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Jeeves and the Sea Monster

Title: Jeeves and the Sea Monster
Pairing: J/W, established relationship
Rating: PG
Word count: about 5,289
Summary: Bertie and Jeeves brave another matrimonial crisis and a threat from the sea.
Author's note: Dear lucylou has once again provided inspiration, this time with her lovely seaside drawing. Many thanks to darling skyblue_reverie for amazingly fast and spot-on beta work. Yikes, woman, you are speedy! :) And, of course, eternal gratitude to Plum for bringing these wonderful chaps into the world.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters; this writing is for fun but not profit. Do not read while operating heavy machinery. Please add whatever other legal disclaimers you find necessary to keep yourself safe and myself hassle-free.

Jeeves and the Sea Monster

Chapter 1

I felt something brush against my ankle. I tell you if you’ve never experienced it yourself, it can be a dashed unpleasant feeling. Especially when said ankle is submerged in the old briny. And more especially when one does not know the source of said brushing. I mean to say, a devoted manservant’s caress in the privacy of one’s own bedchamber is one thing, but this thing was not that.

But I seem to have begun my story a bit too close to the end, which is a rummy thing for one’s readers. Now, of course, the question is where to commence in recording this archive. It occurs to this author that the answer is, “at the beginning.” So that is where I shall make my start.

Perhaps you have read another writing of mine involving stolen pearls. That situation came to a successful conclusion on many fronts, all thanks to the Jeevesian presence in my life. He divined the confidence tricksters’ wheeze and, with a few well-placed words in the ear of the local constabulary, set into motion a dizzying chain of events. Aunt Agatha’s stolen pearls were recovered, the Berkley Square household was saved £3,000, and the young master’s future was no longer threatened by matrimony. I daresay best of all, Bertram W. was afforded the opportunity to give old Aunt A. a long-overdue and well-deserved piece of the Wooster brain in re her continued involvement in egging me on to marry females.

I had rarely been happier than when I left said nephew crusher standing, bally well speechless and looking as though one could knock her down with a f. I wouldn’t swear to it, but it is possible that as I closed the door of her room behind me I literally kicked up my heels with the joie de vivre that overcame me. I then modeled my style on that of rocketing pheasant to return to my room and share my whatsit with the one who’d made it possible. Jeeves would be able to tell you the word I want. I believe it’s “elation,” unless that is something one speaks of in relation to measuring the height of a mountain. But if that is the word I want, then that is what I wanted to share.

Upon entering the room, I saw Jeeves comfortably ensconced in a chair with an improving book. No doubt the author was Spinoza or some other such cove he found so dashed enlightening. I removed the i. b. from his hands, pulled him to standing, eagerly took him into my arms, and pressed my lips to his.

Breaking our embrace after a few affectionate moments, I pronounced emphatically, “Jeeves, you are a wonder. I don’t know how you managed to make everything come out all right, but you did indeed and I’m grateful for it.”

“You are most kind to say so, sir.”

“As my presence is no longer needed, moreover no longer wanted, in Westcombe-on-Sea, I was wondering your opinion on where our next journey should take us. What do you say, Jeeves,” I put it to him, “is it home to London or a visit to Cap d’Antibes?”

“Well, sir, as you recall, the Mediterranean was our intended destination prior to receiving Mrs. Gregson’s call for your attendance here in order to woo the so-called Miss Hemmingway. Forgive me for pointing out, but you suffered not a small amount of mental distress over recent events, I believe, sir?”

“Indeed, Jeeves, indeed. I felt the matrimonial noose tighten around my neck more than once over this whole blasted business. Not a comfortable feeling at all, I don’t mind telling you.” My eyes brightened, and my mind decided. “We deserve a bit of the old r. and r. before settling back into existence in the metrop. Dash it all—the Cap it is, Jeeves! Would you be able to make our arrangements? I should think we’d like to be taking off as soon as possible.”

Jeeves delicately raised a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat into it. At the same time, he arched his eyebrow in that ever-so-arching way that he has. “I took the liberty, sir, of securing our arrangements yesterday on the chance that just such an outcome would ensue. We leave in a few hours. Our luggage is packed and ready.”

