Work Text:
“I suppose we had better go,” I muttered, somewhat crossly. It’s not that I had anything against Aunt Dahlia, in fact I was very fond of the old bird, but I had been looking forward to the first rounds of the tiddlywinks championship at the Drones, and it seemed as though the chaps were going to be bereft of the Wooster squidge.
“I think it would be advisable, sir,” Jeeves replied. “Mrs Travers did sound somewhat agitated. It was a little difficult to make out what the particular problem was, but there was some mention of carol singers as well as needing a new Angel Gabriel.”
Quite what I was supposed to do regarding a replacement archangel I wasn’t sure, but nevertheless I instructed Jeeves to pack my togs so that we were ready to depart after an early luncheon. All was well until I entered my bedroom, just before the appointed hour, to discover Jeeves had somehow omitted an important item of my attire.
“Jeeves,” I called.
He slid his way into the room as one on ice skates. “Yes, sir?”
“There!” I pointed dramatically at the wardrobe. “You appear to have forgotten something.”
“Not forgotten, sir.”
“Well, we aren’t going without it,” I informed my reluctant valet.
With finger and thumb, as if afraid he would be contaminated, Jeeves collected my waistcoat and, averting his gaze, departed. I could not understand his objections. It was a fine specimen of jovial snowmen and just the thing for wearing in the run up to the Christmas celebrations.
“And the bow tie?” I queried as he left.
He repressed a shudder. “That, sir, has already been packed.”
***
We had a pleasant run down to Brinkley Court. Jeeves drove and I regaled him with a selection of the latest songs, even, on occasion, persuading him to join in the chorus, his mellow baritone providing a pleasing contrast to my tenor.
We were greeted warmly by Aunt Dahlia, who rather spoilt the effect by insisting Jeeves join her immediately in her drawing room while I ‘run away and play’ for a few minutes. I had been on the verge of objecting when the expression she adopted was of an aunt warning a recalcitrant nephew that if he didn’t mend his ways forthwith, he would be going to bed with no supper. Accordingly, I went in search of my cousin, Angela.
I found her in the morning room. “What ho, old thing!” I said on spying her perusing a magazine, “How’s life on the old homestead?”
She looked up at me, and for a moment, she reminded me uncannily of her mother. Then she said, “Bertie, what brings you down here? I thought I had enough on my plate without having you around the place to fall over.”
“Aunt Dahlia requested my presence,” I announced with confidence, ignoring the sneaking feeling that it was really Jeeves she wanted to see. “Something about needing a new Angel Gabriel and the carol singing. Sort of heavenly host, I suppose.”
“I’m taking over responsibility for the carol singing. No-one in their right minds would let you near it. Anyway, I’m doing it to support Hildebrand.”
I was prevented from making further comment by Jeeves appearing.
“Good afternoon, Miss Travers,” he said.
“Good afternoon, Jeeves. Nice to see someone with intelligence here. We’ve been struggling a bit lately.”
“I must protest,” I began.
“Before you do that, sir,” Jeeves said. “Mrs Travers has requested your presence in her drawing room.”
“At last, someone who appreciates me.”
“I believe she wants you to try on the Angel Gabriel costume to see if any alterations will be necessary.”
I found Aunt Dahlia manhandling what looked like a knotted sheet which had been used to escape from an upstairs bedroom.
“Here, Bertie,” she said, “insert yourself in this, and let me see what you look like.”
She pressed the tangled linen into my hands and stood back.
With a bit of effort, I inserted myself inside and opened my eyes to see Aunt Dahlia looking astounded.
My thought that she was overawed by my appearance was quickly dowsed by the bellows of laughter which emitted from her mouth.
“Bertie, you priceless clot,” she wheezed, when she finally stopped laughing, “you have put your head through the armhole.”
Fortunately, at that moment the gong for dressing for dinner rang, so I believed myself spared from further insult.
However, this was not to be, as the old girl rang the bell for the butler. And as soon as Seppings appeared she requested him to ask Jeeves to come and assist me. Seppings, I noticed, failed to hide the smirk on his face.
