Jeeves and the Monetary Imbalance (Part 1)

[triedunture]

Title: Jeeves and the Monetary Imbalance
Pairing: Jeeves + Wooster
Rating: PG
Words: 16,000 (Good Lord! Had to be broken up into two parts. Sorry about that.)
Warnings: established relationship, of a sort
Disclaimer: Owned? Not really, no.
Summary: Jeeves comes into a bit of money. Enter ruses, angry words over gentlemen's accessories, Bingo attempting to be helpful, and a trip to India.

<><><>

I was chin-deep in the bathtub, sloshing about as is my normal wont, when I heard the 'phone ring. Its bell pealed only twice before Jeeves picked it up and, with his usual soothing voice, rumbled a greeting into the receiver. Being in the salle de bain, I could only hear the faintest murmurs of the conversation, and I hoped it wasn't an aunt requesting aid in some mad scheme involving silver antiques, marrying cousins, or toy terriers.

Moments later, Jeeves entered with a towel draped over his arm.

'Who was that on the 'phone, Jeeves?' I asked with mild trepidation.

'It was a solicitor, sir,' he answered. He unfolded the towel and held it out, ready for the damp Wooster carcass. I rose from the water with a sluicing wriggle and flung myself into the warmed terrycloth. How Jeeves got the things so perfectly toasty, I'd never know. Probably fried them over the stove beforehand or something.

'What did he want? I'm not getting sued, am I?' I rubbed the clinging water from both limbs and hair, careful not to drip on Jeeves' shoes.

'No, sir. The gentleman is the executor of my uncle's will. I was just informed he has passed away,' Jeeves said. From his thoughtful tone, he might have been discussing the price of cabbage by the pound.

My care-free smile fell off my face to join the growing puddle on the bathmat. 'I am sorry, dear fellow.'

'It's quite all right, sir. I never knew him very well; Uncle Conroy moved abroad when I was just a child.' He was looking as if he could see through the walls and buildings of London all the way to France, so far away was his gaze.

'Still.' I wrapped myself in the towel and, with a glance about the Wooster frame, decided I was dry enough to execute a manoeuvre of sorts. I carefully put my arms round Jeeves' neck and said again, 'I am sorry.'

I don't know if you know Jeeves? Well, whoever you are, you certainly don't know him as I do. That fact is, Jeeves is not the sort of person you usually attempt to embrace. While he is the greatest brain in the kingdom and a fine conversationalist, he's generally aloof in the physical sense, floating three inches above the ground while everyone else must walk in the dust. But I knew Jeeves in a different way, one that allowed such touchy measures to be taken, especially in times of sadness.

To be honest about the thing, I had made my more-than-employer-ish feelings known towards said manservant about a month prior. And shockingly enough, Jeeves had returned the sentiments in his own unsentimental way.

'Jeeves,' I had said, uncurling from my bedclothes one morning and unable to keep it to myself any longer, 'do you know I love you and all that?'

Jeeves had said, 'Yes, sir. Very good, sir,' and took the breakfast tray away with what one might call deep affection.

Things had progressed nicely. There had been an inspired few moments of hand-holding at the piano bench, followed some weeks later by a rather bold kiss to Jeeves' cheek while he was helping me out of my dressing gown one night. I had blushed and stammered, thinking I had gone too far in a moment of weakness, but Jeeves had merely slid a hand over his cheek, an amused glint in his eyes, and wished me a goodnight before gliding off to his own lair. I had fallen asleep with a girlish smile fixed on my own face, I'm sure. And the day before receiving the news about the uncle, I had sprawled on the chesterfield with my head in Jeeves' lap while we read our respective improving books. It had been absolutely topping, in my opinion. Nothing could beat Jeeves' upper thigh for a pillow while his fingers played idly in the Wooster curls.

Why, if Jeeves had been a beazel, this would be the point where I would spring the idea of a wedding, fool that I am. But as it stood, I really didn't know what to bally well do next, except to offer this paragon of a paramour some comfort in his time of loss, if he happened to need it.