I found my hands on my hips. Just to be clear, my hands were still attached to my arms; what I mean to say is that I placed my hands on my hips. I had no words; I could only smile and shake my head in wonderment.

Then the rarest of rare occurrences occurred. The corners of his mouth turned up, his lips parted, and he shone on me the broadest and most beautiful smile I had ever seen. With that, I had no choice but to again reach my arms and lips to him. He responded warmly, and one will say no more other than we spent the time remaining until our scheduled departure indulging in the tender pash.

Chapter 2

Our travel passed pleasantly and uneventfully, and we arrived in Cap d’Antibes eager for time alone in a place where to others we would be only strangers in the crowd. At least that was what I thought until I was in the hotel lobby, felt a tap on my shoulder, and heard a familiar voice ring out from behind me.

“Why, Bertie Wooster, is that you?”

I spun around like a child’s top to find myself visage-à-visage with a combination of tall, willowy form; terrific profile; hazel eyes; and lustrous hair that could belong to only one person. My eyes came to rest on Lady Florence Craye.

My faithful readers may remember that at one time I had been engaged to this particular female, but with Jeeves’s help that danger had been handily averted. After all, imagine being married to a woman known as Lady Caligula among the household staff and who attempts to improve her fiancé by forcing him to read Nietzsche. She had been engaged to a number of poor blighters since, and to my knowledge was currently involved with one Rupert Chumley, old Bumley to those of us who were his school mates and could say we knew him when. When what, exactly, I’m not sure, but I know that such expressions are used when one speaks of another’s youth. Bumley was a man known for having a rather large head, exceptionally thin lips, a muscular though somewhat short frame, and to my mind, all the humour of the man who looses the guillotine on its victims.

“What ho, Florence! You’re looking quite well. How is old Bumley these days?”

“Oh, Bertie, don’t mention his name to me!”

“What’s this I hear? Does this mean that the wedding bells will not be pealing out?” I lit a concerned gasper.

“Certainly not for the two of us. I’ve called off our engagement.”

“But you two seemed like the paper on the wall.”

“Yes, I know. I truly did love him. Shall I tell you what turned my affections against him?”

“Tell away, old thing, tell away.” I waved said c. g. in feigned nonchalance to encourage her to continue.

“It’s his cowardly ways, Bertie! I thought he was a man of courage, a man of action. In truth, he is a man with a craven fear of a tiny insect.”

“What do you mean, insect?”

“A honeybee, can you imagine it? We were having a lovely picnic in the country a few weeks ago. Everything seemed perfect…a beautiful warm day, soft breeze floating over us, the heavenly scent of honeysuckle in the air. The aroma gave me the thought to have some honey for the scones that had been included with our luncheon. I noticed a beehive in a nearby tree, and I asked Rupert to get some wild honey for me.”

“I see. And his response was?”

“His response was ‘no’! I asked him again, and again he refused. He said he’d noticed the hive when we first arrived and had made note that the inhabitants seemed particularly irked and stirred up. He said he didn’t know how he could get the honey for me without getting stung repeatedly.”

“Oh dear. And what did you say to that?”

“I told him he was being ridiculous. I told him all he had to do was to steel himself and carefully reach his hand inside and he’d have no trouble at all. He insisted I was mistaken, that it wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Then he prattled on about being allergic to bee stings or some such nonsense and said that was the end of it. I told him if he was that much of a coward that he couldn’t even get me a little honey when I asked then there was no point in continuing our engagement. I got up and walked back to the house, leaving him just sitting there, afraid of his bees.”

To myself I thought that Bumley had acted rather intelligently considering the circs, but it would take a duller man than Bertram Wooster to see that Florence wanted to hear nothing in his defence.

“I say, that’s a rum lot, what? But surely that alone isn’t enough to change your feelings for him.”

“I cannot marry a man without courage, Bertie. In time the affection I feel for him will fade away to a distant memory. I came here to get away from England and all that reminds me of him.”

Suddenly, her face brightened, and I could see the proverbial dark cloud lift from her. I had the vague feeling that she had begun to regard me not unlike a hungry lion regards a wayward sheep, and further, I had a premonition that said d. c. was about to settle in and take up residence about the Wooster canuba. It appeared that she had gotten an Idea into her head.

