"What ho, Jeeves!" I hallooed, dismounting and catching a peek of the aforementioned round a curve of the Pemberley shrubbery. "Must be something exceptional to have recalled me to the family fort a day earlier than planned. What exactly is afoot on the home turf? Fire? Foes?"
"Nothing of such a destructive nature, sir. I am sorry to have disrupted your plans, but I trust you will agree that it is better that I break the news to you prior to the arrival of your guests." Jeeves paused, collecting my reins and riding jacket in his usual solicitous way. He took his time to thoroughly grip the former and smooth the latter, just as if he didn't have me on tenterhooks with his foreboding words. He finally glanced up, then stiffened. "What," he said tersely, stopped, then began again. "What might you be wearing, sir?"
"Oh, this old thing?" I had loosened the waistcoat, as the day was rather warm for riding, and I knew there was little chance of meeting any of the fairer half, with or without fine eyes, between the present location and the ancestral home. "I'd noticed you had dropped it along with these very shirtsleeves when packing my things for London - most unlike you, Jeeves, do let me know if you ever require additional fish courses or anything - and so I just bunged them into the carriage myself at departure." The sleeves may have been a little on thin side; the ungenerous might have even described them as 'worn', or if in a particularly sour mood, 'threadbare'. But it took time and effort to get one's attire to that specific stage of comfort and breathability, so they were a great favourite of mine for days of exertion. And the waistcoat itself was, in a manner of phrasing, loud enough to speak for itself. "Jolly colour, isn't it?"
"It certainly is a remarkable hue," said Jeeves.
Oddly enough, that was pretty nearly what my dear young sister said, each time I fondly reminisced how she'd chosen this same article for me on her very own, before she could even lisp. After the aforementioned demure response, she'd always take on a hint of a blush; then swiftly move the breakfast conversation to music practise, or more recently, her eager anticipation of the tailor's next visit.
At the present moment, Jeeves, in contrast, bore neither blush nor any looks of eager anticipation. His demeanour, if I were required to give a description, tended more towards the acerbic. "Have you worn this… ensemble often, about town?"
"Yes." I hadn't in Hertfordshire, but as previously related, I'd frequented the fencing piste assiduously during my stay at the capitol. I waved the already established airy sleeves about impatiently at this unexpected inquest. "Is the urgent matter you summoned me to discuss sartorial in nature?"
"No, sir." Jeeves succumbed to pity and got back to the business at hand. "I wished to inform you of a rather distinguished visitor at Pemberley during your absence," he announced.
"Oh, I say – it's not Aunt Catherine, is it?" I gulped. "I don't fancy watching her lay into Bingley when he arrives tomorrow."
Jeeves coughed gently at my expression, which must have closer resembled the gaping of a drowning fish than not. "No, her Ladyship is not visiting Pemberley. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is."
Forget the gaping fish – my jaw met the old Darcy grounds like a great blue whale out trawling for plankton.
"Miss Eliz-Elizabeth Bennet, you say? Oh my giddy aunt." I could let the exclamation slip with reasonable safety now that Jeeves had assured me the premises were aged female relative – free.
"Indeed, sir. I think you might be pleased to know that she appears to be somewhat more tolerant of you, from her responses to Mrs Reynolds during her tour of the estate," Jeeves continued gravely.
"The housekeeper? She submits remarks on yours truly to the tourists?" I asked, justifiably confused.
A certain look I wasn't quite able to identify entered Jeeves' eye at the query. 'Forbearing' might be the word I'm fishing for – though perhaps 'long-suffering' fits the bill better. If it weren't Jeeves I was discussing, I would employ the adjective 'exasperated.' "She occasionally sees fit to do so, sir. With the highest respect, of course," he carefully intoned.
"Well that's all well and proper, but when you say that Miss Bennet is here, do you mean that she is here here? As in, at this very hour?" I prodded, snapping back to the pressing M.
"I took the liberty of assuring her that you were not presently at home, so I should expect that she is wandering the grounds even as we speak," Jeeves informed me calmly.
"I suppose nothing could have been truer when you said it Jeeves, but –" Here I broke off.