But apparently, he didn't. 'Thank you, sir. I'm truly fine,' he said before gently pushing me away by the shoulders, still looking off towards France.

I gazed up at him, being a goodish few inches shy of his height out of my shoes. 'Why the rum look about you, then?' I asked.

'I'm only concerned because the solicitor asked me to come to his offices. It appears my Uncle Conroy named me the sole beneficiary in his will, and I have no idea why he would stipulate such a thing.'

I grinned up at him sunnily. 'Well, he must have liked you, what?'

'I barely knew the man.' Jeeves shook his head and tapped a finger to his lips. 'He has two brothers still living, and several nephews besides myself. I wonder if there is a family quarrel of which I am unaware.'

'Nothing has escaped you, I'm sure. The chap probably knew you'd take care of everything, as usual; simple as that.' I fiddled with the corner of my towel. 'Would you like me to accompany you to the solicitor's, Jeeves?'

'That won't be necessary, sir. Thank you, but I will go alone this afternoon.' Jeeves then turned the conversation to which suit I wanted laid out, so that, as they say, was that.

<><><><>

I was lounging in the sitting room with a cigarette, contemplating a jaunt down to the club for some sustenance, when Jeeves came home. It had been a bitter winter, and his black overcoat was damp with sleet. He removed this and his hat in a glassy-eyed way, like a hound staring off into the distance after hearing the honk of a goose. He very nearly hung his bowler on the hat stand beside my own toppers, which was most unlike him; as far as I knew, his private quarters hid all his worldly possessions, and they never spilled out into the world at large to mingle with anyone else's. He only stopped his hand at the last second and seemed to shake his head in self-rebuke. A ghastly sight, Jeeves rebuking himself; it was just the very picture of wrong.

'I say, is everything all right?' I asked, knowing full well it wasn't.

'Sir?' Jeeves had been in the process of shimmering off to his quarters, and he looked at me as if he hadn't seen me before in his life.

'Did everything go smoothly at the solicitor's?' I had the idea that perhaps this Uncle Conroy, black sheep of the Jeeves clan as he was, had left my man in the lurch with a pile of debts to be paid. It would have to be a great sum indeed for Jeeves to have become so pale.

'Yes, sir,' was all the data that was offered before he resumed his teleportation out of my sight. He returned just as soundlessly a moment later, no longer carrying overcoat and hat. 'Is there anything you require, sir?'

I sucked on the pensive cigarette. 'Jeeves, you seem upset. Not un-moved. Positively ruffled.'

'Indeed, sir?'

'If some calamity has occurred--'

'Nothing of mention, sir.'

'Dash it, Jeeves.' I stubbed out the pensive cig. and stood to clasp his hand in mine. 'If this were years ago, when you first descended into my life and my flat, I could have perhaps let this line of questioning drop. Not so now. I want you to tell me all; if some burden has been placed upon you, allow me to share it. If it's a matter of a debt--'

'Sir?' Jeeves' face was as passive and calm as a regal cow.

'What I mean to say is, I would cheerfully fork over any amount you might need, Jeeves.' I went so far as to press his hand tight; these things sometimes require a bit of the skin-on-skin, don't you know.

'I assure you, sir, I am not troubled by any need for financial assistance,' he said slowly.

'Well, then what the devil has got you so thrown off your rails?'

Jeeves puffed out a sigh and retracted his hand from my grasping paws. He reached into his suit coat and retrieved a packet of papers covered front and back with the tiniest of print. 'A copy of my uncle's last will and testament, sir,' he said, holding the document out to me. 'I thought to keep this news to myself, but I see now that it would be impossible.'

I took the missive in hand and squinted at the Lilliputian words. 'Eh?' I said.

'I believe the third page will be the most illuminating, sir. It contains a list of assets that I have just now inherited.' He pointed helpfully to the correct paragraph as I flipped to the appropriate section.

The old eyeballs scanned the pages, but the brain didn't seem to be absorbing anything in its usual sponge-like manner. 'Erm?' I said.

'Perhaps if you just skipped down to the total monetary value available in liquid form, sir. The figure appears at the bottom of the page,' Jeeves directed.