***
Despite Jeeves’ lack of enthusiasm, I insisted on wearing both the snowman waistcoat and the bow tie.
“Are you absolutely certain, sir?” he enquired, “especially in view of this afternoon’s little contretemps.”
“That,” I replied haughtily, “was because the garment was badly constructed.”
At that moment the dinner gong sounded.
“That’s early,” I said. “It must be a mistake.”
“Didn’t Mrs Travers tell you?” Jeeves asked. “There will be guests for dinner, and Mr Travers was keen to get rid of them as early as possible, so dinner has been brought forward.”
I grumbled but didn’t dare delay my arrival. Uncle Tom was perfectly capable of insisting they start without me, and I had no desire to miss any of Anatole’s excellent delicacies.
I descended and headed for the dining room. There I was introduced to Miss Antonia Carbury and her mamma and papa. We took out seats and I found myself seated between Miss Carbury and Angela, with Tuppy Glossop, who had also been invited, seated opposite. There appeared to be a certain coolness between Angela and Tuppy, which alarmed me, as such states had a habit of rubbing off onto me.
I soon discovered the reason for the lowered temperature. Miss Carbury was to be Mary in the nativity play, at which, it appeared, I was to be the Angel Gabriel. Not that I had been consulted in the matter, but then, where aunts were concerned, I rarely was. And Tuppy had been cast as Joseph.
Although the food, as usual, was excellent, the atmosphere around me was anything but. On one side of me there was Miss Carbury, simpering at Tuppy and ignoring me and on the other side cousin Angela was becoming more and more icy. I attempted some light conversation with her but received short answers.
Then, at my third attempt, she replied forcibly, “Since you clearly think you should be a snowman, why don’t you behave as one, and button it!”
“Angela!” Uncle Tom exclaimed. He looked at me in a considering fashion. “Of course, when we used to build snowmen we always gave them a pipe. Although perhaps not at the dinner table.”
Fortunately, at that moment, the dessert arrived, and everyone turned their attention to Anatole’s excellent creation.
Everyone except Miss Carbury, who simpered, “Such a dear, sweet waistcoat, with all those teeny tiny snowmen. Have you named them all? I would.”
I endeavoured not to splutter the chocolate confection.
After dinner, and while Aunt Dahlia was saying goodbye to the Carburys and making arrangements for the first rehearsal of the nativity play, Angela waylaid me and tugged me into the library.
Before I had a chance to protest at such treatment, she said, “Bertie, you must Do Something.” And yes, those two words definitely began with capital letters.
“Sorry, old fruit,” I began, “I fail to see how I can assist you.”
“I am not having Hildebrand being simpered at by that, that…” Fortunately, words failed her at that moment, and I was temporarily spared her invective. “Although…” I started to worry, she was obviously planning, and, from past experience, this meant disaster for Bertram. “She does seem to have taken a fancy to you.”
“So you want me to do a swap with Tuppy,” I began hesitantly, “and play Joseph while he takes Gabriel.”
“Have you heard Hildebrand sing?”
“Err, yes. Yes, I take your point.”
“He is a perfect darling, but he’s really only safe singing at the back of the crowd.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Ask Jeeves,” she replied and marched out of the door, leaving me feeling as if I’d just been sat on by a lion. Or, to be strictly accurate, a lioness.
I poked my head out of the library door, only to hear Miss Carbury saying, “Is that darling Mr Wooster around? I would like to tell him how much I’m looking forward to rehearsing with him tomorrow. Such a shame he isn’t. I wonder, Mrs Travers, whether you’d mind relaying the message to him.”
I heard my aunt replying that she’d be delighted to do so, and, not caring for the satisfaction I detected in her voice, I scuttled out and scurried up to my room in the hope of encountering Jeeves there.
I was in luck, so I promptly poured out my predicament to him.
He nodded. “Yes, sir, I do understand the difficulty that you find yourself in. I shall give it some thought and see what I can come up with by tomorrow morning. As I understand it, the sooner we are able to return to London the better. Otherwise, since we shall be staying here over the festive period, we will invited to remain until then, which I do not believe will be satisfactory to either of us.”