Have you ever considered the axiom, "Actions speak louder than words?" I had not previously, but within the next moment, I believe I arrived at a sort of epiphany. I could now see that this was only one of several occasions in which I was erroneously gadding about when good swift decisive movement was what was called for. Consider the Meryton assembly when I first came into Herfordshire. When encouraged by Bingley to dance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I told him in no uncertain terms that whatever young ladies he pushed forward for my inspection would never tempt me. What did that get me? Apparently, only righteous loathing from Miss Bennet and a total lack of comprehension from the already ensnared oaf Bingley. What should I have done? Turned on my heel and marched toward the nearest exit, that's what. Perhaps Bingley would have gotten the message then. Such an action could only be interpreted as a warning against the wiles of delightful families with five single daughters and an advisory to beat a hasty retreat from such formidable foes. Again, when asked by Miss Caroline Bingley to identify the object of my reverie during an unguarded moment, I answered honestly like a nincompoop of the same class as her grade – A brother. Again, how did such transparency repay me? With tireless teasing regarding "fine eyes" and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
The lesson is clear. It is when you act that you make an impression, while those who spend all day chewing the fat will live to rue it. Unfortunately, the realization had come for me too late. Here was I, nonchalantly discussing the whys and where-to-fors of Miss Bennet's arrival, when the very girl discussed was rounding the path not ten yards from us, behatted head bobbing along straight towards our position!
However, our elevation and lack of restricting headgear afforded us a better outlook, and thus the other party was spotted before engaged in battle. There still might have been time to salvage our position. Only one hope remained. I grasped at it like a sinking man. "Jeeves," I turned to him, desperation pleading in my gaze. "She is here! What should I do?"
Jeeves, a man of good heart and set on the path of true perfection, must have ultimately grasped upon the truth of actions versus words in very same moment as I. I can only assume such to be the case, for he granted me no verbal response, but instead raised his booted foot and sent me with a single firm push to the hindquarters into the duck pond.
Engulfing bonnet or no, Miss Bennet could hardly fail to hear the substantial splashes I made as I floundered out of the miry depths. I heard her startled exclamation, as well as the implied "Whatever are you doing floundering about in a duck pond like a drowned cat, Mr Darcy?" inherent in the laboured silence following. I brushed off a strand of seaweed – filing a mental note as I did so to ask Jeeves later what the blazes seaweed was doing in an inland duck pond – and glanced backwards to lay all blame with the responsible party. But however I strained the eyes, no Jeeves met my beleaguered stare. He must have shimmered away by then, complete with horse and discarded riding coat. I wished they could have shimmered away with me as well.
A repeated enquiry brought me back to myself. I tried to recollect the common way to speak to pretty members of one's acquaintance who have refused one's hand in marriage and then suddenly arrive at one's duck pond just as one extricates oneself from said duck pond. I'm not at all sure I succeeded. I hoped to redeem myself somewhat for my lack of respect towards her family that I had forgotten to remedy in my letter by asking after her parents' health. No matter how many times I began, I could never keep my wits in order long enough to ensure I had completed the solicitations. Driven to distraction and entirely routed, I at last beat a demoralized retreat to the house.
I marched straight up to my rooms and found Jeeves laying out a complete set of dress with a sanguine air. "Jeeves," I demanded, "I will not ask you what you meant by your entirely uncalled-for action earlier, but I will ask what you expect me to do now."
Jeeves pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I should advise wearing these drier articles of clothing, and then reengaging Miss Bennet in conversation before she runs from the premises frightened out of her wits, sir."
There were many remarks I could have made on this solution – such as questioning the intention of causing said girl to have justifiable reason to run from the premises frightened out of her wits – but I opted to forgo them in order to carry out his suggestion. One thing that may be said of Jeeves, is that even if one does not always comprehend the method to his madness during the course of his schemes, he had not led me astray yet. That counted for something.
"Very well, Jeeves." I gathered the accoutrements as the worthy man headed towards the door. "Oh, Jeeves?" I called as a recollection struck me. "I believe my waistcoat is currently serving as blanket for some juvenile tadpoles' underwater nursery."
"That is a pity, sir," I could hear him say as he poised precariously in the doorway.
"Perhaps it could be recovered with a bit of angling," I prompted in a hopeful tone.
"Perhaps," he echoed sonorously, as he exited.
I hope I acquitted myself well enough during the half hour that followed - I hobnobbed with the aunt and uncle, and in general tried to be agreeable and not comport myself like a fellow who enjoyed popping out of duck ponds before innocent young ladies as a sort of regular exercise. The old ticker had finally regained some stability by the time I wound my guest-free way back to the estate. As if through telepathy, I was met instantly with Jeeves carrying a slim bottle of restorer complete with glass and tray.
After a sip or two, I trusted myself enough to speak. "Well, Jeeves," I opined, "that could have gone better."
Jeeves merely raised the eyebrows. "Perhaps, sir."