“To find you, in this place, pretending not to know about my broken engagement, hiding behind that silly mask out of shyness rather than admit that you followed me here to make me yours at last!” From out of nowhere, I found myself entangled in her arms, which seemed to number that of an octopus.

Had I been Caesar facing Brutus for the last time, I could not have experienced a greater shock. As a result, my mind decided to take a brief holiday and had left behind little except a weak, “Oh, rather!”

“There, you see? I knew I was right. You have been so patient, so persistent in waiting for me to be free.”

I attempted to speak, but she placed her index finger over my lips to silence the next “Oh, rather!” that was about to be loosed upon the world. “Bertie, darling, you don’t have to say a word. I know so well what you carry in your heart. To reward your long-suffering determination, I shan’t keep you waiting for an answer to the question so obvious in your eyes—yes, Bertie, yes I will marry you and make you the happiest man alive.”

“Oh, rather!” I squeaked out. Even if one’s brain had been in full functional form, what else could one say? The Code of the Woosters is clear in this regard—one must remain civil.

She landed a peck solidly in the middle of my cheek. “I must leave you now, Bertie dear. I’m dining with friends of my father this evening, and I must get ready. I wish I could invite you, but I’m afraid there isn’t time to make arrangements.”

“Oh, rather!” I felt weaker with each use of the words.

“Tomorrow we shall spend the afternoon sunning on the beach and planning our wedding. It will be so wonderful!”

“Oh, rather!”

“Bertie, you are so funny, repeating the same thing over and over. I’m not surprised, seeing that you must be overcome with joy at finally having won me. Jusqu’à demain, mon cher. I’ll meet you here after luncheon at three o’clock.”

Another “Oh, rather!” from me, another peck from her, and she proceeded on her merry, delusional way. I was left standing, ruminating, if that is the word I want, on the suddenness with which one’s life can go from mountain peak to valley depth.

Chapter 3

“And there you have it, Jeeves, the whole blasted mess.” I’d spent the fuller part of half an hour bringing him au courant with the young seigneur’s unfortunate posish.

“Most troubling, to be sure, sir. But I believe I have devised a solution to your problem.”

“Good Lord, so quickly, Jeeves? That mighty brain of yours never ceases to amaze. Solomon—is that the chap I mean?—had nothing on you, old thing.”

“Thank you, sir. I must confess that I was apprised of your predicament even before you shared with me your exchange with Lady Florence.”

I do not overstate my case when I tell you that a look of utter confusion found its way to my vicinity and slapped itself onto my face. I was at a loss to explain his last statement, so I pressed him to assist me in seeing the light.

“Well, sir, while you were holding your, shall I say, tête-à-tête with the young lady, I was endeavouring to complete our unpacking. While I was so occupied, there was a sudden loud banging on the door. Upon opening it, I found Mr. Chumley there, looking for you, sir.”

“Bumley Chumley? Here?” My consternation deepened. “Bumley Chumley? Here and looking for me? That’s dashed peculiar, I must say!”

“Quite so, sir. He followed Lady Florence to this location in order to woo her back. Upon overhearing that you are a guest here, he became quite determined to locate your whereabouts.”

“Good Lord!”

“Indeed, sir. He was most eager to find you in order to question your own motives for following Lady Florence here.”

“Blast it, Jeeves, how has everyone managed to get the idea that I’ve followed that dratted woman here? How do they suppose I even knew about her broken engagement?”

“I do not know, sir; he did not share that information with me. He did, however, go into some detail about the circumstances that caused the current state of affairs and his overwhelming desire to reclaim the young lady’s affection for his own.”

“Did Bumley say anything else?”

“Yes, sir. At that point, his mood turned from pining to pique. He said if you were lucky, you would have the opportunity to explain yourself before he—and I give you his exact words—‘punched your lights out.’”

“Oh, he did, did he? He has a lot of bally nerve!”

“Indeed, sir.”

It took but the meanest intelligence to see that I was in the soup, and in deeply. But Jeeves said he’d come up with a solution. If there is one thing that I have come to rely on unquestioningly in the time that we have been together, it is Jeeves’s almost preternatural talent for thinking up and rolling out some maneouver or other that always pulls Bertram’s bacon out of the hot water, and usually in just the n. of t. I had no reason or desire to doubt him now.

