Something New by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (rom com books to read .TXT) 📖
- Author: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
Book online «Something New by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (rom com books to read .TXT) 📖». Author Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
Let Yourself Think In That Way. You Must Exercise Self-Control
Mentally. You Must Think Beautiful Thoughts."
"The Idea Of Skinning You Is A Beautiful Thought!" Said Mr.
Peters Wistfully.
In Order That Their Gayety Might Not Be Diminished--And The Food
Turned To Ashes In Their Mouths By The Absence From The Festive
Board Of Mr. Beach, It Was The Custom For The Upper Servants At
Blandings To Postpone The Start Of Their Evening Meal Until
Dinner Was Nearly Over Above-Stairs. This Enabled The Butler To
Take His Place At The Head Of The Table Without Fear Of
Chapter 5 Pg 92Interruption, Except For The Few Moments When Coffee Was Being
Served.
Every Night Shortly Before Half-Past Eight--At Which Hour Mr.
Beach Felt That He Might Safely Withdraw From The Dining-Room And
Leave Lord Emsworth And His Guests To The Care Of Merridew, The
Under-Butler, And James And Alfred, The Footmen, Returning Only
For A Few Minutes To Lend Tone And Distinction To The
Distribution Of Cigars And Liqueurs--Those Whose Rank Entitled
Them To Do So Made Their Way To The Housekeeper's Room, To Pass
In Desultory Conversation The Interval Before Mr. Beach Should
Arrive, And A Kitchen Maid, With The Appearance Of One Who Has
Been Straining At The Leash And Has At Last Managed To Get Free,
Opened The Door, With The Announcement: "Mr. Beach, If You Please,
Dinner Is Served." On Which Mr. Beach, Extending A Crooked Elbow
Toward The Housekeeper, Would Say, "Mrs. Twemlow!" And Lead The
Way, High And Disposedly, Down The Passage, Followed In Order Of
Rank By The Rest Of The Company, In Couples, To The Steward's
Room.
For Blandings Was Not One Of Those Houses--Or Shall We Say
Hovels?--Where The Upper Servants Are Expected Not Only To Feed
But To Congregate Before Feeding In The Steward's Room. Under The
Auspices Of Mr. Beach And Of Mrs. Twemlow, Who Saw Eye To Eye
With Him In These Matters, Things Were Done Properly At The
Castle, With The Correct Solemnity. To Mr. Beach And Mrs. Twemlow
The Suggestion That They And Their Peers Should Gather Together
In The Same Room In Which They Were To Dine Would Have Been As
Repellent As An Announcement From Lady Ann Warblington, The
Chatelaine, That The House Party Would Eat In The Drawing-Room.
When Ashe, Returning From His Interview With Mr. Peters, Was
Intercepted By A Respectful Small Boy And Conducted To The
Housekeeper's Room, He Was Conscious Of A Sensation Of Shrinking
Inferiority Akin To His Emotions On His First Day At School. The
Room Was Full And Apparently On Very Cordial Terms With Itself.
Everybody Seemed To Know Everybody And Conversation Was
Proceeding In A Manner Reminiscent Of An Old Home Week.
As A Matter Of Fact, The House Party At Blandings Being In The
Main A Gathering Together Of The Emsworth Clan By Way Of Honor
And As A Means Of Introduction To Mr. Peters And His Daughter,
The Bride-Of-The-House-To-Be, Most Of The Occupants Of The
Housekeeper's Room Were Old Acquaintances And Were Renewing
Interrupted Friendships At The Top Of Their Voices.
A Lull Followed Ashe's Arrival And All Eyes, To His Great
Discomfort, Were Turned In His Direction. His Embarrassment Was
Relieved By Mrs. Twemlow, Who Advanced To Do The Honors. Of Mrs.
Twemlow Little Need Be Attempted In The Way Of Pen Portraiture
Beyond The Statement That She Went As Harmoniously With Mr.
