A Pelican at Blandings (15 page)

It was with this thought in her mind, vexing her like an
aching tooth, that Lady Constance fell asleep.

When she woke, it was still there, and her misgivings grew
with breakfast, when she had ample opportunity of observing
him and weighing him in the balance. She rose from the table
more convinced than ever that in the matter of correcting her
brother Clarence's deviations from the normal he was far too
juvenile a reed on which to lean.

After breakfast she went to the garden suite to see the Duke
and give him womanly sympathy, hoping that his injuries
would not have had the worst effect on his always uncertain
temper. Far less provocation in the past than a sprained ankle
had often left him in one of those testy moods when a
sympathetic woman closeted with him got the illusion that she
was in the presence of something out of the Book of
Revelations.

To her relief he appeared reasonably placid. He was sitting
up in bed smoking a cigar and reading the local paper, the
Bridgnorth, Shifnal and Albrighton Argus,
with which is
incorporated the
Wheat Grower's Intelligencer and Stock
Breeder's Gazette.

'Oh, it's you,' he said.

She would have preferred a more effusive welcome, but she
reflected philosophically that it was better than some of the
welcomes she might have received. She summoned up a bright
smile.

'Well, Alaric, how are you this morning?'

'Rotten.'

'Does your ankle hurt?'

'Like hell.'

'Still, it could have been worse.'

'How?'

'You might have broken your neck.'

'Not that blasted head-shrinker's fault I didn't.'

'I wanted to talk to you about Mr. Halliday. I've been
thinking about him.'

'So have I. Bullocking into people and boosting them
downstairs.'

'He's very young.'

'That's no excuse. When I was his age, I didn't go about
boosting people downstairs.'

'I mean I really do not feel he is old enough to be of any help
to Clarence. I can't think why you engaged him.'

'Had to engage someone, hadn't we? Emsworth needs the
promptest treatment.'

'Yes, that is true. I quite agree with you about that. Do you
know, Alaric, he was wandering around the house at three
o'clock in the morning. He said he was going to telephone the
veterinary surgeon about some vitamin pill for pigs he had
found in a book he had been reading.'

'At three o'clock?'

'It was nearer four. He woke me up.'

'So that's why you've got that horrible pasty look,' said the
Duke, glad to have solved a mystery. 'You look like something
the cat brought in. Always that way if you don't get your
proper sleep. Well, there you are, then. His pottiness is
spreading, and Halliday's presence is essential. He must get to
work immediately, not a moment must be wasted. Today
Emsworth phones people at four in the morning, tomorrow
he'll probably be saying he's a poached egg. It's a pity in a way
that you've got to go back to America. Not that you'd be much
use if you hadn't, but the more persons keeping an eye on him
the better, and you can't expect me to stay here for ever. As
soon as my ankle's all right I must be down in Wiltshire, seeing
to it that they're getting on with the repairs to my house.
You've got to watch those fellows like a hawk.'

'But, Alaric—'

'They don't do a stroke of work unless you're there to keep
after them all the time. I'm not paying them good money just
to stand around like statues, nothing moving except their lips
as they tell each other dirty stories, and the sooner they
understand that, the better.'

'But, Alaric, I am not going to America.'

'Yes, you are.'

'I'm staying here for the rest of the summer.'

'No, you aren't.'

'And James is joining me when he has finished this deal he
is working on.'

'No, he isn't. It's going to take him longer than he had
expected, and he wants you to come back right away. It's all in
his letter. Oh, I forgot to tell you. He's written you a long
letter, and it got mixed up with mine.'

A sharp gasp escaped Lady Constance.

'You
read
it?'

'Most of it. I skipped some of the dull bits.'

'Well, really, Alaric!'

'How was I to know it wasn't for me?'

'From the name on the envelope, I should have thought.'

'Didn't notice it.'

'And the opening words.'

'It began "My darling". No mention of you at all. What does
it matter, anyway? I've given you the gist. No need for you to
read it.'

'I want my letter!'

'Then you'll have to crawl under the bed, because that's
where it's fallen,' said the Duke with the smugness of a
member of Parliament making a debating point. 'The breeze
through the window caught it. You'll get pretty dusty, because
it's somewhere right at the back.'

Lady Constance bit her lip. It hurt her a little, but it was
better than biting Alaric, Duke of Dunstable.

'I will ring for Beach.'

'What's the good of that? Beach can't crawl under beds.'

'He will send the boy who cleans the knives and boots.'

'All right, let the child come. But I'm not going to tip him,'
said the Duke, and on this sordid note the conversation ended.

