preparation for the red meat that is Woody Beeching.’
‘I fear, sir, that—’
‘I haven’t finished, Jeeves. If this Amelia is of the opinion that Woody is too inclined to flirt with other girls, then we must show her that Woody’s way of carrying on is perfectly normal.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t follow you, sir.’
‘All chaps flirt a bit. It’s natural. Let her understand that and she’ll soon come round.’
‘I’m not sure what you are suggesting, sir.’
‘I’m suggesting that someone might like to sidle up to Amelia and give her a bit of the old oil – not too much, just some compliments on her appearance, a brush of fingers on the arm.’
‘The scheme appears fraught with—’
I held up a hand. ‘I am not offering this as a blueprint for discussion, Jeeves. It is more by way of a fait accompli.’
‘As you wish, sir. And whom do you envisage in the role of the rake or Don Juan?’
I struggled to suppress a smile. ‘Someone of unimpeachable reputation, I should say. Someone she would look up to and know was a thorough-going gentleman. That’s the nub, you see. She says to herself, “If even this gallant and respectable chap is not above a bit of idle hand-touching, how much the more so should my irresistible Woody be allowed the odd—”’
‘The young lady would follow the a fortiori argument.’
‘As you wish, Jeeves. The important thing is the respectability of the hand-holder and eye-gazer.’
‘And who might such a gentleman be?’
I suppressed another one. ‘It’s obvious. Her father’s new best friend. Lord Etringham.’
I’ve encountered many types of silence in my time. The silence funereal, the silence pregnant, the silence that lets you know you’ve laid an egg … The one that enveloped the front room of Seaview Cottage at this moment had elements of all the three above – plus a bit more all its own.
It was Jeeves who finally broke it. ‘I fear I must enter thefirmest possible nolle prosequi , sir. The temporary impersonation of a member of the aristocracy was something in which I felt I had little choice. What you are suggesting, sir, would be a crossing of the Rubicon. It would be highly irregular.’
I felt a little chastened by the fellow’s dignity. A few moments ago I had been wondering whether he wasn’t pulling a fast one. Now I thought I had perhaps taken his extraordinary loyalty for granted.
‘Well, you may be right, Jeeves. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of any unpleasantness.’
‘There is also a practical aspect to consider, sir. While I may be considerably younger than the real Lord Etringham, the plan you outline would stand a better chance of success were the protagonist to be closer to Miss Hackwood’s own age.’
I thought about this for a moment; it had a familiar whiff to it. ‘I can see where this is heading. I wasn’t born yesterday, Jeeves.’
‘Not yesterday, sir, but at least not so very long before Miss Hackwood. And given your success in extracting the volumes from the library, you may feel yourself to be—’
‘On a winning streak, what?’
‘Indeed, sir.’
I stood up again and did a bit more pacing – though ducking, this time, at the appropriate moment.
‘Of course there is one reason why I can’t do it myself,’ I said. ‘And that is that I am persona non grata up at the Hall. If Sir Henry makes the Côte d’Azur connection he’ll be down to the stables and back with the horsewhip. There’ll be onlyone winner in the three-thirty at Ascot tomorrow and that’s B. Wooster – by a distance.’
There was another pause, but of an utterly different kind – the kind that precedes the shedding of new light from that great brain.
Jeeves cleared his throat. ‘I think I may have a solution, sir.’
But what it was, I did not immediately find out – as we were interrupted by the sound of squealing car brakes, the patter of gravel hitting the front windows of Seaview Cottage and the soft but
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