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Jeeves had once told me about this Proust fellow and his madeleines. He had said something along the lines of having a memory from your past, or what have you, be suddenly thrust to the forefront of your mind by something one saw right in the mo’ having played a part in said memory. Something to that effect. Like, let’s say I was having lunch with Biffy Biffen and he was wearing a particularly natty tie, this is, of course, a hypothetical. Then later on I see a different cove wearing a similar tie and I think about Biffy and that lunch we had. Now, you may be thinking “Wooster, where do you get off with this absurd drivel, why don’t you get along with your story!” but I assure you, you’ll want to keep this knowledge in your back pocket for later.
The day had started well enough. We got up bright and early, that is to say, it was bright and early for me as Jeeves typically wakes with the sun, and went up on our way into a cruise ship. While I am more of a homebody at heart, I do like to indulge Jeeves’ Viking spirit every now and then so that he doesn’t get restless. It really is quite a sight, Jeeves getting restless after too long in between trips, like one of those sheep herding dogs without a sheep in sight to herd. Well, the man was in need of a spray of sea salt and got it into his mind we should holiday in sunny Havana, so sunny Havana we shall go.
Now, I hadn’t noticed anything particularly out of the u., at least not for Jeeves and I, who have become quite familiar with unusual circs, as it were. Boarding and unpacking seemed to have gone without a hitch as my valet is very efficient with this sort of thing, having helped me board and unpack on ships many a time, often while escaping enraged aunts, friends or fiancées. The only thing I could think of and, do bear with me as I may be speaking from a point of hindsight, was a singular incident at the shuffleboard deck.
I say incident but well… perhaps it was more of happenchance. We were on the shuffleboard deck, Bertram W.W. shooting biscuits out of baseline and noble Jeeves collecting said biscuits speedier than before you could shout “foul!” when he paused slightly. I followed his line of sight because anything to give Jeeves pause must have been real hot stuff. There was a man there. Not a remarkable man, neither ugly nor attractive but he had a peculiar look on his map. He sneered. I had assumed that he simply thought he could play a better hand at shuffleboard than I could, which is not an impressive feat, mind you. Certainly nothing to sneer at. I looked back over at my man and could swear I saw him shiver, as if his very reality had rippled imperceptibly and then went static once more. Rum. I thought nothing of it at the time but of course that hindsight thingummy always makes these small things seem far more pertinent.
Evening fell as it usually does and Jeeves had bunged the young master into bed to catch his forty winks. He had looked a tad perturbed, perhaps apprehensive but I had simply chalked it up to perhaps the curtains being the wrong shade of puce for this time of year or maybe some bad fish he had eaten whilst below decks for supper. That is to say, I hadn’t paid his dour demeanor any mind. We would be off in sunny Havana in no less than two weeks where Jeeves could have all the time in the world to terrorize truncheons or tarpons or whichever creature from the depths he had his heart set on. He’d be right as rain in no time.
It was dashed rainy this particular night, as if those winged cherubim were bowling with buckets of water in place of pins. I never minded the rain much and always found the patter of water droplets and rolls of thunder to be just the thing to soothe the self into the Land of Nod. I don’t remember if I had dreamt at all or how long I had even been asleep by then for the reason that what happened next would dominate my memory of the evening entirely.
I was ripped from the arms of Morpheus by a bally terrible scream. I don’t believe I shall ever forget it, it sounded like all the horrors of the world condensed. It was pain, it was fear, like the sun would never rise again. The only thing I could think to do was find Jeeves, check on Jeeves and make sure Jeeves was safe. I flew from my bed and ran across the room to the adjoining servant’s quarters where Jeeves was staying. In my haste I hadn’t even thrown on my robe or slippers, I’m afraid I looked to be in quite a state of dishabille.
“Jeeves?” I croaked as I pushed his door open a tad. There was a curled up, shivering mass on Jeeves’ bed where Jeeves would normally be. A low whining filled the air. Lightning crackled outside and briefly illuminated the room in brilliant white. In the flash of light I could just barely make out my man’s face. His noble brow was creased and upturned in pain, his face was shiny and wet. My heart had rocketed down to my toes like a golf ball in water.
“Jeeves?” I asked again, creeping further into the room. Under the rush of the storm outside I could just make out that the noise I had heard was coming from Jeeves. He was crying. Soft, hiccuping whimpers dragged out from his throat so raggedly like teeth being pulled, punctuated by the breathlessness of a man punched hard in ribs. I had seen Jeeves in many different states. From disapproving to pleased. I’d seen him disguised as both an inspector of Scotland Yard and a female American novelist, but I had never seen him like this. It scared me. I swallowed a lump in my throat.
His face was pale, stricken with panic and tear streaked. He managed to look both far older and younger than I had ever seen the man. There was a darkness under his eyes that spoke of more sleepless nights than just tonight. His hair and pajamas were rumpled from thrashing. Jeeves sobbed most pitifully, clutching tightly at his duvet and curled around himself like a snake attempting to eat itself. I believe if he didn’t stop I may begin to shed a manly tear myself.