Lady Constance left the sick room in a state of considerable
agitation. It always irked her to have to alter her plans, and now
it was particularly upsetting. She had been looking forward so
eagerly to having her James with her at the castle, not merely
because she loved him and felt that a holiday in these peaceful
surroundings would do him so much good, but because his
calm sensible companionship would be so beneficial to
Clarence. The thought of leaving the latter in the care of a mere
boy like this immature Halliday, she far away and unable to
superintend his course of treatment, chilled her. Who could say
what blunders the stripling might not commit? And who, an
inner voice reminded her in case she had overlooked it, could
say what Clarence might not be up to in her absence? Probably
taking all his meals in the library and sneaking off all day and
never allowing Halliday to get near him.

She reached her boudoir, rang for Beach, told him to
instruct the boy who cleaned the knives and boots to proceed
to the garden suite and start crawling: then for several minutes
she stood looking out of the window, deep in thought, and was
rewarded with an idea.

At the time when his services had been desired Sir Roderick
Glossop had not been available, away no doubt on some case
to which he had been pledged. But it was possible that he
would now be free to spend a few days at the castle, and even
a few days of such an expert might be enough. It was at any rate
worth trying.

She took up the telephone, and a secretarial voice answered
her.

'Sir Roderick Glossop's office.'

'Could I speak to Sir Roderick?'

'Ay am sorry, he is in America. We are turning all our cases
over to Sir Abercrombie Fitch. Shall I give you his numbah?'

'No, I think not, thank you. I suppose you mean all the cases
not handled by his partner?'

'Pardon?'

'His junior partner.'

'Sir Roderick has no junior partner.'

Lady Constance remained calm, at least as far as her diction
was concerned. Ladies never betray emotion, Connie dear,
even on the telephone.

'There seems to be some confusion. I am Lady Constance
Schoonmaker, speaking from Blandings Castle in Shropshire.
There is a young man at the castle named Halliday who
according to my brother is Sir Roderick Glossop's junior
partner. You know nothing of him? He could not be Sir
Abercrombie Fitch's partner?'

'Sir Abercrombie has no partner.'

'You are sure?'

There came a sharp intake of breath at the other end of the
wire. The question had given offence. You cannot go about
asking secretaries if they are sure. Ice crept into this one's reply.

'Ay am quate sure.'

'Thank you,' said Lady Constance, but her tone as she
offered these thanks was not warm. She replaced the receiver,
breathed heavily once or twice, and went off on winged feet to
see the Duke. The situation, to her mind, called for
clarification, and he was the man to clarify it.

The doctor was with him when she burst into the bedroom,
and she was obliged to wait fuming while he went about his
bathing and bandaging, accompanying his activities with
amiable observations on the weather and other subjects. At
long last he said Well, we seem to be getting on quite nicely,
and took his departure, and the Duke relit the cigar which he
had temporarily laid aside.

'Seems a pretty competent chap, that chap,' he said. 'What
would he make a year, do you think? Can't be much money in
being a country doctor, though my fellow down in Wiltshire
does fairly well. But then he has a number of good steady
alcoholics, which always helps.'

Lady Constance was in no mood to speculate on the
incomes of rural physicians. She plunged without delay into
what lawyers call the
res.

'Alaric, I want to know all about this man Halliday.'

The Duke puffed at his cigar for some moments as if
turning this demand over in his mind.

'How do you mean all about him? I don't know anything
about him except that he's Glossop's junior partner and has the
ruddy audacity to want to marry my niece. But I've put a
stopper on that all right. She's a ward of court and can't get
spliced without my consent, and he's got about as much chance
of getting that as he has of flying to the moon. If he thinks he
can spend all his time bullocking people downstairs like a
charging rhinoceros and expect to marry their nieces, he's very
much mistaken. He was in here last night trying to suck up to
me, but I sent him off with a flea in his ear.'

Lady Constance had come to the room with the intention
of confining the discussion of John to his claim to be a figure
in the psychiatric world, but this extraordinary statement led
her to broaden the scope of her enquiries.

'What did you say?' she gasped. 'He wants to marry your
niece?'

'That's what he says. In love with her, apparently.'

'But he only got here last night. How can he be in love with
her if he's only known her a few hours?'

'See that?' said the Duke. 'I've blown a ring.'

Lady Constance's interest in smoke rings was on a par with
that which she felt for the finances of members of the medical
profession practising in the country. She repeated her
question, and the Duke said Yes, that had puzzled him, too.

