Dark Shadows over Blandings

Lord Emsworth was annoyed. He'd been hoping for a quiet summer where he could spend his time in his gardens and watching his beloved Empress feeding. But, as always, Blandings Castle was crammed and jammed with people. First of all, his sister, Constance had come for a visit and had brought the niece of her new husband's niece. There was Sam Billington, a nephew of his late wife. and Though he deeply regretted her passing, one of the few advantages was that her blasted relatives had all but stopped dropping by , until this poop Billington showed up, looking wilted. That Hart girl came in with him. She was his new secretary; not so bad as secretaries go, she hadn't asked him to sign anything or reply to any letters, but … one could never tell. Miss Hart had skulked in, walked into the small library and begun to clean her hunting rifle. This sight distressed Lord Emsworth; he went off in search of his brother, Galahad.

The Hon. Galahad Surname liked to see young women who were full of girlish mischief, pep and laughter. Therefore, he was irritated that girl before him, Athena Bennett, had none of these qualities. She was a petite, bland, dark haired , with wire-rimmed spectacles, who sat curled up on sofa, her attention riveted to on the book she was reading. He'd hoped for more from a niece of Johnny Schoonmaker, Connie was at Blandings because her husband had business in London. The oddest thing about Athena was the way she answered any question addressed to her, She answered them questions: as if she was speaking to a timid mouse sitting on her right shoulder.

"How do you like England?" he had asked her, wondeirng what an American made of it.

"It's lovely," she murmured into her right shoulder.

"I bet you want to be up in London and do bit a of dancing," he suggested. "I knew a girl in '98 who couldn't stop dancing."

"Oh no," she said in a voice that one had to strain to hear. "I hate cities, too dangerous. I don't like dancing."

"Don't like dancing?" Galahad so was shocked and stunned by this revelation that his monocle nearly flew off. "I've never heard such a thing!"

"I'm sorry," Athena whispered softly into her right shoulder. "I just don't. I've never really been dancing."

"You've been to balls and things like that," Galahad said.

"Yes, but I've never been asked to dance," she said in her smallest voice, as if the mouse on her shoulder had nodded off and she was trying not to wake it.

It was just then that that Clarence came shuffling in.

"Galahad?" Lord Emsworth said in a quavering voice. "Can I have a word with you, in private?"

"Yes, Clarence," Galahad said. "What is it?"

They walked off together, leaving Athena to her book: a copy of Roget's Thesaurus.

"This Ms. Miss Hart, Galahad."

"Marvellous girl, filled to the top with vim and zest. I knew you'd like her as soon as I got her the position."

"I found her cleaning a rifle in the small library. Most worrying. I mean what if should accidentally go off and hit the Empress!"

"Then we'd have bacon and sausage for months."

"What!"

"Nothing. Look I'm sure she knows what she's doing, very capable girl. And she needs this job. Her grandmother, a remarkable woman who I knew in the '90s. , wrote me saying: 'Gally, get this girl a job. I need her out of my hair.' So I Of course, I knew you wouldn't mind. So, I wrote back, saying: "Don't worry. I know the very spot." You weren't in London much in the '90s and never met her. She was an amazing lady – part of that league they had…."

Clarence, who had drifted away during this anecdote, injected, with: "But why did she have the rifle in the first place?"

"Oh, Della wants to hunt that large, black wolf that's been reported by some locals," Galahad remarked

"Good god! A great black wolf! My Empress!" Clarence exclaimed. "If it doesn't harm her, it could scare her so badly, she might goes off her feed."

"Don't worry, Clarence, nothing's been damaged. Most likely the blokes who reported were drunk and just saw a loose dog," Galahad said calmly.

"Well, I'll much feel much better when my new pig men come. I've read over the papers they sent me and they sound highly qualified," Clarence said. "I'm sure they'll know exactly what do."

"….We're going to Shropshire to do what!" Corky exclaimed.

He looked across the train compartment at his friend, Ukridge, with an incredulous expression on his face.

"Tend a pig, but not just any pig, laddie, a prize winning pig," Ukridge said and drew on his pipe.

"I don't care what kind of bally pig it is!" Corky said. "And what do know about tending pigs, anyways? About as much you know about chicken farming."

"Don't mention chickens, old horse. No, chickens are a mugs game, glad I'm out of it," Ukridge replied. "Besides, it should be easy tending a pig, a little child could do it."

Corky just let out a sigh and stared at the scenery passing outside the train window with a mournful air.

"Why did this old fellow hire us in the first place?" he asked.

"I had this friend of mine – great fellow, you'd like him – make up some papers for us. Which make us look like pig experts. Made this Emsworth positively leaping to hire us. " Ukridge said.

"Oh," Corky sighed still trying to find a chink in Ukridge's armour. "Still, it's bit low for you, settling on pig tending. I always thought you would set your expectations a bit higher."

There was a conspiratorial glitter in the eyes behind the pince-nez.

"Well, laddie," Ukridge said with a grin. "The pig tending is just part one of my scheme. We are going to kidnap this pig and hold it for ransom."

"That's it," Corky said. "You've lost your reason. Pig-napping, who'd pay ransom for a pig?"

"Emsworth would," Ukridge replied. "I was up in Wolverhampton and I was talking to this fellow who runs a pub up there. He used to be Emsworth's pigman. He told me the old fellow is potty for his pig. Thinks of it not as of a porker but a beloved daughter. If we kidnap the animal, we can ask unto half his kingdom for ransom! We'll be rolling in the stuff, laddie!"

Corky looked at his old school friend in dumb amazement. And then shaking his head he grabbed his hat and coat. "That's it, I'm getting off at the next station. You can send me a post card about it. Good-bye"

Corky was in the act of opening the compartment door when Ukridge said, "Upon my sam! You wouldn't do this to a friend, laddie not in his hour of need. Not you, Corky, with your large heart and stout sinews. I really need this capital, old horse. I'll take you into my confidence."

There was something an almost desperate pleading in the great man's voice that made Corky close the door and resume his seat. "What?"

"It's Millie. She's …" Ukridge said, his brow wrinkling, attempting for maybe the first time in his many years to put something delicately, "… up the duff, old horse."

"Oh," Corky replied, his eyes widening in shock.

"That's why I need this capital. I always planned on having a family; I thought it would be when I'd made a pile. Two can live as cheaply as one, but three can't," Ukridge said.

There was a pause of several tense seconds.

"So When is the stork due to visit?" Corky asked.

"Sometime in January," Ukridge replied. "We need all the help we can get. That's why I knew you'd pitch in and come to the aid to the party. Millie is off trying to put the touch on the aunts, Elizabeth and possibly Julia."

"But your Aunt Julia disowned you," Corky said.

"Yes, but even that hard-hearted old scribbler wouldn't allow a child to starve," Ukridge said.

Corky looked over at his friend. Ukridge had a cloud over him and not just of tobacco smoke. His nez-pince pince-nez eschew was askew, his yellow raincoat was rumpled. Corky tried to imagine the little Ukridge that would be entering the world soon. It would be have an unhappy childhood, constantly running from duns.

"Fine. I'll help you," Corky said.

"Knew you would! Now as a precaution I've given us both false names. I'm Christopher Wickham and you're George Drawlight…"