Chapter Five
Jeeves and the Painting
"Hello, Miss Bassett," Jeeves said as cordially as ever, "And Mr. Darling. Ah, it is good to see you again, Mr. Wooster."
"Jeeves! What on Earth are you doing here?" Bertie questioned.
"He is my valet, Wooster," said Kevin Darling, "He came highly recommended by my darling fiancŽe, Madeline here."
"Oh, really. Well..." Bertie stammered, not sure how to take this news.
"You'd better watch your back," Blackadder piped in, "Pretty soon he'll be telling you how to act, how to dress, and how to think. It won't be long until he's even telling you how to wipe your bottom."
"I beg your pardon!" Jeeves demanded.
"Oh, stuff it, fat head! I know all about how you operate, Jeeves. A subtle little comment here. A planned coincidence there. Pretty soon you've taken complete control over your master's entire life. And the thicko has no idea what you're doing the whole time! Well, take it from me, Darling, you'd be better off trusting your life to a German than this self-serving low-life!"
"I have had just about enough of your insults, Blackadder!" said Jeeves, "Perhaps, Mr. Wooster would like to know about how you've lied and swindled your way into a nice comfy life style. Maybe he wants to know about how you've robbed every one of your previous employers blind with your deceit!"
"I've earned every penny I have! My master's rely on me for my service, not my mind-control!" Blackadder howled.
"You are a slimy little creature! A complete disgrace to the Ganymede Club! What have you to say for yourself, Blackadder?" yelled Jeeves.
"Just two words, really," said Blackadder, now much calmer, "Since you're so damn clever, I'll let you interpret them yourself. 'Sod' and 'Off.'"
"Boys, boys! Please stop arguing!" Madeline Bassett cut in. "Bertie, come. I want to show you something." She drew him further into the room, where she pulled a large, flat, brown package out from behind a dresser. She unwrapped the package to reveal a painting.
To Bertie, it looked like a few splashes of brown and black, vaguely resembling a pile of rats on a messy hillside, although he wasn't quite sure what it was meant to be. "What is it?" he asked.
"It's a painting," said Madeline.
"Well, I know that, Madeline. I mean what is it supposed to be a picture of?" Bertie asked again.
"Why it's a portrait of Sir Roderick, of course. It's for his birthday party!" she beamed, "What do you think, Bertie."
"I think it looks like someone dropped it in the mud," Bertie answered. "I'll have you know, Wooster, that that painting is a Phillip Renoir," Darling said.
"Excuse me, Darling," said Blackadder, with repressed amusement at Darlings flinching eye lid, "A who?"
"Phillip Renoir," Darling repeated, "Only one of the greatest French painters of our time! He is a dear friend of the family and he painted this picture for us to give to Sir Roderick."
"Ah! It all makes sense now," said Blackadder, "Leave it to the French to paint a portrait which looks as much like a human being as pot of vegetable stew after it's been fully digested by a cow and has come back out the other side."
"I think it's rather nice, sir," said Baldrick.
"Of course you do, Baldrick," Blackadder replied, "While most men are drawn to paintings of sunsets, forests, and beautiful women, you Baldrick would much prefer to look at a steaming pile of dung. You really should visit France, you know, Baldrick."
"How dare you insult the French!" Darling said, "You may be a guest of Sir Roderick's, but you are no guest of mine! Get out of my room, you scoundrel!"
"With pleasure," said Blackadder. Blackadder turned to leave with Baldrick, but not before putting his hand to Darling's arm and saying, "I'm sorry I've upset you, Darling," and watching for the eye to twitch.
"Terribly sorry about his rudeness, Kevbo!" said Bertie, "You know how it is! Tough to find a decent butler these days and all." With this comment, Bertie and Jeeves exchanged awkward glances for a brief moment. "Well...it's getting late now. I better scuttle off to bed, then. Goodnight, Darling. Goodnight, Madeline. Goodnight, Jeeves."
"Goodnight, sir," Jeeves said.
"Yes, I'll see you in the morning. And have a word with that butler of yours, will you?" Darling said.
"I'll walk you out, Bertie," said Madeline. Once outside the room, Madeline pulled Bertie aside and began whispering. "Bertie, I need to speak with you in private."
"Well, alright, Madeline. Go ahead!"
"No, not now. Not here, Bertie. Tomorrow. I need to speak with you tomorrow. You won't forget, will you?"
"I'm sure you'd remind me if I did, Madeline."
With a wide smile, Madeline said, "Yes. Well, goodnight, Bertie!"
"Goodnight, Madeline." As Bertie headed towards his room and Madeline turned back, neither of them noticed that Jeeves had been listening the entire time.
* * * *
"And furthermore, these people have been kind enough to welcome me into their home again after all the havoc that occurred the last time I was here. I will not have my valet hurling insults at our hosts! Do I make myself clear, Blackadder?" Bertie scolded Edmund.
"Perfectly, sir," said Blackadder, "And may I add a request for your forgiveness, sir. I was so angered by the way that your former butler treated you that I acted without thinking. I mean it's disgraceful the way he treated you like a child. Quite unacceptable, if you ask me. But it will not happen again, sir."