“Jeeves, Jeeves please wake up,” I said and I admit my voice wavered. I put a hand to his shoulder and shook him softly into wakefulness.
He looked up at me in an unseeing way, his eyes shiny and stormy and rimmed with red. It was as if he had just woken from a thousand year nap like that Rip Van Winkle chappie. He blinked wetly, a few more tears falling off the curve of his dark lashes and his breath steadied. This time he saw me, I mean to say, he saw me and understood that it was me and he calmed. I calmed as well. It was only after this understanding that he seemed to remember. His facial features made a hashed attempt to school themselves into something more feudal.
“Oh sir, I,” he cuts himself off with a sniffle and makes an attempt to dry his face with the backs of his hands. “I apologize, sir. Did you need me for something?”
I’m sure I must have gawked at him. The man looked like what the cat had just dragged in- with bells on- and yet here he is making sure the y. m. 's needs are taken care of.
“I heard you shout in your sleep,” I said quietly, shifting from foot to foot. “I had to check to see if you were alright, old thing.”
“You are too kind, sir,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep and unshed tears. It just about broke my heart to see my man like this. He was Jeeves! He was bally well untouchable, unshakable, here looking so touched and shaken. I ached, you see. It felt like all the normalcy of the world had gone out the window and I ached for Jeeves. To do or say anything to attempt to return him to his usual self.
“I say, Jeeves, are you alright?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I deposited myself at the edge of his bed, perched really. So I was close enough to hear but far enough so as to not disturb or frighten the man. He could feel him shudder through the sleep warm blankets.
“I will be better directly, sir,” he said, sniffling softly and his voice croaky and wavering. I gnawed at the petal likes with the pearl likes. I wanted to make things better, I wished I could ask Jeeves what I should do but, here he was the person I wanted to help.
“Wait here,” I commanded, my voice still shy of masterly. I went to the shared bathroom and filled a glass up with water at the tap. I tottered back into Jeeves’ small, dark bedroom and helped him to sit upright before handing him the glass. He grasped it with both hands and drank from it gratefully. When he was finished he placed it on the bedside table with little more than a ‘clink’ of sound.
Jeeves had looked more himself but like a missing tooth one can’t stop prodding with their tongue until they bleed, I couldn't leave well enough alone. I couldn’t get the image out of my mind of Jeeves looking so scared and helpless because if something can bring Jeeves to that sort of brink then what hope is there for the rest of us lesser men.
“I- that is… I mean to say, would you like to talk about it? What happened?” I fumbled, hoping that if perhaps I could understand, if I could put a name to this nameless terror it would seem less frightening. I’m not sure who I wanted to reassure more, Jeeves or myself. I suppose I’m selfish like that, but seeing Jeeves in pain is like seeing my own arm torn asunder. Like a part of me is also suffering.
“It was simply a bad dream, sir. Nothing more,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as if he was ashamed. As if he expected himself so disciplined that he could have total dominion over his own bronchus… self-conscious… subconscious! There’s the chap. Well. Jeeves was in luck as I was old friends with Morpheus’ trickster side.
“Ah, nightmares eh? I used to be plagued by them as a tot.” I had always been a quiet and anxious child, if you can believe it. I think it was the passing of my parents that had amplified my anxieties into night terrors. “My aunt, that is my Aunt Dahlia, she would sit up with me as I recounted the whole frightful affair. My Aunt Agatha, of course, would have nothing to do with all that, don’t you know,” I paused, scratching the skin of my index f. with thumb n. . “Would… do you think divulging the secret nighttime events with Bertram would help at all?”
“Sir, I couldn’t. It would be most improper, I assure you it is a mere trifle,” he said and very nearly looked scandalized if he didn’t still look sad and rather scared.
“Please, Jeeves. Indulge me?” I begged as I knew I could not sleep easy tonight if I hadn’t done something to alleviate the pain that my man seemed to carry.
“It is nothing for you to concern yourself with. There was a man on the upper deck today. He looked,” Jeeves took a soft breath. “He looked so much like a man I knew so very long ago.”
“How long ago, Jeeves?” I asked quietly.
“Far before I entered your employ. I was a batman, once. During the Great War. It was raining, it was so cold and the trenches had grown slick with mud and human fluids. My boots sir, they were two sizes too big. There was a shortage of uniforms, you see, and each man could only do their best with their own lot. While I am normally quite nimble on my feet I had been suffering from a most awful cold that had left me reeling. I had tripped, the impact was frigid and jarred the senses, the sickly smell of rotten mud flooded my nostrils and,” he took a shaky breath, his eyes briefly shut as if he were watching his own memories projected on the inside of his eyelids. Tears came down his cheeks in silent rivulets.