I read the number and all its accompanying zeros. I read it again. A third time proved just as fruitless in the task of understanding. 'This...this is all yours, Jeeves?' I asked, for want of clarification.

'Indeed, sir.'

'Good Lord!' The phrase summed it up so well, I said it again. 'Good Lord!'

Jeeves closed his eyes and nodded in a pained way, like a jewel thief receiving his sentence from the High Court.

'I say!' I cried. 'Do you realise, Jeeves, that there's more money here than even I have to my name?'

'Yes, sir.' The voice did not waver, but it was a bit hoarse. Jeeves coughed into his fist, I suppose to cover it up.

'Jeeves, what on earth did your uncle do?'

'He was in the mining business, sir.'

'Gold and silver, what?'

'No, sir. Iron.'

I looked down at the paper once more. 'I would never think lumps of iron would amount to anything of this magnitude.'

'He procured many lucrative contracts with steel manufacturers, sir, throughout the years when construction was proceeding at a fast pace in most major cities.'

'Ah, a man of industry, then?'

'Precisely, sir.'

'Well, well, well.' I was brimming with happiness for my fellow. After all, it's not every day you see fantastic windfalls coming to the doorsteps of deserving people, and none is more deserving than Jeeves. But then a gear clicked in my head and the consequences became clear. 'Jeeves!' I said. 'Does this mean you will no longer work for a living?'

I was overcome with the sudden dread of knowing that Jeeves, no longer needing my employ, would no longer need me. The look of total despair must have shown plainly on the Wooster visage, because Jeeves tsked at me in sympathy.

'Oh, sir.' Jeeves wrapped those capable arms around my snivelling shoulders. 'I do not wish to resign.'

'But why?' I asked his tie. 'Why aren't you on a rooftop somewhere, shouting happily to the heavens and throwing wads of cash into the street below? Lord knows that's what any normal chap would do.'

'I am disinclined to traverse any rooftop, sir.' His hand came up to stroke my hair, as if I were a feline that needed calming. 'A life of leisure may be a blessing to some men, but I fear I would not take to it with a grace like yours. It is my intention to remain at your side, if you would let me.'

'So we'll just ignore it, then? Let the load sit in the bank or something?' I asked with hopeful adoration.

'Yes, sir. Because of his secretive nature, my uncle never made his wealth known to the rest of my family. I suspect the two of us should keep mum on the subject.'

'My lips are sealed!' I promised. I held him as tight as a vice. 'Oh, thank you, Jeeves, thank you!'

I was so elated that things would go on as they had, that nothing would change. Except everything did.

<><><><>

It began simply enough. The topic had been raised between us while Jeeves was giving me my weekly manicure. The ragged nails were being smoothed and glossed under Jeeves' watchful eye while I prattled on about the races that were to take place that week. Jeeves hummed and said, 'It just so happens that I have heard of horse trouble of another sort, sir,' and he told me the story. As it turned out, his brother-in-law needed a new horse. The chappie was a milkman, and his old cart-horse had up and died on him quite unexpectedly.

'A suitable replacement would be most expensive, sir. Until the funds can be amassed, he has taken to delivering the milk by way of a child's wagon. My sister tells me he must make dozens of return trips in order to supply the entire village.'

We had a good laugh at that picture. Well, I had a laugh and Jeeves looked less unamused. Then, just as Jeeves was finishing up with my left forefinger, I said, 'If your excellent and deserving sister wanted a loan, why, I would--'

And then I stopped speaking, and Jeeves stopped manicuring. I believe it dawned on us at the exact same moment that I needn't offer the Jeeves family any money, ever. Not when the Jeeves himself had bunches of the stuff.

'Jeeves!'

'Sir.'

'Could you--'

'I could, sir.'

'I mean, if this husband of your sister isn't a complete horror, maybe you should--'

'No, sir. Arthur is a decent man, and my sister is very devoted to him.'

'And you are devoted to your sister. Why, Jeeves, you should buy the man a new horse! Golly, you could buy him an entire fleet of horses if you wanted,' I said.

'He only requires the one animal, sir. It is a small village.'