"Well, thank you, Blackadder. I know you were just looking out for your kind, generous, incredibly good-looking master. All's forgiven! Now, run me a bath, will you, Blackadder?"
"Impossible, sir," said Blackadder, "One of the butlers here told me while I was waiting for you outside Darling's room that the plumbing in our room is not working. Apparently, after a month, they still haven't recovered from the Plumbo-Jumbo."
"Oh, well that's a pity!" said Bertie, "Oh, well, I suppose we could use someone else's shower in the morning then.
"But, Mr. B," said Baldrick, "If the water isn't working, how are we to use the privy?"
"Well, I suppose you could just go in a bottle like you always do, Baldrick," Blackadder answered, just before there was a massive pounding on the door. They all jumped.
Baldrick answered the door. "Who are you?" the angry man at the other side of the door asked.
"My name is Baldrick. I am the ser..."
"He is nobody important. What do you want?" said Blackadder.
"I want to speak with your master!" said the man.
"Ah, Stilton!" said Bertie, "Allow me to introduce Stilton Cheesewright. Stilton, this is my butler, Black..."
"Enough with the pleasantries, Wooster!" Stilton said, "I thought you told me you weren't coming to Totleigh, and now I find out that you're going to be here the whole weekend?"
"That's right, Stilton. I changed my mind. Or rather, my Aunt Agatha changed it for me," Bertie said, still attempting to be polite.
"I know why you're here! You want to take a go at my fiancŽe, Elizabeth, don't you? After I warned you!" said Stilton.
"I've already told you, Stilton. I have no interest in your fiancŽe at all!" said Bertie.
"That's not what I think! I think you're planning to steal her away from me with more stupid comments about my facial hair," shouted Stilton, "Well, you had better watch out, Wooster! If I see you anywhere near Elizabeth, I'll break your spine in..."
"Oh, shut up, Cheesehead!" said Blackadder, "If I wanted to hear a madman scream for an hour, I'd attend a production of Macbeth! Now get out of Mr. Wooster's room, immediately before I have Baldrick beat you up!"
Stilton left quieter than Bertie had ever seen. After the door shut, Bertie looked at Blackadder. "Well, Blackie, I'm sorry for scolding you before! You really are a big help. I think we're going to get along just fine!" With that final comment, Bertie turned to his bedroom to go to sleep.
Blackadder turned to Baldrick and said quietly, "That's what I'm counting on," with a sinister laugh.
Jeeves and the Painting
"Hello, Miss Bassett," Jeeves said as cordially as ever, "And Mr. Darling. Ah, it is good to see you again, Mr. Wooster."
"Jeeves! What on Earth are you doing here?" Bertie questioned.
"He is my valet, Wooster," said Kevin Darling, "He came highly recommended by my darling fiancŽe, Madeline here."
"Oh, really. Well..." Bertie stammered, not sure how to take this news.
"You'd better watch your back," Blackadder piped in, "Pretty soon he'll be telling you how to act, how to dress, and how to think. It won't be long until he's even telling you how to wipe your bottom."
"I beg your pardon!" Jeeves demanded.
"Oh, stuff it, fat head! I know all about how you operate, Jeeves. A subtle little comment here. A planned coincidence there. Pretty soon you've taken complete control over your master's entire life. And the thicko has no idea what you're doing the whole time! Well, take it from me, Darling, you'd be better off trusting your life to a German than this self-serving low-life!"
"I have had just about enough of your insults, Blackadder!" said Jeeves, "Perhaps, Mr. Wooster would like to know about how you've lied and swindled your way into a nice comfy life style. Maybe he wants to know about how you've robbed every one of your previous employers blind with your deceit!"
"I've earned every penny I have! My master's rely on me for my service, not my mind-control!" Blackadder howled.
"You are a slimy little creature! A complete disgrace to the Ganymede Club! What have you to say for yourself, Blackadder?" yelled Jeeves.
"Just two words, really," said Blackadder, now much calmer, "Since you're so damn clever, I'll let you interpret them yourself. 'Sod' and 'Off.'"
"Boys, boys! Please stop arguing!" Madeline Bassett cut in. "Bertie, come. I want to show you something." She drew him further into the room, where she pulled a large, flat, brown package out from behind a dresser. She unwrapped the package to reveal a painting.
To Bertie, it looked like a few splashes of brown and black, vaguely resembling a pile of rats on a messy hillside, although he wasn't quite sure what it was meant to be. "What is it?" he asked.
"It's a painting," said Madeline.
"Well, I know that, Madeline. I mean what is it supposed to be a picture of?" Bertie asked again.
"Why it's a portrait of Sir Roderick, of course. It's for his birthday party!" she beamed, "What do you think, Bertie."
"I think it looks like someone dropped it in the mud," Bertie answered. "I'll have you know, Wooster, that that painting is a Phillip Renoir," Darling said.
"Excuse me, Darling," said Blackadder, with repressed amusement at Darlings flinching eye lid, "A who?"