Beach As One Of A Pair Of Vases Or One Of A Brace Of Pheasants
Goes With Its Fellow. She Had The Same Appearance Of Imminent
Apoplexy, The Same Air Of Belonging To Some Dignified And Haughty
Chapter 5 Pg 93Branch Of The Vegetable Kingdom.
"Mr. Marson, Welcome To Blandings Castle!"
Ashe Had Been Waiting For Somebody To Say This, And Had Been A
Little Surprised That Mr. Beach Had Not Done So. He Was Also
Surprised At The Housekeeper's Ready Recognition Of His Identity,
Until He Saw Joan In The Throng And Deduced That She Must Have
Been The Source Of Information.
He Envied Joan. In Some Amazing Way She Contrived To Look Not Out
Of Place In This Gathering. He Himself, He Felt, Had Impostor
Stamped In Large Characters All Over Him.
Mrs. Twemlow Began To Make The Introductions--A Long And Tedious
Process, Which She Performed Relentlessly, Without Haste And
Without Scamping Her Work. With Each Member Of The Aristocracy Of
His New Profession Ashe Shook Hands, And On Each Member He
Smiled, Until His Facial And Dorsal Muscles Were Like To Crack
Under The Strain. It Was Amazing That So Many High-Class
Domestics Could Be Collected Into One Moderate-Sized Room.
"Miss Simpson You Know," Said Mrs. Twemlow, And Ashe Was About To
Deny The Charge When He Perceived That Joan Was The Individual
Referred To. "Mr. Judson, Mr. Marson. Mr. Judson Is The Honorable
Frederick's Gentleman."
"You Have Not The Pleasure Of Our Freddie's Acquaintance As Yet,
I Take It, Mr. Marson?" Observed Mr. Judson Genially, A
Smooth-Faced, Lazy-Looking Young Man. "Freddie Repays
Inspection."
"Mr. Marson, Permit Me To Introduce You To Mr. Ferris, Lord
Stockheath's Gentleman."
Mr. Ferris, A Dark, Cynical Man, With A High Forehead, Shook Ashe
By The Hand.
"Happy To Meet You, Mr. Marson."
"Miss Willoughby, This Is Mr. Marson, Who Will Take You In To
Dinner. Miss Willoughby Is Lady Mildred Mant's Lady. As Of Course
You Are Aware, Lady Mildred, Our Eldest Daughter, Married Colonel
Horace Mant, Of The Scots Guards."
Ashe Was Not Aware, And He Was Rather Surprised That Mrs. Twemlow
Should Have A Daughter Whose Name Was Lady Mildred; But Reason,
Coming To His Rescue, Suggested That By Our She Meant The
Offspring Of The Earl Of Emsworth And His Late Countess. Miss
Willoughby Was A Light-Hearted Damsel, With A Smiling Face And
Chestnut Hair, Done Low Over Her Forehead.
Since Etiquette Forbade That He Should Take Joan In To Dinner,
Ashe Was Glad That At Least An Apparently Pleasant Substitute Had
Chapter 5 Pg 94Been Provided. He Had Just Been Introduced To An Appallingly
Statuesque Lady Of The Name Of Chester, Lady Ann Warblington's
Own Maid, And His Somewhat Hazy Recollections Of Joan's Lecture
On Below-Stairs Precedence Had Left Him With The Impression That
This Was His Destined Partner. He Had Frankly Quailed At The
Prospect Of Being Linked To So Much Aristocratic Hauteur.
When The Final Introduction Had Been Made Conversation Broke Out
Again. It Dealt Almost Exclusively, So Far As Ashe Could Follow
It, With The Idiosyncrasies Of The Employers Of Those Present. He
Took It That This Happened Down The Entire Social Scale Below
Stairs. Probably The Lower Servants In The Servants' Hall
Discussed The Upper Servants In The Room, And The Still Lower
Servants In The Housemaids' Sitting-Room Discussed Their
Superiors Of The Servants' Hall, And The Stillroom Gossiped About
The Housemaids' Sitting-Room.
