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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2829-0.txt b/2829-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..02e5550 --- /dev/null +++ b/2829-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3701 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Fanny and the Servant Problem, by Jerome K. +Jerome + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Fanny and the Servant Problem + A Quite Possible Play in Four Acts + + +Author: Jerome K. Jerome + + + +Release Date: September 8, 2014 [eBook #2829] +[This file was first posted on 2 August 2000] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM*** + + +Transcribed from the 1909 Hodder & Stoughton edition by David Price, +email ccx074@pglaf.org + + * * * * * + + + + + + _Fanny and_ + _the Servant Problem_ + + + _A Quite Possible Play in Four Acts_ + + _By_ + _Jerome K. Jerome_ + + * * * * * + + * * * * * + + _COPYRIGHT_ 1909 _BY_ + _JEROME KLAPKA JEROME_ + + * * * * * + + * * * * * + + _Hodder and Stoughton_ + _Limited_ _London_ + + * * * * * + +Amateurs wishing to perform this play should apply to: + + SAMUEL FRENCH, LTD. + + 26 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, + STRAND, W.C.2. + + * * * * * + + _Made and Printed in Great Britain_. + _Hazell_, _Watson & Viney_, _Ld._, _London and Aylesbury_. + + + + +THE CHARACTERS + + +_Fanny_ + +_Her Husband_, _Vernon Wetherell_, _Lord Bantock_ + +_Her Butler_, _Martin Bennet_ + +_Her Housekeeper_, _Susannah Bennet_ + +_Her Maid_, _Jane Bennet_ + +_Her Second Footman_, _Ernest Bennet_ + +_Her Still-room Maid_, _Honoria Bennet_ + +_Her Aunts by marriage_, _the Misses Wetherell_ + +_Her Local Medical Man_, _Dr. Freemantle_ + +_Her quondam Companions_, “_Our Empire_”: + _England_ + _Scotland_ + _Ireland_ + _Wales_ + _Canada_ + _Australia_ + _New Zealand_ + _Africa_ + _India_ + _Newfoundland_ + _Malay Archipelago_ + _Straits Settlements_ + +_Her former Business Manager_, _George P. Newte_ + + + + +_ACT I_ + + + _SCENE_ + +_The Lady Bantock’s boudoir_, _Bantock Hall_, _Rutlandshire_, _a spacious +room handsomely furnished_ (_chiefly in the style of Louis the +Fourteenth_) _and lighted by three high windows_, _facing the +south-west_. _A door between the fireplace and the windows leads to his +lordship’s apartments_. _A door the other side of the fireplace is the +general entrance_. _The door opposite the windows leads through her +ladyship’s dressing-room into her ladyship’s bedroom_. _Over the great +fireplace hangs a full-length portrait of Constance_, _first Lady +Bantock_, _by Hoppner_. + +_The time is sunset of a day in early spring_. _The youthful Lord +Bantock is expected home with his newly wedded wife this evening_; _and +the two Misses Wetherell_, _his aunts_, _have been busy decorating the +room with flowers_, _and are nearing the end of their labours_. _The two +Misses Wetherell have grown so much alike it would be difficult for a +stranger to tell one from the other_; _and to add to his confusion they +have fallen into the habit of dressing much alike in a fashion of their +own that went out long ago_, _while the hair of both is white_, _and even +in their voices they have caught each other’s tones_. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_she has paused from her work and is looking +out of the windows_]. Such a lovely sunset, dear. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [_she leaves her work and joins her sister_. +_The two stand holding each other’s hands_, _looking out_]. Beautiful! +[_A silence_. _The sun is streaming full into the room_.] You—you don’t +think, dear, that this room—[_she looks round it_]—may possibly be a +little _too_ sunny to quite suit her? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_not at first understanding_]. How, dear, +_too_ sun—[_She grasps the meaning_.] You mean—you think that perhaps +she does that sort of thing? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Well, dear, one is always given to +understand that they do, women—ladies of her profession. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It seems to me so wicked: painting God’s work. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We mustn’t judge hardly, dear. Besides, +dear, we don’t know yet that she does. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Perhaps she’s young, and hasn’t commenced it. +I fancy it’s only the older ones that do it. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. He didn’t mention her age, I remember. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. No, dear, but I feel she’s young. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I do hope she is. We may be able to mould +her. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We must be very sympathetic. One can +accomplish so much with sympathy. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We must get to understand her. [_A sudden +thought_.] Perhaps, dear, we may get to like her. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_doubtful_]. We might _try_, dear. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. For Vernon’s sake. The poor boy seems so +much in love with her. We must— + +_Bennet has entered_. _He is the butler_. + +BENNET. Doctor Freemantle. I have shown him into the library. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Thank you, Bennet. Will you please tell him +that we shall be down in a few minutes? I must just finish these +flowers. [_She returns to the table_.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Why not ask him to come up here? We could +consult him—about the room. He always knows everything. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. A good idea. Please ask him, Bennet, if he +would mind coming up to us here. [_Bennet_, _who has been piling up +fresh logs upon the fire_, _turns to go_.] Oh, Bennet! You will remind +Charles to put a footwarmer in the carriage! + +BENNET. I will see to it myself. [_He goes out_.] + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Thank you, Bennet. [_To her sister_] One’s +feet are always so cold after a railway journey. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I’ve been told that, nowadays, they heat the +carriages. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Ah, it is an age of luxury! I wish I knew +which were her favourite flowers. It is so nice to be greeted by one’s +favourite flowers. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I feel sure she loves lilies. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And they are so appropriate to a bride. So— + +_Announced by Bennet_, _Dr. Freemantle bustles in_. _He is a dapper +little man_, _clean-shaven_, _with quick brisk ways_. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_he shakes hands_]. Well, and how are we this afternoon? +[_He feels the pulse of the Younger Miss Wetherell_] Steadier. Much +steadier! [_of the Elder Miss Wetherell_.] Nervous tension greatly +relieved. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. She has been sleeping much better. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_he pats the hand of the Elder Miss Wetherell_]. +Excellent! Excellent! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. She ate a good breakfast this morning. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_he pats the hand of the Younger Miss Wetherell_]. +Couldn’t have a better sign. [_He smiles from one to the other_.] Brain +disturbance, caused by futile opposition to the inevitable, evidently +abating. One page Marcus Aurelius every morning before breakfast. +“Adapt thyself,” says Marcus Aurelius, “to the things with which thy lot +has been cast. Whatever happens—” + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. You see, doctor, it was all so sudden. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. The unexpected! It has a way of taking us by +surprise—bowling us over—completely. Till we pull ourselves together. +Make the best of what can’t be helped—like brave, sweet gentlewomen. +[_He presses their hands_. _They are both wiping away a tear_.] When do +you expect them? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. To-night, by the half-past eight train. We +had a telegram this morning from Dover. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Um! and this is to be her room? [_He takes it in_.] +The noble and renowned Constance, friend and confidant of the elder Pitt, +maker of history, first Lady Bantock—by Hoppner—always there to keep an +eye on her, remind her of the family traditions. Brilliant idea, +brilliant! [_They are both smiling with pleasure_.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. And you don’t think—it is what we wanted to +ask you—that there is any fear of her finding it a little trying—the +light? You see, this is an exceptionally sunny room. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And these actresses—if all one hears is +true— + +_The dying sun is throwing his last beams across the room_. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Which, thank God, it isn’t. [_He seats himself in a +large easy-chair_. _The two ladies sit side by side on a settee_.] I’ll +tell you just exactly what you’ve got to expect. A lady—a few years +older than the boy himself, but still young. Exquisite figure; +dressed—perhaps a trifle too regardless of expense. Hair—maybe just a +shade _too_ golden. All that can be altered. Features—piquant, with +expressive eyes, the use of which she probably understands, and an almost +permanent smile, displaying an admirably preserved and remarkably even +set of teeth. But, above all, clever. That’s our sheet-anchor. The +woman’s clever. She will know how to adapt herself to her new position. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [_turning to her sister_]. Yes, she must be +clever to have obtained the position that she has. [_To the Doctor_] +Vernon says that she was quite the chief attraction all this winter, in +Paris. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. And the French public is so critical. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_drily_]. Um! I was thinking rather of her cleverness +in “landing” poor Vernon. The lad’s not a fool. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We must do her justice. I think she was +really in love with him. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_still more drily_]. Very possibly. Most café-chantant +singers, I take it, would be—with an English lord. [_He laughs_.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You see, she didn’t know he was a lord. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Didn’t know—? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. No. She married him, thinking him to be a +plain Mr. Wetherell, an artist. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Where d’ye get all that from? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. From Vernon himself. You’ve got his last +letter, dear. [_She has opened her chatelaine bag_.] Oh, no, I’ve got +it myself. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. He’s not going to break it to her till they +reach here this evening. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_she reads_]. Yes. “I shall not break it to +her before we reach home. We were married quietly at the _Hôtel de +Ville_, and she has no idea I am anything else than plain Vernon James +Wetherell, a fellow-countryman of her own, and a fellow-artist. The dear +creature has never even inquired whether I am rich or poor.” I like her +for that. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. You mean to tell me—[_He jumps up_. _With his hands in +his jacket pockets_, _he walks to and fro_.] I suppose it’s possible. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You see, she isn’t the ordinary class of +music-hall singer. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I should say not. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. She comes of quite a good family. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Her uncle was a bishop. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Bishop? Of where? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_with the letter_]. He says he can’t spell it. +It’s somewhere in New Zealand. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Do they have bishops over there? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Well, evidently. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Then her cousin is a judge. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. In New Zealand? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_again referring to the letter_]. No—in Ohio. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Seems to have been a somewhat scattered family. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. People go about so much nowadays. + +_Mrs. Bennet has entered_. _She is the housekeeper_. + +MRS. BENNET [_she is about to speak to the Misses Wetherell_; _sees the +Doctor_]. Good afternoon, doctor. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Afternoon, Mrs. Bennet. + +MRS. BENNET [_she turns to the Misses Wetherell_, _her watch in her +hand_]. I was thinking of having the fire lighted in her ladyship’s +bedroom. It is half past six. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You are always so thoughtful. She may be +tired. + +MRS. BENNET. If so, everything will be quite ready. [_She goes out_, +_closing door_.] + +DR. FREEMANTLE. What do they think about it all—the Bennets? You have +told them? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We thought it better. You see, one hardly +regards them as servants. They have been in the family so long. Three +generations of them. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Really, since our poor dear brother’s death, +Bennet has been more like the head of the house than the butler. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Of course, he doesn’t say much. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It is her having been on the stage that they +feel so. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. You see, they have always been a religious +family. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Do you know, I really think they feel it more +than we do. I found Peggy crying about it yesterday, in the scullery. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_he has been listening with a touch of amusement_.] +Peggy Bennet? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Yes. _Charles_ Bennet’s daughter. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Happen to have a servant about the place who isn’t a +Bennet? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. No, no, I don’t really think we have. Oh, +yes—that new girl Mrs. Bennet engaged last week for the dairy. What is +her name? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Arnold. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Ah, yes, Arnold. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Ah! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I think she’s a cousin, dear. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Only a second cousin. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Um! Well I should tell the whole family to buck up. +Seems to me, from what you tell me, that their master is bringing them +home a treasure. [_He shakes hands briskly with the ladies_.] May look +in again to-morrow. Don’t forget—one page Marcus Aurelius before +breakfast—in case of need. [_He goes out_.] + +_The sun has sunk_. _The light is twilight_. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. He always cheers one up. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. He’s so alive. [_Mrs. Bennet comes in from +the dressing-room_. _She leaves the door ajar_. _The sound of a hammer +is heard_. _It ceases almost immediately_.] Oh, Mrs. Bennet, we were +going to ask you—who is to be her ladyship’s maid? Have you decided yet? + +MRS. BENNET. I have come to the conclusion—looking at the thing from +every point of view—that Jane would be the best selection. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Jane! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. But does she understand the duties? + +MRS. BENNET. A lady’s maid, being so much alone with her mistress, is +bound to have a certain amount of influence. And Jane has exceptionally +high principles. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. That is true, dear. + +MRS. BENNET. As regards the duties, she is very quick at learning +anything new. Of course, at first— + +_The sound of hammering again comes from the bedroom_. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Who is that hammering in her ladyship’s +bedroom? + +MRS. BENNET. It is Bennet, Miss Edith. We thought it might be helpful: +a few texts, hung where they would always catch her ladyship’s eye. +[_She notices the look of doubt_.] Nothing offensive. Mere general +exhortations such as could be read by any lady. [_The Misses Wetherell +look at one another_, _but do not speak_.] I take it, dinner will be at +half past seven, as usual? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Yes, Mrs. Bennet, thank you. They will not be +here till about nine. They will probably prefer a little supper to +themselves. + +_Mrs. Bennet goes out—on her way to the kitchen_. _The Misses Wetherell +look at one another again_. _The hammering recommences_. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [_she hesitates a moment_, _then goes to the +open door and calls_]. Bennet—Bennet! [_She returns and waits_. +_Bennet comes in_.] Oh, Bennet, your wife tells us you are putting up a +few texts in her ladyship’s bedroom. + +BENNET. It seemed to me that a silent voice, speaking to her, as it +were, from the wall— + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. It is so good of you—only, you—you will be +careful there is nothing she could regard as a _personal_ allusion. + +BENNET. Many of the most popular I was compelled to reject, purely for +that reason. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We felt sure we could trust to your +discretion. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. You see, coming, as she does, from a good +family— + +BENNET. It is that—I speak merely for myself—that gives me hope of +reclaiming her. + +_A silence_. _The two ladies_, _feeling a little helpless_, _again look +at one another_. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We must be very sympathetic. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And patient, Bennet. + +BENNET. It is what I am preparing myself to be. Of course, if you think +them inadvisable, I can take them down again. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. No, Bennet, oh no! I should leave them up. +Very thoughtful of you, indeed. + +BENNET. It seemed to me one ought to leave no stone unturned. [_He +returns to his labours in the bedroom_.] + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [_after a pause_]. I do hope she’ll _like_ +the Bennets. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I think she will—after a time, when she is +used to them. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I am so anxious it should turn out well. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I feel sure she’s a good woman. Vernon would +never have fallen in love with her if she hadn’t been good. [_They take +each other’s hand_, _and sit side by side_, _as before_, _upon the +settee_. _The twilight has faded_: _only the faint firelight remains_, +_surrounded by shadows_.] Do you remember, when he was a little mite, +how he loved to play with your hair? [_The younger Miss Wetherell +laughs_.] I always envied you your hair. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. He was so fond of us both. Do you remember +when he was recovering from the measles, his crying for us to bath him +instead of Mrs. Bennet? I have always reproached myself that we refused. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. He was such a big boy for his age. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I think we might have stretched a point in a +case of illness. + +_The room has grown very dark_. _The door has been softly opened_; +_Vernon and Fanny have entered noiselessly_. _Fanny remains near the +door hidden by a screen_, _Vernon has crept forward_. _At this point the +two ladies become aware that somebody is in the room_. _They are +alarmed_. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Who’s there? + +VERNON. It’s all right, aunt. It’s only I. + +_The two ladies have risen_. _They run forward_, _both take him in their +arms_. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Vernon! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. My dear boy! + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. But we didn’t expect you— + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. And your wife, dear? + +VERNON. She’s here! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Here? + +_Fanny_, _from behind the screen_, _laughs_. + +VERNON. We’ll have some light. [_He whispers to them_.] Not a +word—haven’t told her yet. [_Feeling his way to the wall_, _he turns on +the electric light_.] + +_Fanny is revealed_, _having slipped out from behind the screen_. _There +is a pause_. _Vernon_, _standing near the fire_, _watches admiringly_. + +FANNY. Hope you are going to like me. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. My dear, I am sure we shall. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It is so easy to love the young and pretty. +[_They have drawn close to her_. _They seem to hesitate_.] + +FANNY [_laughs_]. It doesn’t come off, does it, Vernon, dear? [_Vernon +laughs_. _The two ladies_, _laughing_, _kiss her_.] I’m so glad you +think I’m pretty. As a matter of fact, I’m not. There’s a certain charm +about me, I admit. It deceives people. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We were afraid—you know, dear, boys—[_she +looks at Vernon and smiles_] sometimes fall in love with women much older +than themselves—especially women—[_She grows confused_. _She takes the +girl’s hand_.] We are so relieved that you—that you are yourself, dear, + +FANNY. You were quite right, dear. They are sweet. Which is which? + +VERNON [_laughs_]. Upon my word, I never can tell. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Vernon! And you know I was always your +favourite! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Dear! + +VERNON. Then this is Aunt Alice. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. No dear, Edith. + +[_Vernon throws up his hands in despair_. _They all laugh_.] + +FANNY. I think I shall dress you differently; put you in blue and you in +pink. [_She laughs_.] Is this the drawing-room? + +VERNON. Your room, dear. + +FANNY. I like a room where one can stretch one’s legs. [_She walks +across it_.] A little too much desk [_referring to a massive brass-bound +desk_, _facing the three windows_]. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It belonged to the elder Pitt. + +FANNY. Um! Suppose we must find a corner for it somewhere. That’s a +good picture. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. It is by Hoppner. + +FANNY. One of your artist friends? + +VERNON. Well—you see, dear, that’s a portrait of my great-grandmother, +painted from life. + +FANNY [_she whistles_]. I am awfully ignorant on some topics. One good +thing, I always was a quick study. Not a bad-looking woman. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We are very proud of her. She was the first— + +VERNON [_hastily_]. We will have her history some other time. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [_who understands_, _signs to her sister_]. +Of course. She’s tired. We are forgetting everything. You will have +some tea, won’t you, dear? + +FANNY. No, thanks. We had tea in the train. [_With the more or less +helpful assistance of Vernon she divests herself of her outdoor +garments_.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_she holds up her hands in astonishment_]. Tea +in the train! + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We were not expecting you so soon. You said +in your telegram— + +VERNON. Oh, it was raining in London. We thought we would come straight +on—leave our shopping for another day. + +FANNY. I believe you were glad it was raining. Saved you such a lot of +money. Old Stingy! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Then did you walk from the station, dear? + +FANNY. Didn’t it seem a long way? [_She laughs up into his face_.] He +was so bored. [_Vernon laughs_.] + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I had better tell—[_She is going towards the +bell_.] + +VERNON [_he stops her_]. Oh, let them alone. Plenty of time for all +that fuss. [_He puts them both gently side by side on the settee_.] Sit +down and talk. Haven’t I been clever? [_He puts his arm round Fanny_, +_laughing_.] You thought I had made an ass of myself, didn’t you? Did +you get all my letters? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I think so, dear. + +FANNY [_she is sitting in an easy-chair_. _Vernon seats himself on the +arm_]. Do you know I’ve never had a love-letter from you? + +VERNON. You gave me no time. She met me a month ago, and married me +last week. + +FANNY. It was quick work. He came—he saw—I conquered! [_Laughs_.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. They say that love at first sight is often the +most lasting. + +VERNON [_he puts his arm around her_]. You are sure you will never +regret having given up the stage? The excitement, the— + +FANNY. The excitement! Do you know what an actress’s life always seemed +to me like? Dancing on a tight-rope with everybody throwing stones at +you. One soon gets tired of that sort of excitement. Oh, I was never in +love with the stage. Had to do something for a living. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. It must be a hard life for a woman. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Especially for anyone not brought up to it. + +FANNY. You see, I had a good voice and what I suppose you might call a +natural talent for acting. It seemed the easiest thing. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I suppose your family were very much opposed +to it? [_Vernon rises_. _He stands with his back to the fire_.] + +FANNY. My family? Hadn’t any! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. No family? + +_Bennet enters_. _Vernon and Fanny left the door open_. _He halts_, +_framed by the doorway_. + +FANNY. No. You see, I was an only child. My father and mother both +died before I was fourteen. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. But your uncle? + +FANNY. Oh, him! It was to get away from him and all that crew that I +went on the stage. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It is so sad when relations don’t get on +together. + +FANNY. Sadder still when they think they’ve got a right to trample on +you, just because you happen to be an orphan and—I don’t want to talk +about my relations. I want to forget them. I stood them for nearly six +months. I don’t want to be reminded of them. I want to forget that they +ever existed. I want to forget— + +_Bennet has come down very quietly_. _Fanny_, _from where he stands_, +_is the only one who sees him_. _He stands looking at her_, _his +features_, _as ever_, _immovable_. _At sight of him her eyes and mouth +open wider and wider_. _The words die away from her tongue_. _Vernon +has turned away to put a log on the fire_, _and so has not seen her +expression—only hears her sudden silence_. _He looks up and sees +Bennet_. + +VERNON. Ah, Bennet! [_He advances_, _holding out his hand_.] You quite +well? + +BENNET [_shaking hands with him_]. Quite well. + +VERNON. Good! And all the family? + +BENNET. Nothing to complain of. Charles has had a touch of influenza. + +VERNON. Ah, sorry to hear that. + +BENNET. And your lordship? + +VERNON. Fit as a fiddle—your new mistress. + +_Fanny has risen_. _Bennet turns to her_. _For a moment his back is +towards the other three_. _Fanny alone sees his face_. + +BENNET. We shall endeavour to do our duty to her ladyship. [_He turns +to Vernon_.] I had arranged for a more fitting reception— + +VERNON. To tell the honest truth, Bennet, the very thing we were afraid +of—why we walked from the station, and slipped in by the side door. +[_Laughing_.] Has the luggage come? + +BENNET. It has just arrived. It was about that I came to ask. I could +not understand— + +_The Misses Wetherell have also risen_. _Fanny’s speechless amazement is +attributed by them and Vernon to natural astonishment at discovery of his +rank_. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. You will be wanting a quiet talk together. +We shall see you at dinner. + +VERNON. What time is dinner? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Half past seven. [_To Fanny_] But don’t +you hurry, dear. I will tell cook to delay it a little. [_She kisses +her_.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You will want some time to arrange that pretty +hair of yours. [_She also kisses the passive_, _speechless Fanny_. +_They go out hand in hand_.] + +BENNET. I will see, while I am here, that your lordship’s room is in +order. + +VERNON. Why, where’s Robert, then? + +BENNET. He has gone into town to do some shopping. We did not expect +your lordship much before nine. There may be one or two things to see +to. [_He goes into his lordship’s apartments_, _closing the door behind +him_.] + +FANNY. Vernon, where am I? + +VERNON. At home, dear. + +FANNY. Yes, but where? + +VERNON. At Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire. [_Fanny sits down on the +settee—drops down rather_.] You’re not angry with me? You know how the +world always talks in these cases. I wanted to be able to prove to them +all that you married me for myself. Not because I was Lord Bantock. Can +you forgive me? + +FANNY [_she still seems in a dream_]. Yes—of course. You didn’t—you +wouldn’t—[_She suddenly springs up_.] Vernon, you do love me? [_She +flings her arms round his neck_.] + +VERNON. Dear! + +FANNY. You will never be ashamed of me? + +VERNON. Dearest! + +FANNY. I was only a music-hall singer. There’s no getting over it, you +know. + +VERNON. I should have loved you had you been a beggar-maid. + +FANNY [_she still clings to him_]. With an uncle a costermonger, and an +aunt who sold matches. It wouldn’t have made any difference to you, +would it? You didn’t marry me for my family, did you? You didn’t, did +you? + +VERNON. Darling! I married you because you are the most fascinating, +the most lovable, the most wonderful little woman in the world. [_Fanny +gives a sob_.] As for your family—I’ve got a confession to make to you, +dear. I made inquiries about your family before I proposed to you. Not +for my own sake—because I knew I’d have to answer a lot of stupid +questions. It seemed to me quite a good family. + +FANNY. It is! Oh, it is! There never was such a respectable family. +That’s why I never could get on with them. + +VERNON [_laughing_]. Well, you haven’t got to—any more. We needn’t even +let them know— + +_Bennet returns_. + +BENNET. Robert I find has returned. It is ten minutes to seven. + +VERNON. Thanks. Well, I shall be glad of a bath. [_He turns to +Fanny_.] Bennet will send your maid to you. [_He whispers to her_.] +You’ll soon get used to it all. As for the confounded family—we will +forget all about them. [_Fanny answers with another little stifled sob_. +_Bennet is drawing the curtains_, _his back to the room_. _Vernon_, +_seeing that Bennet is occupied_, _kisses the unresponsive Fanny and goes +out_.] + +_At the sound of the closing of the door_, _Fanny looks up_. _She goes +to the door through which Vernon has just passed_, _listens a moment_, +_then returns_. _Bennet calmly finishes the drawing of the curtains_. +_Then he_, _too_, _crosses slowly till he and Fanny are facing one +another across the centre of the room_. + +FANNY. Well, what are you going to do? + +BENNET. My duty! + +FANNY. What’s that? Something unpleasant, I know. I can bet my bottom +dollar. + +BENNET. That, my girl, will depend upon you. + +FANNY. How upon me? + +BENNET. Whether you prove an easy or a difficult subject. To fit you +for your position, a certain amount of training will, I fancy, be +necessary. + +FANNY. Training! I’m to be—[_She draws herself up_.] Are you aware who +I am? + +BENNET. Oh yes. _And_ who you were. His lordship, I take it, would +hardly relish the discovery that he had married his butler’s niece. He +might consider the situation awkward. + +FANNY. And who’s going to train me? + +BENNET. I am. With the assistance of your aunt and such other members +of your family as I consider can be trusted. + +FANNY [_for a moment she is speechless_, _then she bursts out_]. That +ends it! I shall tell him! I shall tell him this very moment. [_She +sweeps towards the door_.] + +BENNET. At this moment you will most likely find his lordship in his +bath. + +FANNY. I don’t care! Do you think—do you think for a moment that I’m +going to allow myself—I, Lady Bantock, to be—[_Her hand upon the door_.] +I shall tell him, and you’ll only have yourself to blame. He loves me. +He loves me for myself. I shall tell him the whole truth, and ask him to +give you all the sack. + +BENNET. You’re not forgetting that you’ve already told him _once_ who +you were? + +[_It stops her_. _What she really did was to leave the marriage +arrangements in the hands of her business manager_, _George P. Newte_. +_As agent for a music-hall star_, _he is ideal_, _but it is possible that +in answering Lord Bantock’s inquiries concerning Fanny’s antecedents he +may not have kept strictly to the truth_.] + +FANNY. I never did. I’ve never told him anything about my family. + +BENNET. Curious. I was given to understand it was rather a classy +affair. + +FANNY. I can’t help what other people may have done. Because some silly +idiot of a man may possibly—[_She will try a new tack_. _She leaves the +door and comes to him_.] Uncle, dear, wouldn’t it be simpler for you all +to go away? He’s awfully fond of me. He’ll do anything I ask him. I +could merely say that I didn’t like you and get him to pension you off. +You and aunt could have a little roadside inn somewhere—with ivy. + +BENNET. Seeing that together with the stables and the garden there are +twenty-three of us— + +FANNY. No, of course, he couldn’t pension you all. You couldn’t expect— + +BENNET. I think his lordship might prefer to leave things as they are. +Good servants nowadays are not so easily replaced. And neither your aunt +nor I are at an age when change appeals to one. + +FANNY. You see, it’s almost bound to creep out sooner or later, and +then— + +BENNET. We will make it as late as possible [_He crosses and rings the +bell_], giving you time to prove to his lordship that you are not +incapable of learning. + +FANNY [_she drops back on the settee_. _She is half-crying_.] Some +people would be pleased that their niece had married well. + +BENNET. I am old-fashioned enough to think also of my duty to those I +serve. If his lordship has done me the honour to marry my niece, the +least I can is to see to it that she brings no discredit to his name. +[_Mrs. Bennet_, _followed by Jane Bennet_, _a severe-looking woman of +middle age_, _has entered upon the words_ “_the least I can do_.” +_Bennet stays them a moment with his hand while he finishes_. _Then he +turns to his wife_.] You will be interested to find, Susannah, that the +new Lady Bantock is not a stranger. + +MRS. BENNET. Not a stranger! [_She has reached a position from where +she sees the girl_.] Fanny! You wicked girl! Where have you been all +these years? + +BENNET [_interposing_]. There will be other opportunities for the +discussion of family differences. Just now, her ladyship is waiting to +dress for dinner. + +MRS. BENNET [_sneering_]. Her ladyship! + +JANE [_also sneering_]. I think she might have forewarned us of the +honour in store for us. + +MRS. BENNET. Yes, why didn’t she write? + +FANNY. Because I didn’t know. Do you think—[_she rises_]—that if I had +I would ever have married him—to be brought back here and put in this +ridiculous position? Do you think that I am so fond of you all that I +couldn’t keep away from you, at any price? + +MRS. BENNET. But you must have known that Lord Bantock— + +FANNY. I didn’t know he was Lord Bantock. I only knew him as Mr. +Wetherell, an artist. He wanted to feel sure that I was marrying him for +himself alone. He never told me—[_Ernest Bennet_, _a very young +footman_, _has entered in answer to Bennet’s ring of a minute ago_. _He +has come forward step by step_, _staring all the while open-mouthed at +Fanny_. _Turning_, _she sees him beside her_.] Hulloa, Ernie. How are +the rabbits? [_She kisses him_.] + +BENNET. Don’t stand there gaping. I rang for some wood. Tell your +brother dinner will be at a quarter to eight. + +_Ernest_, _never speaking_, _still staring at Fanny_, _gets clumsily out +again_. + +FANNY. Well, I suppose I’d better see about dressing? Do I dine with +his lordship or in the servants’ hall? + +MRS. BENNET [_turns to her husband_]. You see! Still the old +impertinence. + +FANNY. Only wanted to know. My only desire is to give satisfaction. + +BENNET [_he moves towards the door_]. You will do it by treating the +matter more seriously. At dinner, by keeping your eye upon me, you will +be able to tell whether you are behaving yourself or not. + +MRS. BENNET. And mind you are punctual. I have appointed Jane to be +your maid. + +FANNY. Jane! + +MRS. BENNET [_in arms_]. Have you any objections? + +FANNY. No, oh no, so long as you’re all satisfied. + +MRS. BENNET. Remember, you are no longer on the music-hall stage. In +dressing for Bantock Hall you will do well to follow her advice. + +_Bennet_, _who has been waiting with the door in his hand_, _goes out_; +_Mrs. Bennet follows_. + +JANE [_in the tones of a patient executioner_]. Are you ready? + +FANNY. Quite ready, dear. Of course—I don’t know what you will think of +them—but I’ve only brought modern costumes with me. + +JANE [_not a lady who understands satire_]. We must do the best we can. +[_She marches out—into the dressing-room_.] + +_Fanny_, _after following a few steps_, _stops and thinks_. _Ernest has +entered with the wood_. _He is piling it in the basket by the fire_. +_His entrance decides her_. _She glances through the open door of the +dressing-room_, _then flies across to the desk_, _seats herself_, _and +begins feverishly to write a telegram_. + +FANNY. Ernie! [_He comes across to her_.] Have you still got your +bicycle? + +ERNEST. Yes. + +FANNY. Could you get this telegram off for me before eight o’clock? I +don’t want it sent from the village; I want you to take it +_yourself_—into the town. There’s a sovereign for you if you do it all +right. + +ERNEST. I’ll do it. Can only get into a row. + +FANNY. Pretty used to them, ain’t you? [_She has risen_. _She gives +him the telegram_. _She has stamped it_.] Can you read it? + +ERNEST. “George P. Newte.” + +FANNY. Hush! + +_They both glance at the open door_. + +ERNEST [_he continues in a lower voice_]. “72A, Waterloo Bridge Road, +London. Must see you at once. Am at the new shop.” [_He looks up_.] + +FANNY. That’s all right. + +ERNEST. “Come down. Q.T. Fanny.” + +FANNY [_nods_]. Get off quietly. I’ll see you again— + +THE VOICE OF JANE [_from the dressing-room_]. Are you going to keep me +waiting all night? + +[_They start_. _Ernest hastily thrusts the telegram into his +breast-pocket_.] + +FANNY. Coming, dear, coming. [_To Ernest_] Not a word to anyone! +[_She hurries him out and closes door behind him_.] Merely been putting +the room a bit tidy. [_She is flying round collecting her outdoor +garments_.] Thought it would please you. So sorry if I’ve kept you +waiting. [_Jane has appeared at door_.] After you, dear. + +_Jane goes out again_. _Fanny_, _with her pile of luggage_, _follows_. + + [CURTAIN] + + + + +_ACT II_ + + + _SCENE_ + +_The same_. + +_Time_.—_The next morning_. + +_The door opens_. _Dr. Freemantle enters_, _shown in by Bennet_, _who +follows him_. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_talking as he enters_]. Wonderful! Wonderful! I don’t +really think I ever remember so fine a spring. + +BENNET [_he is making up the fire_]. I’m afraid we shall have to pay for +it later on. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I expect so. Law of the universe, you know, Bennet—law +of the universe. Everything in this world has got to be paid for. + +BENNET. Except trouble. [_The doctor laughs_.] The Times? [_He hands +it to him_.] + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Thanks. Thanks. [_Seats himself_.] Won’t be long—his +lordship, will he? + +BENNET. I don’t think so. I told him you would be here about eleven. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Um—what do you think of her? + +BENNET. Of—of her ladyship? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. What’s she like? + +BENNET. [_They have sunk their voices_.] Well, it might have been +worse. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Ah! There’s always that consolation, isn’t there? + +BENNET. I think her ladyship—with _management_—may turn out very +satisfactory. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. You like her? + +BENNET. At present, I must say for her, she appears willing to be +taught. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. And you think it will last? + +BENNET. I think her ladyship appreciates the peculiarity of her +position. I will tell the Miss Wetherells you are here. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Ah, thanks! + +BENNET. I fancy her ladyship will not herself be visible much before +lunch time. I understand she woke this morning with a headache. [_He +goes out_.] + +_The Doctor reads a moment_. _Then the door of the dressing-room opens_, +_and Fanny enters_. _Her dress is a wonderful contrast to her costume of +last evening_. _It might be that of a poor and demure nursery +governess_. _Her hair is dressed in keeping_. _She hardly seems the +same woman_. + +FANNY [_seeing the Doctor_, _she pauses_]. Oh! + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_rises_]. I beg pardon, have I the pleasure of seeing +Lady Bantock? + +FANNY. Yes. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Delighted. May I introduce myself—Dr. Freemantle? I +helped your husband into the world. + +FANNY. Yes. I’ve heard of you. You don’t mind my closing this door, do +you? [_Her very voice and manner are changed_.] + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_a little puzzled_]. Not at all. + +FANNY [_she closes the door and returns_]. Won’t—won’t you be seated? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Thanks. [_They both sit_.] How’s the headache? + +FANNY. Oh, it’s better. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Ah! [_A silence_.] Forgive me—I’m an old friend of the +family. You’re not a bit what I expected. + +FANNY. But you like it? I mean you think this—[_with a gesture_]—is all +right? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. My dear young lady, it’s charming. You couldn’t be +anything else. + +FANNY. Thank you. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I merely meant that—well, I was not expecting anything +so delightfully demure. + +FANNY. That’s the idea—“seemly.” The Lady Bantocks have always been +“seemly”? [_She puts it as a question_.] + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_more and more puzzled_]. Yes—oh, yes. They have always +been—[_His eye catches that of Constance_, _first Lady Bantock_, _looking +down at him from above the chimney-piece_. _His tone changes_.] Well, +yes, in their way, you know. + +FANNY. You see, I’m in the difficult position of following her _late_ +ladyship. _She_ appears to have been exceptionally “seemly.” This is +her frock. I mean it _was_ her frock. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. God bless my soul! You are not dressing yourself up in +her late ladyship’s clothes? The dear good woman has been dead and +buried these twenty years. + +FANNY [_she looks at her dress_]. Yes, it struck me as being about that +period. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_he goes across to her_]. What’s the trouble? Too much +Bennet? + +FANNY [_she looks up_. _There is a suspicion of a smile_]. One might +say—sufficient? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_laughs_]. Excellent servants. If they’d only remember +it. [_He glances round—sinks his voice_.] Take my advice. Put your +foot down—before it’s too late. + +FANNY. Sit down, please. [_She makes room for him on the settee_.] +Because I’m going to be confidential. You don’t mind, do you? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_seating himself_]. My dear, I take it as the greatest +compliment I have had paid to me for years. + +FANNY. You put everything so nicely. I’m two persons. I’m an +angel—perhaps that is too strong a word? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_doubtfully_]. Well— + +FANNY. We’ll say saint. Or else I’m—the other thing. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Do you know, I think you could be. + +FANNY. It’s not a question about which there is any doubt. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Of course, in this case, a _little_ bit of the devil— + +FANNY [_she shakes her head_]. There’s such a lot of mine. It has +always hampered me, never being able to hit the happy medium. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. It _is_ awkward. + +FANNY. I thought I would go on being an angel— + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Saint. + +FANNY. Saint—till—well, till it became physically impossible to be a +saint any longer. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. And then? + +FANNY [_she rises_, _turns to him with a gesture of half-comic_, +_half-tragic despair_]. Well, then I can’t help it, can I? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I think you’re making a mistake. An explosion will +undoubtedly have to take place. That being so, the sooner it takes place +the better. [_He rises_.] What are you afraid of? + +FANNY [_she changes her tone—the talk becomes serious_]. You’ve known +Vernon all his life? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. No one better. + +FANNY. Tell me. I’ve known him only as a lover. What sort of a man is +he? + +_A pause_. _They are looking straight into each other’s eyes_. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. A man it pays to be perfectly frank with. + +FANNY. It’s a very old family, isn’t it? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Old! Good Lord no! First Lord Bantock was only +Vernon’s great-grandfather. That is the woman that did it all. [_He is +looking at the Hoppner_.] + +FANNY. How do you mean? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Got them their title. Made the name of Bantock of +importance in the history of the Georges. Clever woman. + +FANNY [_leaning over a chair_, _she is staring into the eyes of the first +Lady Bantock_]. I wonder what she would have done if she had ever got +herself into a really first-class muddle? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. One thing’s certain. [_Fanny turns to him_.] She’d +have got out of it. + +FANNY [_addresses the portrait_]. I do wish you could talk. + +_Vernon bursts into the room_. _He has been riding_. _He throws aside +his hat and stick_. + +VERNON. Hulloa! This is good of you. [_He shakes hands with the +Doctor_.] How are you? [_Without waiting for any reply_, _he goes to +Fanny_, _kisses her_.] Good morning, dear. How have you been getting on +together, you two? Has she been talking to you? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Oh, yes. + +VERNON. Doesn’t she talk well? I say, what have you been doing to +yourself? + +FANNY. Jane thought this style—[_with a gesture_]—more appropriate to +Lady Bantock. + +VERNON. Um! Wonder if she’s right? [_To the Doctor_] What do you +think? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I think it a question solely for Lady Bantock. + +VERNON. Of course it is. [_To Fanny_] You know, you mustn’t let them +dictate to you. Dear, good, faithful souls, all of them. But they must +understand that you are mistress. + +FANNY [_she seizes eagerly at the chance_]. You might mention it to +them, dear. It would come so much better from you. + +VERNON. No, you. They will take more notice of you. + +FANNY. I’d so much rather you did it. [_To Dr. Freemantle_] Don’t you +think it would come better from him? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_laughs_]. I’m afraid you’ll have to do it yourself. + +VERNON. You see, dear, it might hurt them, coming from me. It would +seem like ingratitude. Mrs. Bennet—Why, it wasn’t till I began to ask +questions that I grasped the fact that she _wasn’t_ my real mother. As +for old Bennet, ever since my father died—well, I hardly know how I could +have got on without him. It was Charles Bennet that taught me to ride; I +learned my letters sitting on Jane’s lap. + +FANNY. Yes. Perhaps I had better do it myself. + +VERNON. I’m sure it will be more effective. Of course I shall support +you. + +FANNY. Thank you. Oh, by the by, dear, I shan’t be able to go with you +to-day. + +VERNON. Why not? + +FANNY. I’ve rather a headache. + +VERNON. Oh, I’m so sorry. Oh, all right, we’ll stop at home. I’m not +so very keen about it. + +FANNY. No, I want you to go, dear. Your aunts are looking forward to +it. I shall get over it all the sooner with everybody out of the way. + +VERNON. Well, if you really wish it. + +_The Misses Wetherell steal in_. _They are dressed for driving_. _They +exchange greetings with the Doctor_. + +FANNY. You know you promised to obey. [_Tickles his nose with a +flower_.] + +VERNON [_laughing—to the Doctor_]. You see what it is to be married? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_laughs_]. Very trying. + +VERNON [_turning to his aunts_]. Fanny isn’t coming with us. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [_to Fanny_]. Oh, my dear! + +FANNY. It’s only a headache. [_She takes her aside_.] I’m rather glad +of it. I want an excuse for a little time to myself. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I understand, dear. It’s all been so +sudden. [_She kisses her—then to the room_] She’ll be all the better +alone. We three will go on. [_She nods and signs to her sister_.] + +FANNY [_kissing the Elder Miss Wetherell_]. Don’t you get betting. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Oh no, dear, we never do. It’s just to see +the dear horses. [_She joins her sister_. _They whisper_.] + +VERNON [_to the Doctor to whom he has been talking_]. Can we give you a +lift? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Well, you might as far as the Vicarage. Good-bye, Lady +Bantock. + +FANNY [_shaking hands_]. Good-bye, Doctor. + +VERNON. Sure you won’t be lonely? + +FANNY [_laughs_]. Think I can’t exist an hour without you? Mr. +Conceited! + +VERNON [_laughs and kisses her_]. Come along. [_He takes the Doctor and +his younger Aunt towards the door_.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_who is following last_]. I like you in that +frock. + +FANNY [_laughs_]. So glad. It’s Ernest who attends to the fires, isn’t +it? