A Pelican at Blandings by Sir P G Wodehouse Read Free Book Online

you'd
said Gorblimey. So there you have His Grace of Dunstable in
a nutshell, and it's not a pleasant thought that he will be with
us for days and days, probably for weeks and weeks. One
wonders how Clarence will bear up, especially as her ladyship
will make him dress for dinner every night. She will, won't
she?'
    'I fear so, Mr. Galahad.'
    'And he hates it even more than having to wear a top hat at
the school treat. Ah well, we must just hope that his frail form
will not crack beneath the strain. And now, Beach, with many
thanks for your hospitality, I must be leaving you. The train
journey, as always, has left me feeling like a cinder track and an
immediate plunge into the waters of the bath tub is of the
essence. We shall meet at Philippi, if not sooner.'

CHAPTER FOUR
    Two days elapsed before Linda Gilpin arrived. She came in
her car late at night and went straight to bed, tired from
the long journey, and after breakfast next morning Gally,
naturally anxious to have a confidential talk with her, took her
to see the yew alley which was one of the features of the place
and often got flattering notices in books with titles like 'British
Gardens' and 'Olde Worlde England'. The brief glimpse he
had had of her had impressed him favourably. She was, as John
had said, slim, blue-eyed, just the right height, topped off with
chestnut-coloured hair, and so unlike her uncle the Duke of
Dunstable that it did him good to look at her. A girl, in short,
whom any godfather would be glad to think his godson would
at an early date be going off on honeymoons to Jamaica with.
He could hardly wait to make her better acquaintance.
    The Duke and Lady Constance were up in the portrait
gallery. On the previous day the former's reclining nude had
been hung there, and Lady Constance was scrutinizing it
without pleasure. She was a woman who, while not knowing
much about Art, knew what she liked, and the kind of
paintings she liked were those whose subjects were more
liberally draped. A girl with nothing on except a quite
inadequate wisp of some filmy material, she told the Duke,
was out of place in the company of her ancestors, and the Duke
in rebuttal replied that her ancestors were such a collection of
ugly thugs that it was a charity to give the viewer something to
divert his attention from them. With a flight of imagery of
which few would have thought him capable he compared the
Blandings Castle portrait gallery to the Chamber of Horrors at
Madame Tussaud's.
    The critique ruffled Lady Constance, though anyone less
prejudiced would have felt compelled to admit that some of
the Earls of Emsworth, notably the third, fifth and seventh,
had been rash to allow their portraits to be painted, but she
checked the sharp response she would have liked to make. The
Duke, when responded to sharply, was apt to take offence, and
she had that to say to him which called for amiability on his
part, or something as close to amiability as could be expected
of him.
    She was about to take up once again the matter of his
marrying. For many years he had been a widower, and her own
happy union with James Schoonmaker had made her feel more
strongly than ever that this was a state of affairs that should be
adjusted. She was a firm believer in a wife's influence for good
over her husband, and she held the view that the Duke needed
all the influence for good that he could get. Someone who
would improve his manners and habits and general outlook on
life was, in her opinion, what he ought to be supplied with as
soon as possible.
    She had often spoken to him on the subject before, but only
in a vague, general way. Now that Vanessa Polk had come into
her life and was actually here at Blandings with him, it seemed
to her that the time had come to be more specific; to get,
though she would never have used such an expression, down to
brass tacks and talk turkey. She edged gently into her theme.
    'How charming American women are,' she said. 'So pretty,
so chic, so well dressed.'
    The