The CureChapter 36
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Butlered!Chapter 5 free porn video
He looked surprised. “You had better speak to the boss’s personal secretary about that. I don’t use a computer, but she does have one in her office. I think she uses it a lot, so she probably will want you to have one of your own, depending on the cost.”
“Oh, a new computer for my needs is only a few hundred pounds nowadays, Mr. Jones. Databases are not memory-intensive, unless one is storing many photographs. I don’t see cost as a problem in this household. Do I take it from your comments that Mr. Dawes does not have an accountant to look over his household accounts? I would expect to deal with most of the household budgeting – groceries, supplies and equipment, and so on.”
“Again, you should see the personal secretary about that. I have always spoken to her about any cash-related matters. She is quite a control freak, so you may a bit of difficulty over who runs what in the household.”
I decided to sound offended. “Mr. Jones, a butler naturally runs the accounts for the family household. It is his duty to attend to such items, as many are linked to what the other staff have to do, such as kitchen utensils, food and drink items, cleaning and maintenance equipment, and so on. I shall expect to negotiate with the chef over his budget. While one wishes to be careful with the expenditure, high standards of catering can involve higher expenditure to obtain top quality ingredients. We need to come to an agreement over such items.”
I checked my watch. “Talking of food and drink, I should speak to chef about today’s meals. Is afternoon tea served, and dinner in the evening, or is dinner at an earlier time, in the modern manner?”
“I dunno about afternoon tea, but dinner is at 6 o’clock normally. Do you want me to ask about afternoon tea?”
“No. Chef should be aware of the normal pattern of meals. Can I speak to him on the internal phone?”
“Actually, chef is a woman, a middle-aged lady, but she knows her food. Her name is Amanda Hargreaves. She is number 9 on the phone list.”
“Married or single?”
“Divorced, I think. There has never been any mention of a husband, but she talks about her children.”
“I shall not ask her about a husband, then. Enquiries on her children’s achievements should be acceptable. Thank you, Mr. Jones.”
I picked up the phone and dialled 9. A female voice answered, “Kitchen.”
I asked, “Amanda Hargreaves, please?”
“Speaking. Who are you? I don’t recognise the voice.”
“Madam, I am Jeeves, the new butler. I shall make your acquaintance shortly, but I wished to know the pattern of meals today. Is there afternoon tea or not?”
“Oh, no, sir. Afternoon tea has never been served here in my experience. Dinner is scheduled for six p.m. with supper at nine for those that want it.”
“Thank you, madam. Who serves the meals, as a rule?”
“My assistant and I normally do so, sir. You being a butler, is that what you would wish to do?”
“I can see we are going to get along, Mrs. Hargreaves. You know the correct routine. May I join you today, and we can serve together, so that I can observe the past routine at mealtimes? That is not to criticise, madam. I merely wish to observe and inform myself, so that we do not disrupt the family expectations at mealtimes. If we decide that alterations are advisable, I shall speak to Mr. Dawes before doing implementing any such changes. Does that meet with your approval, chef?”
“Yes, sir. Indeed, so. I could never approach the master on my own, to suggest changes. Might I pass on a few minor suggestions to yourself, for your consideration?”
“That would be acceptable, Mrs. Hargreaves. As we do not have afternoon tea to accommodate, may I call on you in your kitchen for an initial meeting? I have not yet visited the butler’s pantry, so perhaps you could show me around.”
“If you give me a few minutes to organise my assistant’s tasks for the next half hour, I shall be ready for you, Mr. Jeeves.”
“Excellent. I shall look forward to our meeting, madam. Goodbye for now.”
I looked up to find Jones watching me with something like awe in his face. I raised my eyebrows in query, and he spoke.
“I have never heard that woman speak so deferentially before. What did you do to her, Jeeves? She even called you “Mr. Jeeves”, which for her is high praise.”
“Mr. Jones, all I did was to treat her with respect. She is the lord of her kitchen, so she must be regarded as the expert within that environment, until proved otherwise. Her reaction gives me grounds for encouragement.
Now, if you will excuse me, I shall make my way to the kitchen, and when I get there I shall knock on the door to ask for admittance to her fiefdom.”
“Fiefdom? What is that?”
“An area or organisation controlled by one person. Mrs. Hargreaves is in charge of her kitchen as her demesne.”