I slapped a finely polished hand on my knee. 'There you are, then! Oh, but dash it, you couldn't very well show up at dinner with a new gelding and say you happened to find it on the road.'

'The obstacle has risen in my mind as well, sir.'

'I mean, they'd want to know how you came by the horse, what?'

'Indeed, sir.'

'And then they'd find out about the inheritance.'

'A likely outcome, sir.'

'There's only one thing for it,' I said. In the course of my lifetime, I have often found it necessary to help out a friend who refuses to be helped. That is, when I don't particularly like a cove, he's usually touching me for cash every time we meet in the bally park. But when I am faced with a true boyhood pal in dire straits, he will often, out of pride or what not, cross his arms and shake his head when I thrust forth a fistful. So I have found ways to slip the money into such friends' pockets without their knowledge, such as stuffing it into a borrowed handkerchief before giving it back. I told Jeeves this, brimming with excitement at being able to do a good deed for him and his.

'Now, I know what you're thinking, Jeeves,' I said as I ended my short narrative. 'Ponies don't fit in pockets. I am aware. Allow Bertram to explain the ruse in a more abstract sense: we can have the animal delivered anonymously, paid in full. I know plenty of delivery services that don't give a fig if you give them a false name. What do you think?'

Jeeves seemed to muse on this a bit. 'Perhaps I may add to this plan, sir, a letter to also be delivered along with the horse. It would explain that the mysterious benefactor has purchased the animal out of guilt. "I poisoned your previous cart-horse and wish to clear my conscience," it would say, thus negating any suspicion as to the motive of the delivery.'

'Perfectly corking!' I said, and, forgetting the last three fingers for a moment, I ran to the 'phone to make the arrangements.

Have you ever seen a tiny bit of snow trundle down a hill? Dashed if I understand how, but the tiny bit will pick up more snow here and there until, by the time it gets to the bottom of the hill, it's practically a whole new planet of the white stuff. When I think about what happened to Jeeves next, I think that's about the size of it.

After the brother-in-law received his new horse, Jeeves got word from his sister that a miracle had happened, that good people did exist in the world, that someone is watching out for the little man, etc. Jeeves related the news to me aglow with satisfaction. And I was pretty satisfied to have helped him work out the matter.

But then a niece, Mabel, needed tuition for school. Easy as cheese, I said, climbing between the sheets with Jeeves' assistance. I explained the thing like so: drop a wallet where she's sure to find it, placing a card within that says to return the thing to a hotel if found. When she brings the wallet to the hotel, have the concierge give her a packet of money as the reward.

'Quite ingenious, sir,' Jeeves said with a quirk of his more expressive right eyebrow. 'However, your plan is contingent on my niece returning the lost property.'

'Of course she will,' I said. 'She's a Jeeves, isn't she?' This statement of mine seemed to please Jeeves greatly. He pressed a kiss to the crown of my head before turning off the lamp and biding me a goodnight.

The gag worked, and the niece was packed off to an arts school of some prestige. Jeeves was radiant.

Then a cousin, a constable named Egbert, who was a good sort despite being a constable, was struck by a stomach affliction that needed a pricey surgery. Again, I showed Jeeves how to solve a problem by flinging money at it. You merely hire a team of surgeons and send them off to the correct village with directions to cure the correct bird. Said bird is told via telegram that this is an experimental procedure and the doctors are testing it on him gratis. Another case solved by Bertram.

That one earned me a full half-hour sitting in front of the fire with Jeeves' arm round me and my head resting on his shoulder. Everyone was happy, and all was right in the world. Until it wasn't.

<><><><>

Things took a distinct turn to the southerly direction a few days later. The streets were empty and wind-swept, as another winter storm was descending upon the metrop. I was ankling round to my tailor's in Bond Street for some much-needed restocking of winter-weight suits. Jeeves was accompanying me to discuss the matter of his great-aunt who, he had discovered, needed a new pair of eyeglasses. Also his nephew who would need a suit for his first day of work at a bank, his second cousin who required a special breed of chicken on his farm, and his mother's old neighbour who had expressed the desire for a trip to the Riviera. I was listening intently and trying to keep all the names straight when I saw them.

