Our Tattered LivesChapter 6
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Butlered!Chapter 8 free porn video
I volunteered, “I am sure that the final appearance will make the whole house look good, Miss Catherine. You have a lovely Victorian residence, if I may say so, ma’am. The dark panelling appears to have been introduced in 1901, as a sign of mourning at the death of Her Imperial Majesty, Queen Victoria.”
“Really? That’s cool, Jeeves. How did you work that out?”
“A combination of factors, Miss. The tiles appear to be from the ceramic works of William De Morgan, a noted Victorian potter and ceramic designer, yet they were covered up. As most of the tiling is white, and the woodwork is dark, that assumption of 1901 seems the best fit for the facts as we know them.”
“You identified the designer? Jeeves, I admire your other abilities, but Victorian ceramic designers? I think not. Where did the name come from?”
“You will note, Miss, that I did not say I had identified the designer. I merely commented that they appear to come from his works. The name was offered by the valuer who was present the other day, assisting with the inventory of the household artworks.”
“Oh, that funny guy that was wandering up and down the corridors with you, Jeeves? That makes more sense, but whatever made you look behind the woodwork? You wouldn’t do that on your own, Jeeves, would you? What made Daddy grant permission? This gets ‘curiouser and curiouser’, as Alice said in the book.”
“It was due to a logical supposition, Miss. The valuer looked at the tiling still on view in the basement, and decided it was by William De Morgan. His supposition, with which I agreed, was that one would not place one’s best tiling in the basement; and therefore the chances were that the corridors on the floors above had tiles at least as good as, or better than, the basement. The fact that the corridors had wood panelling, in a very dark stain, suggested the 1901 inference.
Everything went on from there, Miss Catherine.”
“It is all becoming more rational now, Jeeves. Why did you not tell me all this at once, and instead decided to prevaricate?”
I looked at her steadily with my ‘butler’ visage, and announced, “Miss Catherine, I am under an obligation to report first to your father before divulging anything to others in the household. It is incumbent on me to try to adhere to that duty. It is you who have imposed on me to reveal certain facts, so I must implore you to refrain from mentioning this premature revelation, if only to keep my professional reputation intact.”
She laughed delightedly. “Jeeves, you are a card! Of course this will remain a secret between us. We may have other secrets in the future, so it will be good practice for me.” She turned and strode off to breakfast, her pert behind making teasing movements as she walked to the stairs. I was aware that she used the stairs in preference to the lift. No doubt her concession to fitness, I presumed.
I shuddered inwardly and resumed my supervision of the workmen. That girl! She is teasing me in her own way, but I cannot fathom what she is about; what is her intention behind it.
Mr. Young offered me a grin of complicity as I returned to his vicinity. “Nice young lady, that, Mr. Jeeves; seems to be quite taken with you,” he murmured cheekily. “Well, I had better get on with the work; enough distractions for the nonce, eh?”
My pulled face told him what I thought of the ‘distractions’. I gave attention to his work, and made a point of looking at the stretch of tiling now exposed, to express an interest in what I was now able to see. It was indeed mainly white; but as well as the decorative side panels at the doorways, there was a neat border at the top and bottom of the tiled area, just as I remembered from the basement.
I took a closer look, and found that the green top border was in an alternating style: another depiction of leaves, interspersed with a fanciful flower design, reminiscent of Charles Rennie Mackintosh’s later flower symbols. The bottom border was plainer; a simple fern pattern throughout. Probably this was due to it being less noticeable to the casual eye.
“Very nice tiling, Mr. Young.”
“It is indeed, Mr. Jeeves. Obviously Victorian; typical of the period. There was quite a fad for decorative tiles back then. Sad that they were covered up, but now they are being restored to the light, for us all to see. Lovely job of it, I have to say. Real quality in the workmanship of the tiler: exact spacing in every direction. It appears that they made use of standard spacers back then, but these would have been wooden instead of plastic. Nothing is ever new, is it?”
“That is so, Mr. Young. At least we have been granted a vision of quality, with these tiles.”
“Allow me to expand your vision, Mr. Jeeves. I must give Fred a hand with the next panel.”
“My apologies, Mr. Young, for getting in your way. Young Fred, please forgive me?”
The lad was staggered that I, in my exalted position, was apologising to him. He muttered, “It is okay, sir. No problem.” He returned his attention to the woodwork.
Seeing the piles of wood building up, I offered my assistance with transporting the debris down to the coal cellar. “If I and Fred did that, it would allow you to continue up here, Mr. Young.”
“If you are okay with that, Mr. Jeeves, it would be a help, I admit.”
Fred loaded the two barrows, then we trundled them to the lift shaft. I summoned the cabin up to our floor, and within a couple of minutes, we were pushing them out on the ground floor.
I explained to Fred that the lift did not go down further, so we had to use the stairs for the last stage. He looked at his barrow and the wood, and came to a decision.
“I’ll just carry the barrow and wood down the stairs, sir. It means nothing falls on the stairs. You just stay go down and open the door of the cellar you mentioned. Oh, and tell me when I get to the final step, please!”
I did that, and showed him the coal cellar. He was happy enough, and dumped armfuls of wood into the bunker, finishing by emptying the remaining tailings from the barrow onto the floor.
“Right. Back for the next one, sir. I’ll carry the empty. We’ll get this done in no time.”
His enthusiasm was infectious, and we rapidly repeated the manoeuvre, finishing by taking the empty barrows back in the lift. Mr. Young was pleased at the speed this had been done.
“Well done, Fred. And thank you, Mr. Jeeves.”
I responded cheerfully, “When will the next loads be ready, Mr. Young?”
“Five minutes. I levered off a fair chunk while you were away. Got to the next door. There’s more coloured tiles round that door too.”
“I expected that there would be, Mr. Young. It looks as if the layout is standardised, matching the basement corridor. The corridors are going to look a hell of a lot better once all that dark wood is removed.”
Fred and I were busy loading the next two barrows when Catherine Dawes unexpectedly came up the stairs again. I got the impression she was going up and down for continued exercise, but at this point she saw what now was going on with me, and took herself along for another interrogation of myself.
“Jeeves? Changed jobs to become a joiner’s assistant, have we?”
“No, Miss Catherine. We are merely expediting the removal of scrap wood by transferring it to the coal cellar, to be utilised as future supplies for the wood-burning stove.”
“Ah, a recycling exercise?”
“Indeed so, Miss. It also saves the cost of its removal by Mr. Young at the end of the job.”
“Two at one blow: I like it, Jeeves.”
I reciprocated, “Thank you, Miss. Was there anything else I can do for you?”
“You can show me what you have uncovered up to now, Jeeves.”
“To be accurate, Miss, it is what has been uncovered by Mr. Young and his apprentice, Fred.” I turned to the lad, “I am sorry, Fred, I have neglected to ascertain your surname.”
“It is McMaster, sir.”
I returned to Miss Catherine,” ... Mr. Young and Fred McMaster, dear lady.”
She pouted in feigned annoyance, and with a flounce, turned to Fred. “I apologise, Mr. McMaster, for our butler’s thoughtlessness. Please forgive him.”
A flustered Fred stammered, “I do forgive him, Miss. I should have told him my full name before, so it was really my fault.”
Mr. Young intervened, “Fred, ignore it all. It is not about you. It is about THEM.” He indicated the pair of us. “They are fencing with words.”
Fred gaped at Mr. Young, then gave up trying to understand. “Yes, boss. Do I move this barrow now?”
“At once, Fred. Mr. Jeeves will assist you as soon as he can tear himself away from this beautiful young woman he is smitten with.”
Clover
- 12.04.2020
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