Butlered!
Chapter 4

Copyright© 2016 by Gordon Johnson

Dawes looked surprised and a little awed at this statement. He said, “Then I will take your word for it, Mr Jeeves. Your company came highly recommended to my personal assistant, who claims she has links in high places.”

Mr Jeeves replied, “I am gratified to hear that, sir.”

Verbal sparring concluded, Dawes declared, “Very well, Mr. Jeeves. We shall take on your Jeeves and see how he performs. I hope to see an improvement in the way this household is run, and if what you say is true, that will happen.”

Mr Jeeves nodded his agreement. “Indeed, sir. I shall leave our Jeeves with you to get acquainted with your family and staff, plus all the details of the house and its needs. I bid you good day, sir.”

Dawes gestured towards the door, and called, “Jones! See Mr. Jeeves out.”

Jones stood to one side as Mr. Jeeves exited the room, and walked with him to the front door. Mr. Jeeves then stood, hands folded in front of him, and waited patiently for the door to be opened. Eventually Jones did that, after some hesitation. It was as if there was a competition as to who was higher in status, but Mr. Jeeves had won. His presence was an impressive asset which I would endeavour to emulate.

I turned my view back to my new client.

“Sir? How do you want me to start?”

“Start? Oh, I suppose you had better get a tour of the house. Get Jones to print you off a layout plan for you, until you know where everything is. You will have charge of the maids and cleaning staff while present, but they are supplied by an outside contractor, so hiring, firing, and pay are outwith your remit, Jeeves.”

“I appreciate that, sir. Do I report to you as to the acceptability of the staff in performance of their duties, or to Mr. Jones?”

“To me, Jeeves; always to me. I am in charge, and will make all important decisions, understand?”

“That is what I might expect, sir. I shall adhere to your desires in that regard.”

“I pay for what I get, Jeeves. That means the power stays with me: got it?”

“Of course, sir. A butler is there to ensure that the Master gets the quality of service he expects. Our company is renowned for its attention to detail. I shall have to compile a database of the household assets, and their value for insurance and security aspects. Do you have anything of that nature already prepared, sir?”

“No. Things have been a bit ... haphazard ... in recent times. That is why a butler is required by me. Your loyalty is to me, and me only, Jeeves.”

“Within this household, that is so, sir. Outside of it, the company has my loyalty as you might expect.”

“Hmm. I suppose that has to be the way, as you are here under a contract with them. Okay, we can leave it like that. Go see Jones and sort yourself out, man.”

“Thank you, sir. Farewell.”

I turned and exited smartly, determining to not use a military marching step, but instead apply the authoritative stride I had been taught at butler school. I think I succeeded admirably.

Jones was standing by the front door, scowling. I approached him confidently.

“Mr. Jones, I am required to ask you for a tour of the premises, and request a floor plan of the building, as well as details of the staff who work here, either temporarily or permanently. I am required to supervise their work.”

This request did not endear me to him, but he knew what his boss wanted, so he grudgingly came out with, “Follow me.” I did so, and he led me to an office off the front hall.

“This is the front office, used by me and, I suppose, by you in future. It is where you will be based when you are not attending to other duties. You can leave your bag here temporarily. It will be safe.”

I replied with a question, “This is not the butler’s pantry, then?”

“No. There IS a room which I think is designated on the floor plan as the butler’s pantry, but it is not much more than a store for stuff used in the house.”

“Ah, of course. A butler’s pantry contains the necessary supplies for attending to the household duties. I shall inspect it later, and do an inventory there, before seeing to it as my own personal office.”

“Inventory? What for?”

“Many reasons, Mr. Jones, but one is to ensure that nothing goes missing. Maids and others have been known to help themselves to items such as cleaning utensils, particularly consumables. Do the contractors supply the cleaners with materials, or does the household supply these?”

“Uh ... I don’t know. You had better ask about that.”

“I shall communicate with the companies concerned, then. Provide me with the company names and contact details, at your convenience, of course.”

“Okay, bud. Say, is your name really Jeeves?”

“In my employment, yes, it is. Just Jeeves. All butlers of our firm use the name, as the company trademark of quality.”

“Well, Jeeves, time to get your Grand Tour of the house. It is on three floors and a basement. You get a room in the basement while you are living here.”

“So I understand. Lay on, MacDuff.”

“Don’t you mean, ‘Lead on, MacDuff.’?”

“No, Mr. Jones. The correct text from the Shakespeare play MacBeth is, ‘Lay on, MacDuff’. You can use that as a trick question with your friends some time.”

“Right. I think you and me might get along after all, Jeeves.”

“I do hope so, Mr. Jones.”