'But Threepwood tells me the fellow's known her for a long
time. Been giving her ardent glances and bottles of scent for
months, blast his impudence. Threepwood was saying something
about their having quarrelled about something and the
fellow jumped at the opportunity of coming here because he
hoped that if he was on the spot he could square himself. He's
Threepwood's godson, by the way. Just the sort of young
hound who would be. Why are you looking like a dying duck?'

Lady Constance was looking like a dying duck because a
sudden bright light had flashed upon her. The mists had
cleared, and she saw what is generally described as all. She was
in possession of the facts, and they could have only one
interpretation. Like a serpent, though perhaps not altogether
like a serpent, for serpents do draw the line somewhere, her
brother Galahad had introduced another impostor into the
castle.

Blandings Castle in recent years had been particularly rich
in impostors. One or two of them had had other sponsors, but
as a rule it was Gally who sneaked them in, and the realization
that he had done it again filled her, as she had so often been
filled before, with a passionate desire to skin him with a blunt
knife.

Once, when they were children, Galahad had fallen into the
deep pond in the kitchen garden, and just as he was about to
sink for the third time one of the gardeners had come along
and pulled him out. She was brooding now on the thoughtless
folly of that misguided gardener. Half the trouble in the world,
she was thinking, was caused by people not letting well alone.

She strode purposefully to the bell, and pressed it, a gesture
that puzzled the Duke.

'What,' he asked, 'do you think you're doing?'

'I am ringing for Beach.'

'I don't want Beach.'

'I do,' said Lady Constance grimly. 'I am going to send him
to tell Mr. Halliday that I would like a word with him.'

It was Gally's practice, when he favoured Blandings Castle
with a visit, to repair after breakfast to the hammock on the
front lawn and there to ponder in comfort on whatever seemed
to him worth pondering on. It might be the Cosmos or the
situation in the Far East, it might be merely the problem of
whether or not to risk a couple of quid on some horse running
in the 2.30 at Catterick Bridge. This morning, as was natural
in a conscientious godfather, his thoughts were concentrated
on the sad case of his stricken godson, and when, after he had
been giving it the cream of his intellect for some ten minutes,
he opened his eyes and became aware that John was standing
beside him, he broached the subject without preamble.

'Hullo, Johnny, I was just thinking about you. How did you
get on with Dunstable last night? Was he chummy?'

John's voice as he replied was sombre, as was his whole
appearance. He looked like a young man who had had even
less sleep than that notorious night bird the ninth Earl of
Emsworth.

'Not very,' he said briefly.

The words and the tone in which they were uttered were
damping, but Gally refused to be damped.

'Don't let that worry you.'

'No?'

'Certainly not. You couldn't expect him to be brimming
over with the milk of human kindness right away. One of the
lessons life teaches us is never to look for instant bonhomie
from someone we have rammed in the small of the back and
bumped down two flights of stairs. That sort of thing does
something to a man. I noticed when I was talking to him that
the iron seemed to have entered into his soul quite a bit.'

'I got that impression, too. Apparently he thinks I did it on
purpose.'

'Very unjust. Better men than you have slipped on those
stairs, myself for one. Still, you might have been more careful.
No doubt you wanted your cocktail, but you needn't have come
rushing to get it.'

'I wasn't rushing. Do you know, Gally, I had a feeling that
somebody had pushed me.'

'Absurd. People don't go pushing people downstairs even at
Blandings Castle.'

'No, I suppose it was just my imagination.'

'Must have been. But never mind that. The important thing
is did you soothe him?'

'No.'

'You asked after his ankle?'

'Yes.'

'And when he had stopped talking about that?'

'I said I believed he had known my father at one time.'

'Oh, my God!'

'Was that a mistake?'

'The gravest of errors. He couldn't stand your father. He
once hit him with a cold turkey.'

'He hit my father?'

'No, your father hit him. It was one night when we were all
having supper at Romano's, and they had disagreed about the
apostolic claims of the church of Abyssinia, which was odd
because it was generally about politics that Stiffy disagreed
with people. The supper had been a festive one, to celebrate
the victory of a horse on whom as the result of a tip from the
stable we had all had our bit, and I suppose they were both
somewhat flushed with wine, for this argument started.
Dunstable maintained that those claims were perfectly justified,
and your father said the church of Abyssinia was talking
through its hat, and things got more and more heated, and
finally Dunstable took up a bowl of fruit salad and was about
to strike your father with it, when your father grabbed this
turkey, which was on a side table with the other cold viands,
and with one blow laid him out as flat as a crêpe suzette. The
unfortunate thing was that it was all over so rapidly that one
had no opportunity of placing a wager on the outcome.
Otherwise, I would have cleaned up by putting my little all on
Stiffy, whom I knew as a man never to be more feared than
when with cold turkey in hand. I had once seen him stun a
fellow named Percy Pound with the same blunt instrument. So
Dunstable has not forgotten and forgiven after thirty years. At
least I gather from your manner that the episode still rankles.'