“You have hit the bally nail on the head, Jeeves,” I agreed.
***
I had hoped Jeeves would be forthcoming about his plans the following morning, but when I returned from breakfast I found him somewhat abstracted, and shortly afterwards he abstracted himself totally, so I made my way down to the garden room, where Aunt Dahlia had decreed we would begin rehearsing.
The rehearsal went as well as I had been expecting; that is to say, dreadfully. Miss Carbury continued to simper, alternatively at me and at Tuppy. Angela snapped at all and sundry and when she had finally had enough of Miss Carbury, said icily, “Do you think you could at least try to remember that one sentence?”
Of course, Miss Carbury’s eyes promptly filled with tears, and while I know that in general I am susceptible to the tears of a pretty young lady, even I could see these were put on for effect. Tuppy, however, was about to provide her with some manly comfort, so I kicked him hard in the shin.
“Oops, sorry, old man,” I said. “Careless of me to leave the old foot in the way.”
I’m not sure what would have happened next, but fortunately, at that moment Jeeves appeared and said, “I’m very sorry to interrupt you, Mrs Travers, but I’ve just received a telegram for Mr Wooster and thought I ought to bring it to him immediately.”
“That’s perfectly all right, Jeeves. Bertie, you’d better read it, but if it’s a bookie after a debt, don’t look to me for payment.”
I opened the envelope and read the message inside. It said: Act shocked. Say, ‘In the circumstances, we really ought to return to London at once, Jeeves’.
I looked up, opened my mouth wide in an attitude of shock, shut it again and said, “In the circumstances, we really ought to return to London at once, Jeeves.”
“Certainly, sir. I’ll go and pack at once. Oh, and Mrs Travers, I’m terribly sorry, I forgot, in the heat of the moment, to mention it when I entered, but I understand Sir Montagu Eglebert’s nephew will be staying until Christmas. I heard from his valet that Sir Montagu is rather hoping the nephew can involve himself in local events while he’s here. I thought perhaps he might have a part in the nativity play.”
“Excellent,” Angela replied instantly. “He can be Joseph.”
“That still leaves us without a Gabriel,” Aunt Dahlia said. “I’m not certain about Hildebrand taking the role.” The expression of nearly all those gathered there confirmed this doubt.
Jeeves gave a discrete cough. “Perhaps, Mrs Travers, I might suggest the boy who brought the telegram could take the role. He has a very good voice. He’s waiting to see if there’s a reply.” Here, Jeeves looked across at me, and I furiously shook my head. “Shall I send him through?”
I made my excuses and a hurried exit, Jeeves following behind me.
In the hallway, we met the telegram boy.
Jeeves nodded to him and said, “Mrs Travers would like to see you. Go through that door.”
“Thank you, Mr Jeeves, it’s really kind of you. And I shall be looking dead posh for the dance, my Maisie won’t be able to resist me.”
I looked suspiciously at Jeeves as we headed upstairs, and began to say, “Jeeves.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Never mind.”
“As you wish, sir.”
I was not surprised to find, when we entered my room, that Jeeves had already packed my luggage. Not that my man servant is able to tell the future, well, he probably can, but on this occasion, he didn’t need to, as I see I’ve forgotten to say that it was Jeeves himself who had sent the telegram.
I turned to Jeeves. “My waistcoat…” I began.
“Which one, sir.”
“You know which one, Jeeves. The one with the snowmen.”
His eyebrows rose.
I sighed. “Would I be correct in assuming that the young man you have just been speaking to is expecting to receive it in returning for playing his part in our release?”
Jeeves made a noise similar to that of a ram with a sore throat.
“Then you’d better give him the bowtie as well.”
“Very good, sir.”
It was worth the loss of a waistcoat to extricate myself from a potentially embarrassing situation whilst nonetheless being able to return in time for Anatole’s Christmas spectacular. And there would be still time to buy a replacement.