The Trouble with Polly Brown (90 page)

“Oh, deary me. How unbelievably atrocious! Lady B., perhaps at the end of the day we were wrong to back out of this special ceremony,” Giles woefully commented.

“No, Giles. We were perfectly within our rights to cancel our attendance, for sometimes there are other, more important things that need to be exposed.”

“Yes, I'm sure you're right, madam.”

“For one thing, Freddie needs to face some frightfully critical issues before it becomes far too late, as do certain others who only out of respect I do not care to name or mention. So if nothing else, this day should surely encourage many of those in attendance to take a hard and honest look at themselves.”

“I'm sure they will, madam.”

“Hmm. Rather sadly for all concerned, there was a great deal of camera footage gathered. Apparently it will all be aired as one of tonight's main news items, which, I might add, in view of all that has taken place, they have now decided to extend with a view to giving this top story the extra coverage they believe it deserves.”

“Gosh! For if this is the case, then I suspect that you, madam, are holding things back and so have not finished revealing everything that you know. So break with tradition by telling me, your devoted butler, the whole gruesome story, and this time leave nothing out. Let me start by asking, Did Freddie go on to wreck the whole event?”

“Hmm. Sadly, he did, for outrageous as it all may seem, he went on to further disgrace himself by swearing at the town's delightful mayor. He then threw a full glass of Don Pérignon champagne over two most innocent and unsuspecting bystanders.”

“Good grief! That stuff's so terribly expensive!”

“I should say so, for
grief
does not even begin to sum up the sheer horror concerning the events of that day, as—wait for it—he then went on to manhandle and assault a photographer, and in the fracas an empty bottle accidentally hit Mr. Scumberry's poor, sensitive wife, Mildred, leaving her nursing the most terrible bleeding nose.”

“Shocking. Absolutely shocking!” Giles warily muttered.

“Oh, it was indeed most brutal, for according to the nurse that I spoke with, she bled so badly down her clothing that the dry cleaning shop has sadly reported back that her heavily sequined dress is quite beyond any form of salvation. Yes, as unbelievable as all this must seem, the dress is entirely ruined.”

“Poor, poor Mildred!”

“My sentiments entirely, for to have a bad nosebleed is one thing, but to allow it to utterly ruin your most expensive posh party dress can only be considered preposterously disastrous!”

“Madam, this is all so utterly absurd!” Giles heavily sighed as he dutifully raised his eyes to the heavens as though he were seeking a divine answer to the question now uppermost in his thoughts. “Where will it all end?”

“Who knows, Giles dear? Who knows?” she loudly tutted, shaking her head at the same time.

“Oh, and then to crown it all, I'll have you know that he left poor Dr. Ninkumpoop nursing an almighty black eye.”

“Oh my goodness! All this in the space of just a couple of hours?”

“Oh, no. This all transpired within the first twenty minutes or so! Yes, Freddie staggered into the hospital with a very unfortunate-looking girl on his arm, one who I might dare suggest was not at all appropriately dressed for such an important occasion as this.”

Giles shook his head violently as he tried hard to hurriedly vacate his mind of his personal interpretation of what the poor girl might, or rather might not, have been wearing!

“Giles, are you still listening?

“Oh absolutely, madam. Absolutely.”

“Well, he then rather outrageously demanded a couple of glasses of champers before the ceremony even got underway. Hmm, and while trying to cut the ribbon with those ridiculously huge scissors, he crashed to the floor, taking a poor, innocent nurse down with him.”

“Goodness gracious me. How utterly distressing for all concerned!”

“Yes, dreadful. And to cap it all, throughout the whole terrible incident his language was both crass and unbelievably foul, to say the least.”

“Good grief,” was all Giles now cared to comment.

“Well, according to the nurse I spoke with this morning, no word has yet been created that could even begin to express the level of anxiety and disruption this man has unfortunately caused.

“Sadly for Freddie, he was taken away in handcuffs to spend the night in a cell, and as far as I am aware, he will remain locked away behind bars until he faces the full wrath of a circuit judge, next Tuesday, I believe.”

“Not the best way to end the day,” Blenkinsopp muttered.

“I should say so, for he will surely need that dear judge not only to be very understanding but also in excellent humor if he is to even consider extending an unwarranted amount of mercy toward him.”

“Well, let's hope that the judge has a good wife who on Tuesday morning lovingly decides to bless him with a hearty cooked breakfast, for a filled belly surely makes for a full heart, and if so, he might well be far more lenient in his sentencing.”

“But Giles, my man, it doesn't even end there, for there is still more to tell.”

“More! Tell me how possibly could there be more to this already very disturbing story?” he asked, shaking his head to convey his total and utter disbelief.

“Trust me when I say there is always more,” she said in a very smug tone of voice. “During my phone conversation, the distraught nurse dared to confide that for his part, poor Dr. Ninkumpoop has chosen to lock himself away in one of the hospital's many padded cells with only his professional diaries and personal memoirs for comfort.”

“Well then, shame on the man,” a shocked Giles muttered, “for at the very least he too is guilty of gross professional misconduct.”

“Giles, be a dear and try not to be so hard on him.”

“Madam, it's hard not to be critical, for things really couldn't get much worse!”

“Oh, Giles dear, don't be so irresponsibly trite, for sadly, things can get much worse, and often do, although I'm not entirely sure whether this is the right time to reveal anything further of this incredible but seriously ghastly story.”

“Madam, I beg you now, please do. It is not the least bit fair to leave me hanging on like this, for the suspense alone is almost killing me.”

“Oh, very well then. If you insist.”

“I do, madam. I must insist you reveal all.”

“Well, at the time of my phone conversation, and mind, this is all according to the nigh hysterical nurse on the other end of the telephone…”

“Keep going!”