“So, Jeeves, you say you have a plan. Under these circs, it had better be a dashed cunning plan or the next blighter you see standing in sponge-bag trousers and buttonhole gardenia bowed before the vicar and waiting for his soppy-eyed mate to come sauntering down the white carpet will be none other than Bertram Wilberforce Wooster.”

“I understand. If I may suggest, sir, what’s needed in this situation is for Mr. Chumley to display himself in a brave and fearless manner in full view of Lady Florence. If he were, for example, to rescue a beach bather in peril of drowning, he would soon be back in her good graces and their engagement would be resumed.”

“I say, Jeeves, that’s positively brilliant! But dash it; time is of the whatsit here. We can’t just be waiting around all hours of the day and night for some poor soul to take it into his head to start drowning.”

“No, sir. But if you were to portray the drowning victim, we would be able to control when the rescue occurred. You mentioned that you and the young lady will be meeting at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. If we arranged for the ‘accident’ to occur sometime after that…”

“I see, Jeeves. But Florence knows of the Wooster courage and sporting abilities. Will she find it believable that I would not be able to hold my own splashing about in the waves? I question whether she will be taken in by this wheeze of yours.”

Did I see an indulgent smirk dance a lazy waltz across Jeeves’s face? No, it must have been some shift in lighting in the room.

“Perhaps, sir. But I have no doubt that your thespian prowess will come to the fore and carry the day.”

“Just so, Jeeves, just so. But how can we be sure that Bumley will even be on the beach, much less be interested in saving the man he considers the rival for his lovelight’s affection?”

“Leave it to me, sir. I will ensure that Mr. Chumley is in the vicinity at the appropriate time. When Lady Florence sees the distress you’re in, she will certainly call out for assistance. The gentleman will easily see the advantage he would gain by performing a heroic rescue.”

“Well, as you say, Jeeves. You’ve rarely steered me wrong before, and I’ll not doubt you now. I shall be the most convincing drowning victim since the proverbial straw-clutcher.”

Chapter 4

The appointed hour having arrived the following day, Florence and I had found our way to a spot on the sand in a somewhat secluded area yet not too far removed from the other bathers. Good to her word, her conversation was full of wedding plans—how many guests to invite, who the guests were to be, what style gown she would wear, what flowers there would be, and on ad nauseum. My responses were limited, as one might imagine; Florence wasn’t so much asking for opinion as she was informing me of decisions that had already been decided.

I had been somewhat mindlessly digging in the sand. Jeeves had situated himself nearby; he was in the process of creating a sand castle whose complexity was on the order of that château in Germany—starts with an “N”—”Neu” something—no, it’s gone.

I must say that Jeeves cut quite a figure in his swimming costume. I don’t often see him in a state of semi-undress; he is usually completely attired in his valet’s costume or completely unattired for our more private moments. I found him most desirable in his current raiment. The dark gray colour of the fabric suited his complexion admirably, and the item fit his person in a way that I couldn’t ponder too deeply for fear of my own form revealing more about my feelings for him than appropriate in public company. I refocused my attentions on the sand in front of me and resumed my digging.

“….don’t you agree, Bertie darling?”

Having been distracted, I hadn’t heard what Florence had asked, only that she had asked something. I answered a limp, “Yes, quite.”

“I knew you would feel about it just as I do. Our wedding will be absolutely glorious!”

I was just opening my mouth to respond when I heard Jeeves cough. It meant that either he was coming down with a case of influenza or Bumley had arrived on the scene. Having no evidence of the former, I assumed the latter and lifted my head from my digging. I saw the target of our wheeze just coming onto the beach.

“I say, Florence, I’m feeling quite warm. I believe I’ll just nip down to the water’s edge and have a bit of a splash. Would you, erm, care to join me?”

“Bertie, you must be joking! I have no interest in going anywhere near the water, you should know that.”

I was well aware of her aversion to the ocean, which is why I could take the chance in asking her to accompany me.

“Of course, old thing, how silly of me. Still, you don’t mind if I steal a few moments away, what?”

Her eyes betrayed her, but she put on a game face. “Well, if that’s why you want, of course not. Just don’t be too long; we still have plans to talk over.”