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Yes, dear. + +FANNY. I wish you’d send him up. [_At door—calls after them_] Hope +you’ll all enjoy yourselves! + +VERNON [_from the distance_]. I shall put you on a fiver. + +FANNY. Mind it wins. [_She listens a moment—closes door_, _comes back +to desk_, _and takes a Bradshaw_.] Five-six-three—five-six-three. +[_Finds page_.] St. Pancras, eight o’clock. Oh, Lord! Stamford, 10.45. +Leave Stamford—[_Ernest has entered_.] Is that you, Ernest? + +ERNEST. Yes. + +FANNY. Shut the door. Sure it went off last night, that telegram? + +ERNEST. Yes. + +FANNY. If he doesn’t catch that eight o’clock, he can’t get here till +nearly four. That will be awkward. [_To Ernest_] What time is it now? + +ERNEST [_looks at clock_]. Twenty past eleven. + +FANNY. If he does, he’ll be here about twelve—I believe I’ll go and meet +him. Could I get out without being seen? + +ERNEST. You’ll have to pass the lodge. + +FANNY. Who’s at the lodge now? + +ERNEST. Mother. + +FANNY. Damn! + +_Bennet has entered unnoticed and drawn near_. _At this point from +behind_, _he boxes Ernest’s ears_. + +ERNEST. Here, steady! + +BENNET. On the occasions when your cousin forgets her position, you will +remember it and remind her of it. Get out! [_Ernest_, _clumsily as +ever_, “_gets out_.”] A sort of person has called who, according to his +own account, “happened to be passing this way,” and would like to see +you. + +FANNY [_who has been trying to hide the Bradshaw—with affected +surprise_.] To see me! + +BENNET [_drily_]. Yes. I thought you would be surprised. He claims to +be an old friend of yours—Mr. George Newte. + +FANNY [_still keeping it up_]. George Newte! Of course—ah, yes. Do you +mind showing him up? + +BENNET. I thought I would let you know he had arrived, in case you might +be getting anxious about him. I propose giving him a glass of beer and +sending him away again. + +FANNY [_flares up_]. Look here, uncle, you and I have got to understand +one another. I may put up with being bullied myself—if I can’t see any +help for it—but I’m not going to stand my friends being insulted. You +show Mr. Newte up here. + +_A silence_. + +BENNET. I shall deem it my duty to inform his lordship of Mr. Newte’s +visit. + +FANNY. There will be no need to. Mr. Newte, if his arrangements permit, +will be staying to dinner. + +BENNET. That, we shall see about. [_He goes out_.] + +FANNY [_following him to door_]. And tell them I shall want the best +bedroom got ready in case Mr. Newte is able to stay the night. I’ve done +it. [_She goes to piano_, _dashes into the_ “_Merry Widow Waltz_,” _or +some other equally inappropriate but well-known melody_, _and then there +enters Newte_, _shown in by Bennet_. _Newte is a cheerful person_, +_attractively dressed in clothes suggestive of a successful bookmaker_. +_He carries a white pot hat and tasselled cane_. _His gloves are large +and bright_. _He is smoking an enormous cigar_.] + +BENNET. Mr. Newte. + +FANNY [_she springs up and greets him_. _They are evidently good +friends_]. Hulloa, George! + +NEWTE. Hulloa, Fan—I beg your pardon, Lady Bantock. [_Laughs_.] Was +just passing this way— + +FANNY [_cutting him short_]. Yes. So nice of you to call. + +NEWTE. I said to myself—[_His eye catches Bennet_; _he stops_.] Ah, +thanks. [_He gives Bennet his hat and stick_, _but Bennet does not seem +satisfied_. _He has taken from the table a small china tray_. _This he +is holding out to Newte_, _evidently for Newte to put something in it_. +_But what_? _Newte is puzzled_, _he glances at Fanny_. _The idea +strikes him that perhaps it is a tip Bennet is waiting for_. _It seems +odd_, _but if it be the custom—he puts his hand to his trousers pocket_.] + +BENNET. The smoking-room is on the ground-floor. + +NEWTE. Ah, my cigar. I beg your pardon. I couldn’t understand. [_He +puts it on the tray—breaks into a laugh_.] + +BENNET. Thank you. Her ladyship is suffering from a headache. If I +might suggest—a little less boisterousness. [_He goes out_.] + +NEWTE [_he watches him out_]. I say, your Lord Chamberlain’s a bit of a +freezer! + +FANNY. Yes. Wants hanging out in the sun. How did you manage to get +here so early? [_She sits_.] + +NEWTE. Well, your telegram rather upset me. I thought—correct etiquette +for me to sit down here, do you think? + +FANNY. Don’t ask me. Got enough new tricks of my own to learn. +[_Laughs_.] Should chance it, if I were you. + +NEWTE. Such a long time since I was at Court. [_He sits_.] Yes, I was +up at five o’clock this morning. + +FANNY [_laughs_]. Oh, you poor fellow! + +NEWTE. Caught the first train to Melton, and came on by cart. What’s +the trouble? + +FANNY. A good deal. Why didn’t you tell me what I was marrying? + +NEWTE. I did. I told you that he was a gentleman; that he— + +FANNY. Why didn’t you tell me that he was Lord Bantock? You knew, +didn’t you? + +NEWTE [_begins to see worries ahead_]. Can’t object to my putting a +cigar in my mouth if I don’t light it—can he? + +FANNY. Oh, light it—anything you like that will help you to get along. + +NEWTE [_bites the end off the cigar and puts it between his teeth_. +_This helps him_]. No, I didn’t know—not officially. + +FANNY. What do you mean—“not officially”? + +NEWTE. He never told me. + +FANNY. He never told you _anything_—for the matter of that. I +understood you had found out everything for yourself. + +NEWTE. Yes; and one of the things I found out was that he didn’t _want_ +you to know. I could see his little game. Wanted to play the Lord +Burleigh fake. Well, what was the harm? Didn’t make any difference to +you! + +FANNY. Didn’t make any difference to me! [_Jumps up_.] Do you know +what I’ve done? Married into a family that keeps twenty-three servants, +every blessed one of whom is a near relation of my own. [_He sits +paralysed_. _She goes on_.] That bald-headed old owl—[_with a wave +towards the door_]—that wanted to send you off with a glass of beer and a +flea in your ear—that’s my uncle. The woman that opened the lodge gate +for you is my Aunt Amelia. The carroty-headed young man that answered +the door to you is my cousin Simeon. He always used to insist on kissing +me. I’m expecting him to begin again. My “lady’s” maid is my cousin +Jane. That’s why I’m dressed like this! My own clothes have been packed +off to the local dressmaker to be made “decent.” Meanwhile, they’ve dug +up the family vault to find something for me to go on with. [_He has +been fumbling in all his pockets for matches_. _She snatches a box from +somewhere and flings it to him_.] For Heaven’s sake light it! Then, +perhaps, you’ll be able to do something else than stare. I have claret +and water—mixed—with my dinner. Uncle pours it out for me. They’ve +locked up my cigarettes. Aunt Susannah is coming in to-morrow morning to +hear me say my prayers. Doesn’t trust me by myself. Thinks I’ll skip +them. She’s the housekeeper here. I’ve got to know them by heart before +I go to bed to-night, and now I’ve mislaid them. [_She goes to the +desk—hunts for them_.] + +NEWTE [_having lighted his eternal cigar_, _he can begin to think_]. But +why should _they_— + +FANNY [_still at desk_]. Because they’re that sort. They honestly think +they are doing the right and proper thing—that Providence has put it into +their hands to turn me out a passable substitute for all a Lady Bantock +should be; which, so far as I can understand, is something between the +late lamented Queen Victoria and Goody-Two-Shoes. They are the people +that I ran away from, the people I’ve told you about, the people I’ve +always said I’d rather starve than ever go back to. And here I am, +plumped down in the midst of them again—for life! [_Honoria Bennet_, +_the_ “_still-room_” _maid_, _has entered_. _She is a pert young minx of +about Fanny’s own age_.] What is is? What is it? + +HONORIA. Merely passing through. Sorry to have excited your ladyship. +[_Goes into dressing-room_.] + +FANNY. My cousin Honoria. They’ve sent her up to keep an eye upon me. +Little cat! [_She takes her handkerchief_, _drapes it over the keyhole +of the dressing-room door_.] + +NEWTE [_at sight of Honoria he has jumped up and hastily hidden his cigar +behind him_]. What are you going to do? + +FANNY [_she seats herself and suggests to him the writing-chair_]. Hear +from you—first of all—exactly what you told Vernon. + +NEWTE [_sitting_]. About you? + +FANNY [_nods_]. About me—and my family. + +NEWTE. Well—couldn’t tell him much, of course. Wasn’t much to tell. + +FANNY. I want what you did tell. + +NEWTE. I told him that your late father was a musician. + +FANNY. Yes. + +NEWTE. Had been unfortunate. Didn’t go into particulars. Didn’t seem +to be any need for it. That your mother had died when you were still +only a girl and that you had gone to live with relatives. [_He looks for +approval_.] + +FANNY. Yes. + +NEWTE. That you hadn’t got on well with them—artistic temperament, all +that sort of thing—that, in consequence, you had appealed to your +father’s old theatrical friends; and that they—that they, having regard +to your talent—and beauty— + +FANNY. Thank you. + +NEWTE. Had decided that the best thing you could do was to go upon the +stage. [_He finishes_, _tolerably well pleased with himself_.] + +FANNY. That’s all right. Very good indeed. What else? + +NEWTE [_after an uncomfortable pause_]. Well, that’s about all I knew. + +FANNY. Yes, but what did you _tell_ him? + +NEWTE. Well, of course, I had to tell him something. A man doesn’t +marry without knowing just a little about his wife’s connections. +Wouldn’t be reasonable to expect him. You’d never told me anything—never +would; except that you’d liked to have boiled the lot. What was I to do? +[_He is playing with a quill pen he has picked up_.] + +FANNY [_she takes it from him_]. What _did_ you do? + +NEWTE [_with fine frankness_]. I did the best I could for you, old girl, +and he was very nice about it. Said it was better than he’d expected, +and that I’d made him very happy—very happy indeed. + +FANNY [_she leans across_, _puts her hand on his_]. You’re a dear, good +fellow, George—always have been. I wouldn’t plague you only it is +absolutely necessary I should know—exactly what you did tell him. + +NEWTE [_a little sulkily_]. I told him that your uncle was a bishop. + +FANNY [_sits back—staring at him_]. A what? + +NEWTE. A bishop. Bishop of Waiapu, New Zealand. + +FANNY. Why New Zealand? + +NEWTE. Why not? Had to be somewhere. Didn’t want him Archbishop of +Canterbury, did you? + +FANNY. Did he believe it? + +NEWTE. Shouldn’t have told him had there been any fear that he wouldn’t. + +FANNY. I see. Any other swell relations of mine knocking about? + +NEWTE. One—a judge of the Supreme Court in Ohio. Same name, anyhow, +O’Gorman. Thought I’d make him a cousin of yours. I’ve always +remembered him. Met him when I was over there in ninety-eight—damn him! + +_A silence_. + +FANNY [_she rises_]. Well, nothing else for it! Got to tell him it was +all a pack of lies. Not blaming you, old boy—my fault. Didn’t know he +was going to ask any questions, or I’d have told him myself. Bit of bad +luck, that’s all. + +NEWTE. Why must you tell him? Only upset him. + +FANNY. It’s either my telling him or leaving it for them to do. You +know me, George. How long do you see me being bossed and bullied by my +own servants? Besides, it’s bound to come out in any case. + +NEWTE [_he rises_. _Kindly but firmly he puts her back into her chair_. +_Then pacing to and fro with his hands mostly in his trousers pockets_, +_he talks_]. Now, you listen to me, old girl. I’ve been your business +manager ever since you started in. I’ve never made a mistake before—[_he +turns and faces her_]—and I haven’t made one this time. + +FANNY. I don’t really see the smartness, George, stuffing him up with a +lot of lies he can find out for himself. + +NEWTE. _If he wants to_. A couple of telegrams, one to His Grace the +Bishop of Waiapu, the other to Judge Denis O’Gorman, Columbus, Ohio, +would have brought him back the information that neither gentlemen had +ever heard of you. _If he hadn’t been careful not to send them_. He +wasn’t marrying you with the idea of strengthening his family +connections. He was marrying you because he was just gone on you. +Couldn’t help himself. + +FANNY. In that case, you might just as well have told him the truth. + +NEWTE. _Which he would then have had to pass on to everyone entitled to +ask questions_. Can’t you understand? Somebody, in the interest of +everybody, had to tell a lie. Well, what’s a business manager for? + +FANNY. But I can’t do it, George. You don’t know them. The longer I +give in to them the worse they’ll get. + +NEWTE. Can’t you square them? + +FANNY. No, that’s the trouble. They _are_ honest. They’re the +“faithful retainers” out of a melodrama. They are working eighteen hours +a day on me not for any advantage to themselves, but because they think +it their “duty” to the family. They don’t seem to have any use for +themselves at all. + +NEWTE. Well, what about the boy? Can’t _he_ talk to them? + +FANNY. Vernon! They’ve brought him up from a baby—spanked him all +round, I expect. Might as well ask a boy to talk to his old +schoolmaster. Besides, if he did talk, then it would all come out. As I +tell you, it’s bound to come out—and the sooner the better. + +NEWTE. It must _not_ come out! It’s too late. If we had told him at +the beginning that he was proposing to marry into his own butler’s +family—well, it’s an awkward situation—he might have decided to risk it. +Or he might have cried off. + +FANNY. And a good job if he had. + +NEWTE. Now talk sense. You wanted him—you took a fancy to him from the +beginning. He’s a nice boy, and there’s something owing to him. [_It is +his trump card_, _and he knows it_.] Don’t forget that. He’s been busy, +explaining to all his friends and relations why they should receive you +with open arms: really nice girl, born gentlewoman, good old Church of +England family—no objection possible. For you to spring the truth upon +him _now_—well, it doesn’t seem to me quite fair to _him_. + +FANNY. Then am I to live all my life dressed as a charity girl? + +NEWTE. You keep your head and things will gradually right themselves. +This family of yours—they’ve got _some_ sense, I suppose? + +FANNY. Never noticed any sign of it myself. + +NEWTE. Maybe you’re not a judge. [_Laughs_.] They’ll listen to reason. +You let _me_ have a talk to them, one of these days; see if I can’t show +them—first one and then the other—the advantage of leaving to “better” +themselves—_with the help of a little ready money_. Later on—choosing +your proper time—you can break it to him that you have discovered they’re +distant connections of yours, a younger branch of the family that you’d +forgotten. Give the show time to settle down into a run. Then you can +begin to make changes. + +FANNY. You’ve a wonderful way with you, George. It always sounds right +as you put it—even when one jolly well knows that it isn’t. + +NEWTE. Well, it’s always been right for you, old girl, ain’t it? + +FANNY. Yes. You’ve been a rattling good friend. [_She takes his +hands_.] Almost wish I’d married you instead. We’d have been more +suited to one another. + +NEWTE [_shakes his head_]. Nothing like having your fancy. You’d never +have been happy without him. [_He releases her_.] ’Twas a good +engagement, or I’d never have sanctioned it. + +FANNY. I suppose it will be the last one you will ever get me. [_She +has dropped for a moment into a brown study_.] + +NEWTE [_he turns_]. I hope so. + +FANNY [_she throws off her momentary mood with a laugh_]. Poor fellow! +You never even got your commission. + +NEWTE. I’ll take ten per cent. of all your happiness, old girl. So make +it as much as you can for my benefit. Good-bye. [_He holds out hand_.] + +FANNY. You’re not going? You’ll stop to lunch? + +NEWTE. Not to-day. + +FANNY. Do. If you don’t, they’ll think it’s because I was frightened to +ask you. + +NEWTE. All the better. The more the other party thinks he’s having his +way, the easier always to get your own. Your trouble is, you know, that +you never had any tact. + +FANNY. I hate tact. [_Newte laughs_.] We could have had such a jolly +little lunch together. I’m all alone till the evening. There were ever +so many things I wanted to talk to you about. + +NEWTE. What? + +FANNY. Ah, how can one talk to a man with his watch in his hand? [_He +puts it away and stands waiting_, _but she is cross_.] I think you’re +very disagreeable. + +NEWTE. I must really get back to town. I oughtn’t to be away now, only +your telegram— + +FANNY. I know. I’m an ungrateful little beast! [_She crosses and rings +bell_.] You’ll have a glass of champagne before you go? + +NEWTE. Well, I won’t say no to that. + +FANNY. How are all the girls? + +NEWTE. Oh, chirpy. I’m bringing them over to London. We open at the +Palace next week. + +FANNY. What did they think of my marriage? Gerty was a bit jealous, +wasn’t she? + +NEWTE. Well, would have been, if she’d known who he was. [_Laughs_.] + +FANNY. Tell her. Tell her [_she draws herself up_] I’m Lady Bantock, of +Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire. It will make her so mad. [_Laughs_.] + +NEWTE [_laughs_]. I will. + +FANNY. Give them all my love. [_Ernest appears in answer to her bell_.] +Oh, Ernest, tell Bennet—[_the eyes and mouth of Ernest open_]—to see that +Mr. Newte has some refreshment before he leaves. A glass of champagne +and—and some caviare. Don’t forget. [_Ernest goes out_.] Good-bye. +You’ll come again? + +NEWTE. Whenever you want me—and remember—the watchword is “Tact”! + +FANNY. Yes, I’ve got the _word_ all right. [_Laughs_.] Don’t forget to +give my love to the girls. + +NEWTE. I won’t. So long! [_He goes out_.] + +_Fanny closes the door_. _Honoria has re-entered from the +dressing-room_. _She looks from the handkerchief still hanging over the +keyhole to Fanny_. + +HONORIA. Your ladyship’s handkerchief? + +FANNY. Yes. Such a draught through that keyhole. + +HONORIA [_takes the handkerchief_, _hands it to Fanny_]. I will tell the +housekeeper. + +FANNY. Thanks. Maybe you will also mention it to the butler. Possibly +also to the—[_She suddenly changes_.] Honoria. Suppose it had been +you—you know, you’re awfully pretty—who had married Lord Bantock, and he +had brought you back here, among them all—uncle, aunt, all the lot of +them—what would you have done? + +HONORIA [_she draws herself up_]. I should have made it quite plain from +the first, that I was mistress, and that they were my servants. + +FANNY. You would, you think— + +HONORIA [_checking her outburst_]. But then, dear—you will excuse my +speaking plainly—there is a slight difference between the two cases. +[_She seats herself on the settee_. _Fanny is standing near the desk_.] +You see, what we all feel about you, dear, is—that you are—well, hardly a +fit wife for his lordship. [_Fanny’s hands are itching to box the girl’s +ears_. _To save herself_, _she grinds out through her teeth the word_ +“_Tack_!”] Of course, dear, it isn’t altogether your fault. + +FANNY. Thanks. + +HONORIA. Your mother’s marriage was most unfortunate. + +FANNY [_her efforts to suppress her feelings are just—but only +just—successful_.] Need we discuss that? + +HONORIA. Well, he was an Irishman, dear, there’s no denying it. [_Fanny +takes a cushion from a chair—with her back to Honoria_, _she strangles +it_. _Jane has entered and is listening_.] Still, perhaps it is a +painful subject. And we hope—all of us—that, with time and patience, we +may succeed in eradicating the natural results of your bringing-up. + +JANE. Some families, finding themselves in our position, would seek to +turn it to their own advantage. _We_ think only of your good. + +FANNY. Yes, that’s what I feel—that you are worrying yourselves too much +about me. You’re too conscientious, all of you. You, in particular, +Jane, because you know you’re not strong. _You’ll_ end up with a nervous +breakdown. [_Mrs. Bennet has entered_. _Honoria slips out_. _Fanny +turns to her aunt_.] I was just saying how anxious I’m getting about +Jane. I don’t like the look of her at all. What she wants is a holiday. +Don’t you agree with me? + +MRS. BENNET. There will be no holiday, I fear, for any of us, for many a +long day. + +FANNY. But you must. You must think more of yourselves, you know. +_You’re_ not looking well, aunt, at all. What you both want is a +month—at the seaside. + +MRS. BENNET. Your object is too painfully apparent for the subject to +need discussion. True solicitude for us would express itself better in +greater watchfulness upon your own behaviour. + +FANNY. Why, what have I done? + +_Bennet enters_, _followed_, _unwillingly_, _by Ernest_. + +MRS. BENNET. Your uncle will explain. + +BENNET. Shut that door. [_Ernest does so_. _They group round +Bennet—Ernest a little behind_. _Fanny remains near the desk_.] Sit +down. [_Fanny_, _bewildered_, _speechless_, _sits_.] Carry your mind +back, please, to the moment when, with the Bradshaw in front of you, you +were considering, with the help of your cousin Ernest, the possibility of +your slipping out unobserved, to meet and commune with a person you had +surreptitiously summoned to visit you during your husband’s absence. + +FANNY. While I think of it, did he have anything to eat before he went? +I told Ernest to—ask you to see that he had a glass of champagne and a— + +BENNET [_waves her back into silence_]. Mr. Newte was given refreshment +suitable to his station. [_She goes to interrupt_. _Again he waves her +back_.] We are speaking of more important matters. Your cousin reminded +you that you would have to pass the lodge, occupied by your Aunt Amelia. +I state the case correctly? + +FANNY. Beautifully! + +BENNET. I said nothing at the time, doubting the evidence of my own +ears. The boy, however—where is the boy?—[_Ernest is pushed +forward_]—has admitted—reluctantly—that he also heard it. [_A pause_. +_The solemnity deepens_.] You made use of an expression— + +FANNY. Oh, cut it short. I said “damn.” [_A shudder passes_.] I’m +sorry to have frightened you, but if you knew a little more of really +good society, you would know that ladies—quite slap-up ladies—when +they’re excited, do—. + +MRS. BENNET [_interrupting with almost a scream_]. She defends it! + +BENNET. You will allow _me_ to be the judge of what a _lady_ says, even +when she is excited. As for this man, Newte— + +FANNY. The best friend you ever had. [_She is_ “_up_” _again_.] You +thank your stars, all of you, and tell the others, too, the whole blessed +twenty-three of you—you thank your stars that I did “surreptitiously” beg +and pray him to run down by the first train and have a talk with me; and +that Providence was kind enough to _you_ to enable him to come. It’s a +very different tune you’d have been singing at this moment—all of you—if +he hadn’t. I can tell you that. + +MRS. BENNET. And pray, what tune _should_ we have been singing if +Providence hadn’t been so thoughtful of us? + +FANNY [_she is about to answer_, _then checks herself_, _and sits +again_]. You take care you don’t find out. There’s time yet. + +MRS. BENNET. We had better leave her. + +BENNET. Threats, my good girl, will not help you. + +MRS. BENNET [_with a laugh_]. She’s in too tight a corner for that. + +BENNET. A contrite heart is what your aunt and I desire to see. [_He +takes from his pocket a small book_, _places it open on the desk_.] I +have marked one or two passages, on pages 93–7. We will discuss them +together—later in the day. + +_They troop out in silence_, _the key turns in the lock_. + +FANNY [_takes up the book—turns to the cover_, _reads_]. “The Sinner’s +Manual.” [_She turns to page_ 93.] + + [CURTAIN] + + + + +_ACT III_ + + + _SCENE_ + +_The same_. + +_Time_.—_A few days later_. + +_A table is laid for tea_. _Ernest enters with the tea-urn_. _He leaves +the door open_; _through it comes the sound of an harmonium_, +_accompanying the singing of a hymn_. _Fanny comes from her +dressing-room_. _She is dressed more cheerfully than when we last saw +her_, _but still_ “_seemly_.” _She has a book in her hand_. _She +pauses_, _hearing the music_, _goes nearer to the open door_, _and +listens_; _then crosses and takes her place at the table_. _The music +ceases_. + +FANNY. Another prayer meeting? [_Ernest nods_.] I do keep ’em busy. + +ERNEST. D’ye know what they call you downstairs? + +FANNY. What? + +ERNEST. The family cross. + +FANNY. I’m afraid it’s about right. + +ERNEST. What have you been doing _this_ time? Swearing again? + +FANNY. Worse. I’ve been lying. [_Ernest gives vent to a low whistle_.] +Said I didn’t know what had become of that yellow poplin with the black +lace flounces, that they’ve had altered for me. Found out that I’d given +it to old Mother Potts for the rummage sale at the Vicarage. Jane was +down there. Bought it in for half a crown. + +ERNEST. You are risky. Why, you might have known— + +_Vernon comes in_. _He is in golfing get-up_. _He throws his cap on to +the settee_. + +VERNON. Hello, got a cup of tea there? + +_Ernest goes out_. + +FANNY. Yes. Thought you were playing golf? + +VERNON. Just had a telegram handed to me in the village—from your friend +Newte. Wants me to meet him at Melton Station at five o’clock. [_Looks +at his watch_.] Know what he wants? + +FANNY. Haven’t the faintest idea. [_She hands him his cup_.] Is he +coming _here_? Or merely on his way somewhere? + +VERNON. I don’t know; he doesn’t say. + +FANNY. Don’t let him mix you up in any of his “ventures.” Dear old +George, he’s as honest as the day, but if he gets hold of an “idea” +there’s always thousands in it for everybody. + +VERNON. I’ll be careful. [_Ernest has left the door open_. _The +harmonium breaks forth again_, _together with vocal accompaniment as +before_.] What’s on downstairs, then—a party? + +FANNY. Bennet is holding a prayer meeting. + +VERNON. A prayer meeting? + +FANNY. One of the younger members of the family has been detected +“telling a deliberate lie.” [_Vernon is near the door listening_, _with +his back towards her_, _or he would see that she is smiling_.] Black +sheep, I suppose, to be found in every flock. [_Music ceases_, _Ernest +having arrived with the news of his lordship’s return_.] + +VERNON [_returning to the table_, _having closed the door_]. Good old +man, you know, Bennet. All of them! So high-principled! Don’t often +get servants like that, nowadays. + +FANNY. Seems almost selfish, keeping the whole collection to ourselves. + +VERNON [_laughs_]. ’Pon my word it does. But what can we do? They’ll +never leave us—not one of them. + +FANNY. No, I don’t believe they ever will. + +VERNON. Do you know, I sometimes think that you don’t like them. +[_Fanny makes a movement_.] Of course, they are a bit bossy, I admit. +But all that comes from their devotion, their— + +FANNY. The wonder to me is that, brought up among them, admiring them as +you do, you never thought of marrying one of them. + +VERNON [_staggered_.] Marrying them? + +FANNY. I didn’t say “them.” I said “_one_ of them.” There’s Honoria. +She’s pretty enough, anyhow. So’s Alice, Charles Bennet’s daughter, and +Bertha and Grace—all of them beautiful. And what’s even better +still—good. [_She says it viciously_.] Didn’t you ever think of them? + +VERNON. Well [_laughs_]—well, one hardly marries into one’s own kitchen. + +FANNY. Isn’t that rather snobbish? You say they’re more like friends +than servants. They’ve lived with your people, side by side, for three +generations, doing their duty, honourably. There’s never been a slur +upon their name. They’re “high-principled.” You know it. They’ve +better manners than nine-tenths of your smart society, and they’re +healthy. What’s wrong with them—even from a lord’s point of view? + +VERNON [_recovering himself_]. Well, don’t pitch into me about it. It’s +your fault if I didn’t marry them—I mean one of them. [_He laughs_, +_puts his empty cup back on the table_.] Maybe I’d have thought about +it—if I hadn’t met you. + +FANNY [_takes his hand in hers_]. I wish you hadn’t asked Newte any +questions about me. It would have been so nice to feel that you had +married me—just because you couldn’t help it—just because I was I and +nothing else mattered. + +VERNON. Let’s forget I ever did. [_He kneels beside her_.] I didn’t do +it for my own sake, as you know. A _man_ in my position has to think of +other people. His wife has to take her place in society. People insist +upon knowing something about her. It’s not enough for the stupid +“County” that she’s the cleverest, most bewilderingly beautiful, +bewitching lady in the land. + +FANNY. And how long will you think all that? + +VERNON. For ever, and ever, and ever. + +FANNY. Oh, you dear boy. [_She kisses him_.] You don’t know how a +woman loves the man she loves to love her. [_Laughs_.] Isn’t that +complicated? + +VERNON. Not at all. We’re just the same. We love to love the woman we +love. + +FANNY. Provided the “County” will let us. And the County has said: A +man may not marry his butler’s niece. + +VERNON [_laughing_]. You’ve got butlers on the brain. If ever I do run +away with my own cook or under-housemaid, it will be your doing. + +FANNY. You haven’t the pluck! The “County” would laugh at you. You men +are so frightened of being laughed at. + +VERNON [_he rises_]. Well, if it saves us from making asses of +ourselves— + +FANNY. Wasn’t there a niece of old Bennet’s, a girl who had been brought +up abroad, and who _wasn’t_ a domestic servant—never had been—who stayed +with them here, at the gardener’s cottage, for a short time, some few +years ago? + +VERNON. You mean poor Rose Bennet’s daughter—the one who ran away and +married an organ-grinder. + +FANNY. An organ-grinder? + +VERNON. Something of that sort—yes. They had her over; did all they +could. A crazy sort of girl; used to sing French ballads on the village +green to all the farm labourers she could collect. Shortened poor +Bennet’s life by about ten years. [_Laughs_.] But why? Not going to +bully me for not having fallen in love with her, are you? Because that +really _wasn’t_ my fault. I never even saw her. ’Twas the winter we +spent in Rome. She bolted before we got back. Never gave me a chance. + +FANNY. I accept the excuse. [_Laughs_.] No, I was merely wondering +what the “County” would have done if by any chance you had married _her_. +Couldn’t have said you were marrying into your own kitchen in her case, +because she was never _in_ your kitchen—absolutely refused to enter it, +I’m told. + +VERNON [_laughs_]. It would have been a “nice point,” as they say in +legal circles. If people had liked her, they’d have tried to forget that +her cousins had ever been scullery-maids. If not, they’d have taken good +care that nobody did. + +_Bennet enters_. _He brings some cut flowers_, _with the_ “_placing_” +_of which he occupies himself_. + +BENNET. I did not know your lordship had returned. + +VERNON. Found a telegram waiting for me in the village. What’s become +of that niece of yours, Bennet—your sister Rose’s daughter, who was here +for a short time and ran away again? Ever hear anything about her? + +BENNET [_very quietly he turns_, _lets his eyes for a moment meet +Fanny’s_. _Then answers as he crosses to the windows_]. The last I +heard about her was that she was married. + +VERNON. Satisfactorily? + +BENNET. Looking at it from her point of view—most satisfactorily. + +VERNON [_laughs_]. But looking at it from his—more doubtful? + +BENNET. She was not without her attractions. Her chief faults, I am +inclined to think, were those arising from want of discipline in youth. +I have hopes that it is not even yet too late to root out from her nature +the weeds of indiscretion. + +VERNON. And you think he is the man to do it? + +BENNET. Perhaps not. But fortunately there are those about her fully +alive to the duty devolving upon them. + +VERNON. Um. Sounds a little bit like penal servitude for the poor girl, +the way you put it, Bennet. + +BENNET. Even penal servitude may be a blessing, if it serves to correct +a stubborn spirit. + +VERNON. We’ll have to make you a J.P., Bennet. Must be jolly careful I +don’t ever get tried before you. [_Laughs_.] Is that the cart? + +BENNET [_he looks out through the window_]. Yes, your lordship. + +VERNON [_he takes up his cap_]. I may be bringing someone back with me. +[_To Fanny_, _who throughout has remained seated_.] Why not put on your +hat—come with me? + +FANNY [_she jumps up_, _delighted_]. Shall I? + +BENNET. Your ladyship is not forgetting that to-day is Wednesday? + +FANNY. What’s the odds. There’s nobody to call. Everybody is still in +town. + +BENNET. It has always been the custom of the Lady Bantocks, when in +residence, to be at home on Wednesdays. + +VERNON. Perhaps better not. It may cause talk; if, by chance, anybody +does come. I was forgetting it was Wednesday. [_Fanny sits again_.] I +shan’t do anything without consulting you. Good-bye. + +FANNY. Good-bye. + +_Vernon goes out_. + +BENNET. You think it wise, discussing with his lordship the secret +history of the Bennet family? + +FANNY. What do you mean by telling him my father was an organ-grinder? +If the British public knew the difference between music and a +hurdy-gurdy, he would have kept a butler of his own. + +BENNET. I am not aware of having mentioned to his lordship that you ever +to my knowledge even had a father. It is not my plan—for the present at +all events—to inform his lordship anything about your family. Take care +I am not forced to. + +FANNY. Because my father, a composer who had his work performed at the +Lamoureux Concerts—as I can prove, because I’ve got the programme—had the +misfortune to marry into a family of lackeys—I’m not talking about my +mother: she was never really one of you. _She_ had the soul of an +artist. + +BENNET [_white with suppressed fury_; _he is in front of her_; _his very +look is enough to silence her_]. Now you listen to me, my girl, once and +for all. I told you the night of your arrival that whether this business +was going to prove a pleasant or an unpleasant one depended upon you. +You make it an easy one—for your own sake. With one word I can bring +your house of cards about your ears. I’ve only to tell him the truth for +him to know you as a cheat and liar. [_She goes to speak_; _again he +silences her_.] You listen to me. You’ve seen fit to use strong +language; now I’m using strong language. This _boy_, who has married you +in a moment of impulse, what does _he_ know about the sort of wife a man +in his position needs? What do _you_? made to sing for your living on +the Paris boulevards—whose only acquaintance with the upper classes has +been at shady restaurants. + +FANNY. He didn’t _want_ a woman of his own class. He told me so. It +was because I wasn’t a colourless, conventional puppet with a book of +etiquette in place of a soul that he was first drawn towards me. + +BENNET. Yes. At twenty-two, boys like unconventionality. Men don’t: +they’ve learnt its true name, vulgarity. Do you think I’ve stood behind +English society for forty years without learning anything about it! What +you call a colourless puppet is what _we_ call an English lady. And that +you’ve got to learn to be. You talk of “lackeys.” If your mother, my +poor sister Rose, came from a family of “lackeys” there would be no hope +for you. With her blood in your veins the thing can be done. We +Bennets—[_he draws himself up_]—we serve. We are not lackeys. + +FANNY. All right. Don’t you call my father an organ-grinder, and I +won’t call you lackeys. Unfortunately that doesn’t end the trouble. + +BENNET. The trouble can easily be ended. + +FANNY. Yes. By my submitting to be ruled in all things for the +remainder of my life by my own servants. + +BENNET. Say “relations,” and it need not sound so unpleasant. + +FANNY. Yes, it would. It would sound worse. One can get rid of one’s +servants. [_She has crossed towards the desk_. _Her cheque-book lies +there half hidden under other papers_. _It catches her eye_. _Her hand +steals unconsciously towards it_. _She taps it idly with her fingers_. +_It is all the work of a moment_. _Nothing comes of it_. _Just the idea +passes through her brain—not for the first time_. _She does nothing +noticeable—merely stands listless while one might count half a dozen—then +turns to him again_.] Don’t you think you’re going it a bit too strong, +all of you? I’m not a fool. I’ve got a lot to learn, I know. I’d be +grateful for help. What you’re trying to do is to turn me into a new +woman entirely. + +BENNET. Because that is the only _way_ to help you. Men do not put new +wine into old bottles. + +FANNY. Oh, don’t begin quoting Scripture. I want to discuss the thing +sensibly. Don’t you see it can’t be done? I can’t be anybody else than +myself. I don’t want to. + +BENNET. My girl, you’ve _got_ to be. Root and branch, inside and +outside, before you’re fit to be Lady Bantock, mother of the Lord +Bantocks that are to be, you’ve got to be a changed woman. + +_A pause_. + +FANNY. And it’s going to be your job, from beginning to end—yours and +the rest of you. What I wear and how I look is Jane’s affair. My +prayers will be for what Aunt Susannah thinks I stand in need of. What I +eat and drink and say and do _you_ will arrange for me. And when you +die, Cousin Simeon, I suppose, will take your place. And when Aunt +Susannah dies, it will merely be a change to Aunt Amelia. And if Jane +ever dies, Honoria will have the dressing and the lecturing of me. And +so on and so on, world without end, for ever and ever, Amen. + +BENNET. Before that time, you will, I shall hope, have learnt sufficient +sense to be grateful to us. [_He goes out_.] + +FANNY [_she turns—walks slowly back towards the tea-table_. _Halfway she +pauses_, _and leaning over the back of a chair regards in silence for a +while the portrait of the first Lady Bantock_]. I do wish I could tell +what you were saying. + +_The door opens_. _The Misses Wetherell come in_. _They wear the same +frocks that they wore in the first act_. _They pause_. _Fanny is still +gazing at the portrait_. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Don’t you notice it, dear? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Yes. There really is. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It struck me the first day. [_To Fanny_, _who +has turned_] Your likeness, dear, to Lady Constance. It’s really quite +remarkable. + +FANNY. You think so? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. It’s your expression—when you are serious. + +FANNY [_laughs_]. I must try to be more serious. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It will come, dear. + +_They take their places side by side on the settee_. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [_to her sister_, _with a pat of the hand_]. +In good time. It’s so nice to have her young. I wonder if anybody’ll +come this afternoon. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_to Fanny_]. You see, dear, most of the county +people are still in town. + +FANNY [_who is pouring out tea_]. I’m not grumbling. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Oh, you’ll like them, dear. The +Cracklethorpes especially. [_To her sister for confirmation_] Bella +Cracklethorpe is so clever. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And the Engells. She’ll like the Engells. +All the Engell girls are so pretty. [_Fanny brings over two cups of +tea_.] Thank you, dear. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_as she takes her cup—patting Fanny’s hand_]. +And they’ll like you, dear, _all_ of them. + +FANNY [_returning to table_]. I hope so. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It’s wonderful, dear—you won’t mind my saying +it?—how you’ve improved. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Of course it was such a change for you. And +at first [_turns to her sister_] we were a little anxious about her, +weren’t we? + +_Fanny has returned to them with the cake-basket_. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_as she takes a piece_]. Bennet [_she lingers +on the name as that of an authority_] was saying only yesterday that he +had great hopes of you. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [_Fanny is handing the basket to her_]. Thank +you, dear. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I told Vernon. He was _so_ pleased. + +FANNY. _Vernon_ was? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. He attaches so much importance to Bennet’s +opinion. + +FANNY. Um. I’m glad I appear to be giving satisfaction. [_She has +returned to her seat at the table_.] I suppose when you go to town, you +take the Bennets with you? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_surprised at the question_]. Of course, dear. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Vernon didn’t wish to go this year. He +thought you would prefer— + +FANNY. I was merely thinking of when he did. Do you ever go abroad for +the winter? So many people do, nowadays. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We tried it once. But there was nothing for +dear Vernon to do. You see, he’s so fond of hunting. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [_to her sister_]. And then there will be his +Parliamentary duties that he will have to take up now. + +_Fanny rises_, _abruptly_. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You’re not ill, dear? + +FANNY. No. Merely felt I wanted some air. You don’t mind, do you? +[_She flings a casement open_.] + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Not at all, dear. [_To her sister_] It +_is_ a bit close. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. One could really do without fires. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. If it wasn’t for the evenings. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. And then, of course, the cold weather might +come again. One can never feel safe until— + +_The door opens_. _Dr. Freemantle enters_, _announced by Bennet_. _The +old ladies go to rise_. _He stops them_. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Don’t get up. [_He shakes hands with them_.] How are +we this afternoon? [_He shakes his head and clicks his tongue_.] +Really, I think I shall have to bring an action for damages against Lady +Bantock. Ever since she— + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Hush! [_She points to the window_.] Fanny. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Here’s Doctor Freemantle. + +_Fanny comes from the window_. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_he meets her and takes her hand_]. Was just saying, I +really think I shall have to claim damages against you, Lady Bantock. +You’ve practically deprived me of two of my best paying patients. Used +to be sending for me every other day before you came. Now look at them! +[_The two ladies laugh_.] She’s not as bad as we expected. [_He pats +her hand_.] Do you remember my description of what I thought she was +going to be like? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. She’s a dear girl. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Bennet— + +FANNY [_she has crossed to table—is pouring out the Doctor’s tea_]. Oh, +mightn’t we have a holiday from Bennet? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_laughs_]. Seems to be having a holiday himself to-day. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. A holiday? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Didn’t you know? Oh, there’s an awfully swagger party +on downstairs. They were all trooping in as I came. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I’d no idea he was giving a party. [_To +Fanny_] Did you, dear? + +FANNY [_she hands the Doctor his tea_]. Yes. It’s a prayer meeting. +The whole family, I expect, has been summoned. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. A prayer meeting! Didn’t look like it. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. But why should he be holding a prayer meeting? + +FANNY. Oh, one of the family— + +DR. FREEMANTLE. And why twelve girls in a van? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. In a van? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. One of Hutton’s from the Station Hotel—with a big poster +pinned on the door: “Our Empire.” + +_Fanny has risen_. _She crosses and rings the bell_. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. What’s the matter, dear? + +FANNY. I’m not quite sure yet. [_Her whole manner is changed_. _A look +has come into her eyes that has not been there before_. _She speaks in +quiet_, _determined tones_. _She rings again_. _Then returning to +table_, _hands the cake-basket to the Doctor_.] Won’t you take one, +Doctor? They’re not as indigestible as they look. [_Laughs_.] + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_he also is bewildered at the changed atmosphere_]. +Thank you. I hope I— + +FANNY [_she turns to Ernest_, _who has entered_. _Her tone_, _for the +first time_, _is that of a mistress speaking to her servants_]. Have any +visitors called for me this afternoon? + +ERNEST. Vi-visitors—? + +FANNY. Some ladies. + +ERNEST [_he is in a slough of doubt and terror_]. L—ladies? + +FANNY. Yes. Please try to understand the English language. Has a party +of ladies called here this afternoon? + +ERNEST. There have been some ladies. They—we— + +FANNY. Where are they? + +ERNEST. They—I— + +FANNY. Send Bennet up to me. Instantly, please. + +_Ernest_, _only too glad to be off_, _stumbles out_. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. My dear— + +FANNY. You’ll take some more tea, won’t you? Do you mind, Doctor, +passing Miss Wetherell’s cup? And the other one. Thank you. And will +you pass them the biscuits? You see, I am doing all I can on your +behalf. [_She is talking and laughing—a little hysterically—for the +purpose of filling time_.] Tea and hot cake—could anything be worse for +them? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Well, tea, you know— + +FANNY. I know. [_Laughs_.] You doctors are all alike. You all +denounce it, but you all drink it. [_She hands him the two cups_.] That +one is for Aunt Wetherell of the beautiful hair; and the other is for +Aunt Wetherell of the beautiful eyes. [_Laughs_.] It’s the only way I +can distinguish them. + +_Bennet enters_. + +Oh, Bennet! + +BENNET. You sent for me? + +FANNY. Yes. I understand some ladies have called. + +BENNET. I think your ladyship must have been misinformed. I most +certainly have seen none. + +FANNY. I have to assume, Bennet, that either Dr. Freemantle or you are +telling lies. + +_A silence_. + +BENNET. A party of over-dressed young women, claiming to be acquainted +with your ladyship, have arrived in a van. I am giving them tea in the +servants’ hall, and will see to it that they are sent back to the station +in ample time to catch their train back to town. + +FANNY. Please show them up. They will have their tea here. + +BENNET [_her very quietness is beginning to alarm him_. _It shakes him +from his customary perfection of manners_]. The Lady Bantocks do not as +a rule receive circus girls in their boudoir. + +FANNY [_still with her alarming quietness_]. Neither do they argue with +their servants. Please show these ladies in. + +BENNET. I warn you— + +FANNY. You heard my orders. [_Her tone has the right ring_. _The force +of habit is too strong upon him_. _He yields—savagely—and goes out_. +_She turns to the Doctor_.] So sorry I had to drag you into it. I +didn’t see how else I was going to floor him. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Splendid! [_He grips her hand_.] + +FANNY [_she goes to the old ladies who sit bewildered terrified_.] They +won’t be here for more than a few minutes—they can’t be. I want you to +be nice to them—both of you. They are friends of mine. [_She turns to +the Doctor_.] They’re the girls I used to act with. We went all over +Europe—twelve of us—representing the British Empire. They are playing in +London now. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. To-night? [_He looks at his watch_.] + +FANNY [_she is busy at the tea-table_]. Yes. They are on the stage at +half past nine. You might look out their train for them. [_She points +to the Bradshaw on the desk_.] I don’t suppose they’ve ever thought +about how they’re going to get back. It’s Judy’s inspiration, this, the +whole thing; I’d bet upon it. [_With a laugh_.] She always was as mad +as a March hare. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_busy with the Bradshaw_]. They were nice-looking girls. + +FANNY. Yes. I think we did the old man credit. [_With a laugh_.] John +Bull’s daughters, they called us in Paris. + +_Bennet appears in doorway_. + +BENNET [_announces_]. “Our Empire.” + +_Headed by_ “_England_,” _the twelve girls_, _laughing_, _crowding_, +_jostling one another_, _talking all together_, _swoop in_. + +ENGLAND [_a lady with a decided Cockney accent_]. Oh, my dear, talk +about an afternoon! We ’ave ’ad a treat getting ’ere. + +_Fanny kisses her_. + +SCOTLAND [_they also kiss_]. Your boss told us you’d gone out. + +FANNY. It was a slight—misunderstanding. Bennet, take away these +things, please. And let me have half a dozen bottles of champagne. + +STRAITS SETTLEMENTS [_a small girl at the back of the crowd—with a shrill +voice_]. Hooray! + +BENNET [_he is controlling himself with the supremest difficulty_. +_Within he is a furnace_]. I’m afraid I have mislaid the key of the +cellar. + +FANNY [_she looks at him_]. You will please find it—quickly. [_Bennet_, +_again from habit_, _yields_. _But his control almost fails him_. _He +takes up the tray of unneeded tea-things from the table_.] I shall want +some more of all these [_cakes_, _fruit_, _sandwiches_, _etc._]. And +some people to wait. Tell Jane she must come and help. + +_Bennet goes out_. _During this passage of arms between mistress and man +a momentary lull has taken place in the hubbub_. _As he goes out_, _it +begins to grow again_. + +ENGLAND. ’E does tease yer, don’t ’e? Wanted us to ’ave tea in the +kitchen. + +FANNY. Yes. These old family servants— + +AFRICA [_she prides herself on being_ “_quite the lady_”]. Don’t talk +about ’em, dear. We had just such another. [_She turns to a girl near +her_.] Oh, they’ll run the whole show for you if you let ’em. + +ENGLAND. It was Judy’s idea, our giving you this little treat. Don’t +you blime me for it. + +WALES [_a small_, _sprightly girl with a childish_, _laughing voice_]. +Well, we were all together with nothing better to do. They’d called a +rehearsal and then found they didn’t want us—silly fools. I told ’em +you’d just be tickled to death. + +FANNY [_laughing—kisses her_]. So I am. It was a brilliant idea. [_By +this time she has kissed or shaken hands with the whole dozen_.] I can’t +introduce you all singly; it would take too long. [_She makes a +wholesale affair of it_.] My aunts, the Misses Wetherell—Dr. Freemantle. + +_The Misses Wetherell_, _suggesting two mice being introduced to a party +of friendly kittens_, _standing_, _clinging to one another_, _murmur +something inaudible_. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_who is with them to comfort them—he has got rid of the +time-table_, _discreetly—smiles_]. Delighted. + +ENGLAND. Charmed. [_The others join in_, _turning it into a chorus_. +_To Fanny_] Glad we didn’t strike one of your busy days. I say, you’re +not as dressy as you used to be. ’Ow are they doing you?—all right? + +FANNY. Yes. Oh, yes. + +CANADA [“_Gerty_,” _a big_, _handsome girl_, _with a loud_, _commanding +voice_]. George gave me your message. + +FANNY [_puzzled at first_]. My message? [_Remembering—laughs_.] Oh. +That I was Lady Bantock of Bantock Hall. Yes. I thought you’d be +pleased. + +CANADA. Was delighted, dear. + +FANNY. So glad. + +CANADA. I’d always had the idea that you were going to make a mess of +your marriage. + +FANNY. What a funny idea! [_But the laugh that accompanies it is not a +merry one_.] + +CANADA. Wasn’t it? So glad I was wrong. + +WALES. We’re all of us looking out for lords in disguise, now. Can’t +you give us a tip, dear, how to tell ’em? + +SCOTLAND. Sukey has broken it off with her boy. Found he was mixed up +in trade. + +STRAITS SETTLEMENTS [_as before_, _unseen at back of crowd_]. No. I +didn’t. ’Twas his moral character. + +_Then enter Honoria with glasses on a tray_; _Ernest with champagne_; +_Jane with eatables_; _Bennet with a napkin_. _It is a grim procession_. +_The girls are scattered_, _laughing_, _talking_: _Africa to the Misses +Wetherell_; _a couple to Dr. Freemantle_. _England_, _Scotland_, +_Wales_, _and Canada are with Fanny_. _The hubbub_, _with the advent of +the refreshments_, _increases_. _There is a general movement towards the +refreshments_. + +FANNY. Thanks, Bennet. You can clear away a corner of the desk. + +ENGLAND [_aside to her_]. Go easy with it, dear. [_Fanny_, _smiling_, +_nods_. _She directs operations in a low tone to the Bennets_, _who take +her orders in grim silence and with lips tight shut_.] Don’t forget, +girls, that we’ve got to get back to-night. [_Aside to the Doctor_, _who +has come forward to help_.] Some of ’em, you know, ain’t used to it. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_nods_]. Glasses not _too_ full. [_He whispers to +Fanny_.] + +IRELAND [_a decided young woman_]. How much time have we got? + +ENGLAND. Don’t ask me. It’s Judy’s show. + +WALES [_mimicking Newte_]. The return train, ladies, leaves Oakham +station. [_Stops—she is facing the clock_. _She begins to laugh_.] + +ENGLAND. What’s the matter? + +WALES [_still laughing_]. We’ve got just quarter of an hour to catch it. + +_There is a wild rush for the refreshments_. _Jane is swept off her +feet_. _Bennet’s tray is upset_. + +ENGLAND. Quarter—! Oh, my Gawd! Here, tuck up your skirts, girls. +We’ll have to— + +DR. FREEMANTLE. It’s all right. You’ve got plenty of time, ladies. +There’s a train from Norton on the branch line at 5.33. Gets you into +London at a quarter to nine. + +ENGLAND. You’re _sure_? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_he has his watch in his hand_]. Quite sure. The +station is only half a mile away. + +ENGLAND. Don’t let’s miss it. Keep your watch in your ’and, there’s a +dear. + +FANNY [_her business is—and has been—to move quietly through the throng_, +_making the girls welcome_, _talking_, _laughing with them_, _directing +the servants—all in a lady’s way_. _On the whole she does it remarkably +well_. _She is offering a plate of fruit to Judy_]. You’re a nice +acting manager, you are. [_Judy laughs_. _Fanny finds herself in front +of Ireland_. _She turns to England_.] Won’t you introduce us? + +ENGLAND. I beg your pardon, dear. Of course, you don’t know each other. +Miss Tetsworth, our new Ireland, Lady Bantock. It is “Bantock,” isn’t +it, dear? + +FANNY. Quite right. It’s a good little part, isn’t it? + +IRELAND. Well, depends upon what you’ve been used to. + +ENGLAND. She’s got talent, as I tell ’er. But she ain’t you, dear. +It’s no good saying she is. + +FANNY [_hastening to smooth it over_]. People always speak so well of us +after we’re gone. [_Laughs_.] You’ll take another glass of champagne. + +IRELAND. Thank you—you made a great success, they tell me, in the part. + +FANNY. Oh, there’s a deal of fluke about these things. You see, I had +the advantage— + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_with watch still in his hand_]. I _think_, ladies— + +ENGLAND. Come on, girls. + +_A general movement_. + +FANNY. You must all come again—spend a whole day—some Sunday. + +CANADA. Remember me to Vernon. + +FANNY. He’ll be so sorry to have— + +ENGLAND [_cutting in_]. ’Ope we ’aven’t upset you, dear. [_She is +bustling them all up_.] + +FANNY. Not at all. [_She is kissing the girls_.] It’s been so good to +see you all again. + +ENGLAND. ’Urry up, girls, there’s dears. [_To Fanny_] Good-bye, dear. +[_Kissing her_.] We _do_ miss yer. + +FANNY. I’m glad you do. + +ENGLAND. Oh, it ain’t the same show. [_The others are crowding out of +the door_. _She and Fanny are quite apart_.] No chance of your coming +back to it, I suppose? [_A moment_.] Well, there, you never know, do +yer? Good-bye, dear. [_Kisses her again_.] + +FANNY. Good-bye! [_She stands watching them out_. _Bennet goes down +with them_. _Ernest is busy collecting debris_. _Jane and Honoria stand +one each side of the table_, _rigid_, _with set faces_. _After a moment +Fanny goes to the open window_. _The voices of the girls below_, +_crowding into the van_, _come up into the room_. _She calls down to +them_.] Good-bye. You’ve plenty of time. What? Yes, of course. +[_Laughs_.] All right. Good-bye. [_She turns_, _comes slowly back_. +_She looks at Jane and Honoria_, _where they stand rigid_. _Honoria +makes a movement with her shoulders—takes a step towards the door_.] +Honoria! [_Honoria stops—slowly turns_.] You can take away these +glasses. Jane will help you. + +_Bennet has reappeared_. + +HONORIA. It’s not my place— + +FANNY. Your place is to obey my orders. + +BENNET [_his coolness seems to have deserted him_. _His voice is +trembling_]. Obey her ladyship’s orders, both of you. Leave the rest to +me. [_Honoria and Jane busy themselves_, _with Ernest setting the room +to rights_.] May I speak with your ladyship? + +FANNY. Certainly. + +BENNET. Alone, I mean. + +FANNY. I see no need. + +BENNET [_her firmness takes him aback_. _He expected to find her +defiance disappear with the cause of it_. _But pig-headed_, _as all +Bennets_, _her opposition only drives him on_]. Your ladyship is not +forgetting the alternative? + +_The Misses Wetherell have been watching the argument much as the babes +in the wood might have watched the discussion between the two robbers_. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_in terror_]. Bennet! you’re not going to give +notice! + +BENNET. What my duty may be, I shall be able to decide after I have +spoken with her ladyship—alone. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Dear! You will see him? + +FANNY. I am sorry. I have not the time. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. No. Of course. [_Appealing to Bennet for +mercy_] Her ladyship is tired. To-morrow— + +FANNY [_interrupting_]. Neither to-morrow—nor any other day. [_Vernon +enters_, _followed by Newte_. _She advances to meet them_.] You’ve just +missed some old friends of yours. [_She shakes hands with Newte_.] + +VERNON. So it seems. We were hoping to have been in time. [_To Newte_] +The mare came along pretty slick, didn’t she? + +BENNET [_he has remained with his look fixed all the time on Fanny_]. +May I speak with your lordship a moment—in private? + +VERNON. Now? + +BENNET. It is a matter that needs to be settled now. [_It is the tone +of respectful authority he has always used towards the lad_.] + +VERNON. Well, if it’s as pressing as all that I suppose you must. [_He +makes a movement towards the door_. _To Newte_] Shan’t be long. + +FANNY. One moment. [_Vernon stops_.] I may be able to render the +interview needless. Who is mistress of this house? + +VERNON. Who is mistress? + +FANNY. Who is mistress of your house? + +VERNON. Why, you are, of course. + +FANNY. Thank you. [_She turns to Bennet_] Please tell Mrs. Bennet I +want her. + +BENNET. I think if your lordship— + +FANNY. At once. [_She is looking at him_. _He struggles—looks at +Vernon_. _But Vernon is evidently inclined to support Fanny_. _Bennet +goes out_. _She crosses and seats herself at the desk_. _She takes from +a drawer some neatly folded papers_. _She busies herself with figures_.] + +VERNON [_he crosses to his Aunts_]. Whatever’s the matter? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. She is excited. She has had a very trying +time. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Bennet didn’t like the idea of her receiving +them. + +NEWTE. It was that minx Judy’s doing. They’ll have the rough side of my +tongue when I get back—all of them. + +VERNON. What does she want with Mrs. Bennet? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I can’t think. + +_The atmosphere is somewhat that of a sheepfold before a thunderstorm_. +_The Misses Wetherell are still clinging to one another_. _Vernon and +Dr. Freemantle are both watching Fanny_. _Jane_, _Honoria_, _and Ernest +are still busy about the room_. + +_Suddenly_, _to Newte—who is standing apart—the whole thing comes with a +rush_. _But it is too late for him to interfere_. + +_Mrs. Bennet_, _followed by Bennet_, _are entering the room_. _He shrugs +his shoulders and turns away_. + +MRS. BENNET. Your ladyship sent for me? + +FANNY. Yes. [_She half turns—holds out a paper_.] This wages sheet is +quite correct, I take it? It is your own. + +MRS. BENNET [_she takes it_]. Quite correct. + +FANNY [_she tears out a cheque she has written—hands it to Mrs. Bennet_]. +You will find there two months’ wages for the entire family. I have made +it out in a lump sum payable to your husband. The other month is in lieu +of notice. [_A silence_. _The thing strikes them all dumb_. _She puts +the cheque-book back and closes the drawer_. _She rises_.] I’m sorry. +There’s been a misunderstanding. It’s time that it ended. It has been +my own fault. [_To Vernon_] I deceived you about my family— + +NEWTE. If there’s been any deceit— + +FANNY. My scene, please, George. [_Newte_, _knowing her_, _returns to +silence_.] I have no relations outside this country that I know of. My +uncle is Martin Bennet, your butler. Mrs. Bennet is my aunt. I’m not +ashamed of them. If they’d had as much respect for me as I have for +them, this trouble would not have arisen. We don’t get on together, +that’s all. And this seems to me the only way out. As I said before, +I’m sorry. + +VERNON [_recovering speech_]. But why did you—? + +FANNY [_her control gives way_. _She breaks out_]. Oh, because I’ve +been a fool. It’s the explanation of most people’s muddles, I expect, if +they only knew it. Don’t talk to me, anybody. I’ve got nothing more to +say. [_To Bennet_] I’m sorry. You wouldn’t give me a chance. I’d have +met you half way. [_To Mrs. Bennet_] I’m sorry. Don’t be too hard on +me. It won’t mean much trouble to you. Good servants don’t go begging. +You can depend upon me for a character. [_To Jane_] You’ll do much +better for yourselves elsewhere. [_To Honoria_] Don’t let that pretty +face of yours ever get you into trouble. [_To Ernest_] Good-bye, +Ernest. We were always pals, weren’t we? Good-bye. [_She kisses him_. +_It has all been the work of a moment_. _She comes down again_.] Don’t +think me rude, but I’d like to be alone. We can talk calmly about it all +to-morrow morning. [_To the Misses Wetherell_] I’m so awfully sorry. I +wish I could have seen any other way out. [_The tears are streaming from +her eyes_. _To Vernon_] Take them all away, won’t you, dear? We’ll +talk about it all to-morrow. I’ll feel gooder. [_She kisses him_. _To +Dr. Freemantle_] Take them all away. Tell him it wasn’t all my fault. +[_To Newte_] You’ll have to stop the night. There are no more trains. +I’ll see you in the morning. Good night. + +_Bennet has collected his troop_. _Leads them away_. _Dr. Freemantle_, +_kindly and helpful_, _takes off Vernon and the two ladies_. + +NEWTE [_he grips her hand_, _and speaks in his short_, _growling way_]. +Good night, old girl. [_He follows the others out_.] + +FANNY [_crosses towards the windows_. _Her chief business is dabbing her +eyes_. _The door closes with a click_. _She turns_. _She puts her +handkerchief away_. _She looks at the portrait of Constance_, _first +Lady Bantock_]. I believe it’s what you’ve been telling me to do, all +the time. + + [CURTAIN] + + + + +_ACT IV_ + + + _SCENE_ + +_The same_. _The blinds are down_. _Ashes fill the grate_. + +_Time_.—_Early the next morning_. + +_The door opens softly_. _Newte steals in_. _He fumbles his way across +to the windows_, _draws the blinds_. _The morning sun streams in_. _He +listens—no one seems to be stirring_. _He goes out_, _returns +immediately with a butler’s tray_, _containing all things necessary for a +breakfast and the lighting of a fire_. _He places the tray on table_, +_throws his coat over a chair_, _and is on his knees busy lighting the +fire_, _when enter the Misses Wetherell_, _clad in dressing-gowns and +caps_: _yet still they continue to look sweet_. _They also creep in_, +_hand in hand_. _The crouching Newte is hidden by a hanging +fire-screen_. _They creep forward till the coat hanging over the chair +catches their eye_. _They are staring at it as Robinson Crusoe might at +the footprint_, _when Newte rises suddenly and turns_. _The Misses +Wetherell give a suppressed scream_, _and are preparing for flight_. + +NEWTE [_he stays them_]. No call to run away, ladies. When a man’s +travelled—as I have—across America, in a sleeping-car, with a comic-opera +troop, there’s not much left for him to know. You want your breakfast! +[_He wheedles them to the table_.] We’ll be able to talk cosily—before +anybody else comes. + +_They yield themselves_. _He has a way with him_. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We haven’t slept all night. + +_Newte answers with a sympathetic gesture_. _He is busy getting ready +the breakfast_. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. There’s something we want to tell dear +Vernon—before he says anything to Fanny. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It’s something very important. + +NEWTE. We’ll have a cup of tea first—to steady our nerves. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. It’s so important that we should tell him +before he sees Fanny. + +NEWTE. We’ll see to it. [_He makes the tea_.] I fancy they’re both +asleep at present. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Poor boy! + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. If she only hadn’t— + +_Dr. Freemantle has entered_. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I thought I heard somebody stirring— + +NEWTE. Hush! [_He indicates doors_, _the one leading to her ladyship’s +apartments_, _the other to his lordship’s_.] + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [_turning and greeting him_]. It was so kind +of you not to leave us last night. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We were so upset. + +_Dr. Freemantle pats their hands_. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We hope you slept all right. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Excellently. Shall be glad of a shave, that’s all. +[_Laughs_. _Both he and Newte suggest the want of one_.] + +NEWTE [_who has been officiating_]. Help yourself to milk and sugar. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_who has seated himself_]. Have the Bennets gone? + +NEWTE. Well, they had their notice all right. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [_they have begun to cry_]. It has been so +wrong and foolish of us. We have never learnt to do anything for +ourselves. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We don’t even know where our things are. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. They can’t all have gone—the whole twenty-three of them, +at a couple of hours’ notice. [_To Newte_] Haven’t seen any of them, +have you? + +NEWTE. No sign of any of them downstairs. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Oh, they must be still here. Not up, I suppose. It +isn’t seven o’clock yet. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. But they have all been discharged. We can’t +ask them to do anything. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_to her sister_]. And the Grimstones are +coming to lunch with the new curate. Vernon asked them on Sunday. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Perhaps there’s something cold. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Vernon so dislikes a cold lunch. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_to Newte_]. Were you able to get hold of Vernon last +night? + +NEWTE. Waited up till he came in about two o’clock. Merely answered +that he wasn’t in a talkative mood—brushed past me and locked himself in. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. He wouldn’t say anything to me either. Rather a bad +sign when he won’t talk. + +NEWTE. What’s he likely to do? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Don’t know. Of course it will be all over the county. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And dear Vernon is so sensitive. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. It had to come—the misfortune _is_— + +NEWTE. The misfortune _is_ that people won’t keep to their own line of +business. Why did he want to come fooling around her? She was doing +well for herself. She could have married a man who would have thought +more of her than all the damn fools in the county put together. Why +couldn’t he have left her alone? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_he is sitting at the head of the table_, _between Newte +on his right and the Misses Wetherell on his left_. _He lays his hand on +Newte’s sleeve—with a smile_]. I’m sure you can forgive a man—with eyes +and ears in his head—for having fallen in love with her. + +NEWTE. Then why doesn’t he stand by her? What if her uncle is a butler? +If he wasn’t a fool, he’d be thanking his stars that ’twas anything half +as respectable. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I’m not defending him—we’re not sure yet that he needs +any defence. He has married a clever, charming girl of—as you say—a +better family than he’d any right to expect. The misfortune is, that—by +a curious bit of ill-luck—it happens to be his own butler. + +NEWTE. If she takes my advice, she’ll return to the stage. No sense +stopping where you’re not wanted. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. But how can she? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You see, they’re married! + +DR. FREEMANTLE [_to change the subject_]. You’ll take an egg? + +_Newte has been boiling some_. _He has just served them_. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_rejecting it_]. Thank you. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We’re not feeling hungry. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. He was so fond of her. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. She was so pretty. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. And so thoughtful. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. One would never have known she was an +actress. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. If only she hadn’t— + +_Bennet has entered_. _Newte is at fireplace_. _The old ladies have +their backs to the door_. _Dr. Freemantle_, _who is pouring out tea_, +_is the first to see him_. _He puts down the teapot_, _staring_. _The +old ladies look round_. _A silence_. _Newte turns_. _Bennet is again +the perfect butler_. _Yesterday would seem to have been wiped out of his +memory_. + +BENNET. Good morning, Miss Wetherell. Good morning, Miss Edith. [_To +the two men_] Good morning. I was not aware that breakfast was required +to be any earlier than usual, or I should have had it ready. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We are sure you would, Bennet. But you see, +under the circumstances, we—we hardly liked to trouble you. + +BENNET [_he goes about the room_, _putting things to rights_. _He has +rung the bell_. _Some dead flowers he packs on to Newte’s tray_, _the +water he pours into Newte’s slop-basin_]. My duty, Miss Edith, I have +never felt to be a trouble to me. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We know, Bennet. You have always been so +conscientious. But, of course, after what’s happened—[_They are on the +verge of tears again_.] + +BENNET [_he is piling up the breakfast things_]. Keziah requested me to +apologise to you for not having heard your bell this morning. She will +be ready to wait upon you in a very few minutes. [_To the Doctor_] You +will find shaving materials, doctor, on your dressing-table. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Oh, thank you. + +_Ernest has entered_, _with some wood_; _he is going towards the fire_. + +BENNET [_to Ernest_]. Leave the fire for the present. Take away this +tray. [_Ernest takes up the tray_, _and goes out_. _Bennet speaks over +the heads of the Misses Wetherell to Newte_] Breakfast will be ready in +the morning-room, in a quarter of an hour. + +NEWTE [_at first puzzled_, _then indignant_, _now breaks out_]. What’s +the little game on here—eh? Yesterday afternoon you were given the +sack—by your mistress, Lady Bantock, with a month’s wages in lieu of +notice—not an hour before you deserved it. What do you mean, going on +like this, as if nothing had happened? Is Lady Bantock to be ignored in +this house as if she didn’t exist—or is she not? [_He brings his fist +down on the table_. _He has been shouting rather than speaking_.] I +want this thing settled! + +BENNET. Your bath, Mr. Newte, is quite ready. + +NEWTE [_as soon as he can recover speech_]. Never you mind my bath, I +want— + +_Vernon has entered_. _He is pale_, _heavy-eyed_, _short in his manner_, +_listless_. + +VERNON. Good morning—everybody. Can I have some breakfast, Bennet? + +BENNET. In about ten minutes; I will bring it up here. [_He collects +the kettle from the fire as he passes_, _and goes out_.] + +VERNON. Thank you. [_He responds mechanically to the kisses of his two +aunts_, _who have risen and come to him_.] + +NEWTE. Can I have a word with you? + +VERNON. A little later on, if you don’t mind, Mr. Newte. [_He passes +him_.] + +NEWTE [_he is about to speak_, _changes his mind_]. All right, go your +own way. [_Goes out_.] + +DR. FREEMANTLE. “Remember”, says Marcus Aurelius— + +VERNON. Yes—good old sort, Marcus Aurelius. [_He drops listlessly into +a chair_.] + +_Dr. Freemantle smiles resignedly_, _looks at the Misses Wetherell_, +_shrugs his shoulders_, _and goes out_, _closing the door after him_. + +_The Misses Wetherell whisper together—look round cautiously_, _steal up +behind him_, _encouraging one another_. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. She’s so young. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And so adaptable. + +VERNON [_he is sitting_, _bowed down_, _with his face in his hands_]. +Ah, it was the deception. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [_she puts her old thin hand on his +shoulder_]. What would you have done, dear, if she had told you—at +first? + +VERNON [_he takes her hand in his—answers a little brokenly_]. I don’t +know. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. There’s something we wanted to tell you. [_He +looks at her_. _They look across at each other_.] The first Lady +Bantock, your great-grandmamma— + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. She danced with George III. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. She was a butcher’s daughter. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. He was quite a little butcher. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Of course, as a rule, dear, we never mention +it. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We felt you ought to know. [_They take each +other’s hands_; _on tip-toe they steal out_. _They close the door softly +behind them_.] + +_Vernon rises_. _He looks at the portrait—draws nearer to it_. _With +his hands in his pockets_, _stops dead in front of it_, _and contemplates +it in silence_. _The door of the dressing-room opens_. _Fanny enters_. +_She is dressed for going out_. _She stands for a moment_, _the door in +her hand_. _Vernon turns_. _She closes the door and comes forward_. + +VERNON. Good morning. + +FANNY. Good morning. George stayed the night, didn’t he? + +VERNON. Yes. He’s downstairs now. + +FANNY. He won’t be going for a little while? + +VERNON. Can’t till the ten o’clock train. Have you had breakfast? + +FANNY. I—I’ve had something to eat. I’m sorry for what I did last +night—although they did deserve it. [_Laughs_.] I suppose it’s a matter +than can easily be put right again. + +VERNON. You have no objection to their staying? + +FANNY. Why should I? + +VERNON. What do you mean? + +FANNY. There’s only one hope of righting a mistake. And that is going +back to the point from where one went wrong—and that was our marriage. + +[_A moment_.] + +VERNON. We haven’t given it a very long trial. + +FANNY [_with an odd smile_]. It went to pieces at the first. I was in +trouble all last night; you must have known it. You left me alone. + +VERNON. Jane told me you had locked yourself in. + +FANNY. You never tried the door for yourself, dear. [_She pretends to +rearrange something on the mantelpiece—any excuse to turn away her face +for a moment_. _She turns to him again_, _smiling_.] It was a mistake, +the whole thing. You were partly to blame. You were such a nice boy. I +“fancied” you—to use George’s words. [_She laughs_.] And when a woman +wants a thing, she is apt to be a bit unscrupulous about how she gets it. +[_She moves about the room_, _touching the flowers_, _rearranging a +cushion_, _a vase_.] I didn’t invent the bishop; that was George’s +embroidery. [_Another laugh_.] But, of course, I ought to have told you +everything myself. I ought not to have wanted a man to whom it would +have made one atom of difference whether my cousins were scullery-maids +or not. Somehow, I felt that to you it might. [_Vernon winces_.] It’s +natural enough. You have a big position to maintain. I didn’t know you +were a lord—that was your doing. George did find it out, but he never +told me; least of all, that you were Lord Bantock—or you may be pretty +sure I should have come out with the truth, if only for my own sake. It +hasn’t been any joke for me, coming back here. + +VERNON. Yes. I can see they’ve been making things pretty hard for you. + +FANNY. Oh, they thought they were doing their duty. [_He is seated_. +_She comes up behind him_, _puts her hands on his shoulders_.] I want +you to take them all back again. I want to feel I have made as little +commotion in your life as possible. It was just a little mistake. And +everybody will say how fortunate it was that she took herself off so soon +with that—[_She was about to say_ “_that theatrical Johnny_,” _thinking +of Newte_. _She checks herself_.] And you will marry somebody belonging +to your own class. And those are the only sensible marriages there are. + +VERNON. Have you done talking? + +FANNY. Yes! Yes, I think that’s all. + +VERNON. Then perhaps you’ll let me get in a word. You think me a snob? +[_Fanny makes a movement_.] As a matter of fact, I am. + +FANNY. No, that’s not fair. You wouldn’t have married a girl off the +music-hall stage. + +VERNON. Niece of a bishop, cousin to a judge. Whether I believed it or +not, doesn’t matter. The sham that isn’t likely to be found out is as +good as the truth, to a snob. If he had told me your uncle was a butler, +I should have hesitated. That’s where the mistake began. We’ll go back +to that. Won’t you sit down? [_Fanny sits_.] I want you to stop. +There’ll be no mistake this time. I’m asking my butler’s niece to do me +the honour to be my wife. + +FANNY. That’s kind of you. + +VERNON. Oh, I’m not thinking of you. I’m thinking of myself. I want +you. I fell in love with you because you were pretty and charming. +There’s something else a man wants in his wife besides that. I’ve found +it. [_He jumps up_, _goes over to her_, _brushing aside things in his +way_.] I’m not claiming it as a right; you can go if you like. You can +earn your own living, I know. But you shan’t have anybody else. You’ll +be Lady Bantock and nobody else—as long as I live. [_He has grown quite +savage_.] + +FANNY [_she bites her lip to keep back the smile that wants to come_]. +That cuts both ways, you know. + +VERNON. I don’t want anybody else. + +FANNY [_she stretches out her hand and lays it on his_]. Won’t it be too +hard for you? You’ll have to tell them all—your friends—everybody. + +VERNON. They’ve got to be told in any case. If you are here, for them +to see, they’ll be able to understand—those that have got any sense. + +_Bennet comes in with breakfast_, _for two_, _on a tray_. _He places it +on a table_. + +FANNY [_she has risen_, _she goes over to him_]. Good morning, uncle. +[_She puts up her face_. _He stares_, _but she persists_. _Bennet +kisses her_.] Lord Bantock—[_she looks at Vernon_]—has a request to make +to you. He wishes me to remain here as his wife. I am willing to do so, +provided you give your consent. + +VERNON. Quite right, Bennet. I ought to have asked for it before. I +apologise. Will you give your consent to my marriage with your niece? + +FANNY. One minute. You understand what it means? From the moment you +give it—if you do give it—I shall be Lady Bantock, your mistress. + +BENNET. My dear Fanny! My dear Vernon! I speak, for the first and last +time, as your uncle. I am an old-fashioned person, and my ideas, I have +been told, are those of my class. But observation has impressed it upon +me that success in any scheme depends upon each person being fit for +their place. Yesterday, in the interests of you both, I should have +refused my consent. To-day, I give it with pleasure, feeling sure I am +handing over to Lord Bantock a wife in every way fit for her position. +[_Kissing her_, _he gives her to Vernon_, _who grips his hand_. _He +returns to the table_.] Breakfast, your ladyship, is quite ready. + +_They take their places at the table_. _Fanny takes off her hat_, +_Bennet takes off the covers_. + + [CURTAIN] + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM*** + + +******* This file should be named 2829-0.txt or 2829-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/2/2829 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Jerome</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Fanny and the Servant Problem, by Jerome K. +Jerome + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Fanny and the Servant Problem + A Quite Possible Play in Four Acts + + +Author: Jerome K. Jerome + + + +Release Date: September 8, 2014 [eBook #2829] +[This file was first posted on 2 August 2000] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1909 Hodder & Stoughton edition by +David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> + +<div class="gapmediumline"> </div> +<h1><i>Fanny and</i><br /> +<i>the Servant Problem</i></h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>A Quite Possible Play in Four +Acts</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>By</i><br /> +<b><i>Jerome K. Jerome</i></b></p> + +<div class="gapmediumdoubleline"> </div> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>COPYRIGHT</i> 1909 <i>BY</i><br +/> +<i>JEROME KLAPKA JEROME</i></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<div class="gapmediumline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><b><i>Hodder and +Stoughton</i></b><br /> +<b><i>Limited</i></b> <b><i>London</i></b></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Amateurs wishing to perform this play should apply to:</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Samuel +French</span>, <span class="smcap">Ltd</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">26 <span class="smcap">Southampton +Street</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Strand</span>, W.C.2.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Made and Printed in Great +Britain</i>.<br /> +<i>Hazell</i>, <i>Watson & Viney</i>, <i>Ld.</i>, <i>London +and Aylesbury</i>.</p> +<h2>THE CHARACTERS</h2> +<p><i>Fanny</i></p> +<p><i>Her Husband</i>, <i>Vernon Wetherell</i>, <i>Lord +Bantock</i></p> +<p><i>Her Butler</i>, <i>Martin Bennet</i></p> +<p><i>Her Housekeeper</i>, <i>Susannah Bennet</i></p> +<p><i>Her Maid</i>, <i>Jane Bennet</i></p> +<p><i>Her Second Footman</i>, <i>Ernest Bennet</i></p> +<p><i>Her Still-room Maid</i>, <i>Honoria Bennet</i></p> +<p><i>Her Aunts by marriage</i>, <i>the Misses Wetherell</i></p> +<p><i>Her Local Medical Man</i>, <i>Dr. Freemantle</i></p> +<p><i>Her quondam Companions</i>, “<i>Our +Empire</i>”:<br /> + <i>England</i><br /> + <i>Scotland</i><br /> + <i>Ireland</i><br /> + <i>Wales</i><br /> + <i>Canada</i><br /> + <i>Australia</i><br /> + <i>New Zealand</i><br /> + <i>Africa</i><br /> + <i>India</i><br /> + <i>Newfoundland</i><br /> + <i>Malay Archipelago</i><br /> + <i>Straits Settlements</i></p> +<p><i>Her former Business Manager</i>, <i>George P. Newte</i></p> +<h2><i>ACT I</i></h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>SCENE</i></p> +<p><i>The Lady Bantock’s boudoir</i>, <i>Bantock Hall</i>, +<i>Rutlandshire</i>, <i>a spacious room handsomely furnished</i> +(<i>chiefly in the style of Louis the Fourteenth</i>) <i>and +lighted by three high windows</i>, <i>facing the +south-west</i>. <i>A door between the fireplace and the +windows leads to his lordship’s apartments</i>. <i>A +door the other side of the fireplace is the general +entrance</i>. <i>The door opposite the windows leads +through her ladyship’s dressing-room into her +ladyship’s bedroom</i>. <i>Over the great fireplace +hangs a full-length portrait of Constance</i>, <i>first Lady +Bantock</i>, <i>by Hoppner</i>.</p> +<p><i>The time is sunset of a day in early spring</i>. +<i>The youthful Lord Bantock is expected home with his newly +wedded wife this evening</i>; <i>and the two Misses +Wetherell</i>, <i>his aunts</i>, <i>have been busy decorating the +room with flowers</i>, <i>and are nearing the end of their +labours</i>. <i>The two Misses Wetherell have grown so much +alike it would be difficult for a stranger to tell one from the +other</i>; <i>and to add to his confusion they have fallen into +the habit of dressing much alike in a fashion of their own that +went out long ago</i>, <i>while the hair of both is white</i>, +<i>and even in their voices they have caught each other’s +tones</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> [<i>she +has paused from her work and is looking out of the +windows</i>]. Such a lovely sunset, dear.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>she leaves her work and joins her sister</i>. <i>The +two stand holding each other’s hands</i>, <i>looking +out</i>]. Beautiful! [<i>A silence</i>. <i>The +sun is streaming full into the room</i>.] You—you +don’t think, dear, that this room—[<i>she looks round +it</i>]—may possibly be a little <i>too</i> sunny to quite +suit her?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> [<i>not +at first understanding</i>]. How, dear, <i>too</i> +sun—[<i>She grasps the meaning</i>.] You +mean—you think that perhaps she does that sort of +thing?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Well, dear, one is always given to +understand that they do, women—ladies of her +profession.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +It seems to me so wicked: painting God’s work.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. We mustn’t judge hardly, +dear. Besides, dear, we don’t know yet that she +does.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Perhaps she’s young, and hasn’t commenced it. I +fancy it’s only the older ones that do it.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. He didn’t mention her age, I +remember.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +No, dear, but I feel she’s young.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. I do hope she is. We may be able to +mould her.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +We must be very sympathetic. One can accomplish so much +with sympathy.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. We must get to understand her. +[<i>A sudden thought</i>.] Perhaps, dear, we may get to +like her.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>doubtful</i>]. We might <i>try</i>, dear.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. For Vernon’s sake. The poor +boy seems so much in love with her. We must—</p> +<p><i>Bennet has entered</i>. <i>He is the butler</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Doctor +Freemantle. I have shown him into the library.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Thank you, Bennet. Will you please +tell him that we shall be down in a few minutes? I must +just finish these flowers. [<i>She returns to the +table</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Why not ask him to come up here? We could consult +him—about the room. He always knows everything.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. A good idea. Please ask him, +Bennet, if he would mind coming up to us here. +[<i>Bennet</i>, <i>who has been piling up fresh logs upon the +fire</i>, <i>turns to go</i>.] Oh, Bennet! You will +remind Charles to put a footwarmer in the carriage!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I will see to it +myself. [<i>He goes out</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Thank you, Bennet. [<i>To her +sister</i>] One’s feet are always so cold after a +railway journey.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +I’ve been told that, nowadays, they heat the carriages.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Ah, it is an age of luxury! I wish +I knew which were her favourite flowers. It is so nice to +be greeted by one’s favourite flowers.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +I feel sure she loves lilies.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. And they are so appropriate to a +bride. So—</p> +<p><i>Announced by Bennet</i>, <i>Dr. Freemantle bustles +in</i>. <i>He is a dapper little man</i>, +<i>clean-shaven</i>, <i>with quick brisk ways</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>he shakes +hands</i>]. Well, and how are we this afternoon? +[<i>He feels the pulse of the Younger Miss Wetherell</i>] +Steadier. Much steadier! [<i>of the Elder Miss +Wetherell</i>.] Nervous tension greatly relieved.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. She has been sleeping much better.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>he pats the +hand of the Elder Miss Wetherell</i>]. Excellent! +Excellent!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +She ate a good breakfast this morning.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>he pats the +hand of the Younger Miss Wetherell</i>]. Couldn’t +have a better sign. [<i>He smiles from one to the +other</i>.] Brain disturbance, caused by futile opposition +to the inevitable, evidently abating. One page Marcus +Aurelius every morning before breakfast. “Adapt +thyself,” says Marcus Aurelius, “to the things with +which thy lot has been cast. Whatever +happens—”</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. You see, doctor, it was all so +sudden.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. The +unexpected! It has a way of taking us by +surprise—bowling us over—completely. Till we +pull ourselves together. Make the best of what can’t +be helped—like brave, sweet gentlewomen. [<i>He +presses their hands</i>. <i>They are both wiping away a +tear</i>.] When do you expect them?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +To-night, by the half-past eight train. We had a telegram +this morning from Dover.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Um! and +this is to be her room? [<i>He takes it in</i>.] The +noble and renowned Constance, friend and confidant of the elder +Pitt, maker of history, first Lady Bantock—by +Hoppner—always there to keep an eye on her, remind her of +the family traditions. Brilliant idea, brilliant! +[<i>They are both smiling with pleasure</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +And you don’t think—it is what we wanted to ask +you—that there is any fear of her finding it a little +trying—the light? You see, this is an exceptionally +sunny room.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. And these actresses—if all one +hears is true—</p> +<p><i>The dying sun is throwing his last beams across the +room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Which, +thank God, it isn’t. [<i>He seats himself in a large +easy-chair</i>. <i>The two ladies sit side by side on a +settee</i>.] I’ll tell you just exactly what +you’ve got to expect. A lady—a few years older +than the boy himself, but still young. Exquisite figure; +dressed—perhaps a trifle too regardless of expense. +Hair—maybe just a shade <i>too</i> golden. All that +can be altered. Features—piquant, with expressive +eyes, the use of which she probably understands, and an almost +permanent smile, displaying an admirably preserved and remarkably +even set of teeth. But, above all, clever. +That’s our sheet-anchor. The woman’s +clever. She will know how to adapt herself to her new +position.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>turning to her sister</i>]. Yes, she must be clever to +have obtained the position that she has. [<i>To the +Doctor</i>] Vernon says that she was quite the chief +attraction all this winter, in Paris.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +And the French public is so critical.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> +[<i>drily</i>]. Um! I was thinking rather of her +cleverness in “landing” poor Vernon. The +lad’s not a fool.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +We must do her justice. I think she was really in love with +him.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>still more +drily</i>]. Very possibly. Most café-chantant +singers, I take it, would be—with an English lord. +[<i>He laughs</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +You see, she didn’t know he was a lord.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +Didn’t know—?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. No. She married him, thinking him +to be a plain Mr. Wetherell, an artist.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Where +d’ye get all that from?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +From Vernon himself. You’ve got his last letter, +dear. [<i>She has opened her chatelaine bag</i>.] Oh, +no, I’ve got it myself.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. He’s not going to break it to her +till they reach here this evening.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> [<i>she +reads</i>]. Yes. “I shall not break it to her +before we reach home. We were married quietly at the +<i>Hôtel de Ville</i>, and she has no idea I am anything +else than plain Vernon James Wetherell, a fellow-countryman of +her own, and a fellow-artist. The dear creature has never +even inquired whether I am rich or poor.” I like her +for that.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. You mean +to tell me—[<i>He jumps up</i>. <i>With his hands in +his jacket pockets</i>, <i>he walks to and fro</i>.] I +suppose it’s possible.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +You see, she isn’t the ordinary class of music-hall +singer.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. I should +say not.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +She comes of quite a good family.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Her uncle was a bishop.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +Bishop? Of where?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>with the letter</i>]. He says he can’t spell +it. It’s somewhere in New Zealand.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Do they +have bishops over there?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Well, evidently.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Then her cousin is a judge.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. In New +Zealand?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>again referring to the letter</i>]. No—in +Ohio.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Seems to +have been a somewhat scattered family.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. People go about so much nowadays.</p> +<p><i>Mrs. Bennet has entered</i>. <i>She is the +housekeeper</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span> [<i>she is about to +speak to the Misses Wetherell</i>; <i>sees the Doctor</i>]. +Good afternoon, doctor.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Afternoon, +Mrs. Bennet.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span> [<i>she turns to the +Misses Wetherell</i>, <i>her watch in her hand</i>]. I was +thinking of having the fire lighted in her ladyship’s +bedroom. It is half past six.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +You are always so thoughtful. She may be tired.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. If so, +everything will be quite ready. [<i>She goes out</i>, +<i>closing door</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. What do +they think about it all—the Bennets? You have told +them?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. We thought it better. You see, one +hardly regards them as servants. They have been in the +family so long. Three generations of them.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Really, since our poor dear brother’s death, Bennet has +been more like the head of the house than the butler.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Of course, he doesn’t say much.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +It is her having been on the stage that they feel so.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. You see, they have always been a +religious family.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Do you know, I really think they feel it more than we do. I +found Peggy crying about it yesterday, in the scullery.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>he has been +listening with a touch of amusement</i>.] Peggy Bennet?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Yes. <i>Charles</i> Bennet’s +daughter.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Happen to +have a servant about the place who isn’t a Bennet?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. No, no, I don’t really think we +have. Oh, yes—that new girl Mrs. Bennet engaged last +week for the dairy. What is her name?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Arnold.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Ah, yes, Arnold.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Ah!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +I think she’s a cousin, dear.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Only a second cousin.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Um! +Well I should tell the whole family to buck up. Seems to +me, from what you tell me, that their master is bringing them +home a treasure. [<i>He shakes hands briskly with the +ladies</i>.] May look in again to-morrow. Don’t +forget—one page Marcus Aurelius before breakfast—in +case of need. [<i>He goes out</i>.]</p> +<p><i>The sun has sunk</i>. <i>The light is +twilight</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +He always cheers one up.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. He’s so alive. [<i>Mrs. +Bennet comes in from the dressing-room</i>. <i>She leaves +the door ajar</i>. <i>The sound of a hammer is +heard</i>. <i>It ceases almost immediately</i>.] Oh, +Mrs. Bennet, we were going to ask you—who is to be her +ladyship’s maid? Have you decided yet?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. I have come +to the conclusion—looking at the thing from every point of +view—that Jane would be the best selection.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Jane!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +But does she understand the duties?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. A +lady’s maid, being so much alone with her mistress, is +bound to have a certain amount of influence. And Jane has +exceptionally high principles.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. That is true, dear.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. As regards +the duties, she is very quick at learning anything new. Of +course, at first—</p> +<p><i>The sound of hammering again comes from the +bedroom</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Who is that hammering in her +ladyship’s bedroom?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. It is Bennet, +Miss Edith. We thought it might be helpful: a few texts, +hung where they would always catch her ladyship’s +eye. [<i>She notices the look of doubt</i>.] Nothing +offensive. Mere general exhortations such as could be read +by any lady. [<i>The Misses Wetherell look at one +another</i>, <i>but do not speak</i>.] I take it, dinner +will be at half past seven, as usual?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Yes, Mrs. Bennet, thank you. They will not be here till +about nine. They will probably prefer a little supper to +themselves.</p> +<p><i>Mrs. Bennet goes out—on her way to the +kitchen</i>. <i>The Misses Wetherell look at one another +again</i>. <i>The hammering recommences</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>she hesitates a moment</i>, <i>then goes to the open door and +calls</i>]. Bennet—Bennet! [<i>She returns and +waits</i>. <i>Bennet comes in</i>.] Oh, Bennet, your +wife tells us you are putting up a few texts in her +ladyship’s bedroom.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. It seemed to me +that a silent voice, speaking to her, as it were, from the +wall—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. It is so good of you—only, +you—you will be careful there is nothing she could regard +as a <i>personal</i> allusion.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Many of the most +popular I was compelled to reject, purely for that reason.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +We felt sure we could trust to your discretion.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. You see, coming, as she does, from a good +family—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. It is that—I +speak merely for myself—that gives me hope of reclaiming +her.</p> +<p><i>A silence</i>. <i>The two ladies</i>, <i>feeling a +little helpless</i>, <i>again look at one another</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +We must be very sympathetic.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. And patient, Bennet.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. It is what I am +preparing myself to be. Of course, if you think them +inadvisable, I can take them down again.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. No, Bennet, oh no! I should leave +them up. Very thoughtful of you, indeed.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. It seemed to me +one ought to leave no stone unturned. [<i>He returns to his +labours in the bedroom</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>after a pause</i>]. I do hope she’ll <i>like</i> +the Bennets.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +I think she will—after a time, when she is used to +them.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. I am so anxious it should turn out +well.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +I feel sure she’s a good woman. Vernon would never +have fallen in love with her if she hadn’t been good. +[<i>They take each other’s hand</i>, <i>and sit side by +side</i>, <i>as before</i>, <i>upon the settee</i>. <i>The +twilight has faded</i>: <i>only the faint firelight remains</i>, +<i>surrounded by shadows</i>.] Do you remember, when he was +a little mite, how he loved to play with your hair? [<i>The +younger Miss Wetherell laughs</i>.] I always envied you +your hair.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. He was so fond of us both. Do you +remember when he was recovering from the measles, his crying for +us to bath him instead of Mrs. Bennet? I have always +reproached myself that we refused.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +He was such a big boy for his age.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. I think we might have stretched a point +in a case of illness.</p> +<p><i>The room has grown very dark</i>. <i>The door has +been softly opened</i>; <i>Vernon and Fanny have entered +noiselessly</i>. <i>Fanny remains near the door hidden by a +screen</i>, <i>Vernon has crept forward</i>. <i>At this +point the two ladies become aware that somebody is in the +room</i>. <i>They are alarmed</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Who’s there?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. It’s all +right, aunt. It’s only I.</p> +<p><i>The two ladies have risen</i>. <i>They run +forward</i>, <i>both take him in their arms</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Vernon!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +My dear boy!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. But we didn’t expect you—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +And your wife, dear?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. She’s +here!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Here?</p> +<p><i>Fanny</i>, <i>from behind the screen</i>, +<i>laughs</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. We’ll have +some light. [<i>He whispers to them</i>.] Not a +word—haven’t told her yet. [<i>Feeling his way +to the wall</i>, <i>he turns on the electric light</i>.]</p> +<p><i>Fanny is revealed</i>, <i>having slipped out from behind +the screen</i>. <i>There is a pause</i>. +<i>Vernon</i>, <i>standing near the fire</i>, <i>watches +admiringly</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Hope you are going +to like me.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. My dear, I am sure we shall.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +It is so easy to love the young and pretty. [<i>They have +drawn close to her</i>. <i>They seem to hesitate</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>laughs</i>]. It +doesn’t come off, does it, Vernon, dear? [<i>Vernon +laughs</i>. <i>The two ladies</i>, <i>laughing</i>, <i>kiss +her</i>.] I’m so glad you think I’m +pretty. As a matter of fact, I’m not. +There’s a certain charm about me, I admit. It +deceives people.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. We were afraid—you know, dear, +boys—[<i>she looks at Vernon and smiles</i>] sometimes fall +in love with women much older than themselves—especially +women—[<i>She grows confused</i>. <i>She takes the +girl’s hand</i>.] We are so relieved that +you—that you are yourself, dear,</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You were quite +right, dear. They are sweet. Which is which?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>laughs</i>]. +Upon my word, I never can tell.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Vernon! And you know I was always +your favourite!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Dear!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Then this is Aunt +Alice.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. No dear, Edith.</p> +<p>[<i>Vernon throws up his hands in despair</i>. <i>They +all laugh</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I think I shall +dress you differently; put you in blue and you in pink. +[<i>She laughs</i>.] Is this the drawing-room?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Your room, +dear.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I like a room where +one can stretch one’s legs. [<i>She walks across +it</i>.] A little too much desk [<i>referring to a massive +brass-bound desk</i>, <i>facing the three windows</i>].</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +It belonged to the elder Pitt.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Um! Suppose +we must find a corner for it somewhere. That’s a good +picture.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. It is by Hoppner.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. One of your artist +friends?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Well—you +see, dear, that’s a portrait of my great-grandmother, +painted from life.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she +whistles</i>]. I am awfully ignorant on some topics. +One good thing, I always was a quick study. Not a +bad-looking woman.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +We are very proud of her. She was the first—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>hastily</i>]. +We will have her history some other time.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>who understands</i>, <i>signs to her sister</i>]. Of +course. She’s tired. We are forgetting +everything. You will have some tea, won’t you, +dear?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. No, thanks. +We had tea in the train. [<i>With the more or less helpful +assistance of Vernon she divests herself of her outdoor +garments</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> [<i>she +holds up her hands in astonishment</i>]. Tea in the +train!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. We were not expecting you so soon. +You said in your telegram—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Oh, it was raining +in London. We thought we would come straight on—leave +our shopping for another day.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I believe you were +glad it was raining. Saved you such a lot of money. +Old Stingy!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Then did you walk from the station, dear?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Didn’t it +seem a long way? [<i>She laughs up into his +face</i>.] He was so bored. [<i>Vernon +laughs</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. I had better tell—[<i>She is going +towards the bell</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>he stops +her</i>]. Oh, let them alone. Plenty of time for all +that fuss. [<i>He puts them both gently side by side on the +settee</i>.] Sit down and talk. Haven’t I been +clever? [<i>He puts his arm round Fanny</i>, +<i>laughing</i>.] You thought I had made an ass of myself, +didn’t you? Did you get all my letters?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. I think so, dear.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she is sitting in an +easy-chair</i>. <i>Vernon seats himself on the +arm</i>]. Do you know I’ve never had a love-letter +from you?