There, sitting in a shop window nestled in a blue velvet box, was the fruitiest pair of cuff-links I'd ever laid eyes on. Two smoothly polished squares of silver, inlaid with the thinnest lines of mother-of-pearl, and set off with a gleaming, intelligent-looking sapphire in the centre of each. I gave a small gasp upon seeing them, so lovely they appeared. I actually stopped and pressed my hand to the glass that kept us apart. They had that strong symmetry and understated elegance which immediately reminded me of Jeeves.

Jeeves stepped up to the window as well. 'A handsome set of cuff-links, sir,' he said.

'They're absolutely perfect,' I murmured.

'If you wish to procure the pair, I'm sure they'd match well with the suit of--'

'Oh, no, Jeeves, not for me!' I cried, finally tearing my eyes away from the beauties to look at him again. 'They're perfect for you, old thing.'

Jeeves' frown was nothing short of quizzical. 'For me, sir?'

'Yes, for you. I mean to buy you a pair right this instant,' I said. I can't be exactly sure why the urge struck me so, but I imagine it went a little something like this: when a cove falls for a filly, he slaps a ring on her hand, what? That simple band on the finger says to all and sundry, 'Move along if you know what's good for you; she's spoken for.' I, however, had no such liberty with respect to Jeeves. I suppose I fancied the cuff-links as a substitute for a diamond ring.

I moved to duck into the shop, but Jeeves coughed lightly into his fist, which made me screech to a halt.

'What is it, Jeeves?'

'I would not advise such a purchase, sir. My current pair of cuff-links are really quite serviceable.'

I had seen the blasted things on his wrists every day: simple round buttons of onyx. Not awful by any stretch of the imagination, but nothing to write home about either.

'But these are so spiffy, Jeeves.' It was only with great patience that I managed to restrain the petulance in my voice.

Jeeves stood there on the pavement, a monolith in his black greatcoat, his breath coming out in frosty puffs. A cold wind was blowing, and I wanted to hurry into the store if just for the warmth. 'I don't wish for your generosity to be interpreted as something else, sir,' he said with an informative raise of the brow.

'Oh, come. It's not as if I have to fill out a form upon purchase, stating who the things are intended for. Who would know that they are my gift to you?'

'Anyone who chanced to see me wearing them, sir. They are of a quality far surpassing what a valet should own.'

I wavered. 'Yes, but you like them, don't you?'

'I find them most attractive, sir.'

'Then if you don't want me to buy them for you,' I said, 'why don't you just buy the bally things yourself? You can afford it.' The fact was, I wanted him to have them so badly; they were just too exquisite not to be in his possession.

'Well, sir--'



'You've spent all this energy lavishing your inheritance on your loved ones; why not spend a bit on Jeeves proper?'



'Really, sir--'



But I was just hitting the stride in my lecture. 'Or you could get a scarf, a pair of shoes, a few new suits. A new hat wouldn't go amiss, what?'



Jeeves looked slightly put off by the mere suggestion that his current hat wasn't up to snuff. 'I don't need any of those things, sir.' The soupy tone of his was as cold as the wind licking through my sleeves.



'It's not a question of need. Do you want them?' I asked, propping the hand not occupied with my walking stick on an argumentative hip.



Jeeves clasped his gloved hands behind his back and raised his eyes to the grey and tired sky. 'I have very few wants, sir,' he said. 'I am not in the habit of coveting every piece of above-average craftsmanship that catches my notice. It is no difficult task for me to ignore such impulses, sir. You needn't concern yourself with it.'



The Wooster jaw dropped, then took on an angry set. 'Covet, you say? Do you believe I covet, Jeeves? That I spend frivolously?'



'Well, sir--'



'I suppose you think that I should be tossing large sums to my friends and family like you've been doing.'



'Sir--'



'Playing the charity game is all well and good! But a bird can't do it at a constant clip, or else there would be no sums for food and drink and valets. Have you considered that, Jeeves?'