"Phillip Renoir," Darling repeated, "Only one of the greatest French painters of our time! He is a dear friend of the family and he painted this picture for us to give to Sir Roderick."
"Ah! It all makes sense now," said Blackadder, "Leave it to the French to paint a portrait which looks as much like a human being as pot of vegetable stew after it's been fully digested by a cow and has come back out the other side."
"I think it's rather nice, sir," said Baldrick.
"Of course you do, Baldrick," Blackadder replied, "While most men are drawn to paintings of sunsets, forests, and beautiful women, you Baldrick would much prefer to look at a steaming pile of dung. You really should visit France, you know, Baldrick."
"How dare you insult the French!" Darling said, "You may be a guest of Sir Roderick's, but you are no guest of mine! Get out of my room, you scoundrel!"
"With pleasure," said Blackadder. Blackadder turned to leave with Baldrick, but not before putting his hand to Darling's arm and saying, "I'm sorry I've upset you, Darling," and watching for the eye to twitch.
"Terribly sorry about his rudeness, Kevbo!" said Bertie, "You know how it is! Tough to find a decent butler these days and all." With this comment, Bertie and Jeeves exchanged awkward glances for a brief moment. "Well...it's getting late now. I better scuttle off to bed, then. Goodnight, Darling. Goodnight, Madeline. Goodnight, Jeeves."
"Goodnight, sir," Jeeves said.
"Yes, I'll see you in the morning. And have a word with that butler of yours, will you?" Darling said.
"I'll walk you out, Bertie," said Madeline. Once outside the room, Madeline pulled Bertie aside and began whispering. "Bertie, I need to speak with you in private."
"Well, alright, Madeline. Go ahead!"
"No, not now. Not here, Bertie. Tomorrow. I need to speak with you tomorrow. You won't forget, will you?"
"I'm sure you'd remind me if I did, Madeline."
With a wide smile, Madeline said, "Yes. Well, goodnight, Bertie!"
"Goodnight, Madeline." As Bertie headed towards his room and Madeline turned back, neither of them noticed that Jeeves had been listening the entire time.
* * * *
"And furthermore, these people have been kind enough to welcome me into their home again after all the havoc that occurred the last time I was here. I will not have my valet hurling insults at our hosts! Do I make myself clear, Blackadder?" Bertie scolded Edmund.
"Perfectly, sir," said Blackadder, "And may I add a request for your forgiveness, sir. I was so angered by the way that your former butler treated you that I acted without thinking. I mean it's disgraceful the way he treated you like a child. Quite unacceptable, if you ask me. But it will not happen again, sir."
"Well, thank you, Blackadder. I know you were just looking out for your kind, generous, incredibly good-looking master. All's forgiven! Now, run me a bath, will you, Blackadder?"
"Impossible, sir," said Blackadder, "One of the butlers here told me while I was waiting for you outside Darling's room that the plumbing in our room is not working. Apparently, after a month, they still haven't recovered from the Plumbo-Jumbo."
"Oh, well that's a pity!" said Bertie, "Oh, well, I suppose we could use someone else's shower in the morning then.
"But, Mr. B," said Baldrick, "If the water isn't working, how are we to use the privy?"
"Well, I suppose you could just go in a bottle like you always do, Baldrick," Blackadder answered, just before there was a massive pounding on the door. They all jumped.
Baldrick answered the door. "Who are you?" the angry man at the other side of the door asked.
"My name is Baldrick. I am the ser..."
"He is nobody important. What do you want?" said Blackadder.
"I want to speak with your master!" said the man.
"Ah, Stilton!" said Bertie, "Allow me to introduce Stilton Cheesewright. Stilton, this is my butler, Black..."
"Enough with the pleasantries, Wooster!" Stilton said, "I thought you told me you weren't coming to Totleigh, and now I find out that you're going to be here the whole weekend?"
"That's right, Stilton. I changed my mind. Or rather, my Aunt Agatha changed it for me," Bertie said, still attempting to be polite.
"I know why you're here! You want to take a go at my fiancŽe, Elizabeth, don't you? After I warned you!" said Stilton.
"I've already told you, Stilton. I have no interest in your fiancŽe at all!" said Bertie.
"That's not what I think! I think you're planning to steal her away from me with more stupid comments about my facial hair," shouted Stilton, "Well, you had better watch out, Wooster! If I see you anywhere near Elizabeth, I'll break your spine in..."
"Oh, shut up, Cheesehead!" said Blackadder, "If I wanted to hear a madman scream for an hour, I'd attend a production of Macbeth! Now get out of Mr. Wooster's room, immediately before I have Baldrick beat you up!"
Stilton left quieter than Bertie had ever seen. After the door shut, Bertie looked at Blackadder. "Well, Blackie, I'm sorry for scolding you before! You really are a big help. I think we're going to get along just fine!" With that final comment, Bertie turned to his bedroom to go to sleep.
Blackadder turned to Baldrick and said quietly, "That's what I'm counting on," with a sinister laugh.