Читать книгу Lady Huntworth's Experiment - R. C. Carton - Страница 3

Table of Contents

Scene.—The Vicarage Garden, according to plan.

Time.—Early morning.

(After the curtain rises Thorsby enters at gate L. I. E., looks at French window, crosses and looks at kitchen window, goes over cautiously to the tree R.; he mounts on the seat and extracts a letter from the cavity in the tree, replacing it with one of his own; he then stands leaning against the tree, while he opens, kisses, and begins to read the letter; while he is doing this, Gandy comes out of the house with toast in rack and jam on dish on salver; he catches sight of Thorsby; crosses to top of table L.)

Gan. Good morning, Mr. Thorsby!

Thor. (startled, squashes letter into his pocket) Eh! Oh, good morning! I was—I—wanted to see Mr. Pillenger.

Gan. Mr. Pillenger ain't much in the 'abit of climbin' trees before breakfast. (puts jam on table)

Thor. No, of course not. (he jumps down) I thought I saw a bird's nest, (looks) I was mistaken; but feeling (Boy heard whistling the A.M.B.) rather warm after my walk, I fancied it would be cooler under the branches. My object, in fact, was——

Gan. Shady! (crosses down L. of table)

Thor. What?

Gan. I was sayin' it's shady under the h'oak. (puts toast on table)

Thor. Exactly.

(Newsboy enters at gate, crosses to C. and calls towards kitchen window.)

Boy. Papiers!

Gan. Late again! (crosses in front of table)

Boy. No, I ain't. (turns and faces Gandy)

Gan. Yes, you h'are. (looks at silver watch) Four minutes and a half late. (Thorsby sits R. and reads letter) Your prospects of a Christmas-box are darkenin' week by week.

Boy. Well, but I say, Gandy! (crosses down C.)

Gan. Mr. Gandy! A leetle more respect might assist your grandmother's next h'application to the coal and blanket fund. Now, is this to-day's "Standard?"

Boy. Yus! (giving it)

Gan. Very good. And the other papers?

Boy. "Sportin' Life!" (gives it)

Thor. "Sporting Life!" (Boy sees jam, and works round to top of table) That's rather an innovation, isn't it?

Gan. (crosses to Thorsby C.) It's for Captain Dorvaston. We deplore it, but we're 'elpless. (places papers on table R. C., startles Boy and comes towards him. Boy backs towards gate. To Boy) Go along with you, and, mind me, if there's any more tip-cat down our road, I call at the police station.

Boy. All right. Keep your 'air on. (goes off, singing the chorus of A.M.B.)

(Lucy comes out of house with bowl of flowers.)

Lucy. Good morning, Mr. Thorsby! (C.)

Thor. Good morning! (rises)

Lucy. You're an early visitor. (puts bowl on table)

Thor. Yes, I—I was——

Gan. (has crossed and turns at porch) Bird's nestin'! (he goes in through porch)

Lucy. (they both watch him off, Lucy goes up a little and down again) What does he mean?

Thor. He caught me standing up on that seat. I had just found your letter, (she hushes him) and I had to give some explanation.

Lucy. And couldn't you rise to anything better than that? My dear Harry, what an idiot you are.

Thor. You see, I greatly dislike any deviation from the truth.

Lucy. Truth is a luxury very few of us can afford. When you and I are married——

Thor. (advancing) Darling! (rushes to embrace her, she waves him off)

Lucy. Stay where you are! All the back windows have eyes to them. Muslin curtains don't count. When we are married—— (crosses L.)

Thor. In fact, after to-morrow——

Lucy. Oh, Harry, do shut up a minute. You object to shams, how is a properly organised household to be carried on without 'em? (sits R. of breakfast table) Suppose I'm up to my neck in something important—putting finishing touches to a new ball-dress, we'll say—and some female horror calls—mustn't I be out because I happen to be at home? Deviation from the truth! My dear boy, I should deviate for all I was worth. So you got my letter?

Thor. Yes.

Lucy. And your answer?

Thor. I posted it in our usual letter box. (going to tree)

Lucy. All right, I'll get it directly. Does it give full directions?

Thor. I think so. (comes C.)

Lucy. Got the special license?

Thor. Yes. (makes to embrace her, she puts him off and points to windows)

Lucy. You've arranged with old Bristowe?

Thor. Yes.

Lucy. And we bike over to Ingledene Church—what time? Early of course?

Thor. I said nine.

Lucy. Very well. (rises) Now you'd better go. (he objects) They'll be coming out to breakfast.