'He certainly went up in the air when I said whose son I
was.'

'It just shows what a beautiful cold turkey your father used
to swing in his prime. I have always thought it a pity that there
was no event of that kind in the Olympic Games. But do you
know what I find the strangest aspect of the whole affair? That
either of them should ever have heard of the church of
Abyssinia. You wouldn't have thought they would have
recognized the church of Abyssinia if it had been served up to
them on a plate with watercress round it. Yes, Beach?'

Unobserved by them, Beach had approached the hammock,
panting a little, for he had been instructed to make haste and
he was not the slim footman he had been eighteen years ago.

'Her ladyship would be glad if she could have a word with
Mr. Halliday, Mr. Galahad.'

Gally had removed his eyeglass and had been polishing it.
He replaced it, but with the feeling that he might soon have to
polish it again. Long experience had taught him to expect
trouble when Connie wanted words with people.

'Any idea what about?'

'No, Mr. Galahad. Her ladyship did not confide in me.'

'Well, better give her five minutes, Johnny.'

Left alone, Gally returned to his meditations. It was a lovely
morning of blue skies and summer scents. Birds twittered, bees
buzzed, insects droned, and from the stable yard came the soft
sound of chauffeur Voules playing his harmonica. The cat
which helped Lord Emsworth upset tables sauntered along
and jumped on Gally's stomach. He tickled it behind the ear
with his customary courtesy, but he tickled with a heavy heart.
He was musing on John, and he was uneasy. He had said that
they must not be defeatist, but it was extremely difficult to
avoid being so. With Connie wanting words with John, he
could not regard the position of affairs as good.

As he lay there, frowning thoughtfully, he was made aware
that he had another visitor. Linda was standing by the
hammock. She was wearing the unmistakeable air of a ward of
court who has recently learned that an injunction of restraint
is about to be made against the other intending party, and he
saw that she would need a good deal of cheering up if the roses
were to be brought back to her cheeks. As buoyantly as he
could he said:

'Hullo, my dear. I was just chatting with this cat. Have you
seen Johnny?'

'No.'

'He was here a moment ago. He went in to talk to my sister
Connie. I don't know how long she'll keep him, but after
they're through he ought to look in on your foul uncle again.'

'Has he seen Uncle Alaric?'

'Last night. In the flesh.'

'What happened?'

'Nothing very good to report so far, but it was a start. The
thing for him to do now is to keep popping in on the old
bounder and omitting no word or act which may help to
conciliate him. If he plays his cards right, I don't see why a
beautiful friendship should not result.'

'Very unlikely.'

Gally adjusted the cat on his stomach, and frowned
disapprovingly.

'You mustn't talk like that.'

'Well, I do.'

'It's not the right spirit. You ought to be saying to yourself
"Who can resist Johnny?"'

'And the answer would be "Uncle Alaric can".'

There was a silence, except of course for the birds, the bees,
the insects and Voules the chauffeur's harmonica. Linda broke
it with a question. It was one that had been constantly in her
thoughts.

'Do you think you really do go to prison if you marry a ward
of court when they've told you not to?'

Gally would have given much to be able to reply in the
negative, instancing the cases of fellows at the Pelican who had
done it dozens of times with impunity, but facts had to be
faced.

'I'm afraid so. Johnny says you do, and he ought to know.'

'Suppose I told them he's the only man in the world I can be
happy with and I'll just pine away to a shadow if I can't get
him. Mightn't they skip the red tape?'

'I doubt it. These chaps who make the laws of England are
pretty hardboiled blokes. No sentiment.'

'Johnny says he's quite willing to take a chance.'

'Don't let him. Don't dream of letting him.'

'Of course I won't. Do you think I'm going to have that
precious lamb sewing mail bags in an underground dungeon
where he'll be gnawed to the bone by rats? It's so unfair,' cried
Linda passionately. 'Just because I'm female, I mean. Both my
brothers married girls Uncle Alaric couldn't stand at any price,
but he couldn't make them wards of his beastly court because
they were men. He huffed and puffed, but there wasn't a thing
he could do about it. But just because I'm a—'

She broke off abruptly. Jno Robinson's station taxi had
drawn up at the front door, and from the front door Beach
emerged bearing a suitcase. He was followed by John. He
placed the suitcase in the cab, and John climbed in after it. Jno
Robinson set his Arab steed in motion and with a clang and a
clatter it vanished down the drive, just as Linda with another
passionate cry made for the house.