“Well, as a direct result of all that has taken place…”

“Yes, yes. Go on.”

“He has rather inexplicably chosen to abandon his expensive suit, as well as—dare I say it?—all undergarments!” she revealed in little more than a prudish whisper, closing her eyes at the same time in order to fully express the seriousness of this latest, very unpredictable action.

“What? He has removed all his clothing?”

“Yes. Every single stitch!”

“Madam, are you serious?”

“Very!”

“You mean, he's entirely…utterly naked.”

“Absolutely!”

“Socks as well?”

“Giles, what difference would it make if he were or were not still wearing his socks?”

“Nothing, madam, except I would like to humbly suggest that, were his socks still covering his feet, his nakedness wouldn't seem quite so entire, would it?”

“Well, whether he has socks on his little tootsies or not, he's now as footloose and fancy free as the day he came into the world. So I have no choice but to conclude that something has gone seriously wrong for the poor man, for to not only shun those around him by locking himself away but to then discard every single item of his clothing, socks included, well, that is something else entirely!”

“Then he's clearly gone cuckoo!” Blenkinsopp added.

“That is not for you or I to judge. But sadly there is much cause for concern, as between bouts of incoherent mutterings and hysterical laughter he is still adamantly refusing to unlock the door or speak with anyone. Such is his demise. It is all rather unfortunate. Really it is,” she mumbled. “Especially when you hear that there is already talk of using ECT in an attempt to quickly and forcibly shock him back to reality.”

“Hmm. How utterly awful! Although, tell me truthfully, madam, if the hospital's top psychiatrist has finally lost his marbles, then pray, tell me, who is left to help him—or anyone else, for that matter?”

“Quite!”

“Well, this is surely one of the most sad and thoroughly disturbing stories I have heard in a long while.”

“Yes, Blenkinsopp, one can only begin to imagine the catastrophic damage to many a distinguished reputation such a tragic and unfortunate day as this will almost certainly bring.”

“Madam, are you sure that all of this rather unfortunate saga was caught on camera?”

“Yes, and sadly we all know that a camera rarely lies.”

Chapter Forty

LET'S GET SAND BETWEEN OUR TOES

T
HE GIRLS REMAINED
fast asleep as the car slowly made its way along the glorious Devonshire coastline.

“The calm, blue sea looks so impressively inviting, so I would so love to dip a toe or two in those waters,” Lady Butterkist brightly commented.

“So would I, madam, but that little pleasure will have to wait a while, as we need to plod on toward our goal, so to speak.”

“Yes, I know. But still it would be so awfully nice,” she sighed.

Moments later found the car precariously perched on a cliff top, as Lady Butterkist was absolutely insistent in her belief that she had espied a less trodden route that would have her safely down on the beach in no time at all.

“Giles, I will only be gone for a teeny weenie amount of time. Yes, just five minutes or so,” she readily assured him.

Giles, who knew better, agreed to remain by the car and keep a constant vigil over the car and the two sleeping beauties, who continued to remain lost to the world on the backseat.

Twenty-five minutes later found a windswept Lady Butterkist struggling hard to make it back up the path due to a fully laden bucket of shells that prevented her from using both hands in order to keep her balance.

“I'm back. I'm back,” she shouted as she suddenly appeared over the horizon.

“So I can see, dear lady. So I can see,” Giles muttered as he moved forward to rescue her ladyship in case she accidentally lost her footing and toppled over the cliff, which, he could see, would be quite imminent if he failed in his duty to give immediate assistance.

“I thought the girls would like these very pretty seashells,” she breathlessly cried.

“Yes, but from where and from whom did you manage to obtain that rather snazzy holiday bucket?”

“Well, rather lucky for me it lay abandoned by a large fortress sand-castle. I assure you, I waited and waited, but there was nobody in sight. So, eventually I decided to help myself. I thought it to be the perfect receptacle for placing these very delightful shells. Here, Blenkinsopp, would you like some?”

“That's most thoughtful of you, madam, but unbelievable as this may seem, seashells really aren't my thing, at least not at the moment.”

“Oh, so you never stick them on cards, paint them bright colors, place them 'round the bathtub, or—”

“No, madam. Do I really need to repeat myself? Seashells are not my thing,” he firmly stated, quite exasperated. “Now, golf balls, well, that's an entirely different matter.”

“Well, I'm sorry, Giles, but try as I may, I can't for one minute imagine what a load of golf balls strategically placed around a bathtub would even begin to look like,” she snorted.

Giles raised his eyes to the heavens and very wisely chose to keep his lips tightly buttoned.

With her ladyship safely back in her seat, Giles started up the car, and they continued on their journey.

“There must have been something in that drink you gave the girls earlier, for they look like heavily sedated babes in the wood.”

“Well, Blenkinsopp, now you come to mention it, I did pop a bit of sap from the Hubber Blubber tree in their early morning cup of tea.”

“Madam, I thought as much.”

“Yes, but I was much more careful how much I put in this time 'round.”

“Huh!”

“Yes, the last time I used this potion I think I got a little bit carried away. Yes, it was back at the castle when I needed to sedate Pitstop, that vicious pit bull of a dog, and if I'm to be honest I think I put a bit too much in his dog food, for I hear they had to use a crane to lift the poor dog from off poor Boritz. Hmm. Another rather unfortunate episode,” she declared, drawing in her breath.

“Oh, madam, what were we thinking?”

“Precisely, Blenkinsopp, although it was necessary to sedate both girls to ensure that our secret hideout remains just that—yes, a complete secret. It would be most unfortunate if any of them were to ever be discovered, for it would indeed hinder our work down here and make it all the more difficult than it already is.”