She’d already been gassing on about said plans for I don’t know how long; it didn’t seem possible that there was anything else that could be discussed about one day’s events. But leave it to the female mind, eh?

“Surely not; I’ll be back in two shakes.” I stood and caught Jeeves’s eye. He gave a quick nod and rose up.

I moved toward the water’s edge; Jeeves followed behind carrying a towel. He’d stand ankle deep in the water, waiting patiently for my splashing to end so he could wrap said towel around my shoulders. Not for the first time in our acquaintance, I marveled at the lengths he went to in seeing to my comfort, and I loved him the more for it.

The water was warm and comfortable, and soon Bertram was quite enjoying himself. I gave a fleeting thought to the toy duck in my tub at home; I pictured it bobbing in the small waves and made a mental note to invent a game called “Ocean Wave Duckie” upon sharing the porcelain with the little yellow fellow again.

I turned back toward shore and saw that Bumley had made his way to Florence. It was obvious that he was trying to plead his case and just as obvious that she was having none of it. As a matter of fact, her ire was definitely raised, and she appeared to be gathering up her belongings in preparation of stalking off. I knew I had to act, and act now. I girded up my mental loins and set to the task. I sat on the sea floor and began wildly waving my arms and legs.

“Help! Help! Oh, help!”

I had formed the words in my mind but not yet in my mouth. Whose voice was that?

“Please help me!”

I paused my flailing to find the source of the noise. There on the beach, about halfway between Jeeves and Bumley, a dog the size and ferocity of Stiffy Byng’s Aberdeen terrier Bartholomew had a tightly toothed hold on one corner of a towel wrapped around a young girl.

You might scoff when I tell you of the terror that an Aberdeen terrier can cause. This is not to say that all examples of the breed are fear-inducing beasts, but there are certain rotten enfants terribles who spoil the entire barrel. Unless you’ve been held hostage by one of these creatures, either seated on top of a wardrobe or planted on a beach, you will never be able to understand the feelings of unease that come about.

More quickly than one would have thought his build allowed, Bumley was by the young girl’s side. He gave her an encouraging word or two—by this time she was in tears—and then set about dislodging pooch from fabric. He reached over and picked up the dog who was distracted by the noise the girl was making, and open his clenched fist under the wet cold nose.

The pooch gave a single sniff into Bumley’s hand and immediately dropped his hold on the towel. The girl, seizing her moment of escape, ran off to find her parents. At almost the same moment, a lovely young lady ran over to Bumley, arms outreached.

“Oh, sir, thank you! You were absolutely wonderful with my dog!”

“It was nothing, miss, I assure you. I love Aberdeens; we had them all the while I was growing up. They just need to be distracted when they get their teeth into something they shouldn’t. It was easy to get him to let go when I offered him a bit of food instead.”

“Why, yes, that’s it exactly! So many people are so quick to assume the dog is bad. Instead, the poor mite just needs its interests redirected. I’m glad the girl seemed all right. I’d wanted to apologize to her, but she ran off before I could.”

“Indeed, miss. I’m sure she suffered no ill effects. You are most kind to worry about her.”

At this point, it was not hard to begin to sense the faint beginnings of romance in Bumley’s mind. Florence noticed it, too, and was quickly at his side.

“Rupert, dear, you should give the young lady back her dog. She no doubt needs to be on her way.” She entwined her right arm around his left one I daresay rather possessively.

“Er, um, of course,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean…”

“Nothing at all, sir.” The young lady, Jeeves later told me, blushed at this point. “I, eh, yes, must be going.” She took the offered canine with one arm and stretched out her other, offering her hand.

Bumley pumped her o. h. nervously once or twice and then let go. “Nice to have met you, miss.”

“And you, sir.” And with that, she turned and walked away.

“Oh, Rupert, I’m so proud of you!” Florence was practically cooing over him now. “You were so brave to rescue that poor girl.” She pecked his cheek.

“What? Ho, erm, yes.” He was obviously speechless, and no wonder. Florence had gone from cold as ice to hot as flame in record time.

“I shall be proud to be Mrs. Rupert Chumley! Come, let’s get a spot of tea and talk about our wedding plans.”