Thor. (again advancing) Darling!

Lucy. (motions him off again) Back windows! (crosses up C. to house to see if they have been seen)

Thor. (turning towards her) I was going to say that I can't help regretting the way we are treating Captain Dorvaston.

Lucy. You mind your own business. (she crosses down R. and leans on rustic table) Captain Dorvaston is in my department.

Thor. I never fully understood how you came to be engaged. (crosses to her)

Lucy. Simple enough. My father was a colonel who did some rather big things on the Indian frontier, and in a dust up with one of the native Princes got himself into rather a tight corner. Jack Dorvaston—he was only a subaltern then—pulled him out of it, and in fact saved his life; so when the governor died a year or two later, he left a strong wish behind that the Captain should marry me.

Thor. I understand.

Lucy. (crosses round and sits on tree seat R.) It was a queer way of showing his gratitude, seeing that I was then a particularly unattractive child, all elbows and knees.

Thor. Lucy!

Lucy. It's all right, don't be nervous; time has softened them down. (beckons him nearer) I have a notion that Jack has always funked the thing, but his colonel had given his orders, (he sits on table) don't you see? And that was enough for him. I don't regard discipline—military or parental—with the same amount of respect. British freedom means the right to make a fool of one's self in one's own way. You're my way, and that's enough for you. (he tries to take her hand, she draws it away) Back windows!

Thor. I suppose no one guesses that we——?

Lucy. Mean business! No, with the exception possibly of Cook.

Thor. Cook! (he looks at her in surprise)

Lucy. Somehow I've a notion she's tumbled to it.

Thor. Would it matter? Would she——?

Lucy. Prattle about it? No, I think she rather likes me—tolerates would be a better word.

Thor. Tolerates? A woman of that class?

Lucy. Cook is a very great personage; she rules the vicarage. Auntie made a show of resistance at first, but Uncle and Jack have been abject slaves from the start.

Thor. Really?

Lucy. Oh yes; when a woman is striking in appearance, evidently has a past history, and can make an omelette, I don't see what's going to stop her.

Thor. What's her history?

Lucy. How should I know? She was recommended to us by the Duchess of Sturton at the time she opened the bazaar—you remember. Local philanthropic?

Thor. Then you've nothing tangible to go on?

Lucy. Not from a masculine standpoint. (rises) Cook doesn't give herself away, but, like Achilles, she has one vulnerable point, and in the same locality.

Thor. How is that? (rising with Lucy)

Lucy. She wears the neatest, quietest shoes imaginable, only I happened to notice they have Louis heels. (he looks in wonder) That tells you nothing—the inference is too subtle; but it's quite enough for me. (Gandy appears with butter on tray, he comes right of table) Make a dignified clerical exit—here comes Gandy.

Thor. (takes hat and backs to C.) I think I won't wait, Miss Lucy. (Gandy coughs, Thorsby turns nervously, and looks at him) So will you kindly give my message to Mr. Pillenger?

Lucy. Certainly!

Thor. Thank you. (crosses to gate L.) Good morning!

Lucy. Good morning. (he looks towards Lucy—catches Gandy's eye and exits through gate. Lucy is applauding his exit when Gandy turns and hides her action. Lucy sits on garden chair and opens the "Standard") Gandy! what is there for breakfast? (Gandy has crossed to top of table and placed butter on it)

Gan. H'eggs!

Lucy. Poached?

Gan. Biled.

Lucy. Auntie said poached.

Gan. Cook said biled.

Lucy. Oh! There's some fish, isn't there?

Gan. Kidneys.

Lucy. But Auntie particularly mentioned fish.

Gan. Cook thought kidneys would be preferable.

Lucy. Oh! (she reads paper)

(Mr. Pillenger comes out C. looking at his watch.)

Pil. Ah, Lucy! breakfast not ready? (Lucy rises and crosses to C.)

Lucy. Breakfast is late—as usual.

Pil. As usual? What do you mean by as usual?

Lucy. I mean—as usual. (returns to seat)

Pil. Cook is most punctual. If some trivial hitch has occurred this morning, I daresay a perfectly reasonable explanation will be forthcoming. (takes "Sporting Life" off table)

Gan. Kidneys was late! (at table)

Pil. Kidneys was late! (to Lucy)—er—were late. I knew it! That man Skeggs' meat—which I more than suspect of being colonial—is never delivered in time. (to Gandy) Explain to Cook that the delay is of no consequence, and beg her not to hurry.

