Chapter 11

I needed to get some research done on the history of this house. Jeeves and Company should be able to work on that, once I got a chance to ask them. Time I was doing another trip to the charity shop. What I might do is go there with the excuse of looking for a camera tripod of my own. That might appear a genuine reason for going out.

I would bring it up tomorrow morning.

Once breakfast was over and the table cleared, I approached Mr Dawes as he retreated to his study. “Sir?”

“Yes, Jeeves?”

“May I take walk to the shops today? I want to see if I can find a camera tripod in one of the charity shops. I think it would prove useful to me.”

“I don’t have any priority task for you, Jeeves, so that would be fine. In fact, you could take the car if that would help.”

“Thank you, sir, but a walk in the current good weather will be good for my constitution.”

“Do as you see fit, then, Jeeves. Leave word with Jones when you leave and return, so someone here will know about it.”

“Very well, sir. I shall do that.”

I made a point of telling Miss Frobisher that I was going to be out at the shops, and did she want anything purchased while I was there?

“Will you be calling in at the charity shops, Mr. Jeeves?”

“Indeed I will, Miss Frobisher. Something I can look for?”

“If you see any Queen music CDs, Jeeves, please pick one up. I have taken a liking to that band’s music since seeing a TV programme about them.”

“I will enjoy doing that, Miss Frobisher. Farewell.”

I picked up my overcoat in case of showers. I didn’t think a brolly was my style: too formal for outside. I reckoned I had time to get there and back before lunchtime. I did enjoy the walk in the fresh air. There was fortunately little vehicular traffic to spoil the atmospheric conditions.

When I got to the shops, I browsed several shops, including two charity shops. Both had a range of CDs for sale, mostly pop songs and albums by singers. I was disappointed at the few classic CDs available. The only Queen CD I found was ‘Innuendo’, costing one pound, so I bought it for Miss Frobisher, and it was handed over in a CD-sized bag. The whole thing fitted into my overcoat pocket.

I next chose my target charity shop to use the changing booth. I selected a couple of pullovers that I liked the look of, and took them to try on for fit. In the course of so doing, I announced my presence, and left a message, asking for the transfer of ownership of the house to be investigated. I liked both pullovers, and they were quite cheap, so I bought both. I hoped I would be gone before the weather turned cold enough to need them, but one has to prepare for the worst. My search for a camera tripod was a failure.

The weather remained merely overcast, so I embarked on my return walk, confident of getting to the house without being rained on. I enjoyed the fresh air after many days of being indoors.

On my arrival, entering with my key by the tradesman’s entrance, I found Jones at last. He was ensconced in the reception office, sipping a coffee while reading his racing paper. He was an enthusiastic better on the horses. I waited until his attention was less concentrated.

“Mr. Jones? I am reporting that I have arrived back from the shops. Would you please inform Mr. Dawes at your leisure?”

“Sure, Jeeves. Hey, have you any knowledge of the horses?”

“I am afraid not, Mr. Jones. I have a policy of never betting. I adopted this policy when I was young, after I heard of a family being broken up because the head of the household was unable to stop gambling. It was almost as bad as alcohol addiction. I am sure that you, however, are keeping your betting under control.”

“Yeah. I do my best, Jeeves. I will keep your story in mind, should I ever feel tempted to overspend.”

“I am pleased to hear that, Mr. Jones. I must now find Miss Frobisher, to deliver her purchase.”

“Miss Frobisher? I think she went out to the garden, for some fresh air.”

“I see. I shall go out and meet her, I think.”

I returned to the side door by which I had entered, and took the path round to the garden at the rear of the building. When I rounded the corner, I caught a glimpse of her as she walked behind one of the hedges that delineated the sections of the garden.

I angled my course to intercept her perambulations, and eventually turned round one hedge to face her coming towards me. Apparently lost in thought, she started when she noticed me. Her hand went to the top button of her business suit.

“Oh, Jeeves. You gave me quite a start!”

“My apologies, Miss Frobisher. I merely thought to meet you and hand over this compact disc.” I extended my hand, holding the Queen album. She came forward and accepted the CD.

“Thank you, Jeeves. That was kind of you. How much do I owe you?”

“It was only a pound, dear lady, if you wish to pay for it. If not, please treat it as a gift.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that. I would not want to be indebted to you, even for such a small amount.”

“Really, I would not view it like that. In fact, I would regard the debt paid, if you gave me a kiss.”

Her eyes widened. “Jeeves, you are at it again. Do you intend to continue in this vein?”

“If you don’t find me objectionable, Miss Frobisher.” I smiled at her.

She smiled back. “I do not regard you as objectionable, Jeeves, but a kiss is perhaps too forward at present.”

I allowed my smile to droop in sadness. “Pity. Your lips seem to me to be eminently kissable.”

“No doubt they are, Jeeves, but you are not to test out your assumption at this time; understand?”