His eyes, blue as they were, burned with the fire of all that Viking heritage. 'I am well aware, sir,' he ground out, 'of the expenses necessary to keep an ordinary person comfortable. I sometimes question, however, your knowledge on the subject.'



'My knowledge!? Look, all I'm saying is you might deserve a bit of shiny loveliness once in awhile, Jeeves. There's no shame in being charitable to yourself, is there?'



Jeeves turned and began striding back towards Berkeley Square. He said, more to the clouds than to Bertram, 'I am a valet, sir. Please do not try to mould me into anything else.'



Needless to say, I had to continue on to the tailor's alone.



<><><><>



I returned to the flat some hours later in a downcast mood. The winter sky had spat its chilled moisture at me, and the wind had nearly whipped the hat from my head. I came home with my teeth chattering and my hand playing about in my coat pocket.

'Jeeves?' I called into the echoing cavern of his lair. 'Are you there? I wish to make amends.'

A few molecules coalesced into Jeeves' shape. He said, with all the warmth of the outside snowstorm, 'Shall I take your coat, sir?'

'No, dash it. Let me say this before I make a perfect ass of myself again.' My fist jiggled within the confines of the pocket. 'When a cove falls for a filly, you know--' I began, and watched a dark look come over Jeeves' face.

'Indeed, sir?' he rumbled. 'Which filly are you referring to?'

I opened my mouth to say it was just a whatsit, a thingummy, a parable is what I want to say. But just then, the doorbell sounded. Jeeves glided over to answer it, and he returned holding a letter.

'This arrived by special delivery, sir,' Jeeves said, passing the missive to me without so much as a glance it either it or myself.

I examined the envelope. 'It's addressed to you, Jeeves,' I said with a frown, and handed it back.

He reclaimed it with a quirked brow and cracked the thing open.



'Well, as I was saying,' I continued doggedly, 'when a cove falls for a filly, he feels the need to--'

But Jeeves was already shimmering away with a finger pressed to his lips, eyes firmly upon the papers in hand.

'Hi!' I trailed along behind him into the kitchen. 'What I mean to say is, there's the usual showering of gifts and-- Jeeves, are you listening?'

'I'm sorry, sir. As riveting as your narrative will prove to be, I'm sure, I've just received some startling news that requires my attention.'

The crest fell at his aloof tone, but I endeavoured to be kind and sympathetic. 'Anything I can help with? Please, tell me all.'

He looked up from his letter, his face as unreadable as the signature on a Greek urn. 'It is a personal matter, sir.'

'Look here!' I cried. 'I already told you at the start of this whole mess: you can count on Bertram. Share the burden, Jeeves.'

Jeeves inclined his head slightly and held out the letter. 'It has arrived from India, sir. From Uncle Conroy's estate.' He blinked once, very slowly. 'The groundskeeper wishes to know when I shall arrive to take over the duties of the mining operation.'

I snapped up the missive and scanned it to see if there was any truth to this. 'What? No! There can't be any truth to this.'

'The letter's author states that the mine is the source of employment for the entire village; if operations were suspended, it would cause untold economic disaster in the area.' Jeeves added, 'Had I known this, I may not have ignored several clauses in my uncle's will pertaining to its management.'

'Yes, Jeeves, but you? What do you know about mining?'

Jeeves coughed lightly. 'It appears my uncle trusted me to be able to navigate the business without much trouble, sir. Apparently, news of my subtle dealings with various delicate situations had reached him in India, and he was convinced of my ability to such an extent that he left everything to me.' He nodded to the letter I still held in my shaky grip. 'So says Singh the groundskeeper, sir.'

'Never mind Singh! You can't possibly manage your uncle's mine!' I flung the letter back at him, and he caught it deftly.

'Indeed, sir?'

'Well, for one thing, it's in bally India!'

'That detail had not escaped my notice, sir.'

'You don't want to go to India, what?' I watched, carefully, as Jeeves raised his chin a half-inch and looked well over the top of my head. 'Do you?' I asked in a pleading sort of voice.

'It's not a question of want, sir,' he said. Throwing words back into the Wooster face, if you get my meaning. 'I believe I am needed, sir.'