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. You gave me no +time. She met me a month ago, and married me last week.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. It was quick +work. He came—he saw—I conquered! +[<i>Laughs</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +They say that love at first sight is often the most lasting.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>he puts his arm +around her</i>]. You are sure you will never regret having +given up the stage? The excitement, the—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. The +excitement! Do you know what an actress’s life always +seemed to me like? Dancing on a tight-rope with everybody +throwing stones at you. One soon gets tired of that sort of +excitement. Oh, I was never in love with the stage. +Had to do something for a living.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. It must be a hard life for a woman.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Especially for anyone not brought up to it.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You see, I had a +good voice and what I suppose you might call a natural talent for +acting. It seemed the easiest thing.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. I suppose your family were very much +opposed to it? [<i>Vernon rises</i>. <i>He stands +with his back to the fire</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. My family? +Hadn’t any!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +No family?</p> +<p><i>Bennet enters</i>. <i>Vernon and Fanny left the door +open</i>. <i>He halts</i>, <i>framed by the +doorway</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. No. You see, +I was an only child. My father and mother both died before +I was fourteen.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. But your uncle?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Oh, him! It +was to get away from him and all that crew that I went on the +stage.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +It is so sad when relations don’t get on together.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Sadder still when +they think they’ve got a right to trample on you, just +because you happen to be an orphan and—I don’t want +to talk about my relations. I want to forget them. I +stood them for nearly six months. I don’t want to be +reminded of them. I want to forget that they ever +existed. I want to forget—</p> +<p><i>Bennet has come down very quietly</i>. <i>Fanny</i>, +<i>from where he stands</i>, <i>is the only one who sees +him</i>. <i>He stands looking at her</i>, <i>his +features</i>, <i>as ever</i>, <i>immovable</i>. <i>At sight +of him her eyes and mouth open wider and wider</i>. <i>The +words die away from her tongue</i>. <i>Vernon has turned +away to put a log on the fire</i>, <i>and so has not seen her +expression—only hears her sudden silence</i>. <i>He +looks up and sees Bennet</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Ah, Bennet! +[<i>He advances</i>, <i>holding out his hand</i>.] You +quite well?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>shaking hands with +him</i>]. Quite well.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Good! And +all the family?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Nothing to +complain of. Charles has had a touch of influenza.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Ah, sorry to hear +that.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. And your +lordship?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Fit as a +fiddle—your new mistress.</p> +<p><i>Fanny has risen</i>. <i>Bennet turns to +her</i>. <i>For a moment his back is towards the other +three</i>. <i>Fanny alone sees his face</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. We shall endeavour +to do our duty to her ladyship. [<i>He turns to +Vernon</i>.] I had arranged for a more fitting +reception—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. To tell the honest +truth, Bennet, the very thing we were afraid of—why we +walked from the station, and slipped in by the side door. +[<i>Laughing</i>.] Has the luggage come?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. It has just +arrived. It was about that I came to ask. I could not +understand—</p> +<p><i>The Misses Wetherell have also risen</i>. +<i>Fanny’s speechless amazement is attributed by them and +Vernon to natural astonishment at discovery of his rank</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. You will be wanting a quiet talk +together. We shall see you at dinner.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. What time is +dinner?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Half past seven. [<i>To +Fanny</i>] But don’t you hurry, dear. I will +tell cook to delay it a little. [<i>She kisses +her</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +You will want some time to arrange that pretty hair of +yours. [<i>She also kisses the passive</i>, <i>speechless +Fanny</i>. <i>They go out hand in hand</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I will see, while +I am here, that your lordship’s room is in order.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Why, where’s +Robert, then?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. He has gone into +town to do some shopping. We did not expect your lordship +much before nine. There may be one or two things to see +to. [<i>He goes into his lordship’s apartments</i>, +<i>closing the door behind him</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Vernon, where am +I?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. At home, dear.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes, but where?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. At Bantock Hall, +Rutlandshire. [<i>Fanny sits down on the settee—drops +down rather</i>.] You’re not angry with me? You +know how the world always talks in these cases. I wanted to +be able to prove to them all that you married me for +myself. Not because I was Lord Bantock. Can you +forgive me?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she still seems in a +dream</i>]. Yes—of course. You +didn’t—you wouldn’t—[<i>She suddenly +springs up</i>.] Vernon, you do love me? [<i>She +flings her arms round his neck</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Dear!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You will never be +ashamed of me?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Dearest!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I was only a +music-hall singer. There’s no getting over it, you +know.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. I should have +loved you had you been a beggar-maid.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she still clings to +him</i>]. With an uncle a costermonger, and an aunt who +sold matches. It wouldn’t have made any difference to +you, would it? You didn’t marry me for my family, did +you? You didn’t, did you?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Darling! I +married you because you are the most fascinating, the most +lovable, the most wonderful little woman in the world. +[<i>Fanny gives a sob</i>.] As for your +family—I’ve got a confession to make to you, +dear. I made inquiries about your family before I proposed +to you. Not for my own sake—because I knew I’d +have to answer a lot of stupid questions. It seemed to me +quite a good family.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. It is! Oh, it +is! There never was such a respectable family. +That’s why I never could get on with them.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>laughing</i>]. +Well, you haven’t got to—any more. We +needn’t even let them know—</p> +<p><i>Bennet returns</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Robert I find has +returned. It is ten minutes to seven.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Thanks. +Well, I shall be glad of a bath. [<i>He turns to +Fanny</i>.] Bennet will send your maid to you. [<i>He +whispers to her</i>.] You’ll soon get used to it +all. As for the confounded family—we will forget all +about them. [<i>Fanny answers with another little stifled +sob</i>. <i>Bennet is drawing the curtains</i>, <i>his back +to the room</i>. <i>Vernon</i>, <i>seeing that Bennet is +occupied</i>, <i>kisses the unresponsive Fanny and goes +out</i>.]</p> +<p><i>At the sound of the closing of the door</i>, <i>Fanny looks +up</i>. <i>She goes to the door through which Vernon has +just passed</i>, <i>listens a moment</i>, <i>then +returns</i>. <i>Bennet calmly finishes the drawing of the +curtains</i>. <i>Then he</i>, <i>too</i>, <i>crosses slowly +till he and Fanny are facing one another across the centre of the +room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Well, what are you +going to do?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. My duty!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. What’s +that? Something unpleasant, I know. I can bet my +bottom dollar.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. That, my girl, +will depend upon you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. How upon me?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Whether you prove +an easy or a difficult subject. To fit you for your +position, a certain amount of training will, I fancy, be +necessary.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Training! +I’m to be—[<i>She draws herself up</i>.] Are +you aware who I am?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Oh yes. +<i>And</i> who you were. His lordship, I take it, would +hardly relish the discovery that he had married his +butler’s niece. He might consider the situation +awkward.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. And who’s +going to train me?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I am. With +the assistance of your aunt and such other members of your family +as I consider can be trusted.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>for a moment she is +speechless</i>, <i>then she bursts out</i>]. That ends +it! I shall tell him! I shall tell him this very +moment. [<i>She sweeps towards the door</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. At this moment you +will most likely find his lordship in his bath.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I don’t +care! Do you think—do you think for a moment that +I’m going to allow myself—I, Lady Bantock, to +be—[<i>Her hand upon the door</i>.] I shall tell him, +and you’ll only have yourself to blame. He loves +me. He loves me for myself. I shall tell him the +whole truth, and ask him to give you all the sack.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. You’re not +forgetting that you’ve already told him <i>once</i> who you +were?</p> +<p>[<i>It stops her</i>. <i>What she really did was to +leave the marriage arrangements in the hands of her business +manager</i>, <i>George P. Newte</i>. <i>As agent for a +music-hall star</i>, <i>he is ideal</i>, <i>but it is possible +that in answering Lord Bantock’s inquiries concerning +Fanny’s antecedents he may not have kept strictly to the +truth</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I never did. +I’ve never told him anything about my family.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Curious. I +was given to understand it was rather a classy affair.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I can’t help +what other people may have done. Because some silly idiot +of a man may possibly—[<i>She will try a new +tack</i>. <i>She leaves the door and comes to +him</i>.] Uncle, dear, wouldn’t it be simpler for you +all to go away? He’s awfully fond of me. +He’ll do anything I ask him. I could merely say that +I didn’t like you and get him to pension you off. You +and aunt could have a little roadside inn somewhere—with +ivy.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Seeing that +together with the stables and the garden there are twenty-three +of us—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. No, of course, he +couldn’t pension you all. You couldn’t +expect—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I think his +lordship might prefer to leave things as they are. Good +servants nowadays are not so easily replaced. And neither +your aunt nor I are at an age when change appeals to one.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You see, it’s +almost bound to creep out sooner or later, and then—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. We will make it as +late as possible [<i>He crosses and rings the bell</i>], giving +you time to prove to his lordship that you are not incapable of +learning.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she drops back on the +settee</i>. <i>She is half-crying</i>.] Some people +would be pleased that their niece had married well.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I am old-fashioned +enough to think also of my duty to those I serve. If his +lordship has done me the honour to marry my niece, the least I +can is to see to it that she brings no discredit to his +name. [<i>Mrs. Bennet</i>, <i>followed by Jane Bennet</i>, +<i>a severe-looking woman of middle age</i>, <i>has entered upon +the words</i> “<i>the least I can do</i>.” +<i>Bennet stays them a moment with his hand while he +finishes</i>. <i>Then he turns to his wife</i>.] You +will be interested to find, Susannah, that the new Lady Bantock +is not a stranger.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. Not a +stranger! [<i>She has reached a position from where she +sees the girl</i>.] Fanny! You wicked girl! +Where have you been all these years?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> +[<i>interposing</i>]. There will be other opportunities for +the discussion of family differences. Just now, her +ladyship is waiting to dress for dinner.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span> +[<i>sneering</i>]. Her ladyship!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">JANE</span> [<i>also +sneering</i>]. I think she might have forewarned us of the +honour in store for us.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. Yes, why +didn’t she write?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Because I +didn’t know. Do you think—[<i>she +rises</i>]—that if I had I would ever have married +him—to be brought back here and put in this ridiculous +position? Do you think that I am so fond of you all that I +couldn’t keep away from you, at any price?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. But you must +have known that Lord Bantock—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I didn’t know +he was Lord Bantock. I only knew him as Mr. Wetherell, an +artist. He wanted to feel sure that I was marrying him for +himself alone. He never told me—[<i>Ernest +Bennet</i>, <i>a very young footman</i>, <i>has entered in answer +to Bennet’s ring of a minute ago</i>. <i>He has come +forward step by step</i>, <i>staring all the while open-mouthed +at Fanny</i>. <i>Turning</i>, <i>she sees him beside +her</i>.] Hulloa, Ernie. How are the rabbits? +[<i>She kisses him</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Don’t stand +there gaping. I rang for some wood. Tell your brother +dinner will be at a quarter to eight.</p> +<p><i>Ernest</i>, <i>never speaking</i>, <i>still staring at +Fanny</i>, <i>gets clumsily out again</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Well, I suppose +I’d better see about dressing? Do I dine with his +lordship or in the servants’ hall?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span> [<i>turns to her +husband</i>]. You see! Still the old +impertinence.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Only wanted to +know. My only desire is to give satisfaction.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>he moves towards the +door</i>]. You will do it by treating the matter more +seriously. At dinner, by keeping your eye upon me, you will +be able to tell whether you are behaving yourself or not.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. And mind you +are punctual. I have appointed Jane to be your maid.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Jane!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span> [<i>in +arms</i>]. Have you any objections?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. No, oh no, so long +as you’re all satisfied.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. Remember, you +are no longer on the music-hall stage. In dressing for +Bantock Hall you will do well to follow her advice.</p> +<p><i>Bennet</i>, <i>who has been waiting with the door in his +hand</i>, <i>goes out</i>; <i>Mrs. Bennet follows</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">JANE</span> [<i>in the tones of a +patient executioner</i>]. Are you ready?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Quite ready, +dear. Of course—I don’t know what you will +think of them—but I’ve only brought modern costumes +with me.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">JANE</span> [<i>not a lady who +understands satire</i>]. We must do the best we can. +[<i>She marches out—into the dressing-room</i>.]</p> +<p><i>Fanny</i>, <i>after following a few steps</i>, <i>stops and +thinks</i>. <i>Ernest has entered with the wood</i>. +<i>He is piling it in the basket by the fire</i>. <i>His +entrance decides her</i>. <i>She glances through the open +door of the dressing-room</i>, <i>then flies across to the +desk</i>, <i>seats herself</i>, <i>and begins feverishly to write +a telegram</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Ernie! [<i>He +comes across to her</i>.] Have you still got your +bicycle?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. Yes.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Could you get this +telegram off for me before eight o’clock? I +don’t want it sent from the village; I want you to take it +<i>yourself</i>—into the town. There’s a +sovereign for you if you do it all right.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. I’ll do +it. Can only get into a row.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Pretty used to +them, ain’t you? [<i>She has risen</i>. <i>She +gives him the telegram</i>. <i>She has stamped +it</i>.] Can you read it?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. “George P. +Newte.”</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Hush!</p> +<p><i>They both glance at the open door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span> [<i>he continues in a +lower voice</i>]. “72<span class="GutSmall">A</span>, +Waterloo Bridge Road, London. Must see you at once. +Am at the new shop.” [<i>He looks up</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. That’s all +right.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. “Come +down. Q.T. Fanny.”</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>nods</i>]. Get +off quietly. I’ll see you again—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE VOICE OF JANE</span> [<i>from the +dressing-room</i>]. Are you going to keep me waiting all +night?</p> +<p>[<i>They start</i>. <i>Ernest hastily thrusts the +telegram into his breast-pocket</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Coming, dear, +coming. [<i>To Ernest</i>] Not a word to +anyone! [<i>She hurries him out and closes door behind +him</i>.] Merely been putting the room a bit tidy. +[<i>She is flying round collecting her outdoor +garments</i>.] Thought it would please you. So sorry +if I’ve kept you waiting. [<i>Jane has appeared at +door</i>.] After you, dear.</p> +<p><i>Jane goes out again</i>. <i>Fanny</i>, <i>with her +pile of luggage</i>, <i>follows</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<span +class="GutSmall">CURTAIN</span>]</p> +<h2><i>ACT II</i></h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>SCENE</i></p> +<p><i>The same</i>.</p> +<p><i>Time</i>.—<i>The next morning</i>.</p> +<p><i>The door opens</i>. <i>Dr. Freemantle enters</i>, +<i>shown in by Bennet</i>, <i>who follows him</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>talking as he +enters</i>]. Wonderful! Wonderful! I +don’t really think I ever remember so fine a spring.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>he is making up the +fire</i>]. I’m afraid we shall have to pay for it +later on.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. I expect +so. Law of the universe, you know, Bennet—law of the +universe. Everything in this world has got to be paid +for.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Except +trouble. [<i>The doctor laughs</i>.] The Times? +[<i>He hands it to him</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +Thanks. Thanks. [<i>Seats himself</i>.] +Won’t be long—his lordship, will he?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I don’t +think so. I told him you would be here about eleven.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +Um—what do you think of her?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Of—of her +ladyship?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +What’s she like?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. [<i>They have sunk +their voices</i>.] Well, it might have been worse.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Ah! +There’s always that consolation, isn’t there?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I think her +ladyship—with <i>management</i>—may turn out very +satisfactory.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. You like +her?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. At present, I must +say for her, she appears willing to be taught.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. And you +think it will last?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I think her +ladyship appreciates the peculiarity of her position. I +will tell the Miss Wetherells you are here.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Ah, +thanks!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I fancy her +ladyship will not herself be visible much before lunch +time. I understand she woke this morning with a +headache. [<i>He goes out</i>.]</p> +<p><i>The Doctor reads a moment</i>. <i>Then the door of +the dressing-room opens</i>, <i>and Fanny enters</i>. +<i>Her dress is a wonderful contrast to her costume of last +evening</i>. <i>It might be that of a poor and demure +nursery governess</i>. <i>Her hair is dressed in +keeping</i>. <i>She hardly seems the same woman</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>seeing the Doctor</i>, +<i>she pauses</i>]. Oh!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> +[<i>rises</i>]. I beg pardon, have I the pleasure of seeing +Lady Bantock?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +Delighted. May I introduce myself—Dr. +Freemantle? I helped your husband into the world.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes. +I’ve heard of you. You don’t mind my closing +this door, do you? [<i>Her very voice and manner are +changed</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>a little +puzzled</i>]. Not at all.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she closes the door +and returns</i>]. Won’t—won’t you be +seated?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +Thanks. [<i>They both sit</i>.] How’s the +headache?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Oh, it’s +better.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Ah! +[<i>A silence</i>.] Forgive me—I’m an old +friend of the family. You’re not a bit what I +expected.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. But you like +it? I mean you think this—[<i>with a +gesture</i>]—is all right?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. My dear +young lady, it’s charming. You couldn’t be +anything else.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Thank you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. I merely +meant that—well, I was not expecting anything so +delightfully demure.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. That’s the +idea—“seemly.” The Lady Bantocks have +always been “seemly”? [<i>She puts it as a +question</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>more and more +puzzled</i>]. Yes—oh, yes. They have always +been—[<i>His eye catches that of Constance</i>, <i>first +Lady Bantock</i>, <i>looking down at him from above the +chimney-piece</i>. <i>His tone changes</i>.] Well, +yes, in their way, you know.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You see, I’m +in the difficult position of following her <i>late</i> +ladyship. <i>She</i> appears to have been exceptionally +“seemly.” This is her frock. I mean it +<i>was</i> her frock.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. God bless +my soul! You are not dressing yourself up in her late +ladyship’s clothes? The dear good woman has been dead +and buried these twenty years.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she looks at her +dress</i>]. Yes, it struck me as being about that +period.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>he goes +across to her</i>]. What’s the trouble? Too +much Bennet?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she looks +up</i>. <i>There is a suspicion of a smile</i>]. One +might say—sufficient?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> +[<i>laughs</i>]. Excellent servants. If they’d +only remember it. [<i>He glances round—sinks his +voice</i>.] Take my advice. Put your foot +down—before it’s too late.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Sit down, +please. [<i>She makes room for him on the +settee</i>.] Because I’m going to be +confidential. You don’t mind, do you?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>seating +himself</i>]. My dear, I take it as the greatest compliment +I have had paid to me for years.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You put everything +so nicely. I’m two persons. I’m an +angel—perhaps that is too strong a word?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> +[<i>doubtfully</i>]. Well—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. We’ll say +saint. Or else I’m—the other thing.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Do you +know, I think you could be.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. It’s not a +question about which there is any doubt.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Of course, +in this case, a <i>little</i> bit of the devil—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she shakes her +head</i>]. There’s such a lot of mine. It has +always hampered me, never being able to hit the happy medium.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. It +<i>is</i> awkward.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I thought I would +go on being an angel—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Saint.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. +Saint—till—well, till it became physically impossible +to be a saint any longer.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. And +then?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she rises</i>, +<i>turns to him with a gesture of half-comic</i>, <i>half-tragic +despair</i>]. Well, then I can’t help it, can I?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. I think +you’re making a mistake. An explosion will +undoubtedly have to take place. That being so, the sooner +it takes place the better. [<i>He rises</i>.] What +are you afraid of?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she changes her +tone—the talk becomes serious</i>]. You’ve +known Vernon all his life?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. No one +better.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Tell me. +I’ve known him only as a lover. What sort of a man is +he?</p> +<p><i>A pause</i>. <i>They are looking straight into each +other’s eyes</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. A man it +pays to be perfectly frank with.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. It’s a very +old family, isn’t it?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Old! +Good Lord no! First Lord Bantock was only Vernon’s +great-grandfather. That is the woman that did it all. +[<i>He is looking at the Hoppner</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. How do you +mean?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Got them +their title. Made the name of Bantock of importance in the +history of the Georges. Clever woman.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>leaning over a +chair</i>, <i>she is staring into the eyes of the first Lady +Bantock</i>]. I wonder what she would have done if she had +ever got herself into a really first-class muddle?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. One +thing’s certain. [<i>Fanny turns to him</i>.] +She’d have got out of it.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>addresses the +portrait</i>]. I do wish you could talk.</p> +<p><i>Vernon bursts into the room</i>. <i>He has been +riding</i>. <i>He throws aside his hat and stick</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Hulloa! This +is good of you. [<i>He shakes hands with the +Doctor</i>.] How are you? [<i>Without waiting for any +reply</i>, <i>he goes to Fanny</i>, <i>kisses her</i>.] +Good morning, dear. How have you been getting on together, +you two? Has she been talking to you?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Oh, +yes.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Doesn’t she +talk well? I say, what have you been doing to yourself?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Jane thought this +style—[<i>with a gesture</i>]—more appropriate to +Lady Bantock.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Um! Wonder +if she’s right? [<i>To the Doctor</i>] What do +you think?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. I think it +a question solely for Lady Bantock.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Of course it +is. [<i>To Fanny</i>] You know, you mustn’t let +them dictate to you. Dear, good, faithful souls, all of +them. But they must understand that you are mistress.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she seizes eagerly at +the chance</i>]. You might mention it to them, dear. +It would come so much better from you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. No, you. +They will take more notice of you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I’d so much +rather you did it. [<i>To Dr. Freemantle</i>] +Don’t you think it would come better from him?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> +[<i>laughs</i>]. I’m afraid you’ll have to do +it yourself.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. You see, dear, it +might hurt them, coming from me. It would seem like +ingratitude. Mrs. Bennet—Why, it wasn’t till I +began to ask questions that I grasped the fact that she +<i>wasn’t</i> my real mother. As for old Bennet, ever +since my father died—well, I hardly know how I could have +got on without him. It was Charles Bennet that taught me to +ride; I learned my letters sitting on Jane’s lap.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes. Perhaps +I had better do it myself.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. I’m sure it +will be more effective. Of course I shall support you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Thank you. +Oh, by the by, dear, I shan’t be able to go with you +to-day.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Why not?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I’ve rather a +headache.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Oh, I’m so +sorry. Oh, all right, we’ll stop at home. +I’m not so very keen about it.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. No, I want you to +go, dear. Your aunts are looking forward to it. I +shall get over it all the sooner with everybody out of the +way.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Well, if you +really wish it.</p> +<p><i>The Misses Wetherell steal in</i>. <i>They are +dressed for driving</i>. <i>They exchange greetings with +the Doctor</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You know you +promised to obey. [<i>Tickles his nose with a +flower</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>laughing—to the +Doctor</i>]. You see what it is to be married?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> +[<i>laughs</i>]. Very trying.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>turning to his +aunts</i>]. Fanny isn’t coming with us.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>to Fanny</i>]. Oh, my dear!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. It’s only a +headache. [<i>She takes her aside</i>.] I’m +rather glad of it. I want an excuse for a little time to +myself.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. I understand, dear. It’s all +been so sudden. [<i>She kisses her—then to the +room</i>] She’ll be all the better alone. We +three will go on. [<i>She nods and signs to her +sister</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>kissing the Elder Miss +Wetherell</i>]. Don’t you get betting.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Oh no, dear, we never do. It’s just to see the dear +horses. [<i>She joins her sister</i>. <i>They +whisper</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>to the Doctor to whom +he has been talking</i>]. Can we give you a lift?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Well, you +might as far as the Vicarage. Good-bye, Lady Bantock.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>shaking +hands</i>]. Good-bye, Doctor.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Sure you +won’t be lonely?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>laughs</i>]. +Think I can’t exist an hour without you? Mr. +Conceited!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>laughs and kisses +her</i>]. Come along. [<i>He takes the Doctor and his +younger Aunt towards the door</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> [<i>who +is following last</i>]. I like you in that frock.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>laughs</i>]. So +glad. It’s Ernest who attends to the fires, +isn’t it?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Yes, dear.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I wish you’d +send him up. [<i>At door—calls after them</i>] +Hope you’ll all enjoy yourselves!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>from the +distance</i>]. I shall put you on a fiver.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Mind it wins. +[<i>She listens a moment—closes door</i>, <i>comes back to +desk</i>, <i>and takes a Bradshaw</i>.] +Five-six-three—five-six-three. [<i>Finds +page</i>.] St. Pancras, eight o’clock. Oh, +Lord! Stamford, 10.45. Leave +Stamford—[<i>Ernest has entered</i>.] Is that you, +Ernest?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. Yes.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Shut the +door. Sure it went off last night, that telegram?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. Yes.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. If he doesn’t +catch that eight o’clock, he can’t get here till +nearly four. That will be awkward. [<i>To +Ernest</i>] What time is it now?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span> [<i>looks at +clock</i>]. Twenty past eleven.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. If he does, +he’ll be here about twelve—I believe I’ll go +and meet him. Could I get out without being seen?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. You’ll have +to pass the lodge.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Who’s at the +lodge now?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. Mother.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Damn!</p> +<p><i>Bennet has entered unnoticed and drawn near</i>. +<i>At this point from behind</i>, <i>he boxes Ernest’s +ears</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. Here, steady!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. On the occasions +when your cousin forgets her position, you will remember it and +remind her of it. Get out! [<i>Ernest</i>, +<i>clumsily as ever</i>, “<i>gets out</i>.”] A +sort of person has called who, according to his own account, +“happened to be passing this way,” and would like to +see you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>who has been trying to +hide the Bradshaw—with affected surprise</i>.] To see +me!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>drily</i>]. +Yes. I thought you would be surprised. He claims to +be an old friend of yours—Mr. George Newte.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>still keeping it +up</i>]. George Newte! Of course—ah, yes. +Do you mind showing him up?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I thought I would +let you know he had arrived, in case you might be getting anxious +about him. I propose giving him a glass of beer and sending +him away again.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>flares up</i>]. +Look here, uncle, you and I have got to understand one +another. I may put up with being bullied myself—if I +can’t see any help for it—but I’m not going to +stand my friends being insulted. You show Mr. Newte up +here.</p> +<p><i>A silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I shall deem it my +duty to inform his lordship of Mr. Newte’s visit.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. There will be no +need to. Mr. Newte, if his arrangements permit, will be +staying to dinner.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. That, we shall see +about. [<i>He goes out</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>following him to +door</i>]. And tell them I shall want the best bedroom got +ready in case Mr. Newte is able to stay the night. +I’ve done it. [<i>She goes to piano</i>, <i>dashes +into the</i> “<i>Merry Widow Waltz</i>,” <i>or some +other equally inappropriate but well-known melody</i>, <i>and +then there enters Newte</i>, <i>shown in by Bennet</i>. +<i>Newte is a cheerful person</i>, <i>attractively dressed in +clothes suggestive of a successful bookmaker</i>. <i>He +carries a white pot hat and tasselled cane</i>. <i>His +gloves are large and bright</i>. <i>He is smoking an +enormous cigar</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Mr. Newte.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she springs up and +greets him</i>. <i>They are evidently good +friends</i>]. Hulloa, George!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Hulloa, Fan—I +beg your pardon, Lady Bantock. [<i>Laughs</i>.] Was +just passing this way—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>cutting him +short</i>]. Yes. So nice of you to call.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. I said to +myself—[<i>His eye catches Bennet</i>; <i>he +stops</i>.] Ah, thanks. [<i>He gives Bennet his hat +and stick</i>, <i>but Bennet does not seem satisfied</i>. +<i>He has taken from the table a small china tray</i>. +<i>This he is holding out to Newte</i>, <i>evidently for Newte to +put something in it</i>. <i>But what</i>? <i>Newte is +puzzled</i>, <i>he glances at Fanny</i>. <i>The idea +strikes him that perhaps it is a tip Bennet is waiting +for</i>. <i>It seems odd</i>, <i>but if it be the +custom—he puts his hand to his trousers pocket</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. The smoking-room +is on the ground-floor.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Ah, my cigar. +I beg your pardon. I couldn’t understand. +[<i>He puts it on the tray—breaks into a laugh</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Thank you. +Her ladyship is suffering from a headache. If I might +suggest—a little less boisterousness. [<i>He goes +out</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>he watches him +out</i>]. I say, your Lord Chamberlain’s a bit of a +freezer!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes. Wants +hanging out in the sun. How did you manage to get here so +early? [<i>She sits</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Well, your telegram +rather upset me. I thought—correct etiquette for me +to sit down here, do you think?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Don’t ask +me. Got enough new tricks of my own to learn. +[<i>Laughs</i>.] Should chance it, if I were you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Such a long time +since I was at Court. [<i>He sits</i>.] Yes, I was up +at five o’clock this morning.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>laughs</i>]. Oh, +you poor fellow!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Caught the first +train to Melton, and came on by cart. What’s the +trouble?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. A good deal. +Why didn’t you tell me what I was marrying?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. I did. I told +you that he was a gentleman; that he—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Why didn’t +you tell me that he was Lord Bantock? You knew, +didn’t you?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>begins to see worries +ahead</i>]. Can’t object to my putting a cigar in my +mouth if I don’t light it—can he?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Oh, light +it—anything you like that will help you to get along.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>bites the end off the +cigar and puts it between his teeth</i>. <i>This helps +him</i>]. No, I didn’t know—not officially.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. What do you +mean—“not officially”?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. He never told +me.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. He never told you +<i>anything</i>—for the matter of that. I understood +you had found out everything for yourself.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Yes; and one of the +things I found out was that he didn’t <i>want</i> you to +know. I could see his little game. Wanted to play the +Lord Burleigh fake. Well, what was the harm? +Didn’t make any difference to you!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Didn’t make +any difference to me! [<i>Jumps up</i>.] Do you know +what I’ve done? Married into a family that keeps +twenty-three servants, every blessed one of whom is a near +relation of my own. [<i>He sits paralysed</i>. <i>She +goes on</i>.] That bald-headed old owl—[<i>with a +wave towards the door</i>]—that wanted to send you off with +a glass of beer and a flea in your ear—that’s my +uncle. The woman that opened the lodge gate for you is my +Aunt Amelia. The carroty-headed young man that answered the +door to you is my cousin Simeon. He always used to insist +on kissing me. I’m expecting him to begin +again. My “lady’s” maid is my cousin +Jane. That’s why I’m dressed like this! +My own clothes have been packed off to the local dressmaker to be +made “decent.” Meanwhile, they’ve dug up +the family vault to find something for me to go on with. +[<i>He has been fumbling in all his pockets for +matches</i>. <i>She snatches a box from somewhere and +flings it to him</i>.] For Heaven’s sake light +it! Then, perhaps, you’ll be able to do something +else than stare. I have claret and +water—mixed—with my dinner. Uncle pours it out +for me. They’ve locked up my cigarettes. Aunt +Susannah is coming in to-morrow morning to hear me say my +prayers. Doesn’t trust me by myself. Thinks +I’ll skip them. She’s the housekeeper +here. I’ve got to know them by heart before I go to +bed to-night, and now I’ve mislaid them. [<i>She goes +to the desk—hunts for them</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>having lighted his +eternal cigar</i>, <i>he can begin to think</i>]. But why +should <i>they</i>—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>still at +desk</i>]. Because they’re that sort. They +honestly think they are doing the right and proper +thing—that Providence has put it into their hands to turn +me out a passable substitute for all a Lady Bantock should be; +which, so far as I can understand, is something between the late +lamented Queen Victoria and Goody-Two-Shoes. They are the +people that I ran away from, the people I’ve told you +about, the people I’ve always said I’d rather starve +than ever go back to. And here I am, plumped down in the +midst of them again—for life! [<i>Honoria Bennet</i>, +<i>the</i> “<i>still-room</i>” <i>maid</i>, <i>has +entered</i>. <i>She is a pert young minx of about +Fanny’s own age</i>.] What is is? What is +it?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">HONORIA</span>. Merely passing +through. Sorry to have excited your ladyship. +[<i>Goes into dressing-room</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. My cousin +Honoria. They’ve sent her up to keep an eye upon +me. Little cat! [<i>She takes her handkerchief</i>, +<i>drapes it over the keyhole of the dressing-room door</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>at sight of Honoria he +has jumped up and hastily hidden his cigar behind him</i>]. +What are you going to do?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she seats herself and +suggests to him the writing-chair</i>]. Hear from +you—first of all—exactly what you told Vernon.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>sitting</i>]. +About you?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>nods</i>]. About +me—and my family.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. +Well—couldn’t tell him much, of course. +Wasn’t much to tell.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I want what you did +tell.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. I told him that +your late father was a musician.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Had been +unfortunate. Didn’t go into particulars. +Didn’t seem to be any need for it. That your mother +had died when you were still only a girl and that you had gone to +live with relatives. [<i>He looks for approval</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. That you +hadn’t got on well with them—artistic temperament, +all that sort of thing—that, in consequence, you had +appealed to your father’s old theatrical friends; and that +they—that they, having regard to your talent—and +beauty—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Thank you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Had decided that +the best thing you could do was to go upon the stage. +[<i>He finishes</i>, <i>tolerably well pleased with +himself</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. That’s all +right. Very good indeed. What else?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>after an uncomfortable +pause</i>]. Well, that’s about all I knew.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes, but what did +you <i>tell</i> him?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Well, of course, I +had to tell him something. A man doesn’t marry +without knowing just a little about his wife’s +connections. Wouldn’t be reasonable to expect +him. You’d never told me anything—never would; +except that you’d liked to have boiled the lot. What +was I to do? [<i>He is playing with a quill pen he has +picked up</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she takes it from +him</i>]. What <i>did</i> you do?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>with fine +frankness</i>]. I did the best I could for you, old girl, +and he was very nice about it. Said it was better than +he’d expected, and that I’d made him very +happy—very happy indeed.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she leans across</i>, +<i>puts her hand on his</i>]. You’re a dear, good +fellow, George—always have been. I wouldn’t +plague you only it is absolutely necessary I should +know—exactly what you did tell him.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>a little +sulkily</i>]. I told him that your uncle was a bishop.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>sits +back—staring at him</i>]. A what?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. A bishop. +Bishop of Waiapu, New Zealand.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Why New +Zealand?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Why not? Had +to be somewhere. Didn’t want him Archbishop of +Canterbury, did you?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Did he believe +it?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Shouldn’t +have told him had there been any fear that he wouldn’t.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I see. Any +other swell relations of mine knocking about?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. One—a judge +of the Supreme Court in Ohio. Same name, anyhow, +O’Gorman. Thought I’d make him a cousin of +yours. I’ve always remembered him. Met him when +I was over there in ninety-eight—damn him!</p> +<p><i>A silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she rises</i>]. +Well, nothing else for it! Got to tell him it was all a +pack of lies. Not blaming you, old boy—my +fault. Didn’t know he was going to ask any questions, +or I’d have told him myself. Bit of bad luck, +that’s all.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Why must you tell +him? Only upset him.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. It’s either +my telling him or leaving it for them to do. You know me, +George. How long do you see me being bossed and bullied by +my own servants? Besides, it’s bound to come out in +any case.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>he rises</i>. +<i>Kindly but firmly he puts her back into her chair</i>. +<i>Then pacing to and fro with his hands mostly in his trousers +pockets</i>, <i>he talks</i>]. Now, you listen to me, old +girl. I’ve been your business manager ever since you +started in. I’ve never made a mistake +before—[<i>he turns and faces her</i>]—and I +haven’t made one this time.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I don’t +really see the smartness, George, stuffing him up with a lot of +lies he can find out for himself.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. <i>If he wants +to</i>. A couple of telegrams, one to His Grace the Bishop +of Waiapu, the other to Judge Denis O’Gorman, Columbus, +Ohio, would have brought him back the information that neither +gentlemen had ever heard of you. <i>If he hadn’t been +careful not to send them</i>. He wasn’t marrying you +with the idea of strengthening his family connections. He +was marrying you because he was just gone on you. +Couldn’t help himself.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. In that case, you +might just as well have told him the truth.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. <i>Which he would +then have had to pass on to everyone entitled to ask +questions</i>. Can’t you understand? Somebody, +in the interest of everybody, had to tell a lie. Well, +what’s a business manager for?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. But I can’t +do it, George. You don’t know them. The longer +I give in to them the worse they’ll get.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Can’t you +square them?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. No, that’s +the trouble. They <i>are</i> honest. They’re +the “faithful retainers” out of a melodrama. +They are working eighteen hours a day on me not for any advantage +to themselves, but because they think it their “duty” +to the family. They don’t seem to have any use for +themselves at all.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Well, what about +the boy? Can’t <i>he</i> talk to them?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Vernon! +They’ve brought him up from a baby—spanked him all +round, I expect. Might as well ask a boy to talk to his old +schoolmaster. Besides, if he did talk, then it would all +come out. As I tell you, it’s bound to come +out—and the sooner the better.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. It must <i>not</i> +come out! It’s too late. If we had told him at +the beginning that he was proposing to marry into his own +butler’s family—well, it’s an awkward +situation—he might have decided to risk it. Or he +might have cried off.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. And a good job if +he had.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Now talk +sense. You wanted him—you took a fancy to him from +the beginning. He’s a nice boy, and there’s +something owing to him. [<i>It is his trump card</i>, +<i>and he knows it</i>.] Don’t forget that. +He’s been busy, explaining to all his friends and relations +why they should receive you with open arms: really nice girl, +born gentlewoman, good old Church of England family—no +objection possible. For you to spring the truth upon him +<i>now</i>—well, it doesn’t seem to me quite fair to +<i>him</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Then am I to live +all my life dressed as a charity girl?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. You keep your head +and things will gradually right themselves. This family of +yours—they’ve got <i>some</i> sense, I suppose?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Never noticed any +sign of it myself.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Maybe you’re +not a judge. [<i>Laughs</i>.] They’ll listen to +reason. You let <i>me</i> have a talk to them, one of these +days; see if I can’t show them—first one and then the +other—the advantage of leaving to “better” +themselves—<i>with the help of a little ready +money</i>. Later on—choosing your proper +time—you can break it to him that you have discovered +they’re distant connections of yours, a younger branch of +the family that you’d forgotten. Give the show time +to settle down into a run. Then you can begin to make +changes.