“And when I looked up there was a man above me. He must have been twenty years my senior but in my dreams he stays the same. He sneered at me, and it made him ugly. I had known I was not well liked, even by men on my own side. Particularly by them. I knew those who believed I had ambitions above my station and he… he brought the blunt end of his Serbian Mauser down against me. He shattered my nose.” his hands trembled as they reached up to touch the crooked bump of his nose as if to remind himself it is healed, the ghosts of past pain haunting him terribly. I gasped softly. I had always wondered what had happened but… I’ve never known. God. I’ve never known.
“I fled,” he said. “On hands and knees, blinded by filth and blood that not even the thundering rain could wash away. All I could see was sticky with browns and reds, all I could smell was festering with rot and iron. I had never seen him again, not really. I can only assume he died shortly after these events. He haunts me, sir, in my dreams.”
Propriety be damned, I hugged the man. I gathered him in my arms and had very little intention of ever letting him leave. I held him close and I breathed in his scent, clean and sleepy like fresh linens. I ran my fingers through his hair, it was thick and fluffy, free from its usual taming with pomade, and I felt him tremble.
“Oh Jeeves, oh my brave, brave man,” I cooed into his hair, because I had found myself at a loss for anything else to say. His strong arms folded around me, pulled me into him and he wept. Hot tears bloomed and soaked into the cotton across my bosom and I found I couldn’t care about anything less. We curled around each other like two mourning doves on their branch. I had never hugged my man before, and never like this. There was nary a whisper of space between us as we pressed closer and closer into our embrace, as if we could finally find peace living in the space between our ribs.
His heart was beating a bally mile a minute, I’m sure mine was as well but I felt I was outside myself. That nothing mattered in this world except Jeeves, holding him close and ensuring his safety as if the ghost of that… that man would find him here. Would torment him further. Jeeves wept until he had nary a drop of water left in him to cry and I held him still, rubbing his back as his hiccups slowed and softened. I murmured reassurances to him, into his hair, against his skin. Gentle nothings meant to comfort even as I felt like I was babbling nonsense. He stilled and we embraced within the silence of the room.
“Jeeves, I hope you don’t find me taking too much of a liberty, but would you mind ever so much bunking with the young master for the evening?” I asked, my words muffled into the soft of his hair. I could hear the pleading in my tone like a child asking for just one more bedtime story but I couldn’t find the dignity to feel shame about it.
“Sir?” he asked, and for once it felt like a genuine question, as if he didn't hear me. Or had heard me but couldn’t understand what it meant. I’m afraid I didn’t understand what I meant either, not really.
“Please, Jeeves. To set both our minds at ease. I fear I might just jolly well break if I were separated from you like this,” and I meant it. I don’t know if I’ve meant anything more.
“Of course, sir,” he said gently and shuffled over on the, admittedly smallish, bed to make room for an extra body. I laid down beneath Jeeves’ covers, they were warm and in that moment this cruise ship’s servant bed was comfier than any other mattress I had ever laid upon.
Jeeves curled around my prone form, resting his rather brilliant head upon the Wooster breast and allowed himself to be cradled into my embrace once more, my willowy form prone beneath his sturdy and muscular one. I had never felt so strong before, like I could carry the world. It was dashed nice. I wondered idly why we couldn’t do this every night, save for the whole rannygazoo of nightmares and weeping and all that wheeze.
I stroked my fingers lightly up and down the broad expanse of his back. He was warm and well muscled. I was blanketed under one of his strong, black cloth clad arms that I have admired for so long. Jeeves held me close like a child with a teddy, which felt dashed secure. My hands trailed upward and played among the short hairs at the base of my man’s skull, he shivered lightly but I continued petting him. I rather wanted to memorize the lay of his body through touch alone. Jeeves' legs curled around my own under the covers to make up for his considerable height, my leg rather trapped between his thighs but so comfortable there I don’t think I would move it if I could.
“Goodnight, Jeeves,” I said softly. In a moment of bravery or perhaps brainlessness, I planted a short kiss on the man’s forehead. To his credit, he seemed completely unphased by this new type of affection I had given him and he simply snuggled further into my chest. I felt myself fall in love with the gesture.
“Goodnight, sir,” he replied and to my shock had placed the soft and petal-likes firmly against my chest in a manner that seemed much like a kiss.
“Jeeves?” I asked, as I felt I needed some clarification that only Jeeves could provide.
“Yes, sir?” he asked sleepily, not even bothering to open his eyes. He looked rather content there, like a largish cat and well, I had always been a cat person.
“I love you, you know? Is that alright?” I asked, nervous that perhaps I had crossed a rather illegal line that I may never return from, but I had to say it. I loved him and feared I may never again get an opportunity to let it be known. To my great relief I saw Jeeves’ lips upturn ever just so in a pleased grin.
“Perfectly so, sir,” he said, then tilted his head upwards to pressed a chaste kiss along my jawline. I caught his eyes and even in the dim light I could see that they were positively brimming with adoration. I suppose my own e.’s were too.
“Well, good. So long as we’re of similar mind. Loving each other, that is,” I said softly and sunk further into the mattress.
I’m rather pleased to say that we both fell into a deep, dreamless sleep feeling all kinds of secure and safe in each other’s arms.