'But, but you said...' My hand clenched into a fist in my coat pocket. 'You said you wouldn't resign, Jeeves,' I said softly.

'I said I did not wish to, sir. That maxim still holds true. Yet I fear I must.'

He stood as still as a rock on a shore.

'So you mean to leave.' I drew my hands from my coat pocket and looked around the sitting room in a daze. How different it would look without the careful dusting and arranging of furniture! How awfully different. 'I see,' I said.

'I can remain until you find a suitable replacement, sir,' Jeeves said. It was the same gentle voice that woke me after a long night out, the voice that directed me to drink his life-restoring concoctions and dip into the warm bath. I couldn't stand to hear it anymore.

'Then you may leave in the morning,' I said with more bite, sting and snap than I ever had in my life, 'as such an occurrence remains unlikely at any future date.' I spun on my heel and stalked off to the bedroom with eyes squeezed shut. It was only by divine guidance that I found my way past the door and slammed it closed behind me. I locked it for good measure, and then realised I was still wearing my dripping wet greatcoat.

I slipped my hand into the pocket of the thing and drew out two blue velvet boxes. A matched pair. So we'd both have a set of the finest cuff-links ever made, to be fair. I had planned to tell Jeeves, you don't have to wear them if you're worried what people will think. Perhaps you could just wear them when we're alone in the house. And I will wear mine while we're out and about, and only we will understand that they mean 'I love you.' Because I do, Jeeves. You don't have to say the words to me, but I do.

That's what I'd planned to say. It had been a nice little speech, really.

I threw the blasted boxes in the waste basket.

What good is a speech when you don't have an audience who will listen?

<><><><>

I didn't see Jeeves off; he left without another word said between us. Unless you count the 'Sir, the door appears to be locked' and 'Would you at least allow me to hang up your overcoat, sir?' that he called through my bedroom door the next morning. After long stretches of silence from yours truly, Jeeves announced, 'I don't wish to leave with such poor feelings between us, sir, but I must catch the train.'

I pulled a pillow over my head and said nothing in return.

A final, soft, 'Very good, sir,' floated through the door. Then footsteps trailing away. Then the slam of the front door. Then nothing.

For a long while, absolutely nothing.

There was no sense in crawling out of bed for the most part. Food held no interest for me; I couldn't swallow the smallest mouthful of drink; even smoking seemed like too much trouble. I slept until the sun set, then, able to sleep no longer, I would wander around the dark flat. I'd sit on the piano bench where I had held Jeeves' hand. I'd gaze at the chesterfield where he'd stroked my hair. I'd glower at the gaping fireplace that had warmed us. I'd remember these happier times, and then carry myself off to bed again. I don't mind telling you, this was not Bertram at his best.

I suppose letters piled up and calls went unanswered for a good many days, because one morning (or perhaps it was late afternoon), I was shaken awake by a friend concerned with whether or not I was still alive.

'Bertie!' Bingo Little cried, jostling me by the shoulders. 'Are you all right, old man? Say something, for pity's sake!'

I flung a pillow at him and dove back under the covers. 'Go away, Bingo,' I advised. 'I'm not very good company today.'

'Listen, the doorman let me in. He says he hasn't seen you leave the building in a fortnight! Whatever is the matter, Bertie? And where's Jeeves?'

'Jeeves,' I moaned, 'has left.'

'Oh, is it his annual vacation already?'

I surfaced long enough to glare at him. 'No, you ass! He's left permanently. Biffed off. Toddled out. Handed in his apron and sleeve-guards.'

'You mean he's quit?'

'By Jove!' I snarled. 'I suppose you've finally learned to speak English.'

Bingo regarded me with a worried frown. 'Bertie, I've never seen you like this. You're not one to cut a fellow to the quick; what's happened to the Bertie who was at school with me? He'd never growl at an old friend like that.'

I deflated; it was too hard to remain angry at a good egg like Bingo. 'I'm sorry, old thing,' I sighed, picking at the coverlet. 'I wish I could tell you what's got me so down in the depths, but it's so frightfully awful. I just can't.'