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You’ve a +wonderful way with you, George. It always sounds right as +you put it—even when one jolly well knows that it +isn’t.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Well, it’s +always been right for you, old girl, ain’t it?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes. +You’ve been a rattling good friend. [<i>She takes his +hands</i>.] Almost wish I’d married you +instead. We’d have been more suited to one +another.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>shakes his +head</i>]. Nothing like having your fancy. +You’d never have been happy without him. [<i>He +releases her</i>.] ’Twas a good engagement, or +I’d never have sanctioned it.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I suppose it will +be the last one you will ever get me. [<i>She has dropped +for a moment into a brown study</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>he turns</i>]. I +hope so.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she throws off her +momentary mood with a laugh</i>]. Poor fellow! You +never even got your commission.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. I’ll take ten +per cent. of all your happiness, old girl. So make it as +much as you can for my benefit. Good-bye. [<i>He +holds out hand</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You’re not +going? You’ll stop to lunch?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Not to-day.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Do. If you +don’t, they’ll think it’s because I was +frightened to ask you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. All the +better. The more the other party thinks he’s having +his way, the easier always to get your own. Your trouble +is, you know, that you never had any tact.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I hate tact. +[<i>Newte laughs</i>.] We could have had such a jolly +little lunch together. I’m all alone till the +evening. There were ever so many things I wanted to talk to +you about.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. What?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Ah, how can one +talk to a man with his watch in his hand? [<i>He puts it +away and stands waiting</i>, <i>but she is cross</i>.] I +think you’re very disagreeable.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. I must really get +back to town. I oughtn’t to be away now, only your +telegram—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I know. +I’m an ungrateful little beast! [<i>She crosses and +rings bell</i>.] You’ll have a glass of champagne +before you go?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Well, I won’t +say no to that.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. How are all the +girls?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Oh, chirpy. +I’m bringing them over to London. We open at the +Palace next week.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. What did they think +of my marriage? Gerty was a bit jealous, wasn’t +she?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Well, would have +been, if she’d known who he was. [<i>Laughs</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Tell her. +Tell her [<i>she draws herself up</i>] I’m Lady Bantock, of +Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire. It will make her so mad. +[<i>Laughs</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>laughs</i>]. I +will.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Give them all my +love. [<i>Ernest appears in answer to her bell</i>.] +Oh, Ernest, tell Bennet—[<i>the eyes and mouth of Ernest +open</i>]—to see that Mr. Newte has some refreshment before +he leaves. A glass of champagne and—and some +caviare. Don’t forget. [<i>Ernest goes +out</i>.] Good-bye. You’ll come again?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Whenever you want +me—and remember—the watchword is +“Tact”!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes, I’ve got +the <i>word</i> all right. [<i>Laughs</i>.] +Don’t forget to give my love to the girls.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. I +won’t. So long! [<i>He goes out</i>.]</p> +<p><i>Fanny closes the door</i>. <i>Honoria has re-entered +from the dressing-room</i>. <i>She looks from the +handkerchief still hanging over the keyhole to Fanny</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">HONORIA</span>. Your +ladyship’s handkerchief?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes. Such a +draught through that keyhole.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">HONORIA</span> [<i>takes the +handkerchief</i>, <i>hands it to Fanny</i>]. I will tell +the housekeeper.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Thanks. Maybe +you will also mention it to the butler. Possibly also to +the—[<i>She suddenly changes</i>.] Honoria. +Suppose it had been you—you know, you’re awfully +pretty—who had married Lord Bantock, and he had brought you +back here, among them all—uncle, aunt, all the lot of +them—what would you have done?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">HONORIA</span> [<i>she draws herself +up</i>]. I should have made it quite plain from the first, +that I was mistress, and that they were my servants.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You would, you +think—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">HONORIA</span> [<i>checking her +outburst</i>]. But then, dear—you will excuse my +speaking plainly—there is a slight difference between the +two cases. [<i>She seats herself on the settee</i>. +<i>Fanny is standing near the desk</i>.] You see, what we +all feel about you, dear, is—that you are—well, +hardly a fit wife for his lordship. [<i>Fanny’s hands +are itching to box the girl’s ears</i>. <i>To save +herself</i>, <i>she grinds out through her teeth the word</i> +“<i>Tack</i>!”] Of course, dear, it isn’t +altogether your fault.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Thanks.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">HONORIA</span>. Your +mother’s marriage was most unfortunate.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>her efforts to +suppress her feelings are just—but only +just—successful</i>.] Need we discuss that?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">HONORIA</span>. Well, he was an +Irishman, dear, there’s no denying it. [<i>Fanny +takes a cushion from a chair—with her back to Honoria</i>, +<i>she strangles it</i>. <i>Jane has entered and is +listening</i>.] Still, perhaps it is a painful +subject. And we hope—all of us—that, with time +and patience, we may succeed in eradicating the natural results +of your bringing-up.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">JANE</span>. Some families, +finding themselves in our position, would seek to turn it to +their own advantage. <i>We</i> think only of your good.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes, that’s +what I feel—that you are worrying yourselves too much about +me. You’re too conscientious, all of you. You, +in particular, Jane, because you know you’re not +strong. <i>You’ll</i> end up with a nervous +breakdown. [<i>Mrs. Bennet has entered</i>. +<i>Honoria slips out</i>. <i>Fanny turns to her +aunt</i>.] I was just saying how anxious I’m getting +about Jane. I don’t like the look of her at +all. What she wants is a holiday. Don’t you +agree with me?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. There will be +no holiday, I fear, for any of us, for many a long day.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. But you must. +You must think more of yourselves, you know. +<i>You’re</i> not looking well, aunt, at all. What +you both want is a month—at the seaside.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. Your object +is too painfully apparent for the subject to need +discussion. True solicitude for us would express itself +better in greater watchfulness upon your own behaviour.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Why, what have I +done?</p> +<p><i>Bennet enters</i>, <i>followed</i>, <i>unwillingly</i>, +<i>by Ernest</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. Your uncle +will explain.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Shut that +door. [<i>Ernest does so</i>. <i>They group round +Bennet—Ernest a little behind</i>. <i>Fanny remains +near the desk</i>.] Sit down. [<i>Fanny</i>, +<i>bewildered</i>, <i>speechless</i>, <i>sits</i>.] Carry +your mind back, please, to the moment when, with the Bradshaw in +front of you, you were considering, with the help of your cousin +Ernest, the possibility of your slipping out unobserved, to meet +and commune with a person you had surreptitiously summoned to +visit you during your husband’s absence.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. While I think of +it, did he have anything to eat before he went? I told +Ernest to—ask you to see that he had a glass of champagne +and a—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>waves her back into +silence</i>]. Mr. Newte was given refreshment suitable to +his station. [<i>She goes to interrupt</i>. <i>Again +he waves her back</i>.] We are speaking of more important +matters. Your cousin reminded you that you would have to +pass the lodge, occupied by your Aunt Amelia. I state the +case correctly?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Beautifully!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I said nothing at +the time, doubting the evidence of my own ears. The boy, +however—where is the boy?—[<i>Ernest is pushed +forward</i>]—has admitted—reluctantly—that he +also heard it. [<i>A pause</i>. <i>The solemnity +deepens</i>.] You made use of an expression—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Oh, cut it +short. I said “damn.” [<i>A shudder +passes</i>.] I’m sorry to have frightened you, but if +you knew a little more of really good society, you would know +that ladies—quite slap-up ladies—when they’re +excited, do—.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span> [<i>interrupting +with almost a scream</i>]. She defends it!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. You will allow +<i>me</i> to be the judge of what a <i>lady</i> says, even when +she is excited. As for this man, Newte—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. The best friend you +ever had. [<i>She is</i> “<i>up</i>” +<i>again</i>.] You thank your stars, all of you, and tell +the others, too, the whole blessed twenty-three of you—you +thank your stars that I did “surreptitiously” beg and +pray him to run down by the first train and have a talk with me; +and that Providence was kind enough to <i>you</i> to enable him +to come. It’s a very different tune you’d have +been singing at this moment—all of you—if he +hadn’t. I can tell you that.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. And pray, +what tune <i>should</i> we have been singing if Providence +hadn’t been so thoughtful of us?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she is about to +answer</i>, <i>then checks herself</i>, <i>and sits +again</i>]. You take care you don’t find out. +There’s time yet.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. We had better +leave her.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Threats, my good +girl, will not help you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span> [<i>with a +laugh</i>]. She’s in too tight a corner for that.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. A contrite heart +is what your aunt and I desire to see. [<i>He takes from +his pocket a small book</i>, <i>places it open on the +desk</i>.] I have marked one or two passages, on pages +93–7. We will discuss them together—later in +the day.</p> +<p><i>They troop out in silence</i>, <i>the key turns in the +lock</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>takes up the +book—turns to the cover</i>, <i>reads</i>]. +“The Sinner’s Manual.” [<i>She turns to +page</i> 93.]</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<span +class="GutSmall">CURTAIN</span>]</p> +<h2><i>ACT III</i></h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>SCENE</i></p> +<p><i>The same</i>.</p> +<p><i>Time</i>.—<i>A few days later</i>.</p> +<p><i>A table is laid for tea</i>. <i>Ernest enters with +the tea-urn</i>. <i>He leaves the door open</i>; <i>through +it comes the sound of an harmonium</i>, <i>accompanying the +singing of a hymn</i>. <i>Fanny comes from her +dressing-room</i>. <i>She is dressed more cheerfully than +when we last saw her</i>, <i>but still</i> +“<i>seemly</i>.” <i>She has a book in her +hand</i>. <i>She pauses</i>, <i>hearing the music</i>, +<i>goes nearer to the open door</i>, <i>and listens</i>; <i>then +crosses and takes her place at the table</i>. <i>The music +ceases</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Another prayer +meeting? [<i>Ernest nods</i>.] I do keep ’em +busy.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. D’ye know +what they call you downstairs?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. What?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. The family +cross.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I’m afraid +it’s about right.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. What have you been +doing <i>this</i> time? Swearing again?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Worse. +I’ve been lying. [<i>Ernest gives vent to a low +whistle</i>.] Said I didn’t know what had become of +that yellow poplin with the black lace flounces, that +they’ve had altered for me. Found out that I’d +given it to old Mother Potts for the rummage sale at the +Vicarage. Jane was down there. Bought it in for half +a crown.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. You are +risky. Why, you might have known—</p> +<p><i>Vernon comes in</i>. <i>He is in golfing +get-up</i>. <i>He throws his cap on to the settee</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Hello, got a cup +of tea there?</p> +<p><i>Ernest goes out</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes. Thought +you were playing golf?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Just had a +telegram handed to me in the village—from your friend +Newte. Wants me to meet him at Melton Station at five +o’clock. [<i>Looks at his watch</i>.] Know what +he wants?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Haven’t the +faintest idea. [<i>She hands him his cup</i>.] Is he +coming <i>here</i>? Or merely on his way somewhere?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. I don’t +know; he doesn’t say.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Don’t let him +mix you up in any of his “ventures.” Dear old +George, he’s as honest as the day, but if he gets hold of +an “idea” there’s always thousands in it for +everybody.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. I’ll be +careful. [<i>Ernest has left the door open</i>. +<i>The harmonium breaks forth again</i>, <i>together with vocal +accompaniment as before</i>.] What’s on downstairs, +then—a party?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Bennet is holding a +prayer meeting.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. A prayer +meeting?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. One of the younger +members of the family has been detected “telling a +deliberate lie.” [<i>Vernon is near the door +listening</i>, <i>with his back towards her</i>, <i>or he would +see that she is smiling</i>.] Black sheep, I suppose, to be +found in every flock. [<i>Music ceases</i>, <i>Ernest +having arrived with the news of his lordship’s +return</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>returning to the +table</i>, <i>having closed the door</i>]. Good old man, +you know, Bennet. All of them! So +high-principled! Don’t often get servants like that, +nowadays.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Seems almost +selfish, keeping the whole collection to ourselves.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>laughs</i>]. +’Pon my word it does. But what can we do? +They’ll never leave us—not one of them.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. No, I don’t +believe they ever will.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Do you know, I +sometimes think that you don’t like them. [<i>Fanny +makes a movement</i>.] Of course, they are a bit bossy, I +admit. But all that comes from their devotion, +their—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. The wonder to me is +that, brought up among them, admiring them as you do, you never +thought of marrying one of them.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>staggered</i>.] +Marrying them?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I didn’t say +“them.” I said “<i>one</i> of +them.” There’s Honoria. She’s +pretty enough, anyhow. So’s Alice, Charles +Bennet’s daughter, and Bertha and Grace—all of them +beautiful. And what’s even better +still—good. [<i>She says it viciously</i>.] +Didn’t you ever think of them?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Well +[<i>laughs</i>]—well, one hardly marries into one’s +own kitchen.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Isn’t that +rather snobbish? You say they’re more like friends +than servants. They’ve lived with your people, side +by side, for three generations, doing their duty, +honourably. There’s never been a slur upon their +name. They’re “high-principled.” +You know it. They’ve better manners than nine-tenths +of your smart society, and they’re healthy. +What’s wrong with them—even from a lord’s point +of view?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>recovering +himself</i>]. Well, don’t pitch into me about +it. It’s your fault if I didn’t marry +them—I mean one of them. [<i>He laughs</i>, <i>puts +his empty cup back on the table</i>.] Maybe I’d have +thought about it—if I hadn’t met you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>takes his hand in +hers</i>]. I wish you hadn’t asked Newte any +questions about me. It would have been so nice to feel that +you had married me—just because you couldn’t help +it—just because I was I and nothing else mattered.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Let’s forget +I ever did. [<i>He kneels beside her</i>.] I +didn’t do it for my own sake, as you know. A +<i>man</i> in my position has to think of other people. His +wife has to take her place in society. People insist upon +knowing something about her. It’s not enough for the +stupid “County” that she’s the cleverest, most +bewilderingly beautiful, bewitching lady in the land.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. And how long will +you think all that?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. For ever, and +ever, and ever.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Oh, you dear +boy. [<i>She kisses him</i>.] You don’t know +how a woman loves the man she loves to love her. +[<i>Laughs</i>.] Isn’t that complicated?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Not at all. +We’re just the same. We love to love the woman we +love.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Provided the +“County” will let us. And the County has said: +A man may not marry his butler’s niece.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>laughing</i>]. +You’ve got butlers on the brain. If ever I do run +away with my own cook or under-housemaid, it will be your +doing.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You haven’t +the pluck! The “County” would laugh at +you. You men are so frightened of being laughed at.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>he rises</i>]. +Well, if it saves us from making asses of ourselves—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Wasn’t there +a niece of old Bennet’s, a girl who had been brought up +abroad, and who <i>wasn’t</i> a domestic +servant—never had been—who stayed with them here, at +the gardener’s cottage, for a short time, some few years +ago?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. You mean poor Rose +Bennet’s daughter—the one who ran away and married an +organ-grinder.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. An +organ-grinder?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Something of that +sort—yes. They had her over; did all they +could. A crazy sort of girl; used to sing French ballads on +the village green to all the farm labourers she could +collect. Shortened poor Bennet’s life by about ten +years. [<i>Laughs</i>.] But why? Not going to +bully me for not having fallen in love with her, are you? +Because that really <i>wasn’t</i> my fault. I never +even saw her. ’Twas the winter we spent in +Rome. She bolted before we got back. Never gave me a +chance.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I accept the +excuse. [<i>Laughs</i>.] No, I was merely wondering +what the “County” would have done if by any chance +you had married <i>her</i>. Couldn’t have said you +were marrying into your own kitchen in her case, because she was +never <i>in</i> your kitchen—absolutely refused to enter +it, I’m told.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>laughs</i>]. It +would have been a “nice point,” as they say in legal +circles. If people had liked her, they’d have tried +to forget that her cousins had ever been scullery-maids. If +not, they’d have taken good care that nobody did.</p> +<p><i>Bennet enters</i>. <i>He brings some cut flowers</i>, +<i>with the</i> “<i>placing</i>” <i>of which he +occupies himself</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I did not know +your lordship had returned.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Found a telegram +waiting for me in the village. What’s become of that +niece of yours, Bennet—your sister Rose’s daughter, +who was here for a short time and ran away again? Ever hear +anything about her?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>very quietly he +turns</i>, <i>lets his eyes for a moment meet +Fanny’s</i>. <i>Then answers as he crosses to the +windows</i>]. The last I heard about her was that she was +married.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. +Satisfactorily?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Looking at it from +her point of view—most satisfactorily.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>laughs</i>]. +But looking at it from his—more doubtful?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. She was not +without her attractions. Her chief faults, I am inclined to +think, were those arising from want of discipline in youth. +I have hopes that it is not even yet too late to root out from +her nature the weeds of indiscretion.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. And you think he +is the man to do it?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Perhaps not. +But fortunately there are those about her fully alive to the duty +devolving upon them.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Um. Sounds a +little bit like penal servitude for the poor girl, the way you +put it, Bennet.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Even penal +servitude may be a blessing, if it serves to correct a stubborn +spirit.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. We’ll have +to make you a J.P., Bennet. Must be jolly careful I +don’t ever get tried before you. +[<i>Laughs</i>.] Is that the cart?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>he looks out through +the window</i>]. Yes, your lordship.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>he takes up his +cap</i>]. I may be bringing someone back with me. +[<i>To Fanny</i>, <i>who throughout has remained +seated</i>.] Why not put on your hat—come with +me?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she jumps up</i>, +<i>delighted</i>]. Shall I?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Your ladyship is +not forgetting that to-day is Wednesday?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. What’s the +odds. There’s nobody to call. Everybody is +still in town.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. It has always been +the custom of the Lady Bantocks, when in residence, to be at home +on Wednesdays.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Perhaps better +not. It may cause talk; if, by chance, anybody does +come. I was forgetting it was Wednesday. [<i>Fanny +sits again</i>.] I shan’t do anything without +consulting you. Good-bye.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Good-bye.</p> +<p><i>Vernon goes out</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. You think it wise, +discussing with his lordship the secret history of the Bennet +family?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. What do you mean by +telling him my father was an organ-grinder? If the British +public knew the difference between music and a hurdy-gurdy, he +would have kept a butler of his own.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I am not aware of +having mentioned to his lordship that you ever to my knowledge +even had a father. It is not my plan—for the present +at all events—to inform his lordship anything about your +family. Take care I am not forced to.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Because my father, +a composer who had his work performed at the Lamoureux +Concerts—as I can prove, because I’ve got the +programme—had the misfortune to marry into a family of +lackeys—I’m not talking about my mother: she was +never really one of you. <i>She</i> had the soul of an +artist.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>white with suppressed +fury</i>; <i>he is in front of her</i>; <i>his very look is +enough to silence her</i>]. Now you listen to me, my girl, +once and for all. I told you the night of your arrival that +whether this business was going to prove a pleasant or an +unpleasant one depended upon you. You make it an easy +one—for your own sake. With one word I can bring your +house of cards about your ears. I’ve only to tell him +the truth for him to know you as a cheat and liar. [<i>She +goes to speak</i>; <i>again he silences her</i>.] You +listen to me. You’ve seen fit to use strong language; +now I’m using strong language. This <i>boy</i>, who +has married you in a moment of impulse, what does <i>he</i> know +about the sort of wife a man in his position needs? What do +<i>you</i>? made to sing for your living on the Paris +boulevards—whose only acquaintance with the upper classes +has been at shady restaurants.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. He didn’t +<i>want</i> a woman of his own class. He told me so. +It was because I wasn’t a colourless, conventional puppet +with a book of etiquette in place of a soul that he was first +drawn towards me.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Yes. At +twenty-two, boys like unconventionality. Men don’t: +they’ve learnt its true name, vulgarity. Do you think +I’ve stood behind English society for forty years without +learning anything about it! What you call a colourless +puppet is what <i>we</i> call an English lady. And that +you’ve got to learn to be. You talk of +“lackeys.” If your mother, my poor sister Rose, +came from a family of “lackeys” there would be no +hope for you. With her blood in your veins the thing can be +done. We Bennets—[<i>he draws himself +up</i>]—we serve. We are not lackeys.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. All right. +Don’t you call my father an organ-grinder, and I +won’t call you lackeys. Unfortunately that +doesn’t end the trouble.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. The trouble can +easily be ended.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes. By my +submitting to be ruled in all things for the remainder of my life +by my own servants.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Say +“relations,” and it need not sound so unpleasant.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes, it +would. It would sound worse. One can get rid of +one’s servants. [<i>She has crossed towards the +desk</i>. <i>Her cheque-book lies there half hidden under +other papers</i>. <i>It catches her eye</i>. <i>Her +hand steals unconsciously towards it</i>. <i>She taps it +idly with her fingers</i>. <i>It is all the work of a +moment</i>. <i>Nothing comes of it</i>. <i>Just the +idea passes through her brain—not for the first +time</i>. <i>She does nothing noticeable—merely +stands listless while one might count half a dozen—then +turns to him again</i>.] Don’t you think you’re +going it a bit too strong, all of you? I’m not a +fool. I’ve got a lot to learn, I know. +I’d be grateful for help. What you’re trying to +do is to turn me into a new woman entirely.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Because that is +the only <i>way</i> to help you. Men do not put new wine +into old bottles.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Oh, don’t +begin quoting Scripture. I want to discuss the thing +sensibly. Don’t you see it can’t be done? +I can’t be anybody else than myself. I don’t +want to.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. My girl, +you’ve <i>got</i> to be. Root and branch, inside and +outside, before you’re fit to be Lady Bantock, mother of +the Lord Bantocks that are to be, you’ve got to be a +changed woman.</p> +<p><i>A pause</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. And it’s +going to be your job, from beginning to end—yours and the +rest of you. What I wear and how I look is Jane’s +affair. My prayers will be for what Aunt Susannah thinks I +stand in need of. What I eat and drink and say and do +<i>you</i> will arrange for me. And when you die, Cousin +Simeon, I suppose, will take your place. And when Aunt +Susannah dies, it will merely be a change to Aunt Amelia. +And if Jane ever dies, Honoria will have the dressing and the +lecturing of me. And so on and so on, world without end, +for ever and ever, Amen.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Before that time, +you will, I shall hope, have learnt sufficient sense to be +grateful to us. [<i>He goes out</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she turns—walks +slowly back towards the tea-table</i>. <i>Halfway she +pauses</i>, <i>and leaning over the back of a chair regards in +silence for a while the portrait of the first Lady +Bantock</i>]. I do wish I could tell what you were +saying.</p> +<p><i>The door opens</i>. <i>The Misses Wetherell come +in</i>. <i>They wear the same frocks that they wore in the +first act</i>. <i>They pause</i>. <i>Fanny is still +gazing at the portrait</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Don’t you notice it, dear?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Yes. There really is.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +It struck me the first day. [<i>To Fanny</i>, <i>who has +turned</i>] Your likeness, dear, to Lady Constance. +It’s really quite remarkable.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You think so?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. It’s your expression—when you +are serious.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>laughs</i>]. I +must try to be more serious.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +It will come, dear.</p> +<p><i>They take their places side by side on the settee</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>to her sister</i>, <i>with a pat of the hand</i>]. In +good time. It’s so nice to have her young. I +wonder if anybody’ll come this afternoon.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> [<i>to +Fanny</i>]. You see, dear, most of the county people are +still in town.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>who is pouring out +tea</i>]. I’m not grumbling.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Oh, you’ll like them, dear. The Cracklethorpes +especially. [<i>To her sister for confirmation</i>] +Bella Cracklethorpe is so clever.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. And the Engells. She’ll like +the Engells. All the Engell girls are so pretty. +[<i>Fanny brings over two cups of tea</i>.] Thank you, +dear.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> [<i>as +she takes her cup—patting Fanny’s hand</i>]. +And they’ll like you, dear, <i>all</i> of them.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>returning to +table</i>]. I hope so.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +It’s wonderful, dear—you won’t mind my saying +it?—how you’ve improved.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Of course it was such a change for +you. And at first [<i>turns to her sister</i>] we were a +little anxious about her, weren’t we?</p> +<p><i>Fanny has returned to them with the cake-basket</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> [<i>as +she takes a piece</i>]. Bennet [<i>she lingers on the name +as that of an authority</i>] was saying only yesterday that he +had great hopes of you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>Fanny is handing the basket to her</i>]. Thank you, +dear.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +I told Vernon. He was <i>so</i> pleased.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. <i>Vernon</i> +was?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +He attaches so much importance to Bennet’s opinion.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Um. I’m +glad I appear to be giving satisfaction. [<i>She has +returned to her seat at the table</i>.] I suppose when you +go to town, you take the Bennets with you?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>surprised at the question</i>]. Of course, dear.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Vernon didn’t wish to go this +year. He thought you would prefer—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I was merely +thinking of when he did. Do you ever go abroad for the +winter? So many people do, nowadays.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +We tried it once. But there was nothing for dear Vernon to +do. You see, he’s so fond of hunting.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>to her sister</i>]. And then there will be his +Parliamentary duties that he will have to take up now.</p> +<p><i>Fanny rises</i>, <i>abruptly</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +You’re not ill, dear?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. No. Merely +felt I wanted some air. You don’t mind, do you? +[<i>She flings a casement open</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Not at all, dear. [<i>To her +sister</i>] It <i>is</i> a bit close.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +One could really do without fires.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. If it wasn’t for the evenings.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +And then, of course, the cold weather might come again. One +can never feel safe until—</p> +<p><i>The door opens</i>. <i>Dr. Freemantle enters</i>, +<i>announced by Bennet</i>. <i>The old ladies go to +rise</i>. <i>He stops them</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +Don’t get up. [<i>He shakes hands with +them</i>.] How are we this afternoon? [<i>He shakes +his head and clicks his tongue</i>.] Really, I think I +shall have to bring an action for damages against Lady +Bantock. Ever since she—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Hush! [<i>She points to the window</i>.] Fanny.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Here’s Doctor Freemantle.</p> +<p><i>Fanny comes from the window</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>he meets her +and takes her hand</i>]. Was just saying, I really think I +shall have to claim damages against you, Lady Bantock. +You’ve practically deprived me of two of my best paying +patients. Used to be sending for me every other day before +you came. Now look at them! [<i>The two ladies +laugh</i>.] She’s not as bad as we expected. +[<i>He pats her hand</i>.] Do you remember my description +of what I thought she was going to be like?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. She’s a dear girl.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Bennet—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she has crossed to +table—is pouring out the Doctor’s tea</i>]. Oh, +mightn’t we have a holiday from Bennet?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> +[<i>laughs</i>]. Seems to be having a holiday himself +to-day.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. A holiday?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +Didn’t you know? Oh, there’s an awfully swagger +party on downstairs. They were all trooping in as I +came.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. I’d no idea he was giving a +party. [<i>To Fanny</i>] Did you, dear?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she hands the Doctor +his tea</i>]. Yes. It’s a prayer meeting. +The whole family, I expect, has been summoned.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. A prayer +meeting! Didn’t look like it.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +But why should he be holding a prayer meeting?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Oh, one of the +family—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. And why +twelve girls in a van?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. In a van?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. One of +Hutton’s from the Station Hotel—with a big poster +pinned on the door: “Our Empire.”</p> +<p><i>Fanny has risen</i>. <i>She crosses and rings the +bell</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. What’s the matter, dear?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I’m not quite +sure yet. [<i>Her whole manner is changed</i>. <i>A +look has come into her eyes that has not been there +before</i>. <i>She speaks in quiet</i>, <i>determined +tones</i>. <i>She rings again</i>. <i>Then returning +to table</i>, <i>hands the cake-basket to the Doctor</i>.] +Won’t you take one, Doctor? They’re not as +indigestible as they look. [<i>Laughs</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>he also is +bewildered at the changed atmosphere</i>]. Thank you. +I hope I—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she turns to +Ernest</i>, <i>who has entered</i>. <i>Her tone</i>, <i>for +the first time</i>, <i>is that of a mistress speaking to her +servants</i>]. Have any visitors called for me this +afternoon?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. +Vi-visitors—?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Some ladies.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span> [<i>he is in a slough of +doubt and terror</i>]. L—ladies?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes. Please +try to understand the English language. Has a party of +ladies called here this afternoon?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. There have been +some ladies. They—we—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Where are they?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ERNEST</span>. +They—I—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Send Bennet up to +me. Instantly, please.</p> +<p><i>Ernest</i>, <i>only too glad to be off</i>, <i>stumbles +out</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. My dear—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You’ll take +some more tea, won’t you? Do you mind, Doctor, +passing Miss Wetherell’s cup? And the other +one. Thank you. And will you pass them the +biscuits? You see, I am doing all I can on your +behalf. [<i>She is talking and laughing—a little +hysterically—for the purpose of filling time</i>.] +Tea and hot cake—could anything be worse for them?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Well, tea, +you know—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I know. +[<i>Laughs</i>.] You doctors are all alike. You all +denounce it, but you all drink it. [<i>She hands him the +two cups</i>.] That one is for Aunt Wetherell of the +beautiful hair; and the other is for Aunt Wetherell of the +beautiful eyes. [<i>Laughs</i>.] It’s the only +way I can distinguish them.</p> +<p><i>Bennet enters</i>.</p> +<p>Oh, Bennet!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. You sent for +me?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes. I +understand some ladies have called.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I think your +ladyship must have been misinformed. I most certainly have +seen none.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I have to assume, +Bennet, that either Dr. Freemantle or you are telling lies.</p> +<p><i>A silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. A party of +over-dressed young women, claiming to be acquainted with your +ladyship, have arrived in a van. I am giving them tea in +the servants’ hall, and will see to it that they are sent +back to the station in ample time to catch their train back to +town.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Please show them +up. They will have their tea here.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>her very quietness is +beginning to alarm him</i>. <i>It shakes him from his +customary perfection of manners</i>]. The Lady Bantocks do +not as a rule receive circus girls in their boudoir.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>still with her +alarming quietness</i>]. Neither do they argue with their +servants. Please show these ladies in.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I warn +you—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You heard my +orders. [<i>Her tone has the right ring</i>. <i>The +force of habit is too strong upon him</i>. <i>He +yields—savagely—and goes out</i>. <i>She turns +to the Doctor</i>.] So sorry I had to drag you into +it. I didn’t see how else I was going to floor +him.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +Splendid! [<i>He grips her hand</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she goes to the old +ladies who sit bewildered terrified</i>.] They won’t +be here for more than a few minutes—they can’t +be. I want you to be nice to them—both of you. +They are friends of mine. [<i>She turns to the +Doctor</i>.] They’re the girls I used to act +with. We went all over Europe—twelve of +us—representing the British Empire. They are playing +in London now.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +To-night? [<i>He looks at his watch</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she is busy at the +tea-table</i>]. Yes. They are on the stage at half +past nine. You might look out their train for them. +[<i>She points to the Bradshaw on the desk</i>.] I +don’t suppose they’ve ever thought about how +they’re going to get back. It’s Judy’s +inspiration, this, the whole thing; I’d bet upon it. +[<i>With a laugh</i>.] She always was as mad as a March +hare.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>busy with the +Bradshaw</i>]. They were nice-looking girls.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes. I think +we did the old man credit. [<i>With a laugh</i>.] +John Bull’s daughters, they called us in Paris.</p> +<p><i>Bennet appears in doorway</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>announces</i>]. +“Our Empire.”</p> +<p><i>Headed by</i> “<i>England</i>,” <i>the twelve +girls</i>, <i>laughing</i>, <i>crowding</i>, <i>jostling one +another</i>, <i>talking all together</i>, <i>swoop in</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span> [<i>a lady with a +decided Cockney accent</i>]. Oh, my dear, talk about an +afternoon! We ’ave ’ad a treat getting +’ere.</p> +<p><i>Fanny kisses her</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">SCOTLAND</span> [<i>they also +kiss</i>]. Your boss told us you’d gone out.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. It was a +slight—misunderstanding. Bennet, take away these +things, please. And let me have half a dozen bottles of +champagne.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">STRAITS SETTLEMENTS</span> [<i>a small +girl at the back of the crowd—with a shrill +voice</i>]. Hooray!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>he is controlling +himself with the supremest difficulty</i>. <i>Within he is +a furnace</i>]. I’m afraid I have mislaid the key of +the cellar.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she looks at +him</i>]. You will please find it—quickly. +[<i>Bennet</i>, <i>again from habit</i>, <i>yields</i>. +<i>But his control almost fails him</i>. <i>He takes up the +tray of unneeded tea-things from the table</i>.] I shall +want some more of all these [<i>cakes</i>, <i>fruit</i>, +<i>sandwiches</i>, <i>etc.</i>]. And some people to +wait. Tell Jane she must come and help.</p> +<p><i>Bennet goes out</i>. <i>During this passage of arms +between mistress and man a momentary lull has taken place in the +hubbub</i>. <i>As he goes out</i>, <i>it begins to grow +again</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span>. ’E does +tease yer, don’t ’e? Wanted us to ’ave +tea in the kitchen.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes. These +old family servants—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">AFRICA</span> [<i>she prides herself on +being</i> “<i>quite the lady</i>”]. Don’t +talk about ’em, dear. We had just such another. +[<i>She turns to a girl near her</i>.] Oh, they’ll +run the whole show for you if you let ’em.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span>. It was +Judy’s idea, our giving you this little treat. +Don’t you blime me for it.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">WALES</span> [<i>a small</i>, +<i>sprightly girl with a childish</i>, <i>laughing +voice</i>]. Well, we were all together with nothing better +to do. They’d called a rehearsal and then found they +didn’t want us—silly fools. I told ’em +you’d just be tickled to death.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>laughing—kisses +her</i>]. So I am. It was a brilliant idea. +[<i>By this time she has kissed or shaken hands with the whole +dozen</i>.] I can’t introduce you all singly; it +would take too long. [<i>She makes a wholesale affair of +it</i>.] My aunts, the Misses Wetherell—Dr. +Freemantle.</p> +<p><i>The Misses Wetherell</i>, <i>suggesting two mice being +introduced to a party of friendly kittens</i>, <i>standing</i>, +<i>clinging to one another</i>, <i>murmur something +inaudible</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>who is with +them to comfort them—he has got rid of the time-table</i>, +<i>discreetly—smiles</i>]. Delighted.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span>. Charmed. +[<i>The others join in</i>, <i>turning it into a +chorus</i>. <i>To Fanny</i>] Glad we didn’t +strike one of your busy days. I say, you’re not as +dressy as you used to be. ’Ow are they doing +you?—all right?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes. Oh, +yes.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">CANADA</span> +[“<i>Gerty</i>,” <i>a big</i>, <i>handsome girl</i>, +<i>with a loud</i>, <i>commanding voice</i>]. George gave +me your message.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>puzzled at +first</i>]. My message? +[<i>Remembering—laughs</i>.] Oh. That I was +Lady Bantock of Bantock Hall. Yes. I thought +you’d be pleased.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">CANADA</span>. Was delighted, +dear.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. So glad.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">CANADA</span>. I’d always +had the idea that you were going to make a mess of your +marriage.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. What a funny +idea! [<i>But the laugh that accompanies it is not a merry +one</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">CANADA</span>. Wasn’t +it? So glad I was wrong.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">WALES</span>. We’re all of +us looking out for lords in disguise, now. Can’t you +give us a tip, dear, how to tell ’em?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">SCOTLAND</span>. Sukey has broken +it off with her boy. Found he was mixed up in trade.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">STRAITS SETTLEMENTS</span> [<i>as +before</i>, <i>unseen at back of crowd</i>]. No. I +didn’t. ’Twas his moral character.</p> +<p><i>Then enter Honoria with glasses on a tray</i>; <i>Ernest +with champagne</i>; <i>Jane with eatables</i>; <i>Bennet with a +napkin</i>. <i>It is a grim procession</i>. <i>The +girls are scattered</i>, <i>laughing</i>, <i>talking</i>: +<i>Africa to the Misses Wetherell</i>; <i>a couple to Dr. +Freemantle</i>. <i>England</i>, <i>Scotland</i>, +<i>Wales</i>, <i>and Canada are with Fanny</i>. <i>The +hubbub</i>, <i>with the advent of the refreshments</i>, +<i>increases</i>. <i>There is a general movement towards +the refreshments</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Thanks, +Bennet. You can clear away a corner of the desk.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span> [<i>aside to +her</i>]. Go easy with it, dear. [<i>Fanny</i>, +<i>smiling</i>, <i>nods</i>. <i>She directs operations in a +low tone to the Bennets</i>, <i>who take her orders in grim +silence and with lips tight shut</i>.] Don’t forget, +girls, that we’ve got to get back to-night. [<i>Aside +to the Doctor</i>, <i>who has come forward to help</i>.] +Some of ’em, you know, ain’t used to it.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> +[<i>nods</i>]. Glasses not <i>too</i> full. [<i>He +whispers to Fanny</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">IRELAND</span> [<i>a decided young +woman</i>]. How much time have we got?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span>. Don’t ask +me. It’s Judy’s show.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">WALES</span> [<i>mimicking +Newte</i>]. The return train, ladies, leaves Oakham +station. [<i>Stops—she is facing the clock</i>. +<i>She begins to laugh</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span>. What’s the +matter?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">WALES</span> [<i>still +laughing</i>]. We’ve got just quarter of an hour to +catch it.</p> +<p><i>There is a wild rush for the refreshments</i>. +<i>Jane is swept off her feet</i>. <i>Bennet’s tray +is upset</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span>. +Quarter—! Oh, my Gawd! Here, tuck up your +skirts, girls. We’ll have to—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. It’s +all right. You’ve got plenty of time, ladies. +There’s a train from Norton on the branch line at +5.33. Gets you into London at a quarter to nine.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span>. You’re +<i>sure</i>?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>he has his +watch in his hand</i>]. Quite sure. The station is +only half a mile away.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span>. Don’t +let’s miss it. Keep your watch in your ’and, +there’s a dear.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>her business +is—and has been—to move quietly through the +throng</i>, <i>making the girls welcome</i>, <i>talking</i>, +<i>laughing with them</i>, <i>directing the servants—all in +a lady’s way</i>. <i>On the whole she does it +remarkably well</i>. <i>She is offering a plate of fruit to +Judy</i>]. You’re a nice acting manager, you +are. [<i>Judy laughs</i>. <i>Fanny finds herself in +front of Ireland</i>. <i>She turns to England</i>.] +Won’t you introduce us?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span>. I beg your +pardon, dear. Of course, you don’t know each +other. Miss Tetsworth, our new Ireland, Lady Bantock. +It is “Bantock,” isn’t it, dear?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Quite right. +It’s a good little part, isn’t it?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">IRELAND</span>. Well, depends +upon what you’ve been used to.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span>. She’s got +talent, as I tell ’er. But she ain’t you, +dear. It’s no good saying she is.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>hastening to smooth it +over</i>]. People always speak so well of us after +we’re gone. [<i>Laughs</i>.] You’ll take +another glass of champagne.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">IRELAND</span>. Thank +you—you made a great success, they tell me, in the +part.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Oh, there’s a +deal of fluke about these things. You see, I had the +advantage—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>with watch +still in his hand</i>]. I <i>think</i>, ladies—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span>. Come on, +girls.</p> +<p><i>A general movement</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You must all come +again—spend a whole day—some Sunday.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">CANADA</span>. Remember me to +Vernon.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. He’ll be so +sorry to have—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span> [<i>cutting +in</i>]. ’Ope we ’aven’t upset you, +dear. [<i>She is bustling them all up</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Not at all. +[<i>She is kissing the girls</i>.] It’s been so good +to see you all again.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span>. ’Urry up, +girls, there’s dears. [<i>To Fanny</i>] +Good-bye, dear. [<i>Kissing her</i>.] We <i>do</i> +miss yer.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I’m glad you +do.