Mrs Spottsworth uttered an exclamation.
‘Augustus Frobisher? For Pete’s sake! I’ve been thinking all along that there was something familiar about that name Frobisher, and now you say Augustus… This friend of yours, this Frobisher. Is he a fellow with a red face?’
‘We all have red faces east of Suez.’
‘And a small, bristly moustache?’
‘Small, bristly moustaches, too.’
‘Does he stammer slightly? Has he a small mole on the left cheek? Is one of his eyes green and the other glass?’
Captain Biggar was amazed.
‘Good God! That’s Tubby. You’ve met him?’
‘Met him? You bet I’ve met him. It was only a week before I left the States that I was singing “Oh, perfect love” at his wedding.’
Captain Biggar’s eyes widened.
‘Howki wa hoo!’ he exclaimed. ‘Tubby is married?’
‘He certainly is. And do you know who he’s married to? Cora Rita Rockmetteller, widow of the late Sigsbee Rockmetteller, the Sardine King, a woman with a darned sight more money than I’ve got myself. Now you see how much your old code amounts to. When Augustus Frobisher met Cora and heard that she had fifty million smackers hidden away behind the brick in the fireplace, did he wander out into any sunset alone? No, sir! He bought a clean collar and a gardenia for his buttonhole and snapped into it.’
Captain Biggar had lowered himself on to the rustic seat and was breathing heavily through the nostrils.
‘You have shaken me, Rosie!’
‘And you needed shaking, talking all that malarkey. You and your old code!’
‘I can’t take it in.’
‘You will, if you sit and think it over for a while. You stay here and get used to the idea of walking down the aisle with me, and I’ll go in and phone the papers that a marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between Cuthbert… have you any other names, my precious lamb?’
‘Gervase,’ said the Captain in a low voice. ‘And it’s Brabazon-Biggar. With a hyphen.’
‘… between Cuthbert Gervase Brabazon-Biggar and Rosalinda Bessemer Spottsworth. It’s a pity it isn’t Sir Cuthbert. Say!’ said Mrs Spottsworth, struck with an idea. ‘What’s wrong with buying you a knighthood? I wonder how much they cost these days? I’ll have to ask Sir Roderick. I might be able to get it at Harrige’s. Well, goodbye for the moment, my wonder man. Don’t go wandering off into any sunsets.’
Humming gaily, for her heart was light, Mrs Spottsworth tripped down the moss-grown path, tripped across the lawn and tripped through the french window into the living-room. Jeeves was there. He had left Bill and Jill trying mournfully to console each other in his pantry, and had returned to the living-room to collect the coffee-cups. At the sight of the pendant encircling Mrs Spottsworth’s neck, no fewer than three hairs of his left eyebrow quivered for an instant, showing how deeply he had been moved by the spectacle.
‘You’re looking at the pendant, I see,’ said Mrs Spottsworth, beaming happily. ‘I don’t wonder you’re surprised. Captain Biggar found it just now in the grass by that rustic seat where we were sitting last night.’
It would be too much to say that Jeeves stared, but his eyes enlarged, the merest fraction, a thing they did only on special occasions.
‘Has Captain Biggar returned, madam?’
‘He got back a few minutes ago. Oh, Jeeves, do you know the telephone number of The Times?’
‘No, madam, but I could ascertain.’
‘I want to announce my engagement to Captain Biggar.’
Four hairs of Jeeves’ right eyebrow stirred slightly, as if a passing breeze had disturbed them.
‘Indeed, madam? May I wish you every happiness?’
‘Thank you, Jeeves.’
‘Shall I telephone The Times, madam?’
‘If you will, and the Telegraph and Mail and Express. Any others?’
‘I think not, madam. Those you have mentioned should be quite sufficient for an announcement of this nature.’
‘Perhaps you’re right. Just those, then.’
‘Very good, madam. Might I venture to ask, madam, if you and Captain Biggar will be taking up your residence at the Abbey?’
Mrs Spottsworth sighed.
‘No, Jeeves, I wish I could buy it… I love the place… but it’s damp. This English climate!’
‘Our English summers are severe.’
‘And the winters worse.’
Jeeves coughed.
‘I wonder if I might make a suggestion, madam, which I think should be satisfactory to all parties.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Buy the house, madam, take it down stone by stone and ship it to California.’
‘And put it up there?’ Mrs Spottsworth beamed. ‘Why, what a brilliant idea!’