“I understand, Miss Frobisher. I shall put off my inclinations to a later time.”

We made our way back to the house, chatting about inconsequentials as we did so. Inside the door, as we separated for our individual directions, Felicity said quietly, “Thanks for getting the CD. I’ll be thinking of you when I am listening to it.”

“That makes me happy, I can tell you. See you later.”

Damn. I found that I actually meant it. I was getting to really like this woman. What still got me puzzled was why she didn’t use a first name. The ‘Miss Frobisher’ style didn’t really suit her personality, and if she disliked the name Felicity, why didn’t she just use another forename. It was as if the ‘Miss Frobisher’ nominal style was a barrier she had built up to stop anyone getting close to her.

And why did her hand fly up towards her throat when I disturbed her in the garden? Was it a simple female protective gesture, or was there something more? I was left wondering, for it could be anything; just a panic reaction, like stepping back at a fright.

Do I frighten her? Surely not. Anyone unexpectedly appearing in front of you is cause enough for a panic reaction. I am different. I am trained to react in the military way to sudden appearances: quick assessment of a possible threat, and quick appropriate response. Don’t shoot the innocent bystander who gets in the way!

Miss Frobisher was the innocent bystander in this instance. She had a right to be startled and temporarily afraid. She recovered fairly quickly and got back to her now friendly self, I was happy to note.

Getting back to my pantry, I checked that all the preparations for the evening meal were in train. Chef and Jennifer were on form, it seems. I checked my own schedule, and found I had half an hour before any specific duty, unless I had to answer the front door. I booted up my computer, and utilised the house Wi-Fi to do an internet search on the artist signature “H.C.”. The only artist with that signature was the architect, Sir Hugh Casson.

A search for Ulverston showed one watercolour of that name, on sale at £775. Good grief! I thought. That much for a small watercolour sketch? Presumably the one in this house was another version of the view, for there were minor differences that I could see.

I was becoming more convinced that there was something odd about Dawes not knowing about this valuable watercolour. I couldn’t put him down as a numbskull. He seemed to appreciate the paintings hanging in the corridors, so he had some knowledge of art; at least as much as me. I was able to recognise the quality of this watercolour, even if I could not say who was the artist.

Then there were the finds in the loft. Hadn’t he ever looked into the attic? He obviously had paid no attention to the office off the reception hall. The sooner I got word back from the company about this building, the better.

Most of my spare time over the next couple of days was spent working on the inventory, adding the pictures, matching photographic images to the documented list of items.

So far, I had only a few positive identifications for paintings and objects where the valuer had been fairly certain. Most were labelled “in the style of”, or “after [named artist]”, or “School of...”, as the valuer would not commit himself without extra research, even where there was a discernible signature. I accepted that caution as valid. It meant that all the valuations could be viewed as a financial understatement.

I was able to mark the small watercolour as “Sir Hugh Casson”, value circa £700. I was not keen on asking Dawes about trying to identify the artists of the other paintings, in case there was some dubiety about provenance.

With the inventory photographs complete, I thought it time to return the tripod and the camera mounting to Miss Catherine. The evening meal seemed to me an appropriate opportunity to bring it up.

As she got up to leave the table, I pulled it out for her, and spoke.

“Miss Catherine, your tripod...”

“Oh, yes, Jeeves. Have you finished with it?”

“Indeed, miss. All the photos are satisfactory. When do you wish me to return it to your room? I can have Miss Frobisher present.”

She said nothing at first, but walked towards the door. As she got there, she said, “Jeeves?”

I went over to meet her at the door. “Yes, miss?”

“I don’t know if we need Miss Frobisher there, unless you think it best... ?”

“It may take a little time to reinstate your telescope, Miss Catherine. It might be best to have Miss Frobisher there with us.”

“Okay. See if she is available this evening. If so, arrange it with her, and give me a buzz on the phone.”

“I shall do that, Miss.” She left, and I returned to the dining room to assist with the clearing of the table. Jennifer could deal with the dishwasher, but I do not entrust the silver to that machine. A soft hand wash is essential, and a final polish at the end.

Once I knew that the silver was all safely put away, and the crockery stacked in their cabinet as well, I went to remove my camera from the mount atop the tripod. That done, I rang Miss Frobisher’s number on the house phone system.

“Frobisher.” She responded.

“Miss Frobisher, this is Jeeves. Miss Catherine’s telescope requires remounting on its tripod in her room, and I have suggested that your presence would be an appropriate gesture. Will you agree to that suggestion?”

“Jeeves, much depends on what you envisage as happening in that room. Can I expect a repeat of the last time, or will you be more circumspect?”

“Miss Frobisher, that choice is yours on this occasion. I suspect that the telescope and I will be more hands-on, but should the opportunity arise, and if you permit, I would be happy to reprise the event. Otherwise, I shall be discreet in my conduct.”

“Jeeves, your circumlocution is astonishing. You are suggesting that I allow you to fondle me again?”