He Wondered Which Was The Bottom Circle Of All, And Came To The
Conclusion That It Was Probably Represented By The Small
Respectful Boy Who Had Acted As His Guide A Short While Before.
This Boy, Having Nobody To Discuss Anybody With, Presumably Sat
In Solitary Meditation, Brooding On The Odd-Job Man.
He Thought Of Mentioning This Theory To Miss Willoughby, But
Decided That It Was Too Abstruse For Her, And Contented Himself
With Speaking Of Some Of The Plays He Had Seen Before Leaving
London. Miss Willoughby Was An Enthusiast On The Drama; And,
Colonel Mant's Military Duties Keeping Him Much In Town, She Had
Had Wide Opportunities Of Indulging Her Tastes. Miss Willoughby
Did Not Like The Country. She Thought It Dull.
"Don't You Think The Country Dull, Mr. Marson?"
"I Shan't Find It Dull Here," Said Ashe; And He Was Surprised To
Discover, Through The Medium Of A Pleased Giggle, That He Was
Considered To Have Perpetrated A Compliment.
Mr. Beach Appeared In Due Season, A Little Distrait, As Becomes A
Man Who Has Just Been Engaged On Important And Responsible
Duties.
"Alfred Spilled The Hock!" Ashe Heard Him Announce To Mrs.
Twemlow In A Bitter Undertone. "Within Half An Inch Of His
Lordship's Arm He Spilled It."
Mrs. Twemlow Murmured Condolences. Mr. Beach's Set Expression Was
Of One Who Is Wondering How Long The Strain Of Existence Can Be
Supported.
"Mr. Beach, If You Please, Dinner Is Served."
The Butler Crushed Down Sad Thoughts And Crooked His Elbow.
"Mrs. Twemlow!"
Chapter 5 Pg 95
Ashe, Miscalculating Degrees Of Rank In Spite Of All His Caution,
Was Within A Step Of Leaving The Room Out Of His Proper Turn; But
The Startled Pressure Of Miss Willoughby's Hand On His Arm Warned
Him In Time. He Stopped, To Allow The Statuesque Miss Chester To
Sail Out Under Escort Of A Wizened Little Man With A Horseshoe
Pin In His Tie, Whose Name, In Company With Nearly All The Others
That Had Been Spoken To Him Since He Came Into The Room, Had
Escaped Ashe's Memory.
"You Were Nearly Making A Bloomer!" Said Miss Willoughby
Brightly. "You Must Be Absent-Minded, Mr. Marson--Like His
Lordship."
"Is Lord Emsworth Absent-Minded?"
Miss Willoughby Laughed.
"Why, He Forgets His Own Name Sometimes! If It Wasn't For Mr.
Baxter, Goodness Knows What Would Happen To Him."
"I Don't Think I Know Mr. Baxter."
"You Will If You Stay Here Long. You Can't Get Away From Him If
You're In The Same House. Don't Tell Anyone I Said So; But He's
The Real Master Here. His Lordship's Secretary He Calls Himself;
But He's Really Everything Rolled Into One--Like The Man In The
Play."
Ashe, Searching In His Dramatic Memories For Such A Person In A
Play, Inquired Whether Miss Willoughby Meant Pooh-Bah, In "The
Mikado," Of Which There Had Been A Revival In London Recently.
Miss Willoughby Did Mean Pooh-Bah.
"But Nosy Parker Is What I Call Him," She Said. "He Minds
Everybody's Business As Well As His Own."
The Last Of The Procession Trickled Into The Steward's Room.
Mr. Beach Said Grace Somewhat Patronizingly. The Meal Began.
"You've Seen Miss Peters, Of Course, Mr. Marson?" Said Miss
Willoughby, Resuming
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