sort of thing inevitably happens when two hearts that beat as one are parted for any length of time.
It was rather unfortunate that as we were entangled in Emily's sitting room, her blasted Father wandered in. He gave a sort of strangled yowling noise. Emily shot skywards, and I collapsed into the fireguard as I tripped over the footrest backwards.
I wasn't there for very long, however, before Mr Cooper had hauled me up by my collar. I gurgled a good deal, finding it a tad tricky to breathe in the circumstances.
"You, you . . ."
He was saved from finishing his sentence by his wonderful daughter batting him one on the head with a chair. His grip loosened, I started to breathe again, and Emily watched as he crumpled up on the floor.
The big eyes looked at me. Tears began to show and suddenly I was once again entangled with E.Cooper.
"Oh, Bertie, what have I done?"
"Well old sport, you appear to have beaten your father over the head with a chair."
She hit me gently on the shoulder, but continued crying.
"But, you did save me from an early death of suffocation."
She brightened up at this. But only enough to hit me on the other shoulder and then hurry me out of the house before her pater woke up, and decided it must have been my fault that he was reclining on the floor.
We waved a fond farewell at the door, where I tried to convince her to come back to Aunt Dahlia's. The faithful Emily would have none of it. She seemed also preoccupied, but I put that down to worry.
"I really can't Bertie! I must be here when father wakes up and tell him that the chair was my fault, otherwise the chances of us getting married are slimmer than paper."
I left the house just in time, as it happened. I could distinctly hear the sounds of Edward Binsley finally escaping the laundry.
Jeeves and Aunt Dahlia had taken residence in the car. I hopped in, much to Aunt Dahlia's insistence that I should not leave without the angel E.Cooper. I pointed out that she would not come. The aged A. was silent.
It must have been past midnight when we arrived back at Aunt Dahlia's. Angela was running about all over the shop, going 'mad with worry' and other things. Aunt Dahlia began explaining things to the poor girl while Jeeves and I retired to bed. I watched Jeeves glide off down the passage; he was thinking.
I was by far too tired to sleep, let alone think.
I was up later than usual next day. I was eating toast in the garden when Angela popped over, a face like thunder, and hands clenched by her sides.
We sat on an ornamental bench for some time, self-munching contentedly, and thinking of my heavenly fiancé down in London, and Angela apparently thinking of something unpleasant.
"Bertie, do you agree that all men are rats?"
"No dearest cousin, I can't say I do."
She brooded for a space.
"Well Tuppy is."
"I concede that Tuppy can be somewhat trying at times."
"He pushed you into a pool or something, didn't he?"
"Not so much pushed as lured."
"We're chumps, the both of us."
"I agree Angela, but not totally. Whereas I am completely aware that I am a certified chump, I would not have applied the title to your good self."
"Well I would. Tuppy Glossop has taken us both in. I have had enough of him."
Just then, the man himself appeared round the corner. It was a shock. He was supposed to be in exile.
"Oh, hullo, Bertie."
He looked morose. Angela looked mortified. I don't know how I looked, but I felt as if I was in the middle of a war zone.
"Leave, Mr Glossop. You are not welcome here."
Angela had got up. She eyed Tuppy down her nose and lifted my arm from my side, and tugged. I stood up.
"Bertram and I are going for a stroll. Good day to you."
"You're not going round with 'him' are you?"
I took offence at this. Tuppy was still a sort of friend. One doesn't like to hear that tone of voice in one's pals.
What got me most was Angela's reply.
"Well, actually, I am."
Tuppy looked shocked. And let me tell you, I felt shocked. This revelation was news to me. I stared at Angela. She ignored me, and bulldozed straight on, in that un-stoppable way girls do.
"Me and Bertie are going now Tuppy, so as I said before, Good bye."
Tuppy had a stab at retaliation.
"Well, then, I'll go and call up my new fiancé."
"You haven't got a new fiancé." Angela, quite rightly pointed out.
"Quite old man. You can't go making up fiancés. They don't like it."
Tuppy drew himself up at this, which didn't require much drawing.
"I soon will have. Her name's Emily Cooper and I love her."
Chapter Seventeen
Jeeves hopped into the front seat of Aunt Dahlia's car. I leapt into the passenger seat and Aunt Dahlia sat in the back.
"So, Jeeves, where has this fiend Binsley taken Bertie's Emily?"
"I believe he intended to take Emily back to her house. He is staying at a nearby hotel."
"Right then, Jeeves, to the metrop. with all possible speed!" I cried.
We arrived late on. After leaving the car goodness where, we wandered over to Emily's house.
I am not a particularly romantic man. Chocolates, flowers and all that rot are fine by me, but beyond that I didn't think I'd go. And here I was, about to rescue Emily Cooper from the clutches of this Binsley bimbo.
Jeeves walked up to the house, and knocked on the door. It creaked open to reveal Mr Cooper. Aunt Dahlia and myself were concealed behind a local tree, so we could see all.
Mr Cooper accepted Jeeves in, but in Jeeves would not go. He turned round and called us out of our hidey-hole. We came out. Mr Cooper proceeded to leap a foot in the air. Then he yelled:
"Wooster!"
He did a lot of that, I had noticed. I had to say I didn't think much of Jeeve's plan. It wasn't in his usual style. No finesse.
Jeeves pressed on.
"Mr Wooster wishes to speak with Miss Cooper one more time, Charles."