“There you go again, Jeeves! What is a demesne?”
“A domain. Another word for an area of control. Both words arose from the medieval feudal system, and have been updated and integrated into our modern world.”
“Wow. Speaking to you is an education in itself, Jeeves. Are you sure you was just a soldier before?”
“That is so. Let me tell you about it another time. The British Army provides educational opportunities to its men; and butler school insists on butlers being properly informed, to be able to attend to their duties with all decorum.”
My meeting with Mrs Hargreaves turned out well. She had worked with butlers previously, so was au fait with procedure. We delivered the evening meal to the dining room together, and I noticed that she did every aspect of serving correctly. She had learned from other butlers.
The family at the table were Mr Dawes, his haughty big-breasted trophy wife with her platinum hairdo, expensive dress and high heels; their petite seventeen-year-old daughter Catherine; and the live-in personal secretary, Miss Frobisher – this woman did not seem to have a first name, being so prim and proper in the family home. It made me wonder what she was like outside of the confines of the household. She looked to be much my own age, but her attitude suggested she would rebuff any male approach. Was she a dyke, I thought to myself?
The daughter was a looker. Catherine may be a maths wizard, but she looked more like a compact beach babe. Blonde hair, pouting lips, a good figure if a little small in the tit department, curvy behind, and good-looking legs most times hidden by jeans. Why she was not lapping up attention from guys at university was beyond me.
Watching me attending to the serving, Mr. Dawes made a remark to the effect that “the new butler is getting his hand in,” but I made no comment on that statement, feeling that none was required. He looked at me as if expecting a few words, but I simply stared him out. He gave up and returned to his family at table.
The first week went on in that vein; me learning more about the household, and the expectations of both family and staff. The family I treated cautiously; to the staff I was more explicit. I explained my duties and responsibilities as butler; and how they should interact with me in these duties. I kept Jones out of that loop. He was Mr. Dawes’s man, not mine, and I did not want to tread on toes.
As to my computer, I was tasked with purchasing that item myself, with a stated budget that I easily kept within. I consulted the company, and placed my order through them, getting me a good price. I was able to pass this on to the client, to show how I got the best possible deal.
I also made a start on my records. The staff database listed the names and home addresses, marital status, qualifications and experience, work record including any relevant comment by previous employers, and a whole pack of other things, varying by the person. This was for every member of staff, either permanent or hired through a contractor. EVERY person who wished to enter the house would be identified correctly and fully in my database, in case of emergencies of whatever hue.
I realised I would have to be careful about amassing data on the family members and Miss Frobisher. I would have to think about that difficulty.
I approached the client with a different request. I sought him out in his office, knocking on the door deferentially. I was invited to enter.
“Mr. Dawes? Among his other duties, a butler makes an inventory of all valuables within the household, so that one knows exactly what is where. This is helpful should anything go missing or be damaged, and we have to make an insurance claim.”
He looked me up and down, speculatively. “Go on, Jeeves.”
“Sir, the database should include a minimum of two photographs of every object. For paintings, this means front AND back, and for sculptures, etc., views from a variety of angles. If you do not have an up-to-date valuation for each item, that should be done by an expert, and we add that data to the file, for insurance purposes.”
He raised his eyebrows, and revealed, “We have a blanket insurance coverage for valuables in the household, to the tune of half a million. Is that insufficient?”
I tried to look concerned. “Sir, any item with a value above three thousand pounds should be valued individually. Insurance companies may refuse to pay out more than a certain basic amount, per item, no matter what your total insurance figure is. That is often stated in their small print. You should examine these records, or at least get your personal assistant to do so.”
“I will get that attended to at once, Jeeves. How are you at taking pictures?”
“Not bad, sir, but I would advise employing a professional photographer to do the task, recording everything digitally, and giving us a CD of all the pictures in the same sequence we use in our database. He could probably photograph everything in one day’s work here, so the cost should not be considerable. Digital photos can then be added to my database of valuables for full identification. You can have these printed off at your leisure.” I hesitated, and he noticed. “Yes?”
“I just remembered that I don’t have a printer attached to my computer. I could copy the database onto a USB flash drive, then have your personal secretary add it to her own computer and office gear, for printing items.”
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