Free Busman’s Honeymoon by Dorothy L. Sayers Page A

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      Formalities retarding thee ...
      A bride, before a ‘Good-night’ could be said,
      Should vanish from her clothes into her bed,
      As souls from bodies steal, and are not spied.
     
      But now she’s laid; what though she be?
      Yet there are more delays, for where is he?
      He comes and passeth through sphere after sphere;
      First her sheets, then her arms, then anywhere.
      Let not this day, then, but this night be thine;
      Thy day was but the eve to this, O Valentine.
      JOHN DONNE: An Epithalamion on the Marriage of Lady Elizabeth and Count Palatine.
     
      Peter, dispensing soup and pâté and quails from a curious harlequin assortment of Mr Noakes’s crockery, had said to Bunter: ‘We’ll do our own waiting. For God’s sake get yourself some grub and make Mrs Ruddle fix you up something to sleep on. My egotism has reached an acute stage tonight, but there’s no need for you to pander to it.’
      Bunter smiled gently and vanished, with the assurance that he should ‘do very well, my lord, thank you’.
      He returned, however, about the quail stage, to announce that the chimney in her ladyship’s room was clear, owing (he suggested) to the circumstance that nothing had been burned in it since the days of Queen Elizabeth. He had consequently succeeded in kindling upon the hearthstone a small fire of wood which, though restricted in size and scope by the absence of dogs, would, he trusted, somewhat mitigate the inclemency of the atmosphere.
      ‘Bunter,’ said Harriet, ‘you are marvellous.’
      ‘Bunter,’ said Wimsey, ‘you are becoming thoroughly demoralised. I told you to look after yourself. This is the first time you have ever refused to take my orders. I hope you will not make it a precedent.’
      ‘No, my lord. I have dismissed Mrs Ruddle, after enlisting her services for tomorrow, subject to her ladyship’s approval. Her manner is unpolished, but I have observed that her brass is not and that she has hitherto maintained the house in a state of commendable cleanliness. Unless you ladyship desires to make other arrangements—’
      ‘Let’s keep her on if we can,’ said Harriet, a little confused at being deferred to (since Bunter, after all, was likely to suffer most from Mrs Ruddle’s peculiarities). ‘She always worked here and she knows where everything is, and she seems to be doing her best.’
      She glanced doubtfully at Peter, who said:
      ‘The worst I know of her is that she doesn’t like my face, but that will hurt her more than it will me. I mean, you know, she’s the one that’s got to look at it. Let her carry on.... In the meantime, there is this matter of Bunter’ insubordination, from which I refuse to be diverted by Mr; Ruddle or any other red herring.’
      ‘My lord?’
      ‘If, Bunter, you do not immediately sit down here and have your supper, I will have you drummed out of the Regiment. My god!’ said Peter, putting a formidable wedge of foie gras on a cracked plate and handing it to his man, ‘do you realise what will happen to us if you die of neglect and starvation? There appear to be only two tumblers, so your punishment shall be to take your wine in a teacup and make a speech afterwards. There was a little supper below-stairs at my mother’s on Sunday night, I fancy. The speech you made then will serve the purpose, Bunter, with suitable modifications to fit it for our chaste ears.’
      ‘May I respectfully inquire,’ asked Bunter, drawing up an obedient chair, ‘how your lordship comes to know about that?’
      ‘You know my methods. Bunter. As a matter of fact, James blew—if I may call it—the gaff.’
      ‘Ah, James!’ said Bunter, in a tone that boded James no good. He brooded a little over his supper, but, when called upon, rose without overmuch hesitation, teacup in hand.
      ‘My orders are,’ said Mr Bunter, ‘to propose the health of the happy couple shortly to—the happy