There was a pensive look on Gally's face as he removed the
cat and extricated himself from the hammock. He did not
need to be told what lay behind these peculiar happenings.
How it had come about he could not say, but plainly his best-laid
plans had gone agley, just as the poet Burns had warned
him they might. He reached automatically for his eyeglass and
was polishing it meditatively when Linda returned.

'He's gone!' she said in a hollow voice.

'Yes, I saw.'

'Lady Constance has thrown him out.'

'I gathered that.'

'I don't understand,' said Linda, who seemed dazed. 'Beach
says it's because she has found out he's not a psychoanalyst.
Why should he be a psychoanalyst? Lots of people aren't. It
doesn't make sense.'

Gally shook his head sadly. To him it made sense.

'I think I can explain,' he said, 'but later, when we have more
leisure. It's a long story. How does Beach know all this?'

'His shoe lace had come untied outside Lady Constance's
door, and he stooped to tie it.'

'And happened to overhear what was passing within?'

'Yes.'

Her story rang true to Gally, though he found it hard to
believe that a man of Beach's build could have stooped.

'This,' he said, 'undeniably complicates things. I had been
relying on Johnny making an extended stay at the castle with
plenty of time to work on your ghastly uncle and gradually get
him into a more reasonable frame of mind. We are now in
something of a dilemma. But don't despair. There must be a
way out, there's always a way out of everything, and I'm sure to
spot it sooner or later. Hullo, here's Beach again, and five will
get you ten that he's come to tell me her ladyship would like a
word with me. Yes, Beach?'

'Her ladyship would like a word with you, Mr. Galahad.'

'Then what a pity,' said Gally, 'that she isn't going to get it.'

'Sir?'

'You hunted high and low, you turned stones and explored
avenues, but you couldn't find me. You think I must have gone
to Market Blandings to buy tobacco. That is your story, Beach,
and be careful to tell it without any of the hesitations and
stammerings which are so apt to arouse suspicion in the
auditor. Above all, remember not to stand on one leg. What
you will be aiming at in her ladyship is that willing suspension
of disbelief dramatic critics are always talking about. Tell your
tale so that it can be swallowed. In this way much unpleasantness
will be avoided,' said Gally.

He was an intrepid man and was not afraid of his sister
Constance. He merely thought it wiser not to confer with her
until the hot blood had had time to cool. He had pursued the
same policy in the past with Honest Jerry Judson and Tim
Simms the Safe Man.

Beach made the telling of his tale as succinct as possible, and
after Lady Constance had clicked her tongue, as she did on
receipt of the news, he did not linger to offer her silent
sympathy for her disappointment, but passed from the
presence as quickly as was within the scope of a man of his
portliness. He was anxious to get back to his pantry and
resume the perusal of a letter which had come for him by the
morning post.

The letter was from a Mrs. Gerald Vail, formerly Miss
Penelope Donaldson, younger daughter of the Mr. Donaldson
of Donaldson's Dog Joy whose elder daughter had married
Lord Emsworth's son Freddie. During her recent visit to the
castle a warm friendship had sprung up between her and
Beach, and since her marriage to the health cure establishment
in which her husband was a partner they had been in regular
correspondence. She would give him the latest hot news from
the health cure establishment, and he would reciprocate with
an up-to-date account of doings at Blandings Castle.

Her letters were always fraught with interest, for the health
cure establishment as seen through her eyes appeared to be
peopled by eccentrics of the first water, and he chafed at any
interruption which delayed the reading of them. It was
consequently with annoyance that as he crossed the hall he
found his progress arrested by Vanessa Polk. He liked and
admired Vanessa Polk, but he wanted to get to his pantry.

'Oh, Beach,' said Vanessa, 'I'm looking for Mr. Trout. You
haven't seen him, have you?'

'No, miss.'

'Very difficult finding people in a place this size. What
Blandings Castle needs is a troupe of bloodhounds. I'd see that
a few were laid on, if I were you. You never know when they
won't come in handy. Well, if you see him, tell him I'm up on
the roof.'

She passed on, and he was able to continue heading for the
pantry.

The letter was on the table where he had left it when rung
for by Lady Constance, and he resumed his reading of it with
the enjoyment Penny Vail's letters always gave him. He had
just reached the postscript, when the door opened and Gally
came in. Thinking it over, Gally said, he had come to the
conclusion that Beach's pantry was the one spot in the castle
where a man with whom Lady Constance would like to have a
word could feel safe from having that word said to him.