Chapter Text
Mr. Wooster was of the opinion that any communications that arrived before the breakfast hour could contain only ill portents, and over my years at his side I had begun to share in this view of his. It was in the early hours of the day, such that I had been awake for some time, yet still knew I had several hours before I would have to begin prepping Mr. Wooster’s eggs and kippers, that such a communication arrived that was to shake the foundations of the very life we shared together.
A stern knock rang out from the direction of the front door and I shimmered over to answer it promptly, before the noise could disturb Mr. Wooster’s slumber. Standing in the doorway of the flat was Lady Agatha Worplesdon, Mr. Wooster’s most formidable aunt. The lady was always in possession of a most imposing gaze, however this morning I found it to be particularly so. I was reminded of Mr. Wooster’s frequent references to his relation as a werewolf and suppressed a smile. I did not believe in the supernatural as a rule, however if the existence of such a creature was to be proven by the realm of science, I felt that Lady Worplesdon would be quite at home amongst their ranks.
“I regret to inform you that Mr. Wooster is not yet receiving visitors this morning, ma’am,” I stated.
“Still sleeping, no doubt,” Lady Worplesdon said with a disapproving shake of the head. “Good. It’s you I wanted to speak with.”
Lady Worplesdon pushed past me into the flat, making herself comfortable on the Chesterfield in the sitting room.
I took a moment to collect myself as I closed the front door. While many of Mr. Wooster’s friends and acquaintances had called upon my advice in regards to solving their various tribulations, Lady Worplesdon had never been among them. She had often been very outspoken of her disapproval of my presence in Mr. Wooster’s life and was among the first to advocate his dismissal of my services. A chill tingled my spine as I mused on what could have brought her directly to me.
“Would you like a cup of tea, ma’am?” I asked as I appeared before her in the sitting room.
“No. This won’t take long.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
I stood before her at attention, quietly awaiting her to begin the conversation.
“You must leave my nephew’s service immediately,” Lady Worplesdon began. Unlike her nephew, she had the habit of cutting to the quick of the argument succinctly with no preamble.
“I believe that is up to Mr. Wooster’s sole discretion, ma’am. I do not fancy I have given him any cause for complaint during my time in his employ.”
I felt completely secure in my position. Mr. Wooster, I knew, had never found my service lacking and had no reason to dismiss me. There was nothing Lady Worplesdon could do to alter this fact, as I was well aware that if my situation were up to her choosing, she would have dispensed with me long ago. To employ the idiom, I was sitting pretty.
“You misunderstand me. I am not asking.”
Lady Worplesdon held my eye with a gaze that I would not hesitate to describe as steely. She seemed to expect me to nod assent and make my exit to the employment office posthaste. I, instead, merely raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch in her direction.
She scoffed, reading the action as the display of effrontery I admittedly had intended it to be.
“Don’t play coy with me, Jeeves. I know you’re leading my nephew into a life of homosexual degeneracy and I won’t stand for it.”
Any trace of smugness was wiped off of my face instantly. I struggled to hold my face in its typical expressionless mask.
The accusation was not strictly true, but it contained enough seeds of veracity that it nevertheless made my blood run cold. I had been aware of my own nature for some time, and was not one to deny myself an occasional evening out amongst men who shared my own particular proclivities, however I had never made such an advance towards Mr. Wooster. Such a thing would hardly be proper. I valued the sanctity and comfort of our happy bachelor establishment too much to do anything foolish that could ever risk upending it, no matter what my personal feelings towards my gentleman may be.
“Ma’am, I am certainly doing no such thing,” I refuted, my voice thinner and reedier than I would have liked to have presented it.
Lady Worplesdon harrumphed. She reached into her purse, rifling about with the contents for some tense minutes. Eventually she retrieved a small photograph and placed it upon the coffee table.
The air left my lungs as I beheld the grainy, monochrome image.
“You were seen leaving a certain club on the night of the 12th. It’s amazing what these modern private detectives can uncover.”
The image was indeed of myself leaving a club for a particular type of gentleman in London’s Soho district, not far from Piccadilly Circus. Another man had his hand on my back in an all too intimate position.
“Ma’am-“ I began, quite uncertain how I would argue my case but all the while certain I must do my best to prevent myself from being unceremoniously yanked from the home I had known for so many years, from my most pleasant station at Mr. Wooster’s side.
“Do not bother to deny it. I reiterate, this is not a conversation. This is an ultimatum.”
I swallowed, dreading the lady’s next words as the condemned man dreads the swing of the executioner’s axe.
“Now, I am not a cruel woman. I am offering you the opportunity to vanish silently from my nephew’s life. I will even provide you with the sufficient funds to remove yourself somewhere far away from here.” At this, Lady Worplesdon removed a small envelope from her purse and slid it across the table towards me.
“However, if you do not take advantage of my generous offer and absent yourself, I will not hesitate to report you to the police. Your name alongside this photograph will undoubtedly appear in the evening papers, and my nephew’s name dragged into the mud along with it. I think we can agree this contingency would be worse for all those involved.”
My blood ran cold at the thought. I had no desire to serve two years of hard labor, but even worse was the image of Mr. Wooster’s revulsion at the revelation that his faithful manservant had been an invert all the while. Not to mention the social disgrace Mr. Wooster would face, the ostracization, and the inevitable barring of him from his club that he held so dear. No. I could not face such a scenario. I did not concur with Lady Worplesdon on most subjects, but on this we were in perfect agreement. I did not wish to see Mr. Wooster come to any harm because of my indiscretions.
I retrieved the envelope from the table.
“Very good, ma’am. Your offer is very kind indeed. Thank you, ma’am,” I said, my voice shaking most unbecomingly. I gave a low bow to avoid showing her the tears pricking the corners of my eyes.
A predatory smile flickered across Lady Worplesdon’s face, one that would suit a wolf that had just brought down the sheepdog it had long despised.
“You’re dismissed, Jeeves. See that you pack up your things quickly. I want no trace of you left in this flat.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I nodded, making a hasty retreat towards my room. As I went, I stole furtive glances at the furnishings that had made up my home for so long. My heart ached to think I would never step foot in these hallowed halls again.
Mr. Wooster was still slumbering in his room when I appeared in the entrance hall some minutes later, my possessions packed away into two small suitcases.
Lady Worplesdon remained perched on the Chesterfield, regarding me with that triumphant snarl.
“You may go now, Jeeves. I will tell Bertie that you’ve gone, and that will be all that’s said on the matter. Do not try to contact him, or I will be forced to more drastic measures.”
She twirled the damning photograph of me between her fingers like a stage magician with a playing card.
I could say nothing. I removed my hat and coat from their places on the stand and left the flat at Berkeley Mansions for the last time.