‘Thank you, madam.’
‘William Randolph Hearst used to do it, didn’t he? I remember visiting at San Simeon once, and there was a whole French Abbey lying on the grass near the gates. I’ll do it, Jeeves. You’ve solved everything. Oh, Lord Rowcester,’ said Mrs Spottsworth. ‘Just the man I wanted to see.’
Bill had come in with Jill, walking with slow, despondent steps. As he saw the pendant, despondency fell from him like a garment. Unable to speak, he stood pointing a trembling finger.
‘It was discovered in the grass adjoining a rustic seat in the garden, m’lord, by Mrs Spottsworth’s fiancé, Captain Biggar,’ said Jeeves.
Bill found speech, though with difficulty.
‘Biggar’s back?’
‘Yes, m’lord.’
‘And he found the pendant?’
‘Yes, m’lord.’
‘And he’s engaged to Mrs Spottsworth?’
‘Yes, m’lord. And Mrs Spottsworth has decided to purchase the Abbey.’
‘What!’
‘Yes, m’lord.’
‘I do believe in fairies!’ said Bill, and Jill said she did, too.
‘Yes, Billiken,’ said Mrs Spottsworth. ‘I’m going to buy the Abbey. I don’t care what you’re asking for it. I want it, and I’ll write you a cheque the moment I come back from apologising to that nice Chief Constable. I left him very abruptly just now, and I’m afraid he may be feeling offended. Is he still up in my room, Jeeves?’
‘I believe so, madam. He rang for me not long ago to ask if I would provide him with a magnifying glass.’
‘I’ll go and see him,’ said Mrs Spottsworth. ‘I’m taking the Abbey with me to America, Billiken. It was Jeeves’ idea.’
She went out, and Jill hurled herself into Bill’s arms.
‘Oh, Bill! Oh, Bill! Oh, Bill!’ she cried. ‘Though I don’t know why I’m kissing you,’ she said. ‘I ought to be kissing Jeeves. Shall I kiss you, Jeeves?’
‘No, miss.’
‘Just think, Jeeves. You’ll have to buy that fish slice after all.’
‘It will be a pleasure and a privilege, miss.’
‘Of course, Jeeves,’ said Bill, ‘you must never leave us, wherever we go, whatever we do.’
Jeeves sighed apologetically.
‘I am very sorry, m’lord, but I fear I cannot avail myself of your kindness. Indeed, I fear I am compelled to hand in my notice.’
‘Oh, Jeeves!’
‘With the deepest regret, miss, I need scarcely say. But Mr Wooster needs me. I received a letter from him this morning.’
‘Has he left that school of his, then?’
Jeeves sighed again.
‘Expelled, m’lord.’
‘Good heavens!’
‘It is all most unfortunate, m’lord. Mr Wooster was awarded the prize for sock-darning. Two pairs of his socks were actually exhibited on Speech Day. It was then discovered that he had used a crib… an old woman whom he smuggled into his study at night.’
‘Poor old Bertie!’
‘Yes, m’lord. I gather from the tone of his communication that the scandal has affected him deeply. I feel that my place is at his side.’
Rory came in from the library, looking moody.
‘I can’t fix it,’ he said.
‘Rory,’ said Bill, ‘do you know what’s happened?’
‘Yes, old boy, I’ve bust the television set.’
‘Mrs Spottsworth is going to marry Captain Biggar, and she’s buying the Abbey.’
‘Oh?’ said Rory. His manner was listless. ‘Well, as I was saying, I can’t fix the bally thing, and I don’t believe any of the local yokels can, either, so the only thing to do is to go to the fountain head.’ He went to the telephone. ‘Give me Square one two three four,’ he said.
Captain Biggar came bustling through the french window, humming a Swahili wedding march.
‘Where’s my Rosie?’ he asked.
‘Upstairs,’ said Bill. ‘She’ll be down in a minute. She’s just been telling us the news. Congratulations, Captain.’
‘Thank you, thank you.’
‘I say,’ said Rory, the receiver at his ear, ‘I’ve just remembered another one. Which is bigger, Captain Biggar or Mrs Biggar? Mrs Biggar, because she became Biggar. Ha, ha. Ha, ha, ha! Meanwhile, I’m trying to get—’
His number came through.
‘Oh, hullo,’ he said. ‘Harrige’s?’
Ring For Jeeves Page 20