“Oh…quite…right! Good show!” Bumley smiled broadly and covered her hand with his own. Remaining arm in arm, they began strolling down the beach.

At this point, Bertram was breathing sighs of relief. I was obviously once again off the matrimonial hook and dashed pleased to be so. I was just preparing to rise when I felt an unexpected brushing against my ankle.

“Eeek!” I heard someone cry out. It is possible that someone was I.

I felt the brush again. At this point, my limbs began pumping in earnest. I was trying to regain my footing to hie myself from the immediate vicinity, but the more I tried to stand, the more I sat and flailed.

“Dash it! Glub!” The water, which had previously been chin high, was rising—or was I sinking?—and was invading my mouth. And again, that blasted brushing!

“Allow me, sir.” Jeeves was at my side, hand extended toward me.

“Blub! Glub!” I replied, focusing on his offered extremity. I reached for it once and missed. I swung wildly for it again, this time making connexion, grasping tightly. In mere seconds, I found myself reseated from the sea floor to Jeeves’s strong shoulders, my left leg entwined with his right arm. I coughed mightily.

“Jeeves, what was that thing? There’s some sort of sea monster nearby; it nearly ate my foot!”

“I think not, sir; you see?”

See? Had he captured it? I looked toward his left hand, from which dangled a small, red creature.

“Jeeves, what is that blasted thing? Where is the creature that attempted to relieve me of my left hoof?”

“This, sir, is a fine example of Polybius corrugatus. Phylum, arthropoda; subphylum, crustacea; order, decapoda. A common crab found throughout the Mediterranean…”

“But, Jeeves…”

“Sir, there are and were no other creatures. This small crab was simply washed against you with the waves, nothing more.”

I began to relax a bit. “You’re sure, Jeeves? Absolutely sure?”

“Indeed, sir. Absolutely sure.”

He began walking to shore and allowed me to stay aloft until we reached dry sand. As I clambered down from Jeeves’s shoulder, out of the corner of my eye I caught Florence and Bumley chuckling at me.

As I walked from the beach, I attempted to maintain an air of calm insouciance but failed miserably.

Chapter 5

Jeeves was drawing my bath. My mood was low, and I wanted nothing more than a rinsing splash in the porcelain and the chance to insert the corporeal Wooster between the sheets and hide from the world.

“What an ass I made of myself. Such a commotion over such a small creature.”

“Nothing of the kind, sir. I am reminded of the old German proverb, ‘Fear makes the wolf seem bigger than it really is.’”

“I don’t follow you, Jeeves. I saw no wolves of any size, only a tiny crab that wouldn’t scare a child of two. Yet there I was, jumping on your shoulders and displaying none of the courage for which we Woosters are known.” I hung my head; I felt désolé.

As my glance was trained on the floor, I couldn’t see the look on his face. But I felt his hand on my chin tilting my visage to meet his so I could take in his open, honest l. of total acceptance. “My dearest,” he said softly, almost as a sigh, and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. He spoke again, “Courage is not the lack of fear, sir; it is acting in spite of it. You have nothing of which to be ashamed. You acted then, as you always do, nobly and with thoughts of others rather than yourself.”

I brightened immensely at this. Jeeves has a neat turn of phrase, and to know that his regard for me had not wavered was the tonic I needed to begin feeling full of the old beans and buck again. He hugged me once and then pulled away to allow me to proceed with my rendez-vous with the soap and w. I removed my swimming costume and handed it over. I felt a blush of colour rise in my cheeks when I saw a rather ardent look overtake his face as his eyes loitered on my unclothed form.

“Your bath awaits, sir.” His voice had taken on a deepening, husky quality.

As I walked past him, he lightly brushed his hand against my arm. Immediate gooseflesh was the result, and a small moaning sigh—or was it a small sighing moan?—wended its way from my throat into my mouth and out past my lips. His touch never fails to arouse my deepest desires.

“Will we be dining in, sir?”

“Oh, yes, please Jeeves. I want us to be alone tonight.”

“Very good, sir. While you are bathing, I will ring down to request a tray. Is there anything particular of which you would care to partake, sir?”

“No, no, Jeeves. I leave that to you. I know that whatever you choose will suit me to a what-d’ya-call-it.”