The newly named 'Charles Cooper' sneered in a general way, and permitted me into the house. Aunt Dahlia tried to follow, but was barred at the door by the wiry frame of Pop Cooper.
I loped into the inner sanctum. All was quiet and still, as they say in the movies.
"My daughter is in there."
I banged my head on the ceiling as the clipped tones of the ghastly father sprang out behind me. I opened the door, cautiously.
There was a startled gasp, and a blokey, built like an ape, but twice as tall launched him-self at me. There was another door opposite the one the bloke had just popped out of. Through we went, toppling down some stairs and into a large basket of white linen sheets.
By some miracle, I was out first. I hopped for the exit like a hyperactive rabbit, stumbling through into the room where Emily was concealed. However, I was caught in mid-stumble by a solid object.
Both said object and me shot through the other door like bally clowns and hit some sort of sofa. I rolled off it with a thump.
Untangling myself from the debris I had brought with me, like a sheet, and two cushions, I was able to sit up. The solid object turned out to be Emily. She was struggling out from the clutches of a pillowcase, a sofa throw, and the largest pillow in London.
When she had quite finished, she said;
"Oh, Bertie! My lamb!"
"Hello, Angel!"
I stood up, only to be knocked back by Emily propelling herself off the sofa at me. We stood for goodness knows how long, clasped together, whispering, what I believe are known as sweet nothings in each others ears. This sort of thing inevitably happens when two hearts that beat as one are parted for any length of time.
It was rather unfortunate that as we were entangled in Emily's sitting room, her blasted Father wandered in. He gave a sort of strangled yowling noise. Emily shot skywards, and I collapsed into the fireguard as I tripped over the footrest backwards.
I wasn't there for very long, however, before Mr Cooper had hauled me up by my collar. I gurgled a good deal, finding it a tad tricky to breathe in the circumstances.
"You, you . . ."
He was saved from finishing his sentence by his wonderful daughter batting him one on the head with a chair. His grip loosened, I started to breathe again, and Emily watched as he crumpled up on the floor.
The big eyes looked at me. Tears began to show and suddenly I was once again entangled with E.Cooper.
"Oh, Bertie, what have I done?"
"Well old sport, you appear to have beaten your father over the head with a chair."
She hit me gently on the shoulder, but continued crying.
"But, you did save me from an early death of suffocation."
She brightened up at this. But only enough to hit me on the other shoulder and then hurry me out of the house before her pater woke up, and decided it must have been my fault that he was reclining on the floor.
We waved a fond farewell at the door, where I tried to convince her to come back to Aunt Dahlia's. The faithful Emily would have none of it. She seemed also preoccupied, but I put that down to worry.
"I really can't Bertie! I must be here when father wakes up and tell him that the chair was my fault, otherwise the chances of us getting married are slimmer than paper."
I left the house just in time, as it happened. I could distinctly hear the sounds of Edward Binsley finally escaping the laundry.
Jeeves and Aunt Dahlia had taken residence in the car. I hopped in, much to Aunt Dahlia's insistence that I should not leave without the angel E.Cooper. I pointed out that she would not come. The aged A. was silent.
It must have been past midnight when we arrived back at Aunt Dahlia's. Angela was running about all over the shop, going 'mad with worry' and other things. Aunt Dahlia began explaining things to the poor girl while Jeeves and I retired to bed. I watched Jeeves glide off down the passage; he was thinking.
I was by far too tired to sleep, let alone think.
I was up later than usual next day. I was eating toast in the garden when Angela popped over, a face like thunder, and hands clenched by her sides.
We sat on an ornamental bench for some time, self-munching contentedly, and thinking of my heavenly fiancé down in London, and Angela apparently thinking of something unpleasant.
"Bertie, do you agree that all men are rats?"
"No dearest cousin, I can't say I do."
She brooded for a space.
"Well Tuppy is."
"I concede that Tuppy can be somewhat trying at times."
"He pushed you into a pool or something, didn't he?"
"Not so much pushed as lured."
"We're chumps, the both of us."
"I agree Angela, but not totally. Whereas I am completely aware that I am a certified chump, I would not have applied the title to your good self."
"Well I would. Tuppy Glossop has taken us both in. I have had enough of him."
Just then, the man himself appeared round the corner. It was a shock. He was supposed to be in exile.
"Oh, hullo, Bertie."
He looked morose. Angela looked mortified. I don't know how I looked, but I felt as if I was in the middle of a war zone.
"Leave, Mr Glossop. You are not welcome here."
Angela had got up. She eyed Tuppy down her nose and lifted my arm from my side, and tugged. I stood up.
"Bertram and I are going for a stroll. Good day to you."
"You're not going round with 'him' are you?"
I took offence at this. Tuppy was still a sort of friend. One doesn't like to hear that tone of voice in one's pals.
What got me most was Angela's reply.
"Well, actually, I am."
Tuppy looked shocked. And let me tell you, I felt shocked. This revelation was news to me. I stared at Angela. She ignored me, and bulldozed straight on, in that un-stoppable way girls do.
"Me and Bertie are going now Tuppy, so as I said before, Good bye."
Tuppy had a stab at retaliation.
"Well, then, I'll go and call up my new fiancé."
"You haven't got a new fiancé." Angela, quite rightly pointed out.
"Quite old man. You can't go making up fiancés. They don't like it."
Tuppy drew himself up at this, which didn't require much drawing.
"I soon will have. Her name's Emily Cooper and I love her."