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">ENGLAND</span>. Oh, it +ain’t the same show. [<i>The others are crowding out +of the door</i>. <i>She and Fanny are quite +apart</i>.] No chance of your coming back to it, I +suppose? [<i>A moment</i>.] Well, there, you never +know, do yer? Good-bye, dear. [<i>Kisses her +again</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Good-bye! +[<i>She stands watching them out</i>. <i>Bennet goes down +with them</i>. <i>Ernest is busy collecting +debris</i>. <i>Jane and Honoria stand one each side of the +table</i>, <i>rigid</i>, <i>with set faces</i>. <i>After a +moment Fanny goes to the open window</i>. <i>The voices of +the girls below</i>, <i>crowding into the van</i>, <i>come up +into the room</i>. <i>She calls down to them</i>.] +Good-bye. You’ve plenty of time. What? +Yes, of course. [<i>Laughs</i>.] All right. +Good-bye. [<i>She turns</i>, <i>comes slowly +back</i>. <i>She looks at Jane and Honoria</i>, <i>where +they stand rigid</i>. <i>Honoria makes a movement with her +shoulders—takes a step towards the door</i>.] +Honoria! [<i>Honoria stops—slowly turns</i>.] +You can take away these glasses. Jane will help you.</p> +<p><i>Bennet has reappeared</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">HONORIA</span>. It’s not my +place—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Your place is to +obey my orders.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>his coolness seems to +have deserted him</i>. <i>His voice is +trembling</i>]. Obey her ladyship’s orders, both of +you. Leave the rest to me. [<i>Honoria and Jane busy +themselves</i>, <i>with Ernest setting the room to +rights</i>.] May I speak with your ladyship?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Certainly.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Alone, I mean.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I see no need.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>her firmness takes +him aback</i>. <i>He expected to find her defiance +disappear with the cause of it</i>. <i>But pig-headed</i>, +<i>as all Bennets</i>, <i>her opposition only drives him +on</i>]. Your ladyship is not forgetting the +alternative?</p> +<p><i>The Misses Wetherell have been watching the argument much +as the babes in the wood might have watched the discussion +between the two robbers</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> [<i>in +terror</i>]. Bennet! you’re not going to give +notice!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. What my duty may +be, I shall be able to decide after I have spoken with her +ladyship—alone.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Dear! You will see him?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I am sorry. I +have not the time.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. No. Of course. [<i>Appealing +to Bennet for mercy</i>] Her ladyship is tired. +To-morrow—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> +[<i>interrupting</i>]. Neither to-morrow—nor any +other day. [<i>Vernon enters</i>, <i>followed by +Newte</i>. <i>She advances to meet them</i>.] +You’ve just missed some old friends of yours. [<i>She +shakes hands with Newte</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. So it seems. +We were hoping to have been in time. [<i>To +Newte</i>] The mare came along pretty slick, didn’t +she?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>he has remained with +his look fixed all the time on Fanny</i>]. May I speak with +your lordship a moment—in private?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Now?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. It is a matter +that needs to be settled now. [<i>It is the tone of +respectful authority he has always used towards the lad</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Well, if +it’s as pressing as all that I suppose you must. +[<i>He makes a movement towards the door</i>. <i>To +Newte</i>] Shan’t be long.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. One moment. +[<i>Vernon stops</i>.] I may be able to render the +interview needless. Who is mistress of this house?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Who is +mistress?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Who is mistress of +your house?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Why, you are, of +course.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Thank you. +[<i>She turns to Bennet</i>] Please tell Mrs. Bennet I want +her.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. I think if your +lordship—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. At once. +[<i>She is looking at him</i>. <i>He struggles—looks +at Vernon</i>. <i>But Vernon is evidently inclined to +support Fanny</i>. <i>Bennet goes out</i>. <i>She +crosses and seats herself at the desk</i>. <i>She takes +from a drawer some neatly folded papers</i>. <i>She busies +herself with figures</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>he crosses to his +Aunts</i>]. Whatever’s the matter?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +She is excited. She has had a very trying time.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Bennet didn’t like the idea of her +receiving them.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. It was that minx +Judy’s doing. They’ll have the rough side of my +tongue when I get back—all of them.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. What does she want +with Mrs. Bennet?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +I can’t think.</p> +<p><i>The atmosphere is somewhat that of a sheepfold before a +thunderstorm</i>. <i>The Misses Wetherell are still +clinging to one another</i>. <i>Vernon and Dr. Freemantle +are both watching Fanny</i>. <i>Jane</i>, <i>Honoria</i>, +<i>and Ernest are still busy about the room</i>.</p> +<p><i>Suddenly</i>, <i>to Newte—who is standing +apart—the whole thing comes with a rush</i>. <i>But +it is too late for him to interfere</i>.</p> +<p><i>Mrs. Bennet</i>, <i>followed by Bennet</i>, <i>are entering +the room</i>. <i>He shrugs his shoulders and turns +away</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span>. Your ladyship +sent for me?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes. [<i>She +half turns—holds out a paper</i>.] This wages sheet +is quite correct, I take it? It is your own.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">MRS. BENNET</span> [<i>she takes +it</i>]. Quite correct.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she tears out a cheque +she has written—hands it to Mrs. Bennet</i>]. You +will find there two months’ wages for the entire +family. I have made it out in a lump sum payable to your +husband. The other month is in lieu of notice. [<i>A +silence</i>. <i>The thing strikes them all dumb</i>. +<i>She puts the cheque-book back and closes the drawer</i>. +<i>She rises</i>.] I’m sorry. There’s +been a misunderstanding. It’s time that it +ended. It has been my own fault. [<i>To +Vernon</i>] I deceived you about my family—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. If there’s +been any deceit—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. My scene, please, +George. [<i>Newte</i>, <i>knowing her</i>, <i>returns to +silence</i>.] I have no relations outside this country that +I know of. My uncle is Martin Bennet, your butler. +Mrs. Bennet is my aunt. I’m not ashamed of +them. If they’d had as much respect for me as I have +for them, this trouble would not have arisen. We +don’t get on together, that’s all. And this +seems to me the only way out. As I said before, I’m +sorry.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>recovering +speech</i>]. But why did you—?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>her control gives +way</i>. <i>She breaks out</i>]. Oh, because +I’ve been a fool. It’s the explanation of most +people’s muddles, I expect, if they only knew it. +Don’t talk to me, anybody. I’ve got nothing +more to say. [<i>To Bennet</i>] I’m +sorry. You wouldn’t give me a chance. I’d +have met you half way. [<i>To Mrs. Bennet</i>] +I’m sorry. Don’t be too hard on me. It +won’t mean much trouble to you. Good servants +don’t go begging. You can depend upon me for a +character. [<i>To Jane</i>] You’ll do much +better for yourselves elsewhere. [<i>To Honoria</i>] +Don’t let that pretty face of yours ever get you into +trouble. [<i>To Ernest</i>] Good-bye, Ernest. +We were always pals, weren’t we? Good-bye. +[<i>She kisses him</i>. <i>It has all been the work of a +moment</i>. <i>She comes down again</i>.] Don’t +think me rude, but I’d like to be alone. We can talk +calmly about it all to-morrow morning. [<i>To the Misses +Wetherell</i>] I’m so awfully sorry. I wish I +could have seen any other way out. [<i>The tears are +streaming from her eyes</i>. <i>To Vernon</i>] Take +them all away, won’t you, dear? We’ll talk +about it all to-morrow. I’ll feel gooder. +[<i>She kisses him</i>. <i>To Dr. Freemantle</i>] +Take them all away. Tell him it wasn’t all my +fault. [<i>To Newte</i>] You’ll have to stop +the night. There are no more trains. I’ll see +you in the morning. Good night.</p> +<p><i>Bennet has collected his troop</i>. <i>Leads them +away</i>. <i>Dr. Freemantle</i>, <i>kindly and helpful</i>, +<i>takes off Vernon and the two ladies</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>he grips her hand</i>, +<i>and speaks in his short</i>, <i>growling way</i>]. Good +night, old girl. [<i>He follows the others out</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>crosses towards the +windows</i>. <i>Her chief business is dabbing her +eyes</i>. <i>The door closes with a click</i>. <i>She +turns</i>. <i>She puts her handkerchief away</i>. +<i>She looks at the portrait of Constance</i>, <i>first Lady +Bantock</i>]. I believe it’s what you’ve been +telling me to do, all the time.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<span +class="GutSmall">CURTAIN</span>]</p> +<h2><i>ACT IV</i></h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>SCENE</i></p> +<p><i>The same</i>. <i>The blinds are down</i>. +<i>Ashes fill the grate</i>.</p> +<p><i>Time</i>.—<i>Early the next morning</i>.</p> +<p><i>The door opens softly</i>. <i>Newte steals +in</i>. <i>He fumbles his way across to the windows</i>, +<i>draws the blinds</i>. <i>The morning sun streams +in</i>. <i>He listens—no one seems to be +stirring</i>. <i>He goes out</i>, <i>returns immediately +with a butler’s tray</i>, <i>containing all things +necessary for a breakfast and the lighting of a fire</i>. +<i>He places the tray on table</i>, <i>throws his coat over a +chair</i>, <i>and is on his knees busy lighting the fire</i>, +<i>when enter the Misses Wetherell</i>, <i>clad in dressing-gowns +and caps</i>: <i>yet still they continue to look sweet</i>. +<i>They also creep in</i>, <i>hand in hand</i>. <i>The +crouching Newte is hidden by a hanging fire-screen</i>. +<i>They creep forward till the coat hanging over the chair +catches their eye</i>. <i>They are staring at it as +Robinson Crusoe might at the footprint</i>, <i>when Newte rises +suddenly and turns</i>. <i>The Misses Wetherell give a +suppressed scream</i>, <i>and are preparing for flight</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>he stays +them</i>]. No call to run away, ladies. When a +man’s travelled—as I have—across America, in a +sleeping-car, with a comic-opera troop, there’s not much +left for him to know. You want your breakfast! [<i>He +wheedles them to the table</i>.] We’ll be able to +talk cosily—before anybody else comes.</p> +<p><i>They yield themselves</i>. <i>He has a way with +him</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +We haven’t slept all night.</p> +<p><i>Newte answers with a sympathetic gesture</i>. <i>He +is busy getting ready the breakfast</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. There’s something we want to tell +dear Vernon—before he says anything to Fanny.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +It’s something very important.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. We’ll have a +cup of tea first—to steady our nerves.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. It’s so important that we should +tell him before he sees Fanny.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. We’ll see to +it. [<i>He makes the tea</i>.] I fancy they’re +both asleep at present.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Poor boy!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. If she only hadn’t—</p> +<p><i>Dr. Freemantle has entered</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. I thought +I heard somebody stirring—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Hush! [<i>He +indicates doors</i>, <i>the one leading to her ladyship’s +apartments</i>, <i>the other to his lordship’s</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>turning and greeting him</i>]. It was so kind of you +not to leave us last night.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +We were so upset.</p> +<p><i>Dr. Freemantle pats their hands</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. We hope you slept all right.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +Excellently. Shall be glad of a shave, that’s +all. [<i>Laughs</i>. <i>Both he and Newte suggest the +want of one</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>who has been +officiating</i>]. Help yourself to milk and sugar.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>who has +seated himself</i>]. Have the Bennets gone?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Well, they had +their notice all right.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>they have begun to cry</i>]. It has been so wrong and +foolish of us. We have never learnt to do anything for +ourselves.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +We don’t even know where our things are.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. They +can’t all have gone—the whole twenty-three of them, +at a couple of hours’ notice. [<i>To Newte</i>] +Haven’t seen any of them, have you?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. No sign of any of +them downstairs.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Oh, they +must be still here. Not up, I suppose. It isn’t +seven o’clock yet.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. But they have all been discharged. +We can’t ask them to do anything.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> [<i>to +her sister</i>]. And the Grimstones are coming to lunch +with the new curate. Vernon asked them on Sunday.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. Perhaps there’s something cold.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Vernon so dislikes a cold lunch.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>to +Newte</i>]. Were you able to get hold of Vernon last +night?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Waited up till he +came in about two o’clock. Merely answered that he +wasn’t in a talkative mood—brushed past me and locked +himself in.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. He +wouldn’t say anything to me either. Rather a bad sign +when he won’t talk.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. What’s he +likely to do?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +Don’t know. Of course it will be all over the +county.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. And dear Vernon is so sensitive.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. It had to +come—the misfortune <i>is</i>—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. The misfortune +<i>is</i> that people won’t keep to their own line of +business. Why did he want to come fooling around her? +She was doing well for herself. She could have married a +man who would have thought more of her than all the damn fools in +the county put together. Why couldn’t he have left +her alone?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>he is sitting +at the head of the table</i>, <i>between Newte on his right and +the Misses Wetherell on his left</i>. <i>He lays his hand +on Newte’s sleeve—with a smile</i>]. I’m +sure you can forgive a man—with eyes and ears in his +head—for having fallen in love with her.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Then why +doesn’t he stand by her? What if her uncle is a +butler? If he wasn’t a fool, he’d be thanking +his stars that ’twas anything half as respectable.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. I’m +not defending him—we’re not sure yet that he needs +any defence. He has married a clever, charming girl +of—as you say—a better family than he’d any +right to expect. The misfortune is, that—by a curious +bit of ill-luck—it happens to be his own butler.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. If she takes my +advice, she’ll return to the stage. No sense stopping +where you’re not wanted.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. But how can she?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +You see, they’re married!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span> [<i>to change the +subject</i>]. You’ll take an egg?</p> +<p><i>Newte has been boiling some</i>. <i>He has just +served them</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>rejecting it</i>]. Thank you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. We’re not feeling hungry.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +He was so fond of her.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. She was so pretty.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +And so thoughtful.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. One would never have known she was an +actress.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +If only she hadn’t—</p> +<p><i>Bennet has entered</i>. <i>Newte is at +fireplace</i>. <i>The old ladies have their backs to the +door</i>. <i>Dr. Freemantle</i>, <i>who is pouring out +tea</i>, <i>is the first to see him</i>. <i>He puts down +the teapot</i>, <i>staring</i>. <i>The old ladies look +round</i>. <i>A silence</i>. <i>Newte +turns</i>. <i>Bennet is again the perfect butler</i>. +<i>Yesterday would seem to have been wiped out of his +memory</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Good morning, Miss +Wetherell. Good morning, Miss Edith. [<i>To the two +men</i>] Good morning. I was not aware that breakfast +was required to be any earlier than usual, or I should have had +it ready.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. We are sure you would, Bennet. But +you see, under the circumstances, we—we hardly liked to +trouble you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>he goes about the +room</i>, <i>putting things to rights</i>. <i>He has rung +the bell</i>. <i>Some dead flowers he packs on to +Newte’s tray</i>, <i>the water he pours into Newte’s +slop-basin</i>]. My duty, Miss Edith, I have never felt to +be a trouble to me.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +We know, Bennet. You have always been so +conscientious. But, of course, after what’s +happened—[<i>They are on the verge of tears again</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>he is piling up the +breakfast things</i>]. Keziah requested me to apologise to +you for not having heard your bell this morning. She will +be ready to wait upon you in a very few minutes. [<i>To the +Doctor</i>] You will find shaving materials, doctor, on +your dressing-table.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. Oh, thank +you.</p> +<p><i>Ernest has entered</i>, <i>with some wood</i>; <i>he is +going towards the fire</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span> [<i>to Ernest</i>]. +Leave the fire for the present. Take away this tray. +[<i>Ernest takes up the tray</i>, <i>and goes out</i>. +<i>Bennet speaks over the heads of the Misses Wetherell to +Newte</i>] Breakfast will be ready in the morning-room, in +a quarter of an hour.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>at first puzzled</i>, +<i>then indignant</i>, <i>now breaks out</i>]. What’s +the little game on here—eh? Yesterday afternoon you +were given the sack—by your mistress, Lady Bantock, with a +month’s wages in lieu of notice—not an hour before +you deserved it. What do you mean, going on like this, as +if nothing had happened? Is Lady Bantock to be ignored in +this house as if she didn’t exist—or is she +not? [<i>He brings his fist down on the table</i>. +<i>He has been shouting rather than speaking</i>.] I want +this thing settled!</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. Your bath, Mr. +Newte, is quite ready.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>as soon as he can +recover speech</i>]. Never you mind my bath, I +want—</p> +<p><i>Vernon has entered</i>. <i>He is pale</i>, +<i>heavy-eyed</i>, <i>short in his manner</i>, +<i>listless</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Good +morning—everybody. Can I have some breakfast, +Bennet?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. In about ten +minutes; I will bring it up here. [<i>He collects the +kettle from the fire as he passes</i>, <i>and goes out</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Thank you. +[<i>He responds mechanically to the kisses of his two aunts</i>, +<i>who have risen and come to him</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span>. Can I have a word +with you?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. A little later on, +if you don’t mind, Mr. Newte. [<i>He passes +him</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">NEWTE</span> [<i>he is about to +speak</i>, <i>changes his mind</i>]. All right, go your own +way. [<i>Goes out</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">DR. FREEMANTLE</span>. +“Remember”, says Marcus Aurelius—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Yes—good old +sort, Marcus Aurelius. [<i>He drops listlessly into a +chair</i>.]</p> +<p><i>Dr. Freemantle smiles resignedly</i>, <i>looks at the +Misses Wetherell</i>, <i>shrugs his shoulders</i>, <i>and goes +out</i>, <i>closing the door after him</i>.</p> +<p><i>The Misses Wetherell whisper together—look round +cautiously</i>, <i>steal up behind him</i>, <i>encouraging one +another</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +She’s so young.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. And so adaptable.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>he is sitting</i>, +<i>bowed down</i>, <i>with his face in his hands</i>]. Ah, +it was the deception.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL</span> +[<i>she puts her old thin hand on his shoulder</i>]. What +would you have done, dear, if she had told you—at +first?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span> [<i>he takes her hand in +his—answers a little brokenly</i>]. I don’t +know.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +There’s something we wanted to tell you. [<i>He looks +at her</i>. <i>They look across at each other</i>.] +The first Lady Bantock, your great-grandmamma—</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. She danced with George III.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +She was a butcher’s daughter.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. He was quite a little butcher.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL</span>. +Of course, as a rule, dear, we never mention it.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">THE YOUNGER MISS +WETHERELL</span>. We felt you ought to know. [<i>They +take each other’s hands</i>; <i>on tip-toe they steal +out</i>. <i>They close the door softly behind +them</i>.]</p> +<p><i>Vernon rises</i>. <i>He looks at the +portrait—draws nearer to it</i>. <i>With his hands in +his pockets</i>, <i>stops dead in front of it</i>, <i>and +contemplates it in silence</i>. <i>The door of the +dressing-room opens</i>. <i>Fanny enters</i>. <i>She +is dressed for going out</i>. <i>She stands for a +moment</i>, <i>the door in her hand</i>. <i>Vernon +turns</i>. <i>She closes the door and comes +forward</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Good morning.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Good morning. +George stayed the night, didn’t he?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Yes. +He’s downstairs now.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. He won’t be +going for a little while?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Can’t till +the ten o’clock train. Have you had breakfast?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. I—I’ve +had something to eat. I’m sorry for what I did last +night—although they did deserve it. +[<i>Laughs</i>.] I suppose it’s a matter than can +easily be put right again.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. You have no +objection to their staying?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Why should I?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. What do you +mean?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. There’s only +one hope of righting a mistake. And that is going back to +the point from where one went wrong—and that was our +marriage.</p> +<p>[<i>A moment</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. We haven’t +given it a very long trial.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>with an odd +smile</i>]. It went to pieces at the first. I was in +trouble all last night; you must have known it. You left me +alone.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Jane told me you +had locked yourself in.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. You never tried the +door for yourself, dear. [<i>She pretends to rearrange +something on the mantelpiece—any excuse to turn away her +face for a moment</i>. <i>She turns to him again</i>, +<i>smiling</i>.] It was a mistake, the whole thing. +You were partly to blame. You were such a nice boy. I +“fancied” you—to use George’s +words. [<i>She laughs</i>.] And when a woman wants a +thing, she is apt to be a bit unscrupulous about how she gets +it. [<i>She moves about the room</i>, <i>touching the +flowers</i>, <i>rearranging a cushion</i>, <i>a vase</i>.] +I didn’t invent the bishop; that was George’s +embroidery. [<i>Another laugh</i>.] But, of course, I +ought to have told you everything myself. I ought not to +have wanted a man to whom it would have made one atom of +difference whether my cousins were scullery-maids or not. +Somehow, I felt that to you it might. [<i>Vernon +winces</i>.] It’s natural enough. You have a +big position to maintain. I didn’t know you were a +lord—that was your doing. George did find it out, but +he never told me; least of all, that you were Lord +Bantock—or you may be pretty sure I should have come out +with the truth, if only for my own sake. It hasn’t +been any joke for me, coming back here.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Yes. I can +see they’ve been making things pretty hard for you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Oh, they thought +they were doing their duty. [<i>He is seated</i>. +<i>She comes up behind him</i>, <i>puts her hands on his +shoulders</i>.] I want you to take them all back +again. I want to feel I have made as little commotion in +your life as possible. It was just a little mistake. +And everybody will say how fortunate it was that she took herself +off so soon with that—[<i>She was about to say</i> +“<i>that theatrical Johnny</i>,” <i>thinking of +Newte</i>. <i>She checks herself</i>.] And you will +marry somebody belonging to your own class. And those are +the only sensible marriages there are.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Have you done +talking?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. Yes! Yes, I +think that’s all.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Then perhaps +you’ll let me get in a word. You think me a +snob? [<i>Fanny makes a movement</i>.] As a matter of +fact, I am.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. No, that’s +not fair. You wouldn’t have married a girl off the +music-hall stage.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Niece of a bishop, +cousin to a judge. Whether I believed it or not, +doesn’t matter. The sham that isn’t likely to +be found out is as good as the truth, to a snob. If he had +told me your uncle was a butler, I should have hesitated. +That’s where the mistake began. We’ll go back +to that. Won’t you sit down? [<i>Fanny +sits</i>.] I want you to stop. There’ll be no +mistake this time. I’m asking my butler’s niece +to do me the honour to be my wife.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. That’s kind +of you.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Oh, I’m not +thinking of you. I’m thinking of myself. I want +you. I fell in love with you because you were pretty and +charming. There’s something else a man wants in his +wife besides that. I’ve found it. [<i>He jumps +up</i>, <i>goes over to her</i>, <i>brushing aside things in his +way</i>.] I’m not claiming it as a right; you can go +if you like. You can earn your own living, I know. +But you shan’t have anybody else. You’ll be +Lady Bantock and nobody else—as long as I live. +[<i>He has grown quite savage</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she bites her lip to +keep back the smile that wants to come</i>]. That cuts both +ways, you know.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. I don’t want +anybody else.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she stretches out her +hand and lays it on his</i>]. Won’t it be too hard +for you? You’ll have to tell them all—your +friends—everybody.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. They’ve got +to be told in any case. If you are here, for them to see, +they’ll be able to understand—those that have got any +sense.</p> +<p><i>Bennet comes in with breakfast</i>, <i>for two</i>, <i>on a +tray</i>. <i>He places it on a table</i>.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span> [<i>she has risen</i>, +<i>she goes over to him</i>]. Good morning, uncle. +[<i>She puts up her face</i>. <i>He stares</i>, <i>but she +persists</i>. <i>Bennet kisses her</i>.] Lord +Bantock—[<i>she looks at Vernon</i>]—has a request to +make to you. He wishes me to remain here as his wife. +I am willing to do so, provided you give your consent.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">VERNON</span>. Quite right, +Bennet. I ought to have asked for it before. I +apologise. Will you give your consent to my marriage with +your niece?</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">FANNY</span>. One minute. +You understand what it means? From the moment you give +it—if you do give it—I shall be Lady Bantock, your +mistress.</p> +<p><span class="GutSmall">BENNET</span>. My dear +Fanny! My dear Vernon! I speak, for the first and +last time, as your uncle. I am an old-fashioned person, and +my ideas, I have been told, are those of my class. But +observation has impressed it upon me that success in any scheme +depends upon each person being fit for their place. +Yesterday, in the interests of you both, I should have refused my +consent. To-day, I give it with pleasure, feeling sure I am +handing over to Lord Bantock a wife in every way fit for her +position. [<i>Kissing her</i>, <i>he gives her to +Vernon</i>, <i>who grips his hand</i>. <i>He returns to the +table</i>.] Breakfast, your ladyship, is quite ready.</p> +<p><i>They take their places at the table</i>. <i>Fanny +takes off her hat</i>, <i>Bennet takes off the covers</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<span +class="GutSmall">CURTAIN</span>]</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 2829-h.htm or 2829-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/2/2829 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +We are planning on making some changes in our donation structure +in 2000, so you might want to email me, hart@pobox.com beforehand. + + + + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM + +by Jerome K. Jerome + + + + +THE CHARACTERS + +Fanny +Her Husband, Vernon Wetherell, Lord Bantock +Her Butler, Martin Bennet +Her Housekeeper, Susannah Bennet +Her Maid, Jane Bennet +Her Second Footman, Ernest Bennet +Her Still-room Maid, Honoria Bennet +Her Aunts by marriage, the Misses Wetherell +Her Local Medical Man, Dr. Freemantle +Her quondam Companions, "Our Empire": + England + Scotland + Ireland + Wales + Canada + Australia + New Zealand + Africa + India + Newfoundland + Malay Archipelago + Straits Settlements +Her former Business Manager, George P. Newte + + + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE + +The Lady Bantock's boudoir, Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire, a spacious +room handsomely furnished (chiefly in the style of Louis the +Fourteenth) and lighted by three high windows, facing the south-west. +A door between the fireplace and the windows leads to his lordship's +apartments. A door the other side of the fireplace is the general +entrance. The door opposite the windows leads through her ladyship's +dressing-room into her ladyship's bedroom. Over the great fireplace +hangs a full-length portrait of Constance, first Lady Bantock, by +Hoppner. + +The time is sunset of a day in early spring. The youthful Lord +Bantock is expected home with his newly wedded wife this evening; and +the two Misses Wetherell, his aunts, have been busy decorating the +room with flowers, and are nearing the end of their labours. The two +Misses Wetherell have grown so much alike it would be difficult for a +stranger to tell one from the other; and to add to his confusion they +have fallen into the habit of dressing much alike in a fashion of +their own that went out long ago, while the hair of both is white, +and even in their voices they have caught each other's tones. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [she has paused from her work and is looking +out of the windows]. Such a lovely sunset, dear. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [she leaves her work and joins her sister. +The two stand holding each other's hands, looking out]. Beautiful! +[A silence. The sun is streaming full into the room.] You--you +don't think, dear, that this room--[she looks round it]--may possibly +be a little TOO sunny to quite suit her? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [not at first understanding]. How, dear, +TOO sun--[She grasps the meaning.] You mean--you think that perhaps +she does that sort of thing? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Well, dear, one is always given to +understand that they do, women--ladies of her profession. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It seems to me so wicked: painting God's +work. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We mustn't judge hardly, dear. Besides, +dear, we don't know yet that she does. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Perhaps she's young, and hasn't commenced +it. I fancy it's only the older ones that do it. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. He didn't mention her age, I remember. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. No, dear, but I feel she's young. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I do hope she is. We may be able to +mould her. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We must be very sympathetic. One can +accomplish so much with sympathy. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We must get to understand her. [A +sudden thought.] Perhaps, dear, we may get to like her. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [doubtful]. We might TRY, dear. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. For Vernon's sake. The poor boy seems +so much in love with her. We must - + +Bennet has entered. He is the butler. + +BENNET. Doctor Freemantle. I have shown him into the library. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Thank you, Bennet. Will you please tell +him that we shall be down in a few minutes? I must just finish these +flowers. [She returns to the table.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Why not ask him to come up here? We could +consult him--about the room. He always knows everything. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. A good idea. Please ask him, Bennet, if +he would mind coming up to us here. [Bennet, who has been piling up +fresh logs upon the fire, turns to go.] Oh, Bennet! You will remind +Charles to put a footwarmer in the carriage! + +BENNET. I will see to it myself. [He goes out.] + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Thank you, Bennet. [To her sister] +One's feet are always so cold after a railway journey. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I've been told that, nowadays, they heat +the carriages. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Ah, it is an age of luxury! I wish I +knew which were her favourite flowers. It is so nice to be greeted +by one's favourite flowers. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I feel sure she loves lilies. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And they are so appropriate to a bride. +So - + +Announced by Bennet, Dr. Freemantle bustles in. He is a dapper +little man, clean-shaven, with quick brisk ways. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [he shakes hands]. Well, and how are we this +afternoon? [He feels the pulse of the Younger Miss Wetherell] +Steadier. Much steadier! [of the Elder Miss Wetherell.] Nervous +tension greatly relieved. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. She has been sleeping much better. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [he pats the hand of the Elder Miss Wetherell]. +Excellent! Excellent! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. She ate a good breakfast this morning. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [he pats the hand of the Younger Miss Wetherell]. +Couldn't have a better sign. [He smiles from one to the other.] +Brain disturbance, caused by futile opposition to the inevitable, +evidently abating. One page Marcus Aurelius every morning before +breakfast. "Adapt thyself," says Marcus Aurelius, "to the things +with which thy lot has been cast. Whatever happens--" + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. You see, doctor, it was all so sudden. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. The unexpected! It has a way of taking us by +surprise--bowling us over--completely. Till we pull ourselves +together. Make the best of what can't be helped--like brave, sweet +gentlewomen. [He presses their hands. They are both wiping away a +tear.] When do you expect them? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. To-night, by the half-past eight train. +We had a telegram this morning from Dover. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Um! and this is to be her room? [He takes it in.] +The noble and renowned Constance, friend and confidant of the elder +Pitt, maker of history, first Lady Bantock--by Hoppner--always there +to keep an eye on her, remind her of the family traditions. +Brilliant idea, brilliant! [They are both smiling with pleasure.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. And you don't think--it is what we wanted +to ask you--that there is any fear of her finding it a little trying- +-the light? You see, this is an exceptionally sunny room. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And these actresses--if all one hears is +true - + +The dying sun is throwing his last beams across the room. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Which, thank God, it isn't. [He seats himself in a +large easy-chair. The two ladies sit side by side on a settee.] +I'll tell you just exactly what you've got to expect. A lady--a few +years older than the boy himself, but still young. Exquisite figure; +dressed--perhaps a trifle too regardless of expense. Hair--maybe +just a shade TOO golden. All that can be altered. Features-- +piquant, with expressive eyes, the use of which she probably +understands, and an almost permanent smile, displaying an admirably +preserved and remarkably even set of teeth. But, above all, clever. +That's our sheet-anchor. The woman's clever. She will know how to +adapt herself to her new position. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [turning to her sister]. Yes, she must be +clever to have obtained the position that she has. [To the Doctor] +Vernon says that she was quite the chief attraction all this winter, +in Paris. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. And the French public is so critical. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [drily]. Um! I was thinking rather of her cleverness +in "landing" poor Vernon. The lad's not a fool. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We must do her justice. I think she was +really in love with him. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [still more drily]. Very possibly. Most cafe- +chantant singers, I take it, would be--with an English lord. [He +laughs.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You see, she didn't know he was a lord. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Didn't know--? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. No. She married him, thinking him to be +a plain Mr. Wetherell, an artist. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Where d'ye get all that from? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. From Vernon himself. You've got his last +letter, dear. [She has opened her chatelaine bag.] Oh, no, I've got +it myself. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. He's not going to break it to her till +they reach here this evening. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [she reads]. Yes. "I shall not break it to +her before we reach home. We were married quietly at the Hotel de +Ville, and she has no idea I am anything else than plain Vernon James +Wetherell, a fellow-countryman of her own, and a fellow-artist. The +dear creature has never even inquired whether I am rich or poor." I +like her for that. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. You mean to tell me--[He jumps up. With his hands +in his jacket pockets, he walks to and fro.] I suppose it's +possible. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You see, she isn't the ordinary class of +music-hall singer. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I should say not. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. She comes of quite a good family. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Her uncle was a bishop. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Bishop? Of where? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [with the letter]. He says he can't spell +it. It's somewhere in New Zealand. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Do they have bishops over there? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Well, evidently. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Then her cousin is a judge. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. In New Zealand? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [again referring to the letter]. No--in +Ohio. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Seems to have been a somewhat scattered family. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. People go about so much nowadays. + +Mrs. Bennet has entered. She is the housekeeper. + +MRS. BENNET [she is about to speak to the Misses Wetherell; sees the +Doctor]. Good afternoon, doctor. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Afternoon, Mrs. Bennet. + +MRS. BENNET [she turns to the Misses Wetherell, her watch in her +hand]. I was thinking of having the fire lighted in her ladyship's +bedroom. It is half past six. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You are always so thoughtful. She may be +tired. + +MRS. BENNET. If so, everything will be quite ready. [She goes out, +closing door.] + +DR. FREEMANTLE. What do they think about it all--the Bennets? You +have told them? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We thought it better. You see, one +hardly regards them as servants. They have been in the family so +long. Three generations of them. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Really, since our poor dear brother's +death, Bennet has been more like the head of the house than the +butler. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Of course, he doesn't say much. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It is her having been on the stage that +they feel so. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. You see, they have always been a +religious family. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Do you know, I really think they feel it +more than we do. I found Peggy crying about it yesterday, in the +scullery. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [he has been listening with a touch of amusement.] +Peggy Bennet? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Yes. CHARLES Bennet's daughter. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Happen to have a servant about the place who isn't a +Bennet? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. No, no, I don't really think we have. +Oh, yes--that new girl Mrs. Bennet engaged last week for the dairy. +What is her name? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Arnold. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Ah, yes, Arnold. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Ah! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I think she's a cousin, dear. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Only a second cousin. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Um! Well I should tell the whole family to buck up. +Seems to me, from what you tell me, that their master is bringing +them home a treasure. [He shakes hands briskly with the ladies.] +May look in again to-morrow. Don't forget--one page Marcus Aurelius +before breakfast--in case of need. [He goes out.] + +The sun has sunk. The light is twilight. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. He always cheers one up. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. He's so alive. + +[Mrs. Bennet comes in from the dressing-room. She leaves the door +ajar. The sound of a hammer is heard. It ceases almost +immediately.] Oh, Mrs. Bennet, we were going to ask you--who is to +be her ladyship's maid? Have you decided yet? + +MRS. BENNET. I have come to the conclusion--looking at the thing +from every point of view--that Jane would be the best selection. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Jane! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. But does she understand the duties? + +MRS. BENNET. A lady's maid, being so much alone with her mistress, +is bound to have a certain amount of influence. And Jane has +exceptionally high principles. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. That is true, dear. + +MRS. BENNET. As regards the duties, she is very quick at learning +anything new. Of course, at first - + +The sound of hammering again comes from the bedroom. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Who is that hammering in her ladyship's +bedroom? + +MRS. BENNET. It is Bennet, Miss Edith. We thought it might be +helpful: a few texts, hung where they would always catch her +ladyship's eye. [She notices the look of doubt.] Nothing offensive. +Mere general exhortations such as could be read by any lady. [The +Misses Wetherell look at one another, but do not speak.] I take it, +dinner will be at half past seven, as usual? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Yes, Mrs. Bennet, thank you. They will +not be here till about nine. They will probably prefer a little +supper to themselves. + +Mrs. Bennet goes out--on her way to the kitchen. The Misses +Wetherell look at one another again. The hammering recommences. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [she hesitates a moment, then goes to the +open door and calls]. Bennet--Bennet! [She returns and waits. +Bennet comes in.] + +Oh, Bennet, your wife tells us you are putting up a few texts in her +ladyship's bedroom. + +BENNET. It seemed to me that a silent voice, speaking to her, as it +were, from the wall - + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. It is so good of you--only, you--you +will be careful there is nothing she could regard as a PERSONAL +allusion. + +BENNET. Many of the most popular I was compelled to reject, purely +for that reason. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We felt sure we could trust to your +discretion. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. You see, coming, as she does, from a +good family - + +BENNET. It is that--I speak merely for myself--that gives me hope of +reclaiming her. + +A silence. The two ladies, feeling a little helpless, again look at +one another. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We must be very sympathetic. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And patient, Bennet. + +BENNET. It is what I am preparing myself to be. Of course, if you +think them inadvisable, I can take them down again. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. No, Bennet, oh no! I should leave them +up. Very thoughtful of you, indeed. + +BENNET. It seemed to me one ought to leave no stone unturned. [He +returns to his labours in the bedroom.] + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [after a pause]. I do hope she'll LIKE +the Bennets. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I think she will--after a time, when she +is used to them. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I am so anxious it should turn out well. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I feel sure she's a good woman. Vernon +would never have fallen in love with her if she hadn't been good. +[They take each other's hand, and sit side by side, as before, upon +the settee. The twilight has faded: only the faint firelight +remains, surrounded by shadows.] Do you remember, when he was a +little mite, how he loved to play with your hair? [The younger Miss +Wetherell laughs.] I always envied you your hair. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. He was so fond of us both. Do you +remember when he was recovering from the measles, his crying for us +to bath him instead of Mrs. Bennet? I have always reproached myself +that we refused. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. He was such a big boy for his age. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I think we might have stretched a point +in a case of illness. + +The room has grown very dark. The door has been softly opened; +Vernon and Fanny have entered noiselessly. Fanny remains near the +door hidden by a screen, Vernon has crept forward. At this point the +two ladies become aware that somebody is in the room. They are +alarmed. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Who's there? + +VERNON. It's all right, aunt. It's only I. + +The two ladies have risen. They run forward, both take him in their +arms. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Vernon! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. My dear boy! + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. But we didn't expect you - + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. And your wife, dear? + +VERNON. She's here! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Here? + +Fanny, from behind the screen, laughs. + +VERNON. We'll have some light. [He whispers to them.] Not a word-- +haven't told her yet. [Feeling his way to the wall, he turns on the +electric light.] + +Fanny is revealed, having slipped out from behind the screen. There +is a pause. Vernon, standing near the fire, watches admiringly. + +FANNY. Hope you are going to like me. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. My dear, I am sure we shall. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It is so easy to love the young and +pretty. [They have drawn close to her. They seem to hesitate.] + +FANNY [laughs]. It doesn't come off, does it, Vernon, dear? [Vernon +laughs. The two ladies, laughing, kiss her.] I'm so glad you think +I'm pretty. As a matter of fact, I'm not. There's a certain charm +about me, I admit. It deceives people. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We were afraid--you know, dear, boys-- +[she looks at Vernon and smiles] sometimes fall in love with women +much older than themselves--especially women--[She grows confused. +She takes the girl's hand.] We are so relieved that you--that you +are yourself, dear, + +FANNY. You were quite right, dear. They are sweet. Which is which? + +VERNON [laughs]. Upon my word, I never can tell. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Vernon! And you know I was always your +favourite! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Dear! + +VERNON. Then this is Aunt Alice. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. No dear, Edith. + +[Vernon throws up his hands in despair. They all laugh.] + +FANNY. I think I shall dress you differently; put you in blue and +you in pink. [She laughs.] Is this the drawing-room? + +VERNON. Your room, dear. + +FANNY. I like a room where one can stretch one's legs. [She walks +across it.] A little too much desk [referring to a massive brass- +bound desk, facing the three windows]. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It belonged to the elder Pitt. + +FANNY. Um! Suppose we must find a corner for it somewhere. That's +a good picture. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. It is by Hoppner. + +FANNY. One of your artist friends? + +VERNON. Well--you see, dear, that's a portrait of my great- +grandmother, painted from life. + +FANNY [she whistles]. I am awfully ignorant on some topics. One +good thing, I always was a quick study. Not a bad-looking woman. