Chapter III: Part 3

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]