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Jeeves had managed any number of meddlesome people in his life -- aunts, for instance, who tried to marry the young Master off, and fiancees who tried and failed to adequately take care of him.  None of them had put any particular fear of god into him; each time he had been quite sure his position was secure, and that they would go away in time.

This most recent intrusion, however, was absolutely intolerable.

It had been bad enough when Master Wooster was a student; the occasional incursion by the House Elves into his domain was minimal at best and could usually be considered secondary.  Their errand-running for the various applications he couldn't see to was not problematic.  And their steps when he was away -- having a late supper with Ianto, for instance, or putting on some jazz records with a nice book and glass of brandy -- was actually somewhat welcome.

But now that the young master was Professor Wooster, they had grown absolutely intolerable. 

He would come in mornings (or, well, Bertie's mornings, which were afternoons) and find that the laundry had been done, the linens replaced... only wrong.  The corners were not folded just so.  The closet was disorganized at best.

And so he was now in the library with a series of books on household spells and wards.  He would keep the blighters - do pardon the language - out of his way or his name wasn't Reginald Jeeves.