“Thank you, sir. In this as in all things, I shall endeavour to give satisfaction.” He cocked an eyebrow in a way that made this Wooster heart melt and other areas of the Wooster person have a decidedly opposite reaction.

I grinned and blushed harder. “You always do, Jeeves, you always do.”

“Thank you, sir.” He tipped his head in acknowledgement, then turned and began his usual shimmer out of the room. I thought for a moment and then called to him.


He stopped and turned back. “Yes, sir?”

“Just one more thing.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Be sure not to order anything with crab, eh?”

His fist quickly moved to cover his mouth, and I heard him do that clearing thingummy with his throat before he replied, “Very good, sir.”

The End


( 34 thoughts — Share a thought )
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Nov. 26th, 2006 03:40 am (UTC)
I love this! It reads like one of the short stories.
Nov. 26th, 2006 11:15 am (UTC)
Thank you! I'm very flattered. I'm so glad you enjoyed reading it. :)
(Deleted comment)
Nov. 26th, 2006 11:16 am (UTC)
Thank you so much! :) I laughed a lot while I was writing it.

More? I will see what I can do!
Nov. 26th, 2006 04:41 am (UTC)
Oh, how positivly lovely! You've got Bertie and Jeeves down pat, and the story is just perfect! And now I want to see Bertie pretending that his bath is the ocean, and his little yellow duckie is bobbing on the waves.
Nov. 26th, 2006 11:42 am (UTC)
Thank you...you're making me blush! :)

I love Bertie with his duckie. There is a passage in Right Ho, Jeeves where he goes on about how happy playing with his duck makes him. You know, it's so good that it's worth repeating here. :)
The discovery of a toy duck in the soap dish, presumably the property of some former juvenile visitor, contributed not a little to this new and happier frame of mind. What with one thing and another, I hadn't played with toy ducks in my bath for years, and I found the novel experience most invigorating. For the benefit of those interested, I may mention that if you shove the thing under the surface with the sponge and then let it go, it shoots out of the water in a manner calculated to divert the most careworn. Ten minutes of this and I was enabled to return to the bedchamber much more the old merry Bertram.

Bwahahahahaha...he played "Exploding Duckie" for 10 minutes! How can you not love this character??
Nov. 26th, 2006 05:00 am (UTC)
Aw! This was cute! I love how you don't shove Bertie and Jeeves' relationship in the reader's face, but acknowledge it all the same. It's such a Plum way of solving the difficulty, too. *grin* Bravo!
Nov. 26th, 2006 11:43 am (UTC)
Why thank you so much! They are such an old married couple. {g}
Nov. 26th, 2006 05:30 am (UTC)
So full of love, and I'm jealous of your voice. Well done, and excellently in-character.

It's really fanon that Florence is full of evil and is a right bitch, huh?

I love your Jeeves. I love his tiny expressions. Just beautiful.

Turly loved it, dear.
Nov. 26th, 2006 11:47 am (UTC)
Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it!

It's really fanon that Florence is full of evil and is a right bitch, huh?
Let's face it...even in canon women don't come out all that well. Aunt Dahlia comes off the best; she's a whack job in the same way the Bertie is a bit of one himself. All other females get a pretty rum portrayal.

Jeeves is the master of subtlety. :)
Nov. 26th, 2006 06:25 am (UTC)
That was in-character and awesome. Great job!
Nov. 26th, 2006 11:48 am (UTC)
Thanks so much! It was loads of fun to write. :)
Nov. 26th, 2006 02:30 pm (UTC)
Very cool.
Nov. 26th, 2006 03:51 pm (UTC)
Thank you!
Nov. 26th, 2006 09:54 pm (UTC)
Charming and witty!

This fandom is quite new to me, but I can already see that you're becoming one of my favourite authors.
Nov. 27th, 2006 01:02 am (UTC)
*totally blushing* OMG thank you! I'm really flattered! :)

Your icon is absolutely striking...what's the story behind it?
(no subject) - quite_ah_safe - Nov. 27th, 2006 09:45 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - msliz4857 - Nov. 27th, 2006 11:13 am (UTC) - Expand
Nov. 27th, 2006 01:28 am (UTC)
So much love for this story! Your Bertie voice is absolutely astounding, m'dear. I am in awe. I love the whole thing, but I especially adore Chapter 5 - just perfect. I have such a kink for Jeeves having to comfort upset!Bertie with just the perfect words. And Jeeves's ardent glance when Bertie takes off the bathing suit, and the husky quality to Jeeves's voice, and Jeeves brushing Bertie's arm... Ohhhhh, yes.