The tour took us all of half an hour; there were so many rooms to be identified, and I insisted on seeing their interiors, so that I knew their relative sizes and ceiling heights. I also wanted to see whether any of the house artwork was displayed in staff bedrooms. There was none.

There were several doors that Jones refused to let me see inside. “I am not allowed to open these specific doors, Jeeves, so no use asking me. They are family bedrooms.” I raised my eyebrows, but let it pass.

When we finished the official tour, I raised another point. I asked that the chef should give me a personal, detailed tour of the kitchen and pantries. Jones promised it, but at a later time, to suit the chef’s committed timetable. I concurred with that assessment.

Another staff member was essential to be met: the personal secretary, but he or she was busy working with the client, so that had to wait also. Both the maids had finished for the day, as had the cleaners, so meeting them was out too. The cleaners visited every morning between seven and nine, so I would meet them then.

The maids had more variable hours, but mostly mornings tidying up bedrooms, collecting the laundry for the washer, then other duties as required. The cleaners dealt with floors and windows, and also the dusting and polishing. They worked their way around the house, one room at a time.

I enquired about the polishing of the silver, and was informed that this task belonged to the butler from now on, at Mr. Dawes’ instructions, due to the high value of some items. I indicated my approval of this decision.

I turned to the delicate question of answering the front door.

“Mr. Jones, have you been given any training in answering the front door? I wondered about it, you see?”

“Eh? Answering the door? No, why?”

“We butlers have been trained to do so in a particular fashion. May I demonstrate the formal usage we employ as standard? You might wish to include it in your own repertoire.”

“Jeeves, I am all ears. Show me what you would do.”

I took him to the front door. “Now, when a visitor arrives at the door, one does NOT unlock the door and expect them to open it by themselves. The butler, or his understudy, ALWAYS comes to the door, unlocks it, and enquires the identities of the visitors.

The assumption is that any visitor using the front door is a person of quality. Tradespeople or staff will use the tradesman’s entrance at the side or back of the house, you see.

If the visitors are expected, you then escort them directly to the person expecting them. If they are not expected, you ask them to wait at the door while you establish if the Master wishes to see them. You then close the door as a security measure while you establish their bona fides with the Master. If acceptable, you return to the door and apologise for having them wait, and escort them to the Master or whomever he has delegated to receive them.

Should the Master decide to decline their request to enter – such as a policeman asking unwarranted questions – you inform them that their presence is not acceptable to the Master at this time, and invite them to apply in writing or by telephone for an appointment – which may or may not be granted by the Master.”

“By God, Jeeves, you guys take things to extremes, don’t you?”

“Perhaps, Mr. Jones, but the process makes the wanted guests feel welcome, the non-wanted are suitably rejected, and the status of the Master of the house is upheld. The door can be a clear security breach if treated otherwise, don’t you think?”

“Yeah ... I see what you are getting at. You may be right at that, Jeeves. I get you, with your protection of the door; it is good security practice. I intend to use that technique from now on, man.”

“On that point - on the security of the house, Mr. Jones, can you tell me who exactly has responsibility for that matter? It is sometimes part of the butler’s duties, but on occasion there is a dedicated security chief – usually for several sites under the one household.”

Jones looked a trifle uncomfortable. “Uh, I am afraid that I have been looking after security, Jeeves. Would you prefer it came under your control?”

“It depends, Mr. Jones.” I did not want to appear too keen on taking over the security remit. “I had a few questions, such as what protection the grounds had, apart from the barbed wire on top of the walls? And I presume you are aware of the vulnerability of the cameras on the gate pillars?”

He gaped at me. “How do you mean?”

“The cameras are too accessible from the outside. One could simply throw a heavy cloth over the cameras, to deprive the house of sight of the gates. The gates could then be cut down with an oxy-acetylene lance through the hinges, and the grounds are then readily open to intruders.”

“What would you do, instead?”

“Move the cameras to poles set further back, out of reach. They could still be put out of action by gunfire through the lenses, but that is less likely. An expensive option would be a sheet of bulletproof glass in front of the camera, of course. The gate hinges could be protected by an exterior narrow panel of steel lined with asbestos. A determined intruder could still cut through all the gate bars, but that would take considerably more time and allow for a prepared defence.”

“Wow. Where do you get all this knowledge, Jeeves?”

“I was in the British Army before adopting my new profession, Mr. Jones. I was invalided out of the army some time back, but experience remains with you, as does the metal pin in my leg.”

“Sorry to hear about that, Jeeves. At least you got some good knowledge out of it. I wouldn’t mind us working together on the security aspects here, if you don’t want to take it over entirely. I am only here during the day. I go home at night, whereas you are resident. You need to know what’s what with the security, don’t you?”

 
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