'Well, I'd be upset if a man like Jeeves left me too,' Bingo said with the correct amount of compassion. 'He's a marvel, of course. The best valet in the country, I'd wager.'

'No, no. I mean to say, yes, you're right, but that's not what's got me laying leaden in bed all day.' I worried my lip, wondering if I could trust Bingo with the tale of my broken heart. But no, it was too terrible. 'Dash it, Bingo. I just can't say, really.'

'What's this over here in the waste basket?' Bingo said, but I was too mired in my own woes to hear him.

'The fact is, Bingo, there are some things you can't even tell an old school chum.'

'Hullo, it looks like a jewel case.'

'Some burdens most be borne alone, I suppose.'

'Golly, two of them. My word.'

'I thought that such things could be shared between two like souls, but I was proven wrong.'

'I say! What topping cuff-links!' Bingo exclaimed. 'But why do you have two sets, Bertie? And why are you keeping them in the waste basket?'

'Eh?' I finally looked up from my invisible doodling on the coverlet to see the sapphire cuff-links in Bingo's hands. Just the sight of the things was enough to make me wail in pain.

Bingo was at my side in an instant. 'Come, come, Bertie! Here's my handkerchief. Tell me what's troubling you, and I shall expend all my energy to resolve it. Why, your Jeeves has saved my hide enough times; surely I owe you this.'

'Jeeves,' I whimpered again and blew my nose into Bingo's handkerchief. 'Oh, Jeeves, Jeeves, Jeeves.'

'My goodness, man, you sound very much like I do every time I fall for a girl who doesn't--' Bingo stopped. He looked at the velvet boxes in his hands. He looked at me. He looked back at the boxes. I shut my eyes and prepared for the very worst, because even a chappie like Bingo can put together a jigsaw puzzle of two pieces.

'Do you hate me, Bingo?' I said quietly. 'I wouldn't blame you, you know. I rather hate myself at the moment.'

I expected some sort of blow, but Bingo merely patted my hand. 'I don't understand you, Bertie; females are trouble enough. But you always were excellent at getting yourself into difficult situations. I suppose you just can't help it.'

I cracked a eyelid open. 'You don't mind, then?'

'Mind? Bertie, if you know just one thing about me, you know I am all for love. Love! It's the most beautiful thing in the world. Now, if you think you've found it--'

'I did! Oh, Bingo, I did, dash it. And I let it walk out the door and run off to India.'

'India! Well, that's not so bad.' He shook me by the shoulder. 'Why, Jeeves is still under the watchful eye of the Monarch just like you and I, Bertie. It's not as if he's on the moon!'

I frowned. 'He may as well be.'

Bingo slapped a hand on the mattress. 'Is this a Wooster speaking? I was under the impression that your ancestors took tea with the Conqueror before battle and what not.'

'We may have,' I said with a sniff. 'Although I am increasingly convinced that the stories have been exaggerated.'

'Rum!' Bingo declared. 'You are a Wooster of the Warrior class, Bertram. Now get out of bed, put on a suit, and let's go to India and get your man back!'

'Go to India? The two of us?' I gaped.

'Absolutely.'

'Right now?'

'Of course!'

I considered the idea, examining it from all angles. The fact that it was Bingo's would have been a strike against it, but it seemed a pretty decent wheeze. It worked in plays, what? One lover tracks down the other, wrongs are righted, embraces are had, the finale is sung, the curtain falls. Yes, by Jingo, I would go to India, and I would bring Jeeves back with me kicking and screaming if I had to!

'We must set out at once,' I cried, bounding out of bed. I felt the old Wooster spirit coursing through my veins once more. 'Bung some clothes in a bag for me, Bingo! We'll leave immediately!'

'Well, perhaps you should have a bath first?' Bingo said.

I paused mid-stride. 'I don't smell my best, do I?'

'And maybe a spot of lunch?'

'I am starving now that I think about it.'

'And I'll need to put together some luggage myself.'

'Of course, of course.'

'But then, Bertie?'

'But then, Bingo, to India!'

Continue on to Part 2.