And the ending was absolutely perfect, with Jeeves trying not to laugh out loud at darling Bertie, requesting a crab-free menu. :D

Gorgeous work, old thing!

Nov. 27th, 2006 11:11 am (UTC)
*hugs* Thank you, m'dear! I'm so happy you enjoyed the story! And you in awe? Nah, now you're just being too flattering. *blush* And yay!

Yes, I love when upset!Bertie needs extra attention and care from his gentleman's personal gentleman. And you know they're all above-board out in public, but in private they are pretty much horny little devils who can barely keep their hands off each other. (At least in my little corner of the world.) Hee!

♥ back at ya! ;)

Nov. 27th, 2006 07:22 pm (UTC)
You have made my afternoon with this! That Bertie is a hoot - especially with this bit: attempted to relieve me of my left hoof

Absolutely delightful! :D
Nov. 27th, 2006 10:53 pm (UTC)
I'm so pleased I could help make your afternoon bright! But let's face it...Bertie and Jeeves make everything better, don't they? ;)

Bertie is a barrel of fun to write, and I had a great time with this. I'm glad you enjoyed it! Thanks for your lovely comment.
Dec. 1st, 2006 03:47 pm (UTC)
By Jeeves, this is brilliant...perfect writing & a rippingly good read...bravo & well done, m'dear!
Dec. 1st, 2006 10:29 pm (UTC)
You're too kind...thanks so much! I'm so happy you enjoyed it.
Dec. 3rd, 2006 11:08 pm (UTC)
Yay! Immensely cute fic. I love your Jeeves and Bertie.
Dec. 3rd, 2006 11:39 pm (UTC)
Ah, thank you, m'dear! It was a pleasure to write, and I'm so glad you enjoyed it!
Dec. 9th, 2006 12:10 am (UTC)
Oh my. I hate to admit this, but I hadn't read this story before. I THOUGHT I had, but I had only read the first chapter! I'm such a dunce. And it's so GOOD! I didn't know what I was missing! I literally laughed aloud when Bertie says he contemplated an Ocean Wave Duckie game, and "upon sharing the porcelain with the little yellow fellow again," was perfect!
Dec. 9th, 2006 12:48 am (UTC)
Thanks for your kind words. :) I'm really glad you enjoyed the story.

I love Bertie and his duck. I love how he "scolds" it in the series, and I adore the passage from Right Ho, Jeeves that I posted under ennui_blue_lite's comment earlier. :)
Dec. 14th, 2006 10:35 pm (UTC)
Awww this was very very very sweet! Apologies, I am useless at giving reviews, but I just wanted to say that I really loved the story and I loved your Jeeves and Wooster voices and style of writing - up there with the best definately I think! :-)

When Jeeves calls Bertie "My dearest" I thought I would explode with love for them and for you the author! Thank-you thank-you thank-you!x

Luv Claire!xx
Dec. 14th, 2006 11:45 pm (UTC)
Oh, Claire, you are making me blush! You are so kind to say those lovely things...and your review was very well done! :)

I'm with you...when Jeeves gets all tender with Bertie, my heart melts.

Thanks for the love...and you're welcome-welcome-welcome! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. :)
Jul. 2nd, 2007 12:59 am (UTC)
I'm a little late to this party, but I figured you'd still appreciate my two cents.

I gave a fleeting thought to the toy duck in my tub at home; I pictured it bobbing in the small waves and made a mental note to invent a game called “Ocean Wave Duckie” upon sharing the porcelain with the little yellow fellow again.

That line is love! It made me giggle. A lot. I love this story! You've made my night!
Mar. 23rd, 2008 01:37 am (UTC)
Aww, thank you so much! I apologize for being so very late in replying to your comment; I just haven't been around LJ at all over the past months. Nevertheless, I definitely am thankful you took the time to leave your wonderfully kind response. Thank you again. :D
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