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We are very proud of her. She was the +first - + +VERNON [hastily]. We will have her history some other time. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [who understands, signs to her sister]. +Of course. She's tired. We are forgetting everything. You will +have some tea, won't you, dear? + +FANNY. No, thanks. We had tea in the train. [With the more or less +helpful assistance of Vernon she divests herself of her outdoor +garments.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [she holds up her hands in astonishment]. +Tea in the train! + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We were not expecting you so soon. You +said in your telegram - + +VERNON. Oh, it was raining in London. We thought we would come +straight on--leave our shopping for another day. + +FANNY. I believe you were glad it was raining. Saved you such a lot +of money. Old Stingy! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Then did you walk from the station, dear? + +FANNY. Didn't it seem a long way? [She laughs up into his face.] +He was so bored. [Vernon laughs.] + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I had better tell--[She is going towards +the bell.] + +VERNON [he stops her]. Oh, let them alone. Plenty of time for all +that fuss. [He puts them both gently side by side on the settee.] +Sit down and talk. Haven't I been clever? [He puts his arm round +Fanny, laughing.] You thought I had made an ass of myself, didn't +you? Did you get all my letters? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I think so, dear. + +FANNY [she is sitting in an easy-chair. Vernon seats himself on the +arm]. Do you know I've never had a love-letter from you? + +VERNON. You gave me no time. She met me a month ago, and married me +last week. + +FANNY. It was quick work. He came--he saw--I conquered! [Laughs.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. They say that love at first sight is often +the most lasting. + +VERNON [he puts his arm around her]. You are sure you will never +regret having given up the stage? The excitement, the - + +FANNY. The excitement! Do you know what an actress's life always +seemed to me like? Dancing on a tight-rope with everybody throwing +stones at you. One soon gets tired of that sort of excitement. Oh, +I was never in love with the stage. Had to do something for a +living. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. It must be a hard life for a woman. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Especially for anyone not brought up to +it. + +FANNY. You see, I had a good voice and what I suppose you might call +a natural talent for acting. It seemed the easiest thing. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I suppose your family were very much +opposed to it? [Vernon rises. He stands with his back to the fire.] + +FANNY. My family? Hadn't any! + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. No family? + +Bennet enters. Vernon and Fanny left the door open. He halts, +framed by the doorway. + +FANNY. No. You see, I was an only child. My father and mother both +died before I was fourteen. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. But your uncle? + +FANNY. Oh, him! It was to get away from him and all that crew that +I went on the stage. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It is so sad when relations don't get on +together. + +FANNY. Sadder still when they think they've got a right to trample +on you, just because you happen to be an orphan and--I don't want to +talk about my relations. I want to forget them. I stood them for +nearly six months. I don't want to be reminded of them. I want to +forget that they ever existed. I want to forget - + +Bennet has come down very quietly. Fanny, from where he stands, is +the only one who sees him. He stands looking at her, his features, +as ever, immovable. At sight of him her eyes and mouth open wider +and wider. The words die away from her tongue. Vernon has turned +away to put a log on the fire, and so has not seen her expression-- +only hears her sudden silence. He looks up and sees Bennet. + +VERNON. Ah, Bennet! [He advances, holding out his hand.] You quite +well? + +BENNET [shaking hands with him]. Quite well. + +VERNON. Good! And all the family? + +BENNET. Nothing to complain of. Charles has had a touch of +influenza. + +VERNON. Ah, sorry to hear that. + +BENNET. And your lordship? + +VERNON. Fit as a fiddle--your new mistress. + +Fanny has risen. Bennet turns to her. For a moment his back is +towards the other three. Fanny alone sees his face. + +BENNET. We shall endeavour to do our duty to her ladyship. [He +turns to Vernon.] I had arranged for a more fitting reception - + +VERNON. To tell the honest truth, Bennet, the very thing we were +afraid of--why we walked from the station, and slipped in by the side +door. [Laughing.] Has the luggage come? + +BENNET. It has just arrived. It was about that I came to ask. I +could not understand - + +The Misses Wetherell have also risen. Fanny's speechless amazement +is attributed by them and Vernon to natural astonishment at discovery +of his rank. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. You will be wanting a quiet talk +together. We shall see you at dinner. + +VERNON. What time is dinner? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Half past seven. + +[To Fanny] But don't you hurry, dear. I will tell cook to delay it +a little. [She kisses her.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You will want some time to arrange that +pretty hair of yours. [She also kisses the passive, speechless +Fanny. They go out hand in hand.] + +BENNET. I will see, while I am here, that your lordship's room is in +order. + +VERNON. Why, where's Robert, then? + +BENNET. He has gone into town to do some shopping. We did not +expect your lordship much before nine. There may be one or two +things to see to. [He goes into his lordship's apartments, closing +the door behind him.] + +FANNY. Vernon, where am I? + +VERNON. At home, dear. + +FANNY. Yes, but where? + +VERNON. At Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire. [Fanny sits down on the +settee--drops down rather.] You're not angry with me? You know how +the world always talks in these cases. I wanted to be able to prove +to them all that you married me for myself. Not because I was Lord +Bantock. Can you forgive me? + +FANNY [she still seems in a dream]. Yes--of course. You didn't--you +wouldn't--[She suddenly springs up.] Vernon, you do love me? [She +flings her arms round his neck.] + +VERNON. Dear! + +FANNY. You will never be ashamed of me? + +VERNON. Dearest! + +FANNY. I was only a music-hall singer. There's no getting over it, +you know. + +VERNON. I should have loved you had you been a beggar-maid. + +FANNY [she still clings to him]. With an uncle a costermonger, and +an aunt who sold matches. It wouldn't have made any difference to +you, would it? You didn't marry me for my family, did you? You +didn't, did you? + +VERNON. Darling! I married you because you are the most +fascinating, the most lovable, the most wonderful little woman in the +world. [Fanny gives a sob.] As for your family--I've got a +confession to make to you, dear. I made inquiries about your family +before I proposed to you. Not for my own sake--because I knew I'd +have to answer a lot of stupid questions. It seemed to me quite a +good family. + +FANNY. It is! Oh, it is! There never was such a respectable +family. That's why I never could get on with them. + +VERNON [laughing]. Well, you haven't got to--any more. We needn't +even let them know - + +Bennet returns. + +BENNET. Robert I find has returned. It is ten minutes to seven. + +VERNON. Thanks. Well, I shall be glad of a bath. [He turns to +Fanny.] Bennet will send your maid to you. [He whispers to her.] +You'll soon get used to it all. As for the confounded family--we +will forget all about them. [Fanny answers with another little +stifled sob. Bennet is drawing the curtains, his back to the room. +Vernon, seeing that Bennet is occupied, kisses the unresponsive Fanny +and goes out.] + +At the sound of the closing of the door, Fanny looks up. She goes to +the door through which Vernon has just passed, listens a moment, then +returns. Bennet calmly finishes the drawing of the curtains. Then +he, too, crosses slowly till he and Fanny are facing one another +across the centre of the room. + +FANNY. Well, what are you going to do? + +BENNET. My duty! + +FANNY. What's that? Something unpleasant, I know. I can bet my +bottom dollar. + +BENNET. That, my girl, will depend upon you. + +FANNY. How upon me? + +BENNET. Whether you prove an easy or a difficult subject. To fit +you for your position, a certain amount of training will, I fancy, be +necessary. + +FANNY. Training! I'm to be--[She draws herself up.] Are you aware +who I am? + +BENNET. Oh yes. AND who you were. His lordship, I take it, would +hardly relish the discovery that he had married his butler's niece. +He might consider the situation awkward. + +FANNY. And who's going to train me? + +BENNET. I am. With the assistance of your aunt and such other +members of your family as I consider can be trusted. + +FANNY [for a moment she is speechless, then she bursts out]. That +ends it! I shall tell him! I shall tell him this very moment. [She +sweeps towards the door.] + +BENNET. At this moment you will most likely find his lordship in his +bath. + +FANNY. I don't care! Do you think--do you think for a moment that +I'm going to allow myself--I, Lady Bantock, to be--[Her hand upon the +door.] I shall tell him, and you'll only have yourself to blame. He +loves me. He loves me for myself. I shall tell him the whole truth, +and ask him to give you all the sack. + +BENNET. You're not forgetting that you've already told him ONCE who +you were? + +[It stops her. What she really did was to leave the marriage +arrangements in the hands of her business manager, George P. Newte. +As agent for a music-hall star, he is ideal, but it is possible that +in answering Lord Bantock's inquiries concerning Fanny's antecedents +he may not have kept strictly to the truth.] + +FANNY. I never did. I've never told him anything about my family. + +BENNET. Curious. I was given to understand it was rather a classy +affair. + +FANNY. I can't help what other people may have done. Because some +silly idiot of a man may possibly--[She will try a new tack. She +leaves the door and comes to him.] Uncle, dear, wouldn't it be +simpler for you all to go away? He's awfully fond of me. He'll do +anything I ask him. I could merely say that I didn't like you and +get him to pension you off. You and aunt could have a little +roadside inn somewhere--with ivy. + +BENNET. Seeing that together with the stables and the garden there +are twenty-three of us - + +FANNY. No, of course, he couldn't pension you all. You couldn't +expect - + +BENNET. I think his lordship might prefer to leave things as they +are. Good servants nowadays are not so easily replaced. And neither +your aunt nor I are at an age when change appeals to one. + +FANNY. You see, it's almost bound to creep out sooner or later, and +then - + +BENNET. We will make it as late as possible [He crosses and rings +the bell], giving you time to prove to his lordship that you are not +incapable of learning. + +FANNY [she drops back on the settee. She is half-crying.] Some +people would be pleased that their niece had married well. + +BENNET. I am old-fashioned enough to think also of my duty to those +I serve. If his lordship has done me the honour to marry my niece, +the least I can is to see to it that she brings no discredit to his +name. [Mrs. Bennet, followed by Jane Bennet, a severe-looking woman +of middle age, has entered upon the words "the least I can do." +Bennet stays them a moment with his hand while he finishes. Then he +turns to his wife.] You will be interested to find, Susannah, that +the new Lady Bantock is not a stranger. + +MRS. BENNET. Not a stranger! [She has reached a position from where +she sees the girl.] Fanny! You wicked girl! Where have you been +all these years? + +BENNET [interposing]. There will be other opportunities for the +discussion of family differences. Just now, her ladyship is waiting +to dress for dinner. + +MRS. BENNET [sneering]. Her ladyship! + +JANE [also sneering]. I think she might have forewarned us of the +honour in store for us. + +MRS. BENNET. Yes, why didn't she write? + +FANNY. Because I didn't know. Do you think--[she rises]--that if I +had I would ever have married him--to be brought back here and put in +this ridiculous position? Do you think that I am so fond of you all +that I couldn't keep away from you, at any price? + +MRS. BENNET. But you must have known that Lord Bantock - + +FANNY. I didn't know he was Lord Bantock. I only knew him as Mr. +Wetherell, an artist. He wanted to feel sure that I was marrying him +for himself alone. He never told me--[Ernest Bennet, a very young +footman, has entered in answer to Bennet's ring of a minute ago. He +has come forward step by step, staring all the while open-mouthed at +Fanny. Turning, she sees him beside her.] Hulloa, Ernie. How are +the rabbits? [She kisses him.] + +BENNET. Don't stand there gaping. I rang for some wood. Tell your +brother dinner will be at a quarter to eight. + +Ernest, never speaking, still staring at Fanny, gets clumsily out +again. + +FANNY. Well, I suppose I'd better see about dressing? Do I dine +with his lordship or in the servants' hall? + +MRS. BENNET [turns to her husband]. You see! Still the old +impertinence. + +FANNY. Only wanted to know. My only desire is to give satisfaction. + +BENNET [he moves towards the door]. You will do it by treating the +matter more seriously. At dinner, by keeping your eye upon me, you +will be able to tell whether you are behaving yourself or not. + +MRS. BENNET. And mind you are punctual. I have appointed Jane to be +your maid. + +FANNY. Jane! + +MRS. BENNET [in arms]. Have you any objections? + +FANNY. No, oh no, so long as you're all satisfied. + +MRS. BENNET. Remember, you are no longer on the music-hall stage. +In dressing for Bantock Hall you will do well to follow her advice. + +Bennet, who has been waiting with the door in his hand, goes out; +Mrs. Bennet follows. + +JANE [in the tones of a patient executioner]. Are you ready? + +FANNY. Quite ready, dear. Of course--I don't know what you will +think of them--but I've only brought modern costumes with me. + +JANE [not a lady who understands satire]. We must do the best we +can. [She marches out--into the dressing-room.] + +Fanny, after following a few steps, stops and thinks. Ernest has +entered with the wood. He is piling it in the basket by the fire. +His entrance decides her. She glances through the open door of the +dressing-room, then flies across to the desk, seats herself, and +begins feverishly to write a telegram. + +FANNY. Ernie! [He comes across to her.] Have you still got your +bicycle? + +ERNEST. Yes. + +FANNY. Could you get this telegram off for me before eight o'clock? +I don't want it sent from the village; I want you to take it +YOURSELF--into the town. There's a sovereign for you if you do it +all right. + +ERNEST. I'll do it. Can only get into a row. + +FANNY. Pretty used to them, ain't you? [She has risen. She gives +him the telegram. She has stamped it.] Can you read it? + +ERNEST. "George P. Newte." + +FANNY. Hush! + +They both glance at the open door. + +ERNEST [he continues in a lower voice]. "72A, Waterloo Bridge Road, +London. Must see you at once. Am at the new shop." [He looks up.] + +FANNY. That's all right. + +ERNEST. "Come down. Q.T. Fanny." + +FANNY [nods]. Get off quietly. I'll see you again - + +THE VOICE OF JANE [from the dressing-room]. Are you going to keep me +waiting all night? + +[They start. Ernest hastily thrusts the telegram into his breast- +pocket.] + +FANNY. Coming, dear, coming. [To Ernest] Not a word to anyone! +[She hurries him out and closes door behind him.] Merely been +putting the room a bit tidy. [She is flying round collecting her +outdoor garments.] Thought it would please you. So sorry if I've +kept you waiting. [Jane has appeared at door.] After you, dear. + +Jane goes out again. Fanny, with her pile of luggage, follows. + +[CURTAIN] + + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE + +The same. + +Time.--The next morning. + +The door opens. Dr. Freemantle enters, shown in by Bennet, who +follows him. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [talking as he enters]. Wonderful! Wonderful! I +don't really think I ever remember so fine a spring. + +BENNET [he is making up the fire]. I'm afraid we shall have to pay +for it later on. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I expect so. Law of the universe, you know, Bennet- +-law of the universe. Everything in this world has got to be paid +for. + +BENNET. Except trouble. [The doctor laughs.] The Times? [He hands +it to him.] + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Thanks. Thanks. [Seats himself.] Won't be long-- +his lordship, will he? + +BENNET. I don't think so. I told him you would be here about +eleven. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Um--what do you think of her? + +BENNET. Of--of her ladyship? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. What's she like? + +BENNET. [They have sunk their voices.] Well, it might have been +worse. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Ah! There's always that consolation, isn't there? + +BENNET. I think her ladyship--with MANAGEMENT--may turn out very +satisfactory. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. You like her? + +BENNET. At present, I must say for her, she appears willing to be +taught. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. And you think it will last? + +BENNET. I think her ladyship appreciates the peculiarity of her +position. I will tell the Miss Wetherells you are here. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Ah, thanks! + +BENNET. I fancy her ladyship will not herself be visible much before +lunch time. I understand she woke this morning with a headache. [He +goes out.] + +The Doctor reads a moment. Then the door of the dressing-room opens, +and Fanny enters. Her dress is a wonderful contrast to her costume +of last evening. It might be that of a poor and demure nursery +governess. Her hair is dressed in keeping. She hardly seems the +same woman. + +FANNY [seeing the Doctor, she pauses]. Oh! + +DR. FREEMANTLE [rises]. I beg pardon, have I the pleasure of seeing +Lady Bantock? + +FANNY. Yes. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Delighted. May I introduce myself--Dr. Freemantle? +I helped your husband into the world. + +FANNY. Yes. I've heard of you. You don't mind my closing this +door, do you? [Her very voice and manner are changed.] + +DR. FREEMANTLE [a little puzzled]. Not at all. + +FANNY [she closes the door and returns]. Won't--won't you be seated? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Thanks. [They both sit.] How's the headache? + +FANNY. Oh, it's better. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Ah! [A silence.] Forgive me--I'm an old friend of +the family. You're not a bit what I expected. + +FANNY. But you like it? I mean you think this--[with a gesture]--is +all right? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. My dear young lady, it's charming. You couldn't be +anything else. + +FANNY. Thank you. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I merely meant that--well, I was not expecting +anything so delightfully demure. + +FANNY. That's the idea--"seemly." The Lady Bantocks have always +been "seemly"? [She puts it as a question.] + +DR. FREEMANTLE [more and more puzzled]. Yes--oh, yes. They have +always been--[His eye catches that of Constance, first Lady Bantock, +looking down at him from above the chimney-piece. His tone changes.] +Well, yes, in their way, you know. + +FANNY. You see, I'm in the difficult position of following her LATE +ladyship. SHE appears to have been exceptionally "seemly." This is +her frock. I mean it WAS her frock. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. God bless my soul! You are not dressing yourself up +in her late ladyship's clothes? The dear good woman has been dead +and buried these twenty years. + +FANNY [she looks at her dress]. Yes, it struck me as being about +that period. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [he goes across to her]. What's the trouble? Too +much Bennet? + +FANNY [she looks up. There is a suspicion of a smile]. One might +say--sufficient? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [laughs]. Excellent servants. If they'd only +remember it. [He glances round--sinks his voice.] Take my advice. +Put your foot down--before it's too late. + +FANNY. Sit down, please. [She makes room for him on the settee.] +Because I'm going to be confidential. You don't mind, do you? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [seating himself]. My dear, I take it as the greatest +compliment I have had paid to me for years. + +FANNY. You put everything so nicely. I'm two persons. I'm an +angel--perhaps that is too strong a word? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [doubtfully]. Well - + +FANNY. We'll say saint. Or else I'm--the other thing. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Do you know, I think you could be. + +FANNY. It's not a question about which there is any doubt. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Of course, in this case, a LITTLE bit of the devil - + +FANNY [she shakes her head]. There's such a lot of mine. It has +always hampered me, never being able to hit the happy medium. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. It IS awkward. + +FANNY. I thought I would go on being an angel - + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Saint. + +FANNY. Saint--till--well, till it became physically impossible to be +a saint any longer. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. And then? + +FANNY [she rises, turns to him with a gesture of half-comic, half- +tragic despair]. Well, then I can't help it, can I? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I think you're making a mistake. An explosion will +undoubtedly have to take place. That being so, the sooner it takes +place the better. [He rises.] What are you afraid of? + +FANNY [she changes her tone--the talk becomes serious]. You've known +Vernon all his life? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. No one better. + +FANNY. Tell me. I've known him only as a lover. What sort of a man +is he? + +A pause. They are looking straight into each other's eyes. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. A man it pays to be perfectly frank with. + +FANNY. It's a very old family, isn't it? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Old! Good Lord no! First Lord Bantock was only +Vernon's great-grandfather. That is the woman that did it all. [He +is looking at the Hoppner.] + +FANNY. How do you mean? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Got them their title. Made the name of Bantock of +importance in the history of the Georges. Clever woman. + +FANNY [leaning over a chair, she is staring into the eyes of the +first Lady Bantock]. I wonder what she would have done if she had +ever got herself into a really first-class muddle? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. One thing's certain. [Fanny turns to him.] She'd +have got out of it. + +FANNY [addresses the portrait]. I do wish you could talk. + +Vernon bursts into the room. He has been riding. He throws aside +his hat and stick. + +VERNON. Hulloa! This is good of you. [He shakes hands with the +Doctor.] How are you? [Without waiting for any reply, he goes to +Fanny, kisses her.] Good morning, dear. How have you been getting +on together, you two? Has she been talking to you? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Oh, yes. + +VERNON. Doesn't she talk well? I say, what have you been doing to +yourself? + +FANNY. Jane thought this style--[with a gesture]--more appropriate +to Lady Bantock. + +VERNON. Um! Wonder if she's right? [To the Doctor] What do you +think? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I think it a question solely for Lady Bantock. + +VERNON. Of course it is. [To Fanny] You know, you mustn't let them +dictate to you. Dear, good, faithful souls, all of them. But they +must understand that you are mistress. + +FANNY [she seizes eagerly at the chance]. You might mention it to +them, dear. It would come so much better from you. + +VERNON. No, you. They will take more notice of you. + +FANNY. I'd so much rather you did it. [To Dr. Freemantle] Don't +you think it would come better from him? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [laughs]. I'm afraid you'll have to do it yourself. + +VERNON. You see, dear, it might hurt them, coming from me. It would +seem like ingratitude. Mrs. Bennet--Why, it wasn't till I began to +ask questions that I grasped the fact that she WASN'T my real mother. +As for old Bennet, ever since my father died--well, I hardly know how +I could have got on without him. It was Charles Bennet that taught +me to ride; I learned my letters sitting on Jane's lap. + +FANNY. Yes. Perhaps I had better do it myself. + +VERNON. I'm sure it will be more effective. Of course I shall +support you. + +FANNY. Thank you. Oh, by the by, dear, I shan't be able to go with +you to-day. + +VERNON. Why not? + +FANNY. I've rather a headache. + +VERNON. Oh, I'm so sorry. Oh, all right, we'll stop at home. I'm +not so very keen about it. + +FANNY. No, I want you to go, dear. Your aunts are looking forward +to it. I shall get over it all the sooner with everybody out of the +way. + +VERNON. Well, if you really wish it. + +The Misses Wetherell steal in. They are dressed for driving. They +exchange greetings with the Doctor. + +FANNY. You know you promised to obey. [Tickles his nose with a +flower.] + +VERNON [laughing--to the Doctor]. You see what it is to be married? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [laughs]. Very trying. + +VERNON [turning to his aunts]. Fanny isn't coming with us. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [to Fanny]. Oh, my dear! + +FANNY. It's only a headache. [She takes her aside.] I'm rather +glad of it. I want an excuse for a little time to myself. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I understand, dear. It's all been so +sudden. [She kisses her--then to the room] She'll be all the better +alone. We three will go on. [She nods and signs to her sister.] + +FANNY [kissing the Elder Miss Wetherell]. Don't you get betting. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Oh no, dear, we never do. It's just to +see the dear horses. [She joins her sister. They whisper.] + +VERNON [to the Doctor to whom he has been talking]. Can we give you +a lift? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Well, you might as far as the Vicarage. Good-bye, +Lady Bantock. + +FANNY [shaking hands]. Good-bye, Doctor. + +VERNON. Sure you won't be lonely? + +FANNY [laughs]. Think I can't exist an hour without you? Mr. +Conceited! + +VERNON [laughs and kisses her]. Come along. [He takes the Doctor +and his younger Aunt towards the door.] + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [who is following last]. I like you in that +frock. + +FANNY [laughs]. So glad. It's Ernest who attends to the fires, +isn't it? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Yes, dear. + +FANNY. I wish you'd send him up. [At door--calls after them] Hope +you'll all enjoy yourselves! + +VERNON [from the distance]. I shall put you on a fiver. + +FANNY. Mind it wins. [She listens a moment--closes door, comes back +to desk, and takes a Bradshaw.] Five-six-three--five-six-three. +[Finds page.] St. Pancras, eight o'clock. Oh, Lord! Stamford, +10.45. Leave Stamford--[Ernest has entered.] Is that you, Ernest? + +ERNEST. Yes. + +FANNY. Shut the door. Sure it went off last night, that telegram? + +ERNEST. Yes. + +FANNY. If he doesn't catch that eight o'clock, he can't get here +till nearly four. That will be awkward. [To Ernest] What time is +it now? + +ERNEST [looks at clock]. Twenty past eleven. + +FANNY. If he does, he'll be here about twelve--I believe I'll go and +meet him. Could I get out without being seen? + +ERNEST. You'll have to pass the lodge. + +FANNY. Who's at the lodge now? + +ERNEST. Mother. + +FANNY. Damn! + +Bennet has entered unnoticed and drawn near. At this point from +behind, he boxes Ernest's ears. + +ERNEST. Here, steady! + +BENNET. On the occasions when your cousin forgets her position, you +will remember it and remind her of it. Get out! [Ernest, clumsily +as ever, "gets out."] A sort of person has called who, according to +his own account, "happened to be passing this way," and would like to +see you. + +FANNY [who has been trying to hide the Bradshaw--with affected +surprise.] To see me! + +BENNET [drily]. Yes. I thought you would be surprised. He claims +to be an old friend of yours--Mr. George Newte. + +FANNY [still keeping it up]. George Newte! Of course--ah, yes. Do +you mind showing him up? + +BENNET. I thought I would let you know he had arrived, in case you +might be getting anxious about him. I propose giving him a glass of +beer and sending him away again. + +FANNY [flares up]. Look here, uncle, you and I have got to +understand one another. I may put up with being bullied myself--if I +can't see any help for it--but I'm not going to stand my friends +being insulted. You show Mr. Newte up here. + +A silence. + +BENNET. I shall deem it my duty to inform his lordship of Mr. +Newte's visit. + +FANNY. There will be no need to. Mr. Newte, if his arrangements +permit, will be staying to dinner. + +BENNET. That, we shall see about. [He goes out.] + +FANNY [following him to door]. And tell them I shall want the best +bedroom got ready in case Mr. Newte is able to stay the night. I've +done it. [She goes to piano, dashes into the "Merry Widow Waltz," or +some other equally inappropriate but well-known melody, and then +there enters Newte, shown in by Bennet. Newte is a cheerful person, +attractively dressed in clothes suggestive of a successful bookmaker. +He carries a white pot hat and tasselled cane. His gloves are large +and bright. He is smoking an enormous cigar.] + +BENNET. Mr. Newte. + +FANNY [she springs up and greets him. They are evidently good +friends] . Hulloa, George! + +NEWTE. Hulloa, Fan--I beg your pardon, Lady Bantock. [Laughs.] Was +just passing this way - + +FANNY [cutting him short]. Yes. So nice of you to call. + +NEWTE. I said to myself--[His eye catches Bennet; he stops.] Ah, +thanks. [He gives Bennet his hat and stick, but Bennet does not seem +satisfied. He has taken from the table a small china tray. This he +is holding out to Newte, evidently for Newte to put something in it. +But what? Newte is puzzled, he glances at Fanny. The idea strikes +him that perhaps it is a tip Bennet is waiting for. It seems odd, +but if it be the custom--he puts his hand to his trousers pocket.] + +BENNET. The smoking-room is on the ground-floor. + +NEWTE. Ah, my cigar. I beg your pardon. I couldn't understand. +[He puts it on the tray--breaks into a laugh.] + +BENNET. Thank you. Her ladyship is suffering from a headache. If I +might suggest--a little less boisterousness. [He goes out.] + +NEWTE [he watches him out]. I say, your Lord Chamberlain's a bit of +a freezer! + +FANNY. Yes. Wants hanging out in the sun. How did you manage to +get here so early? [She sits.] + +NEWTE. Well, your telegram rather upset me. I thought--correct +etiquette for me to sit down here, do you think? + +FANNY. Don't ask me. Got enough new tricks of my own to learn. +[Laughs.] Should chance it, if I were you. + +NEWTE. Such a long time since I was at Court. [He sits.] Yes, I +was up at five o'clock this morning. + +FANNY [laughs]. Oh, you poor fellow! + +NEWTE. Caught the first train to Melton, and came on by cart. +What's the trouble? + +FANNY. A good deal. Why didn't you tell me what I was marrying? + +NEWTE. I did. I told you that he was a gentleman; that he - + +FANNY. Why didn't you tell me that he was Lord Bantock? You knew, +didn't you? + +NEWTE [begins to see worries ahead]. Can't object to my putting a +cigar in my mouth if I don't light it--can he? + +FANNY. Oh, light it--anything you like that will help you to get +along. + +NEWTE [bites the end off the cigar and puts it between his teeth. +This helps him]. No, I didn't know--not officially. + +FANNY. What do you mean--"not officially"? + +NEWTE. He never told me. + +FANNY. He never told you ANYTHING--for the matter of that. I +understood you had found out everything for yourself. + +NEWTE. Yes; and one of the things I found out was that he didn't +WANT you to know. I could see his little game. Wanted to play the +Lord Burleigh fake. Well, what was the harm? Didn't make any +difference to you! + +FANNY. Didn't make any difference to me! [Jumps up.] Do you know +what I've done? Married into a family that keeps twenty-three +servants, every blessed one of whom is a near relation of my own. +[He sits paralysed. She goes on.] That bald-headed old owl--[with a +wave towards the door]--that wanted to send you off with a glass of +beer and a flea in your ear--that's my uncle. The woman that opened +the lodge gate for you is my Aunt Amelia. The carroty-headed young +man that answered the door to you is my cousin Simeon. He always +used to insist on kissing me. I'm expecting him to begin again. My +"lady's" maid is my cousin Jane. That's why I'm dressed like this! +My own clothes have been packed off to the local dressmaker to be +made "decent." Meanwhile, they've dug up the family vault to find +something for me to go on with. [He has been fumbling in all his +pockets for matches. She snatches a box from somewhere and flings it +to him.] For Heaven's sake light it! Then, perhaps, you'll be able +to do something else than stare. I have claret and water--mixed-- +with my dinner. Uncle pours it out for me. They've locked up my +cigarettes. Aunt Susannah is coming in to-morrow morning to hear me +say my prayers. Doesn't trust me by myself. Thinks I'll skip them. +She's the housekeeper here. I've got to know them by heart before I +go to bed to-night, and now I've mislaid them. [She goes to the +desk--hunts for them.] + +NEWTE [having lighted his eternal cigar, he can begin to think]. But +why should THEY - + +FANNY [still at desk]. Because they're that sort. They honestly +think they are doing the right and proper thing--that Providence has +put it into their hands to turn me out a passable substitute for all +a Lady Bantock should be; which, so far as I can understand, is +something between the late lamented Queen Victoria and Goody-Two- +Shoes. They are the people that I ran away from, the people I've +told you about, the people I've always said I'd rather starve than +ever go back to. And here I am, plumped down in the midst of them +again--for life! [Honoria Bennet, the "still-room" maid, has +entered. She is a pert young minx of about Fanny's own age.] What +is is? What is it? + +HONORIA. Merely passing through. Sorry to have excited your +ladyship. [Goes into dressing-room.] + +FANNY. My cousin Honoria. They've sent her up to keep an eye upon +me. Little cat! [She takes her handkerchief, drapes it over the +keyhole of the dressing-room door.] + +NEWTE [at sight of Honoria he has jumped up and hastily hidden his +cigar behind him]. What are you going to do? + +FANNY [she seats herself and suggests to him the writing-chair]. +Hear from you--first of all--exactly what you told Vernon. + +NEWTE [sitting]. About you? + +FANNY [nods]. About me--and my family. + +NEWTE. Well--couldn't tell him much, of course. Wasn't much to +tell. + +FANNY. I want what you did tell. + +NEWTE. I told him that your late father was a musician. + +FANNY. Yes. + +NEWTE. Had been unfortunate. Didn't go into particulars. Didn't +seem to be any need for it. That your mother had died when you were +still only a girl and that you had gone to live with relatives. [He +looks for approval.] + +FANNY. Yes. + +NEWTE. That you hadn't got on well with them--artistic temperament, +all that sort of thing--that, in consequence, you had appealed to +your father's old theatrical friends; and that they--that they, +having regard to your talent--and beauty - + +FANNY. Thank you. + +NEWTE. Had decided that the best thing you could do was to go upon +the stage. [He finishes, tolerably well pleased with himself.] + +FANNY. That's all right. Very good indeed. What else? + +NEWTE [after an uncomfortable pause]. Well, that's about all I knew. + +FANNY. Yes, but what did you TELL him? + +NEWTE. Well, of course, I had to tell him something. A man doesn't +marry without knowing just a little about his wife's connections. +Wouldn't be reasonable to expect him. You'd never told me anything-- +never would; except that you'd liked to have boiled the lot. What +was I to do? [He is playing with a quill pen he has picked up.] + +FANNY [she takes it from him]. What DID you do? + +NEWTE [with fine frankness]. I did the best I could for you, old +girl, and he was very nice about it. Said it was better than he'd +expected, and that I'd made him very happy--very happy indeed. + +FANNY [she leans across, puts her hand on his]. You're a dear, good +fellow, George--always have been. I wouldn't plague you only it is +absolutely necessary I should know--exactly what you did tell him. + +NEWTE [a little sulkily]. I told him that your uncle was a bishop. + +FANNY [sits back--staring at him]. A what? + +NEWTE. A bishop. Bishop of Waiapu, New Zealand. + +FANNY. Why New Zealand? + +NEWTE. Why not? Had to be somewhere. Didn't want him Archbishop of +Canterbury, did you? + +FANNY. Did he believe it? + +NEWTE. Shouldn't have told him had there been any fear that he +wouldn't. + +FANNY. I see. Any other swell relations of mine knocking about? + +NEWTE. One--a judge of the Supreme Court in Ohio. Same name, +anyhow, O'Gorman. Thought I'd make him a cousin of yours. I've +always remembered him. Met him when I was over there in ninety- +eight--damn him! + +A silence. + +FANNY [she rises]. Well, nothing else for it! Got to tell him it +was all a pack of lies. Not blaming you, old boy--my fault. Didn't +know he was going to ask any questions, or I'd have told him myself. +Bit of bad luck, that's all. + +NEWTE. Why must you tell him? Only upset him. + +FANNY. It's either my telling him or leaving it for them to do. You +know me, George. How long do you see me being bossed and bullied by +my own servants? Besides, it's bound to come out in any case. + +NEWTE [he rises. Kindly but firmly he puts her back into her chair. +Then pacing to and fro with his hands mostly in his trousers pockets, +he talks]. Now, you listen to me, old girl. I've been your business +manager ever since you started in. I've never made a mistake before- +-[he turns and faces her]--and I haven't made one this time. + +FANNY. I don't really see the smartness, George, stuffing him up +with a lot of lies he can find out for himself. + +NEWTE. IF HE WANTS TO. A couple of telegrams, one to His Grace the +Bishop of Waiapu, the other to Judge Denis O'Gorman, Columbus, Ohio, +would have brought him back the information that neither gentlemen +had ever heard of you. IF HE HADN'T BEEN CAREFUL NOT TO SEND THEM. +He wasn't marrying you with the idea of strengthening his family +connections. He was marrying you because he was just gone on you. +Couldn't help himself. + +FANNY. In that case, you might just as well have told him the truth. + +NEWTE. WHICH HE WOULD THEN HAVE HAD TO PASS ON TO EVERYONE ENTITLED +TO ASK QUESTIONS. Can't you understand? Somebody, in the interest +of everybody, had to tell a lie. Well, what's a business manager +for? + +FANNY. But I can't do it, George. You don't know them. The longer +I give in to them the worse they'll get. + +NEWTE. Can't you square them? + +FANNY. No, that's the trouble. They ARE honest. They're the +"faithful retainers" out of a melodrama. They are working eighteen +hours a day on me not for any advantage to themselves, but because +they think it their "duty" to the family. They don't seem to have +any use for themselves at all. + +NEWTE. Well, what about the boy? Can't HE talk to them? + +FANNY. Vernon! They've brought him up from a baby--spanked him all +round, I expect. Might as well ask a boy to talk to his old +schoolmaster. Besides, if he did talk, then it would all come out. +As I tell you, it's bound to come out--and the sooner the better. + +NEWTE. It must NOT come out! It's too late. If we had told him at +the beginning that he was proposing to marry into his own butler's +family--well, it's an awkward situation--he might have decided to +risk it. Or he might have cried off. + +FANNY. And a good job if he had. + +NEWTE. Now talk sense. You wanted him--you took a fancy to him from +the beginning. He's a nice boy, and there's something owing to him. +[It is his trump card, and he knows it.] Don't forget that. He's +been busy, explaining to all his friends and relations why they +should receive you with open arms: really nice girl, born +gentlewoman, good old Church of England family--no objection +possible. For you to spring the truth upon him NOW--well, it doesn't +seem to me quite fair to HIM. + +FANNY. Then am I to live all my life dressed as a charity girl? + +NEWTE. You keep your head and things will gradually right +themselves. This family of yours--they've got SOME sense, I suppose? + +FANNY. Never noticed any sign of it myself. + +NEWTE. Maybe you're not a judge. [Laughs.] They'll listen to +reason. You let ME have a talk to them, one of these days; see if I +can't show them--first one and then the other--the advantage of +leaving to "better" themselves--WITH THE HELP OF A LITTLE READY +MONEY. Later on--choosing your proper time--you can break it to him +that you have discovered they're distant connections of yours, a +younger branch of the family that you'd forgotten. Give the show +time to settle down into a run. Then you can begin to make changes. + +FANNY. You've a wonderful way with you, George. It always sounds +right as you put it--even when one jolly well knows that it isn't. + +NEWTE. Well, it's always been right for you, old girl, ain't it? + +FANNY. Yes. You've been a rattling good friend. [She takes his +hands.] Almost wish I'd married you instead. We'd have been more +suited to one another. + +NEWTE [shakes his head]. Nothing like having your fancy. You'd +never have been happy without him. [He releases her.] 'Twas a good +engagement, or I'd never have sanctioned it. + +FANNY. I suppose it will be the last one you will ever get me. [She +has dropped for a moment into a brown study.] + +NEWTE [he turns]. I hope so. + +FANNY [she throws off her momentary mood with a laugh]. Poor fellow! +You never even got your commission. + +NEWTE. I'll take ten per cent. of all your happiness, old girl. So +make it as much as you can for my benefit. Good-bye. [He holds out +hand.] + +FANNY. You're not going? You'll stop to lunch? + +NEWTE. Not to-day. + +FANNY. Do. If you don't, they'll think it's because I was +frightened to ask you. + +NEWTE. All the better. The more the other party thinks he's having +his way, the easier always to get your own. Your trouble is, you +know, that you never had any tact. + +FANNY. I hate tact. [Newte laughs.] We could have had such a jolly +little lunch together. I'm all alone till the evening. There were +ever so many things I wanted to talk to you about. + +NEWTE. What? + +FANNY. Ah, how can one talk to a man with his watch in his hand? +[He puts it away and stands waiting, but she is cross.] I think +you're very disagreeable. + +NEWTE. I must really get back to town. I oughtn't to be away now, +only your telegram - + +FANNY. I know. I'm an ungrateful little beast! [She crosses and +rings bell.] You'll have a glass of champagne before you go? + +NEWTE. Well, I won't say no to that. + +FANNY. How are all the girls? + +NEWTE. Oh, chirpy. I'm bringing them over to London. We open at +the Palace next week. + +FANNY. What did they think of my marriage? Gerty was a bit jealous, +wasn't she? + +NEWTE. Well, would have been, if she'd known who he was. [Laughs.] + +FANNY. Tell her. Tell her [she draws herself up] I'm Lady Bantock, +of Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire. It will make her so mad. [Laughs.] + +NEWTE [laughs]. I will. + +FANNY. Give them all my love. [Ernest appears in answer to her +bell.] Oh, Ernest, tell Bennet--[the eyes and mouth of Ernest open]- +-to see that Mr. Newte has some refreshment before he leaves. A +glass of champagne and--and some caviare. Don't forget. [Ernest +goes out.] Good-bye. You'll come again? + +NEWTE. Whenever you want me--and remember--the watchword is "Tact"! + +FANNY. Yes, I've got the WORD all right. [Laughs.] Don't forget to +give my love to the girls. + +NEWTE. I won't. So long! [He goes out.] + +Fanny closes the door. Honoria has re-entered from the dressing- +room. She looks from the handkerchief still hanging over the keyhole +to Fanny. + +HONORIA. Your ladyship's handkerchief? + +FANNY. Yes. Such a draught through that keyhole. + +HONORIA [takes the handkerchief, hands it to Fanny]. I will tell the +housekeeper. + +FANNY. Thanks. Maybe you will also mention it to the butler. +Possibly also to the--[She suddenly changes.] Honoria. Suppose it +had been you--you know, you're awfully pretty--who had married Lord +Bantock, and he had brought you back here, among them all--uncle, +aunt, all the lot of them--what would you have done? + +HONORIA [she draws herself up]. I should have made it quite plain +from the first, that I was mistress, and that they were my servants. + +FANNY. You would, you think - + +HONORIA [checking her outburst]. But then, dear--you will excuse my +speaking plainly--there is a slight difference between the two cases. +[She seats herself on the settee. Fanny is standing near the desk.] +You see, what we all feel about you, dear, is--that you are--well, +hardly a fit wife for his lordship. [Fanny's hands are itching to +box the girl's ears. To save herself, she grinds out through her +teeth the word "Tack!"] Of course, dear, it isn't altogether your +fault. + +FANNY. Thanks. + +HONORIA. Your mother's marriage was most unfortunate. + +FANNY [her efforts to suppress her feelings are just--but only just-- +successful.] Need we discuss that? + +HONORIA. Well, he was an Irishman, dear, there's no denying it. +[Fanny takes a cushion from a chair--with her back to Honoria, she +strangles it. Jane has entered and is listening.] Still, perhaps it +is a painful subject. And we hope--all of us--that, with time and +patience, we may succeed in eradicating the natural results of your +bringing-up. + +JANE. Some families, finding themselves in our position, would seek +to turn it to their own advantage. WE think only of your good. + +FANNY. Yes, that's what I feel--that you are worrying yourselves too +much about me. You're too conscientious, all of you. You, in +particular, Jane, because you know you're not strong. YOU'LL end up +with a nervous breakdown. [Mrs. Bennet has entered. Honoria slips +out. Fanny turns to her aunt.] I was just saying how anxious I'm +getting about Jane. I don't like the look of her at all. What she +wants is a holiday. Don't you agree with me? + +MRS. BENNET. There will be no holiday, I fear, for any of us, for +many a long day. + +FANNY. But you must. You must think more of yourselves, you know. +YOU'RE not looking well, aunt, at all. What you both want is a +month--at the seaside. + +MRS. BENNET. Your object is too painfully apparent for the subject +to need discussion. True solicitude for us would express itself +better in greater watchfulness upon your own behaviour. + +FANNY. Why, what have I done? + +Bennet enters, followed, unwillingly, by Ernest. + +MRS. BENNET. Your uncle will explain. + +BENNET. Shut that door. [Ernest does so. They group round Bennet-- +Ernest a little behind. Fanny remains near the desk.] Sit down. +[Fanny, bewildered, speechless, sits.] Carry your mind back, please, +to the moment when, with the Bradshaw in front of you, you were +considering, with the help of your cousin Ernest, the possibility of +your slipping out unobserved, to meet and commune with a person you +had surreptitiously summoned to visit you during your husband's +absence. + +FANNY. While I think of it, did he have anything to eat before he +went? I told Ernest to--ask you to see that he had a glass of +champagne and a - + +BENNET [waves her back into silence]. Mr. Newte was given +refreshment suitable to his station. [She goes to interrupt. Again +he waves her back.] We are speaking of more important matters. Your +cousin reminded you that you would have to pass the lodge, occupied +by your Aunt Amelia. I state the case correctly? + +FANNY. Beautifully! + +BENNET. I said nothing at the time, doubting the evidence of my own +ears. The boy, however--where is the boy?--[Ernest is pushed +forward]--has admitted--reluctantly--that he also heard it. [A +pause. The solemnity deepens.] You made use of an expression - + +FANNY. Oh, cut it short. I said "damn." [A shudder passes.] I'm +sorry to have frightened you, but if you knew a little more of really +good society, you would know that ladies--quite slap-up ladies--when +they're excited, do--. + +MRS. BENNET [interrupting with almost a scream]. She defends it! + +BENNET. You will allow ME to be the judge of what a LADY says, even +when she is excited. As for this man, Newte - + +FANNY. The best friend you ever had. [She is "up" again.] You +thank your stars, all of you, and tell the others, too, the whole +blessed twenty-three of you--you thank your stars that I did +"surreptitiously" beg and pray him to run down by the first train and +have a talk with me; and that Providence was kind enough to YOU to +enable him to come. It's a very different tune you'd have been +singing at this moment--all of you--if he hadn't. I can tell you +that. + +MRS. BENNET. And pray, what tune SHOULD we have been singing if +Providence hadn't been so thoughtful of us? + +FANNY [she is about to answer, then checks herself, and sits again]. +You take care you don't find out. There's time yet. + +MRS. BENNET. We had better leave her. + +BENNET. Threats, my good girl, will not help you. + +MRS. BENNET [with a laugh]. She's in too tight a corner for that. + +BENNET. A contrite heart is what your aunt and I desire to see. [He +takes from his pocket a small book, places it open on the desk.] I +have marked one or two passages, on pages 93-7. We will discuss them +together--later in the day. + +They troop out in silence, the key turns in the lock. + +FANNY [takes up the book--turns to the cover, reads]. "The Sinner's +Manual." [She turns to page 93.] + +[CURTAIN] + + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE + +The same. + +Time.--A few days later. + +A table is laid for tea. Ernest enters with the tea-urn. He leaves +the door open; through it comes the sound of an harmonium, +accompanying the singing of a hymn. Fanny comes from her dressing- +room. She is dressed more cheerfully than when we last saw her, but +still "seemly." She has a book in her hand. She pauses, hearing the +music, goes nearer to the open door, and listens; then crosses and +takes her place at the table. The music ceases. + +FANNY. Another prayer meeting? [Ernest nods.] I do keep 'em busy. + +ERNEST. D'ye know what they call you downstairs? + +FANNY. What? + +ERNEST. The family cross. + +FANNY. I'm afraid it's about right. + +ERNEST. What have you been doing THIS time? Swearing again? + +FANNY. Worse. I've been lying. [Ernest gives vent to a low +whistle.] Said I didn't know what had become of that yellow poplin +with the black lace flounces, that they've had altered for me. Found +out that I'd given it to old Mother Potts for the rummage sale at the +Vicarage. Jane was down there. Bought it in for half a crown. + +ERNEST. You are risky. Why, you might have known - + +Vernon comes in. He is in golfing get-up. He throws his cap on to +the settee. + +VERNON. Hello, got a cup of tea there? + +Ernest goes out. + +FANNY. Yes. Thought you were playing golf? + +VERNON. Just had a telegram handed to me in the village--from your +friend Newte. Wants me to meet him at Melton Station at five +o'clock. [Looks at his watch.] Know what he wants? + +FANNY. Haven't the faintest idea. [She hands him his cup.] Is he +coming HERE? Or merely on his way somewhere? + +VERNON. I don't know; he doesn't say. + +FANNY. Don't let him mix you up in any of his "ventures." Dear old +George, he's as honest as the day, but if he gets hold of an "idea" +there's always thousands in it for everybody. + +VERNON. I'll be careful. [Ernest has left the door open. The +harmonium breaks forth again, together with vocal accompaniment as +before.] What's on downstairs, then--a party? + +FANNY. Bennet is holding a prayer meeting. + +VERNON. A prayer meeting? + +FANNY. One of the younger members of the family has been detected +"telling a deliberate lie." [Vernon is near the door listening, with +his back towards her, or he would see that she is smiling.] Black +sheep, I suppose, to be found in every flock. [Music ceases, Ernest +having arrived with the news of his lordship's return.] + +VERNON [returning to the table, having closed the door]. Good old +man, you know, Bennet. All of them! So high-principled! Don't +often get servants like that, nowadays. + +FANNY. Seems almost selfish, keeping the whole collection to +ourselves. + +VERNON [laughs]. 'Pon my word it does. But what can we do? They'll +never leave us--not one of them. + +FANNY. No, I don't believe they ever will. + +VERNON. Do you know, I sometimes think that you don't like them. +[Fanny makes a movement.] Of course, they are a bit bossy, I admit. +But all that comes from their devotion, their - + +FANNY. The wonder to me is that, brought up among them, admiring +them as you do, you never thought of marrying one of them. + +VERNON [staggered.] Marrying them? + +FANNY. I didn't say "them." I said "ONE of them." There's Honoria. +She's pretty enough, anyhow. So's Alice, Charles Bennet's daughter, +and Bertha and Grace--all of them beautiful. And what's even better +still--good. [She says it viciously.] Didn't you ever think of +them? + +VERNON. Well [laughs]--well, one hardly marries into one's own +kitchen. + +FANNY. Isn't that rather snobbish? You say they're more like +friends than servants. They've lived with your people, side by side, +for three generations, doing their duty, honourably. There's never +been a slur upon their name. They're "high-principled." You know +it. They've better manners than nine-tenths of your smart society, +and they're healthy. What's wrong with them--even from a lord's +point of view? + +VERNON [recovering himself]. Well, don't pitch into me about it. +It's your fault if I didn't marry them--I mean one of them. [He +laughs, puts his empty cup back on the table.] Maybe I'd have +thought about it--if I hadn't met you. + +FANNY [takes his hand in hers]. I wish you hadn't asked Newte any +questions about me. It would have been so nice to feel that you had +married me--just because you couldn't help it--just because I was I +and nothing else mattered. + +VERNON. Let's forget I ever did. [He kneels beside her.] I didn't +do it for my own sake, as you know. A MAN in my position has to +think of other people. His wife has to take her place in society. +People insist upon knowing something about her. It's not enough for +the stupid "County" that she's the cleverest, most bewilderingly +beautiful, bewitching lady in the land. + +FANNY. And how long will you think all that? + +VERNON. For ever, and ever, and ever. + +FANNY. Oh, you dear boy. [She kisses him.] You don't know how a +woman loves the man she loves to love her. [Laughs.] Isn't that +complicated? + +VERNON. Not at all. We're just the same. We love to love the woman +we love. + +FANNY. Provided the "County" will let us. And the County has said: +A man may not marry his butler's niece. + +VERNON [laughing]. You've got butlers on the brain. If ever I do +run away with my own cook or under-housemaid, it will be your doing. + +FANNY. You haven't the pluck! The "County" would laugh at you. You +men are so frightened of being laughed at. + +VERNON [he rises]. Well, if it saves us from making asses of +ourselves - + +FANNY. Wasn't there a niece of old Bennet's, a girl who had been +brought up abroad, and who WASN'T a domestic servant--never had been- +-who stayed with them here, at the gardener's cottage, for a short +time, some few years ago? + +VERNON. You mean poor Rose Bennet's daughter--the one who ran away +and married an organ-grinder. + +FANNY. An organ-grinder? + +VERNON. Something of that sort--yes. They had her over; did all +they could. A crazy sort of girl; used to sing French ballads on the +village green to all the farm labourers she could collect. Shortened +poor Bennet's life by about ten years. [Laughs.] But why? Not +going to bully me for not having fallen in love with her, are you? +Because that really WASN'T my fault. I never even saw her. 'Twas +the winter we spent in Rome. She bolted before we got back. Never +gave me a chance. + +FANNY. I accept the excuse. [Laughs.] No, I was merely wondering +what the "County" would have done if by any chance you had married +HER. Couldn't have said you were marrying into your own kitchen in +her case, because she was never IN your kitchen--absolutely refused +to enter it, I'm told. + +VERNON [laughs]. It would have been a "nice point," as they say in +legal circles. If people had liked her, they'd have tried to forget +that her cousins had ever been scullery-maids. If not, they'd have +taken good care that nobody did. + +Bennet enters. He brings some cut flowers, with the "placing" of +which he occupies himself. + +BENNET. I did not know your lordship had returned. + +VERNON. Found a telegram waiting for me in the village. What's +become of that niece of yours, Bennet--your sister Rose's daughter, +who was here for a short time and ran away again? Ever hear anything +about her? + +BENNET [very quietly he turns, lets his eyes for a moment meet +Fanny's. Then answers as he crosses to the windows]. The last I +heard about her was that she was married. + +VERNON. Satisfactorily? + +BENNET. Looking at it from her point of view--most satisfactorily. + +VERNON [laughs]. But looking at it from his--more doubtful? + +BENNET. She was not without her attractions. Her chief faults, I am +inclined to think, were those arising from want of discipline in +youth. I have hopes that it is not even yet too late to root out +from her nature the weeds of indiscretion. + +VERNON. And you think he is the man to do it? + +BENNET. Perhaps not. But fortunately there are those about her +fully alive to the duty devolving upon them. + +VERNON. Um. Sounds a little bit like penal servitude for the poor +girl, the way you put it, Bennet. + +BENNET. Even penal servitude may be a blessing, if it serves to +correct a stubborn spirit. + +VERNON. We'll have to make you a J.P., Bennet. Must be jolly +careful I don't ever get tried before you. [Laughs.] Is that the +cart? + +BENNET [he looks out through the window]. Yes, your lordship. + +VERNON [he takes up his cap]. I may be bringing someone back with +me. [To Fanny, who throughout has remained seated.] Why not put on +your hat--come with me? + +FANNY [she jumps up, delighted]. Shall I? + +BENNET. Your ladyship is not forgetting that to-day is Wednesday? + +FANNY. What's the odds. There's nobody to call. Everybody is still +in town. + +BENNET. It has always been the custom of the Lady Bantocks, when in +residence, to be at home on Wednesdays. + +VERNON. Perhaps better not. It may cause talk; if, by chance, +anybody does come. I was forgetting it was Wednesday. [Fanny sits +again.] I shan't do anything without consulting you. Good-bye. + +FANNY. Good-bye. + +Vernon goes out. + +BENNET. You think it wise, discussing with his lordship the secret +history of the Bennet family? + +FANNY. What do you mean by telling him my father was an organ- +grinder? If the British public knew the difference between music and +a hurdy-gurdy, he would have kept a butler of his own. + +BENNET. I am not aware of having mentioned to his lordship that you +ever to my knowledge even had a father. It is not my plan--for the +present at all events--to inform his lordship anything about your +family. Take care I am not forced to. + +FANNY. Because my father, a composer who had his work performed at +the Lamoureux Concerts--as I can prove, because I've got the +programme--had the misfortune to marry into a family of lackeys--I'm +not talking about my mother: she was never really one of you. SHE +had the soul of an artist. + +BENNET [white with suppressed fury; he is in front of her; his very +look is enough to silence her]. Now you listen to me, my girl, once +and for all. I told you the night of your arrival that whether this +business was going to prove a pleasant or an unpleasant one depended +upon you. You make it an easy one--for your own sake. With one word +I can bring your house of cards about your ears. I've only to tell +him the truth for him to know you as a cheat and liar. [She goes to +speak; again he silences her.] You listen to me. You've seen fit to +use strong language; now I'm using strong language. This BOY, who +has married you in a moment of impulse, what does HE know about the +sort of wife a man in his position needs? What do YOU? made to sing +for your living on the Paris boulevards--whose only acquaintance with +the upper classes has been at shady restaurants. + +FANNY. He didn't WANT a woman of his own class. He told me so. It +was because I wasn't a colourless, conventional puppet with a book of +etiquette in place of a soul that he was first drawn towards me. + +BENNET. Yes. At twenty-two, boys like unconventionality. Men +don't: they've learnt its true name, vulgarity. Do you think I've +stood behind English society for forty years without learning +anything about it! What you call a colourless puppet is what WE call +an English lady. And that you've got to learn to be. You talk of +"lackeys." If your mother, my poor sister Rose, came from a family +of "lackeys" there would be no hope for you. With her blood in your +veins the thing can be done. We Bennets--[he draws himself up]--we +serve. We are not lackeys. + +FANNY. All right. Don't you call my father an organ-grinder, and I +won't call you lackeys. Unfortunately that doesn't end the trouble. + +BENNET. The trouble can easily be ended. + +FANNY. Yes. By my submitting to be ruled in all things for the +remainder of my life by my own servants. + +BENNET. Say "relations," and it need not sound so unpleasant. + +FANNY. Yes, it would. It would sound worse. One can get rid of +one's servants. [She has crossed towards the desk. Her cheque-book +lies there half hidden under other papers. It catches her eye. Her +hand steals unconsciously towards it. She taps it idly with her +fingers. It is all the work of a moment. Nothing comes of it. Just +the idea passes through her brain--not for the first time. She does +nothing noticeable--merely stands listless while one might count half +a dozen--then turns to him again.] Don't you think you're going it a +bit too strong, all of you? I'm not a fool. I've got a lot to +learn, I know. I'd be grateful for help. What you're trying to do +is to turn me into a new woman entirely. + +BENNET. Because that is the only WAY to help you. Men do not put +new wine into old bottles. + +FANNY. Oh, don't begin quoting Scripture. I want to discuss the +thing sensibly. Don't you see it can't be done? I can't be anybody +else than myself. I don't want to. + +BENNET. My girl, you've GOT to be. Root and branch, inside and +outside, before you're fit to be Lady Bantock, mother of the Lord +Bantocks that are to be, you've got to be a changed woman. + +A pause. + +FANNY. And it's going to be your job, from beginning to end--yours +and the rest of you. What I wear and how I look is Jane's affair. +My prayers will be for what Aunt Susannah thinks I stand in need of. +What I eat and drink and say and do YOU will arrange for me. And +when you die, Cousin Simeon, I suppose, will take your place. And +when Aunt Susannah dies, it will merely be a change to Aunt Amelia. +And if Jane ever dies, Honoria will have the dressing and the +lecturing of me. And so on and so on, world without end, for ever +and ever, Amen. + +BENNET. Before that time, you will, I shall hope, have learnt +sufficient sense to be grateful to us. [He goes out.] + +FANNY [she turns--walks slowly back towards the tea-table. Halfway +she pauses, and leaning over the back of a chair regards in silence +for a while the portrait of the first Lady Bantock]. I do wish I +could tell what you were saying. + +The door opens. The Misses Wetherell come in. They wear the same +frocks that they wore in the first act. They pause. Fanny is still +gazing at the portrait. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Don't you notice it, dear? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Yes. There really is. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It struck me the first day. [To Fanny, +who has turned] Your likeness, dear, to Lady Constance. It's really +quite remarkable. + +FANNY. You think so? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. It's your expression--when you are +serious. + +FANNY [laughs]. I must try to be more serious. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It will come, dear. + +They take their places side by side on the settee. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [to her sister, with a pat of the hand]. +In good time. It's so nice to have her young. I wonder if +anybody'll come this afternoon. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [to Fanny]. You see, dear, most of the +county people are still in town. + +FANNY [who is pouring out tea]. I'm not grumbling. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Oh, you'll like them, dear. The +Cracklethorpes especially. [To her sister for confirmation] Bella +Cracklethorpe is so clever. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And the Engells. She'll like the +Engells. All the Engell girls are so pretty. [Fanny brings over two +cups of tea.] Thank you, dear. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [as she takes her cup--patting Fanny's +hand]. And they'll like you, dear, ALL of them. + +FANNY [returning to table]. I hope so. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It's wonderful, dear--you won't mind my +saying it?--how you've improved. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Of course it was such a change for you. +And at first [turns to her sister] we were a little anxious about +her, weren't we? + +Fanny has returned to them with the cake-basket. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [as she takes a piece]. Bennet [she lingers +on the name as that of an authority] was saying only yesterday that +he had great hopes of you. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [Fanny is handing the basket to her]. +Thank you, dear. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I told Vernon. He was SO pleased. + +FANNY. VERNON was? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. He attaches so much importance to Bennet's +opinion. + +FANNY. Um. I'm glad I appear to be giving satisfaction. [She has +returned to her seat at the table.] I suppose when you go to town, +you take the Bennets with you? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [surprised at the question]. Of course, +dear. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Vernon didn't wish to go this year. He +thought you would prefer - + +FANNY. I was merely thinking of when he did. Do you ever go abroad +for the winter? So many people do, nowadays. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We tried it once. But there was nothing +for dear Vernon to do. You see, he's so fond of hunting. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [to her sister]. And then there will be +his Parliamentary duties that he will have to take up now. + +Fanny rises, abruptly. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You're not ill, dear? + +FANNY. No. Merely felt I wanted some air. You don't mind, do you? +[She flings a casement open.] + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Not at all, dear. [To her sister] It +IS a bit close. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. One could really do without fires. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. If it wasn't for the evenings. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. And then, of course, the cold weather +might come again. One can never feel safe until - + +The door opens. Dr. Freemantle enters, announced by Bennet. The old +ladies go to rise. He stops them. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Don't get up. [He shakes hands with them.] How are +we this afternoon? [He shakes his head and clicks his tongue.] +Really, I think I shall have to bring an action for damages against +Lady Bantock. Ever since she - + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Hush! [She points to the window.] Fanny. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Here's Doctor Freemantle. + +Fanny comes from the window. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [he meets her and takes her hand]. Was just saying, I +really think I shall have to claim damages against you, Lady Bantock. +You've practically deprived me of two of my best paying patients. +Used to be sending for me every other day before you came. Now look +at them! [The two ladies laugh.] She's not as bad as we expected. +[He pats her hand.] Do you remember my description of what I thought +she was going to be like? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. She's a dear girl. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Bennet - + +FANNY [she has crossed to table--is pouring out the Doctor's tea]. +Oh, mightn't we have a holiday from Bennet? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [laughs]. Seems to be having a holiday himself to- +day. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. A holiday? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Didn't you know? Oh, there's an awfully swagger +party on downstairs. They were all trooping in as I came. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I'd no idea he was giving a party. [To +Fanny] Did you, dear? + +FANNY [she hands the Doctor his tea]. Yes. It's a prayer meeting. +The whole family, I expect, has been summoned. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. A prayer meeting! Didn't look like it. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. But why should he be holding a prayer +meeting? + +FANNY. Oh, one of the family - + +DR. FREEMANTLE. And why twelve girls in a van? + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. In a van? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. One of Hutton's from the Station Hotel--with a big +poster pinned on the door: "Our Empire." + +Fanny has risen. She crosses and rings the bell. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. What's the matter, dear? + +FANNY. I'm not quite sure yet. [Her whole manner is changed. A +look has come into her eyes that has not been there before. She +speaks in quiet, determined tones. She rings again. Then returning +to table, hands the cake-basket to the Doctor.] Won't you take one, +Doctor? They're not as indigestible as they look. [Laughs.] + +DR. FREEMANTLE [he also is bewildered at the changed atmosphere]. +Thank you. I hope I - + +FANNY [she turns to Ernest, who has entered. Her tone, for the first +time, is that of a mistress speaking to her servants]. Have any +visitors called for me this afternoon? + +ERNEST. Vi-visitors--? + +FANNY. Some ladies. + +ERNEST [he is in a slough of doubt and terror]. L--ladies? + +FANNY. Yes. Please try to understand the English language. Has a +party of ladies called here this afternoon? + +ERNEST. There have been some ladies. They--we - + +FANNY. Where are they? + +ERNEST. They--I - + +FANNY. Send Bennet up to me. Instantly, please. + +Ernest, only too glad to be off, stumbles out. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. My dear - + +FANNY. You'll take some more tea, won't you? Do you mind, Doctor, +passing Miss Wetherell's cup? And the other one. Thank you. And +will you pass them the biscuits? You see, I am doing all I can on +your behalf. [She is talking and laughing--a little hysterically-- +for the purpose of filling time.] Tea and hot cake--could anything +be worse for them? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Well, tea, you know - + +FANNY. I know. [Laughs.] You doctors are all alike. You all +denounce it, but you all drink it. [She hands him the two cups.] +That one is for Aunt Wetherell of the beautiful hair; and the other +is for Aunt Wetherell of the beautiful eyes. [Laughs.] It's the +only way I can distinguish them. + +Bennet enters. + +Oh, Bennet! + +BENNET. You sent for me? + +FANNY. Yes. I understand some ladies have called. + +BENNET. I think your ladyship must have been misinformed. I most +certainly have seen none. + +FANNY. I have to assume, Bennet, that either Dr. Freemantle or you +are telling lies. + +A silence. + +BENNET. A party of over-dressed young women, claiming to be +acquainted with your ladyship, have arrived in a van. I am giving +them tea in the servants' hall, and will see to it that they are sent +back to the station in ample time to catch their train back to town. + +FANNY. Please show them up. They will have their tea here. + +BENNET [her very quietness is beginning to alarm him. It shakes him +from his customary perfection of manners]. The Lady Bantocks do not +as a rule receive circus girls in their boudoir. + +FANNY [still with her alarming quietness]. Neither do they argue +with their servants. Please show these ladies in. + +BENNET. I warn you - + +FANNY. You heard my orders. [Her tone has the right ring. The +force of habit is too strong upon him. He yields--savagely--and goes +out. She turns to the Doctor.] So sorry I had to drag you into it. +I didn't see how else I was going to floor him. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Splendid! [He grips her hand.] + +FANNY [she goes to the old ladies who sit bewildered terrified.] +They won't be here for more than a few minutes--they can't be. I +want you to be nice to them--both of you. They are friends of mine. +[She turns to the Doctor.] They're the girls I used to act with. We +went all over Europe--twelve of us--representing the British Empire. +They are playing in London now. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. To-night? [He looks at his watch.] + +FANNY [she is busy at the tea-table]. Yes. They are on the stage at +half past nine. You might look out their train for them. [She +points to the Bradshaw on the desk.] I don't suppose they've ever +thought about how they're going to get back. It's Judy's +inspiration, this, the whole thing; I'd bet upon it. [With a laugh.] +She always was as mad as a March hare. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [busy with the Bradshaw]. They were nice-looking +girls. + +FANNY. Yes. I think we did the old man credit. [With a laugh.] +John Bull's daughters, they called us in Paris. + +Bennet appears in doorway. + +BENNET [announces]. "Our Empire." + +Headed by "England," the twelve girls, laughing, crowding, jostling +one another, talking all together, swoop in. + +ENGLAND [a lady with a decided Cockney accent]. Oh, my dear, talk +about an afternoon! We 'ave 'ad a treat getting 'ere. + +Fanny kisses her. + +SCOTLAND [they also kiss]. Your boss told us you'd gone out. + +FANNY. It was a slight--misunderstanding. Bennet, take away these +things, please. And let me have half a dozen bottles of champagne. + +STRAITS SETTLEMENTS [a small girl at the back of the crowd--with a +shrill voice]. Hooray! + +BENNET [he is controlling himself with the supremest difficulty. +Within he is a furnace]. I'm afraid I have mislaid the key of the +cellar. + +FANNY [she looks at him]. You will please find it--quickly. +[Bennet, again from habit, yields. But his control almost fails him. +He takes up the tray of unneeded tea-things from the table.] I shall +want some more of all these [cakes, fruit, sandwiches, etc.]. And +some people to wait. Tell Jane she must come and help. + +Bennet goes out. During this passage of arms between mistress and +man a momentary lull has taken place in the hubbub. As he goes out, +it begins to grow again. + +ENGLAND. 'E does tease yer, don't 'e? Wanted us to 'ave tea in the +kitchen. + +FANNY. Yes. These old family servants - + +AFRICA [she prides herself on being "quite the lady"]. Don't talk +about 'em, dear. We had just such another. [She turns to a girl +near her.] Oh, they'll run the whole show for you if you let 'em. + +ENGLAND. It was Judy's idea, our giving you this little treat. +Don't you blime me for it. + +WALES [a small, sprightly girl with a childish, laughing voice]. +Well, we were all together with nothing better to do. They'd called +a rehearsal and then found they didn't want us--silly fools. I told +'em you'd just be tickled to death. + +FANNY [laughing--kisses her]. So I am. It was a brilliant idea. +[By this time she has kissed or shaken hands with the whole dozen.] +I can't introduce you all singly; it would take too long. [She makes +a wholesale affair of it.] My aunts, the Misses Wetherell--Dr. +Freemantle. + +The Misses Wetherell, suggesting two mice being introduced to a party +of friendly kittens, standing, clinging to one another, murmur +something inaudible. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [who is with them to comfort them--he has got rid of +the time-table, discreetly--smiles]. Delighted. + +ENGLAND. Charmed. [The others join in, turning it into a chorus. +To Fanny] Glad we didn't strike one of your busy days. I say, +you're not as dressy as you used to be. 'Ow are they doing you?--all +right? + +FANNY. Yes. Oh, yes. + +CANADA ["Gerty," a big, handsome girl, with a loud, commanding +voice]. George gave me your message. + +FANNY [puzzled at first]. My message? [Remembering--laughs.] Oh. +That I was Lady Bantock of Bantock Hall. Yes. I thought you'd be +pleased. + +CANADA. Was delighted, dear. + +FANNY. So glad. + +CANADA. I'd always had the idea that you were going to make a mess +of your marriage. + +FANNY. What a funny idea! [But the laugh that accompanies it is not +a merry one.] + +CANADA. Wasn't it? So glad I was wrong. + +WALES. We're all of us looking out for lords in disguise, now. +Can't you give us a tip, dear, how to tell 'em? + +SCOTLAND. Sukey has broken it off with her boy. Found he was mixed +up in trade. + +STRAITS SETTLEMENTS [as before, unseen at back of crowd]. No. I +didn't. 'Twas his moral character. + +Then enter Honoria with glasses on a tray; Ernest with champagne; +Jane with eatables; Bennet with a napkin. It is a grim procession. +The girls are scattered, laughing, talking: Africa to the Misses +Wetherell; a couple to Dr. Freemantle. England, Scotland, Wales, and +Canada are with Fanny. The hubbub, with the advent of the +refreshments, increases. There is a general movement towards the +refreshments. + +FANNY. Thanks, Bennet. You can clear away a corner of the desk. + +ENGLAND [aside to her]. Go easy with it, dear. [Fanny, smiling, +nods. She directs operations in a low tone to the Bennets, who take +her orders in grim silence and with lips tight shut.] Don't forget, +girls, that we've got to get back to-night. [Aside to the Doctor, +who has come forward to help.] Some of 'em, you know, ain't used to +it. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [nods]. Glasses not TOO full. [He whispers to +Fanny.] + +IRELAND [a decided young woman]. How much time have we got? + +ENGLAND. Don't ask me. It's Judy's show. + +WALES [mimicking Newte]. The return train, ladies, leaves Oakham +station. [Stops--she is facing the clock. She begins to laugh.] + +ENGLAND. What's the matter? + +WALES [still laughing]. We've got just quarter of an hour to catch +it. + +There is a wild rush for the refreshments. Jane is swept off her +feet. Bennet's tray is upset. + +ENGLAND. Quarter--! Oh, my Gawd! Here, tuck up your skirts, girls. +We'll have to - + +DR. FREEMANTLE. It's all right. You've got plenty of time, ladies. +There's a train from Norton on the branch line at 5.33. Gets you +into London at a quarter to nine. + +ENGLAND. You're SURE? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [he has his watch in his hand]. Quite sure. The +station is only half a mile away. + +ENGLAND. Don't let's miss it. Keep your watch in your 'and, there's +a dear. + +FANNY [her business is--and has been--to move quietly through the +throng, making the girls welcome, talking, laughing with them, +directing the servants--all in a lady's way. On the whole she does +it remarkably well. She is offering a plate of fruit to Judy]. +You're a nice acting manager, you are. [Judy laughs. Fanny finds +herself in front of Ireland. She turns to England.] Won't you +introduce us? + +ENGLAND. I beg your pardon, dear. Of course, you don't know each +other. Miss Tetsworth, our new Ireland, Lady Bantock. It is +"Bantock," isn't it, dear? + +FANNY. Quite right. It's a good little part, isn't it? + +IRELAND. Well, depends upon what you've been used to. + +ENGLAND. She's got talent, as I tell 'er. But she ain't you, dear. +It's no good saying she is. + +FANNY [hastening to smooth it over]. People always speak so well of +us after we're gone. [Laughs.] You'll take another glass of +champagne. + +IRELAND. Thank you--you made a great success, they tell me, in the +part. + +FANNY. Oh, there's a deal of fluke about these things. You see, I +had the advantage - + +DR. FREEMANTLE [with watch still in his hand]. I THINK, ladies - + +ENGLAND. Come on, girls. + +A general movement. + +FANNY. You must all come again--spend a whole day--some Sunday. + +CANADA. Remember me to Vernon. + +FANNY. He'll be so sorry to have - + +ENGLAND [cutting in]. 'Ope we 'aven't upset you, dear. [She is +bustling them all up.] + +FANNY. Not at all. [She is kissing the girls.] It's been so good +to see you all again. + +ENGLAND. 'Urry up, girls, there's dears. [To Fanny] Good-bye, +dear. [Kissing her.] We DO miss yer. + +FANNY. I'm glad you do. + +ENGLAND. Oh, it ain't the same show. [The others are crowding out +of the door. She and Fanny are quite apart.] No chance of your +coming back to it, I suppose? [A moment.] Well, there, you never +know, do yer? Good-bye, dear. [Kisses her again.] + +FANNY. Good-bye! [She stands watching them out. Bennet goes down +with them. Ernest is busy collecting debris. Jane and Honoria stand +one each side of the table, rigid, with set faces. After a moment +Fanny goes to the open window. The voices of the girls below, +crowding into the van, come up into the room. She calls down to +them.] Good-bye. You've plenty of time. What? Yes, of course. +[Laughs.] All right. Good-bye. [She turns, comes slowly back. She +looks at Jane and Honoria, where they stand rigid. Honoria makes a +movement with her shoulders--takes a step towards the door.] +Honoria! [Honoria stops--slowly turns.] You can take away these +glasses. Jane will help you. + +Bennet has reappeared. + +HONORIA. It's not my place - + +FANNY. Your place is to obey my orders. + +BENNET [his coolness seems to have deserted him. His voice is +trembling]. Obey her ladyship's orders, both of you. Leave the rest +to me. [Honoria and Jane busy themselves, with Ernest setting the +room to rights.] May I speak with your ladyship? + +FANNY. Certainly. + +BENNET. Alone, I mean. + +FANNY. I see no need. + +BENNET [her firmness takes him aback. He expected to find her +defiance disappear with the cause of it. But pig-headed, as all +Bennets, her opposition only drives him on]. Your ladyship is not +forgetting the alternative? + +The Misses Wetherell have been watching the argument much as the +babes in the wood might have watched the discussion between the two +robbers. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [in terror]. Bennet! you're not going to +give notice! + +BENNET. What my duty may be, I shall be able to decide after I have +spoken with her ladyship--alone. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Dear! You will see him? + +FANNY. I am sorry. I have not the time. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. No. Of course. [Appealing to Bennet +for mercy] Her ladyship is tired. To-morrow - + +FANNY [interrupting]. Neither to-morrow--nor any other day. [Vernon +enters, followed by Newte. She advances to meet them.] You've just +missed some old friends of yours. [She shakes hands with Newte.] + +VERNON. So it seems. We were hoping to have been in time. [To +Newte] The mare came along pretty slick, didn't she? + +BENNET [he has remained with his look fixed all the time on Fanny]. +May I speak with your lordship a moment--in private? + +VERNON. Now? + +BENNET. It is a matter that needs to be settled now. [It is the +tone of respectful authority he has always used towards the lad.] + +VERNON. Well, if it's as pressing as all that I suppose you must. +[He makes a movement towards the door. To Newte] Shan't be long. + +FANNY. One moment. [Vernon stops.] I may be able to render the +interview needless. Who is mistress of this house? + +VERNON. Who is mistress? + +FANNY. Who is mistress of your house? + +VERNON. Why, you are, of course. + +FANNY. Thank you. [She turns to Bennet] Please tell Mrs. Bennet I +want her. + +BENNET. I think if your lordship - + +FANNY. At once. [She is looking at him. He struggles--looks at +Vernon. But Vernon is evidently inclined to support Fanny. Bennet +goes out. She crosses and seats herself at the desk. She takes from +a drawer some neatly folded papers. She busies herself with +figures.] + +VERNON [he crosses to his Aunts]. Whatever's the matter? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. She is excited. She has had a very trying +time. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Bennet didn't like the idea of her +receiving them. + +NEWTE. It was that minx Judy's doing. They'll have the rough side +of my tongue when I get back--all of them. + +VERNON. What does she want with Mrs. Bennet? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I can't think. + +The atmosphere is somewhat that of a sheepfold before a thunderstorm. +The Misses Wetherell are still clinging to one another. Vernon and +Dr. Freemantle are both watching Fanny. Jane, Honoria, and Ernest +are still busy about the room. + +Suddenly, to Newte--who is standing apart--the whole thing comes with +a rush. But it is too late for him to interfere. + +Mrs. Bennet, followed by Bennet, are entering the room. He shrugs +his shoulders and turns away. + +MRS. BENNET. Your ladyship sent for me? + +FANNY. Yes. [She half turns--holds out a paper.] This wages sheet +is quite correct, I take it? It is your own. + +MRS. BENNET [she takes it]. Quite correct. + +FANNY [she tears out a cheque she has written--hands it to Mrs. +Bennet]. You will find there two months' wages for the entire +family. I have made it out in a lump sum payable to your husband. +The other month is in lieu of notice. [A silence. The thing strikes +them all dumb. She puts the cheque-book back and closes the drawer. +She rises.] I'm sorry. There's been a misunderstanding. It's time +that it ended. It has been my own fault. [To Vernon] I deceived +you about my family - + +NEWTE. If there's been any deceit - + +FANNY. My scene, please, George. [Newte, knowing her, returns to +silence.] I have no relations outside this country that I know of. +My uncle is Martin Bennet, your butler. Mrs. Bennet is my aunt. I'm +not ashamed of them. If they'd had as much respect for me as I have +for them, this trouble would not have arisen. We don't get on +together, that's all. And this seems to me the only way out. As I +said before, I'm sorry. + +VERNON [recovering speech]. But why did you--? + +FANNY [her control gives way. She breaks out]. Oh, because I've +been a fool. It's the explanation of most people's muddles, I +expect, if they only knew it. Don't talk to me, anybody. I've got +nothing more to say. [To Bennet] I'm sorry. You wouldn't give me a +chance. I'd have met you half way. [To Mrs. Bennet] I'm sorry. +Don't be too hard on me. It won't mean much trouble to you. Good +servants don't go begging. You can depend upon me for a character. +[To Jane] You'll do much better for yourselves elsewhere. [To +Honoria] Don't let that pretty face of yours ever get you into +trouble. [To Ernest] Good-bye, Ernest. We were always pals, +weren't we? Good-bye. [She kisses him. It has all been the work of +a moment. She comes down again.] Don't think me rude, but I'd like +to be alone. We can talk calmly about it all to-morrow morning. [To +the Misses Wetherell] I'm so awfully sorry. I wish I could have +seen any other way out. [The tears are streaming from her eyes. To +Vernon] Take them all away, won't you, dear? We'll talk about it +all to-morrow. I'll feel gooder. [She kisses him. To Dr. +Freemantle] Take them all away. Tell him it wasn't all my fault. +[To Newte] You'll have to stop the night. There are no more trains. +I'll see you in the morning. Good night. + +Bennet has collected his troop. Leads them away. Dr. Freemantle, +kindly and helpful, takes off Vernon and the two ladies. + +NEWTE [he grips her hand, and speaks in his short, growling way]. +Good night, old girl. [He follows the others out.] + +FANNY [crosses towards the windows. Her chief business is dabbing +her eyes. The door closes with a click. She turns. She puts her +handkerchief away. She looks at the portrait of Constance, first +Lady Bantock]. I believe it's what you've been telling me to do, all +the time. + +[CURTAIN] + + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE + +The same. The blinds are down. Ashes fill the grate. + +Time.--Early the next morning. + +The door opens softly. Newte steals in. He fumbles his way across +to the windows, draws the blinds. The morning sun streams in. He +listens--no one seems to be stirring. He goes out, returns +immediately with a butler's tray, containing all things necessary for +a breakfast and the lighting of a fire. He places the tray on table, +throws his coat over a chair, and is on his knees busy lighting the +fire, when enter the Misses Wetherell, clad in dressing-gowns and +caps: yet still they continue to look sweet. They also creep in, +hand in hand. The crouching Newte is hidden by a hanging fire- +screen. They creep forward till the coat hanging over the chair +catches their eye. They are staring at it as Robinson Crusoe might +at the footprint, when Newte rises suddenly and turns. The Misses +Wetherell give a suppressed scream, and are preparing for flight. + +NEWTE [he stays them]. No call to run away, ladies. When a man's +travelled--as I have--across America, in a sleeping-car, with a +comic-opera troop, there's not much left for him to know. You want +your breakfast! [He wheedles them to the table.] We'll be able to +talk cosily--before anybody else comes. + +They yield themselves. He has a way with him. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We haven't slept all night. + +Newte answers with a sympathetic gesture. He is busy getting ready +the breakfast. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. There's something we want to tell dear +Vernon--before he says anything to Fanny. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It's something very important. + +NEWTE. We'll have a cup of tea first--to steady our nerves. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. It's so important that we should tell +him before he sees Fanny. + +NEWTE. We'll see to it. [He makes the tea.] I fancy they're both +asleep at present. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Poor boy! + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. If she only hadn't - + +Dr. Freemantle has entered. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I thought I heard somebody stirring - + +NEWTE. Hush! [He indicates doors, the one leading to her ladyship's +apartments, the other to his lordship's.] + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [turning and greeting him]. It was so +kind of you not to leave us last night. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We were so upset. + +Dr. Freemantle pats their hands. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We hope you slept all right. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Excellently. Shall be glad of a shave, that's all. +[Laughs. Both he and Newte suggest the want of one.] + +NEWTE [who has been officiating]. Help yourself to milk and sugar. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [who has seated himself]. Have the Bennets gone? + +NEWTE. Well, they had their notice all right. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [they have begun to cry]. It has been so +wrong and foolish of us. We have never learnt to do anything for +ourselves. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We don't even know where our things are. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. They can't all have gone--the whole twenty-three of +them, at a couple of hours' notice. [To Newte] Haven't seen any of +them, have you? + +NEWTE. No sign of any of them downstairs. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Oh, they must be still here. Not up, I suppose. It +isn't seven o'clock yet. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. But they have all been discharged. We +can't ask them to do anything. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [to her sister]. And the Grimstones are +coming to lunch with the new curate. Vernon asked them on Sunday. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Perhaps there's something cold. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Vernon so dislikes a cold lunch. + +DR. FREEMANTLE [to Newte]. Were you able to get hold of Vernon last +night? + +NEWTE. Waited up till he came in about two o'clock. Merely answered +that he wasn't in a talkative mood--brushed past me and locked +himself in. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. He wouldn't say anything to me either. Rather a bad +sign when he won't talk. + +NEWTE. What's he likely to do? + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Don't know. Of course it will be all over the +county. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And dear Vernon is so sensitive. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. It had to come--the misfortune IS - + +NEWTE. The misfortune IS that people won't keep to their own line of +business. Why did he want to come fooling around her? She was doing +well for herself. She could have married a man who would have +thought more of her than all the damn fools in the county put +together. Why couldn't he have left her alone? + +DR. FREEMANTLE [he is sitting at the head of the table, between Newte +on his right and the Misses Wetherell on his left. He lays his hand +on Newte's sleeve--with a smile]. I'm sure you can forgive a man-- +with eyes and ears in his head--for having fallen in love with her. + +NEWTE. Then why doesn't he stand by her? What if her uncle is a +butler? If he wasn't a fool, he'd be thanking his stars that 'twas +anything half as respectable. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. I'm not defending him--we're not sure yet that he +needs any defence. He has married a clever, charming girl of--as you +say--a better family than he'd any right to expect. The misfortune +is, that--by a curious bit of ill-luck--it happens to be his own +butler. + +NEWTE. If she takes my advice, she'll return to the stage. No sense +stopping where you're not wanted. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. But how can she? + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You see, they're married! + +DR. FREEMANTLE [to change the subject]. You'll take an egg? + +Newte has been boiling some. He has just served them. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [rejecting it]. Thank you. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We're not feeling hungry. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. He was so fond of her. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. She was so pretty. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. And so thoughtful. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. One would never have known she was an +actress. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. If only she hadn't - + +Bennet has entered. Newte is at fireplace. The old ladies have +their backs to the door. Dr. Freemantle, who is pouring out tea, is +the first to see him. He puts down the teapot, staring. The old +ladies look round. A silence. Newte turns. Bennet is again the +perfect butler. Yesterday would seem to have been wiped out of his +memory. + +BENNET. Good morning, Miss Wetherell. Good morning, Miss Edith. +[To the two men] Good morning. I was not aware that breakfast was +required to be any earlier than usual, or I should have had it ready. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We are sure you would, Bennet. But you +see, under the circumstances, we--we hardly liked to trouble you. + +BENNET [he goes about the room, putting things to rights. He has +rung the bell. Some dead flowers he packs on to Newte's tray, the +water he pours into Newte's slop-basin]. My duty, Miss Edith, I have +never felt to be a trouble to me. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We know, Bennet. You have always been so +conscientious. But, of course, after what's happened--[They are on +the verge of tears again.] + +BENNET [he is piling up the breakfast things]. Keziah requested me +to apologise to you for not having heard your bell this morning. She +will be ready to wait upon you in a very few minutes. [To the +Doctor] You will find shaving materials, doctor, on your dressing- +table. + +DR. FREEMANTLE. Oh, thank you. + +Ernest has entered, with some wood; he is going towards the fire. + +BENNET [to Ernest]. Leave the fire for the present. Take away this +tray. [Ernest takes up the tray, and goes out. Bennet speaks over +the heads of the Misses Wetherell to Newte] Breakfast will be ready +in the morning-room, in a quarter of an hour. + +NEWTE [at first puzzled, then indignant, now breaks out]. What's the +little game on here--eh? Yesterday afternoon you were given the +sack--by your mistress, Lady Bantock, with a month's wages in lieu of +notice--not an hour before you deserved it. What do you mean, going +on like this, as if nothing had happened? Is Lady Bantock to be +ignored in this house as if she didn't exist--or is she not? [He +brings his fist down on the table. He has been shouting rather than +speaking.] I want this thing settled! + +BENNET. Your bath, Mr. Newte, is quite ready. + +NEWTE [as soon as he can recover speech]. Never you mind my bath, I +want - + +Vernon has entered. He is pale, heavy-eyed, short in his manner, +listless. + +VERNON. Good morning--everybody. Can I have some breakfast, Bennet? + +BENNET. In about ten minutes; I will bring it up here. [He collects +the kettle from the fire as he passes, and goes out.] + +VERNON. Thank you. [He responds mechanically to the kisses of his +two aunts, who have risen and come to him.] + +NEWTE. Can I have a word with you? + +VERNON. A little later on, if you don't mind, Mr. Newte. [He passes +him.] + +NEWTE [he is about to speak, changes his mind]. All right, go your +own way. [Goes out.] + +DR. FREEMANTLE. "Remember", says Marcus Aurelius - + +VERNON. Yes--good old sort, Marcus Aurelius. [He drops listlessly +into a chair.] + +Dr. Freemantle smiles resignedly, looks at the Misses Wetherell, +shrugs his shoulders, and goes out, closing the door after him. + +The Misses Wetherell whisper together--look round cautiously, steal +up behind him, encouraging one another. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. She's so young. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And so adaptable. + +VERNON [he is sitting, bowed down, with his face in his hands]. Ah, +it was the deception. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [she puts her old thin hand on his +shoulder]. What would you have done, dear, if she had told you--at +first? + +VERNON [he takes her hand in his--answers a little brokenly]. I +don't know. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. There's something we wanted to tell you. +[He looks at her. They look across at each other.] The first Lady +Bantock, your great-grandmamma - + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. She danced with George III. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. She was a butcher's daughter. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. He was quite a little butcher. + +THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Of course, as a rule, dear, we never +mention it. + +THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We felt you ought to know. [They take +each other's hands; on tip-toe they steal out. They close the door +softly behind them.] + +Vernon rises. He looks at the portrait--draws nearer to it. With +his hands in his pockets, stops dead in front of it, and contemplates +it in silence. The door of the dressing-room opens. Fanny enters. +She is dressed for going out. She stands for a moment, the door in +her hand. Vernon turns. She closes the door and comes forward. + +VERNON. Good morning. + +FANNY. Good morning. George stayed the night, didn't he? + +VERNON. Yes. He's downstairs now. + +FANNY. He won't be going for a little while? + +VERNON. Can't till the ten o'clock train. Have you had breakfast? + +FANNY. I--I've had something to eat. I'm sorry for what I did last +night--although they did deserve it. [Laughs.] I suppose it's a +matter than can easily be put right again. + +VERNON. You have no objection to their staying? + +FANNY. Why should I? + +VERNON. What do you mean? + +FANNY. There's only one hope of righting a mistake. And that is +going back to the point from where one went wrong--and that was our +marriage. + +[A moment.] + +VERNON. We haven't given it a very long trial. + +FANNY [with an odd smile]. It went to pieces at the first. I was in +trouble all last night; you must have known it. You left me alone. + +VERNON. Jane told me you had locked yourself in. + +FANNY. You never tried the door for yourself, dear. [She pretends +to rearrange something on the mantelpiece--any excuse to turn away +her face for a moment. She turns to him again, smiling.] It was a +mistake, the whole thing. You were partly to blame. You were such a +nice boy. I "fancied" you--to use George's words. [She laughs.] +And when a woman wants a thing, she is apt to be a bit unscrupulous +about how she gets it. [She moves about the room, touching the +flowers, rearranging a cushion, a vase.] I didn't invent the bishop; +that was George's embroidery. [Another laugh.] But, of course, I +ought to have told you everything myself. I ought not to have wanted +a man to whom it would have made one atom of difference whether my +cousins were scullery-maids or not. Somehow, I felt that to you it +might. [Vernon winces.] It's natural enough. You have a big +position to maintain. I didn't know you were a lord--that was your +doing. George did find it out, but he never told me; least of all, +that you were Lord Bantock--or you may be pretty sure I should have +come out with the truth, if only for my own sake. It hasn't been any +joke for me, coming back here. + +VERNON. Yes. I can see they've been making things pretty hard for +you. + +FANNY. Oh, they thought they were doing their duty. [He is seated. +She comes up behind him, puts her hands on his shoulders.] I want +you to take them all back again. I want to feel I have made as +little commotion in your life as possible. It was just a little +mistake. And everybody will say how fortunate it was that she took +herself off so soon with that--[She was about to say "that theatrical +Johnny," thinking of Newte. She checks herself.] And you will marry +somebody belonging to your own class. And those are the only +sensible marriages there are. + +VERNON. Have you done talking? + +FANNY. Yes! Yes, I think that's all. + +VERNON. Then perhaps you'll let me get in a word. You think me a +snob? [Fanny makes a movement.] As a matter of fact, I am. + +FANNY. No, that's not fair. You wouldn't have married a girl off +the music-hall stage. + +VERNON. Niece of a bishop, cousin to a judge. Whether I believed it +or not, doesn't matter. The sham that isn't likely to be found out +is as good as the truth, to a snob. If he had told me your uncle was +a butler, I should have hesitated. That's where the mistake began. +We'll go back to that. Won't you sit down? [Fanny sits.] I want +you to stop. There'll be no mistake this time. I'm asking my +butler's niece to do me the honour to be my wife. + +FANNY. That's kind of you. + +VERNON. Oh, I'm not thinking of you. I'm thinking of myself. I +want you. I fell in love with you because you were pretty and +charming. There's something else a man wants in his wife besides +that. I've found it. [He jumps up, goes over to her, brushing aside +things in his way.] I'm not claiming it as a right; you can go if +you like. You can earn your own living, I know. But you shan't have +anybody else. You'll be Lady Bantock and nobody else--as long as I +live. [He has grown quite savage.] + +FANNY [she bites her lip to keep back the smile that wants to come]. +That cuts both ways, you know. + +VERNON. I don't want anybody else. + +FANNY [she stretches out her hand and lays it on his]. Won't it be +too hard for you? You'll have to tell them all--your friends-- +everybody. + +VERNON. They've got to be told in any case. If you are here, for +them to see, they'll be able to understand--those that have got any +sense. + +Bennet comes in with breakfast, for two, on a tray. He places it on +a table. + +FANNY [she has risen, she goes over to him]. Good morning, uncle. +[She puts up her face. He stares, but she persists. Bennet kisses +her.] Lord Bantock--[she looks at Vernon]--has a request to make to +you. He wishes me to remain here as his wife. I am willing to do +so, provided you give your consent. + +VERNON. Quite right, Bennet. I ought to have asked for it before. +I apologise. Will you give your consent to my marriage with your +niece? + +FANNY. One minute. You understand what it means? From the moment +you give it--if you do give it--I shall be Lady Bantock, your +mistress. + +BENNET. My dear Fanny! My dear Vernon! I speak, for the first and +last time, as your uncle. I am an old-fashioned person, and my +ideas, I have been told, are those of my class. But observation has +impressed it upon me that success in any scheme depends upon each +person being fit for their place. Yesterday, in the interests of you +both, I should have refused my consent. To-day, I give it with +pleasure, feeling sure I am handing over to Lord Bantock a wife in +every way fit for her position. [Kissing her, he gives her to +Vernon, who grips his hand. He returns to the table.] Breakfast, +your ladyship, is quite ready. + +They take their places at the table. Fanny takes off her hat, Bennet +takes off the covers. + +[CURTAIN] + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext Fanny and the Servant Problem, by Jerome + diff --git a/old/fnysp10.zip b/old/fnysp10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..eba2663 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/fnysp10.zip |