Gan. (speaking as he goes) She won't hurry! (he goes into the house; Pil. and Lucy look at each other; Pil. then opens paper and sees his mistake.)

Pil. (takes "Standard" from Lucy) If I shall not be depriving you of the "Standard"——?

Lucy. Not at all! (she picks up "Sporting Life") I'll have a look at Jack's "Sporting Life."

Pil. (crossing to table, turn to her) By the way, during the—I trust—brief interval of time that must elapse before your marriage with Captain Dorvaston, you might hint to him that the newspaper he favours is at variance with the general tone of a pious household.

Lucy. I'll mention it.

Pil. I am obliged to you. (crosses and sits L.)

(Miss Pillenger comes out through French window.)

Miss P. Good morning, Audley!

Pil. Good morning. (Lucy rises, crosses and kisses Miss Pillenger and returns R.)

Miss P. Well, Lucy!

Lucy. Good morning, Auntie.

Miss P. Is breakfast not ready? (looking at table through glasses)

Pil. No, it isn't ready—not quite ready. I have no doubt it's nearly ready.

Miss P. I shall really have to speak sharply to Cook. (moves towards kitchen)

Pil. I see no necessity for any—er—drastic step of that description. The delay is due to that man Skeggs.

Miss P. Skeggs? (returns to C.)

Pil. Skeggs. It is also traceable, in a minor degree to yourself—your injudicious selection of kidneys.

Miss P. Kidneys?

Pil. Yes; you are aware of my preference for fish, and therefore I consider the substitution of kidneys——

Miss P. I ordered fish—and I did not order kidneys. Cook is entirely responsible for the change, and I shall certainly—— (moves towards kitchen again)

Pil. Hannah! Hannah! If Cook understood your order, which is by no means obvious (Miss Pillenger crosses round and sits L.), she was doubtless influenced by—er—by Lucy's partiality for kidneys.

Lucy. I never touch them.

Pil. Well, she couldn't know that. Really I think this discussion has been sufficiently prolonged.

(Gandy comes out with breakfast. He places large salver with tea in tea-pot, dish of kidneys, and eggs in stand on chair at top R. of table. Mr. Pillenger hands him the "Standard," which he puts on back of chair. He then places eggs and dish of kidneys on table, takes tea-pot and tray up, and crosses to L. to place it in position; he then removes cover of kidney dish, and slowly exits through porch.)

Pil. Here is the breakfast. Let us endeavor to approach it in a seemly spirit. Where is Captain Dorvaston? (Lucy crosses to L.) Upon my word, Lucy, considering the ties that will unite you, I hope very shortly, to Captain Dorvaston, I think he might conform to my rules.

Lucy. Jack was late last night. (sits and takes napkin out of ring)

Pil. He was. Creaking boots after midnight are a serious infliction.

Lucy. I'll call up to him if you like.

Pil. I should be indebted. (Lucy rises and goes up C. Mr. Pillenger takes napkin out of ring and puts it inside his collar)

Lucy. (goes up stage) Jack! Jack! (Captain Dorvaston opens window, he is in his shirt sleeves)

Dor. Hulloa!

Lucy. Breakfast!

Dor. What say, little woman?

Lucy. Breakfast! Kidneys! Devilled! (Mr. Pillenger, Miss Pillenger and Gandy all start)

Pil. Tut! tut! Broiled—broiled!

Dor. Right-O! down in a minute! (he shuts the window. Lucy returns to the table)

Miss P. What are your plans for to-day, Audley? (Miss Pillenger has undone napkin and is pouring out tea)

Pil. I expect to be rather busy.

Lucy. It's sermon day, isn't it? (hands toast to Mr. Pillenger, and takes an egg and toast herself)

Pil. It is. So I trust your piano practice will be reduced to a minimum.

Lucy. I'm going down to the village. I suppose you'll have broken the back of it by lunch time.

Pil. Possibly—probably!

(Dorvaston comes out from French window; takes Lucy's hand between both his caressingly.)

Dor. 'Fraid I'm a bit late. How are you, sir? (bowing to Mr. Pillenger and Miss Pillenger)

Pil. In my ordinary health, I am obliged to you.

Dor. You look astonishing fit. (sits) Now d'you know, I feel as jumpy as a flea.

Miss P. Captain Dorvaston!

Dor. Fact, ma'am! (takes his napkin out of ring) How are you this morning?

Miss P. Without being actually indisposed, I feel—— (hands tea to Lucy)

Dor. Chippy—I know; same here. Where are those kidneys you were shouting about, Lucy? (Mr. Pillenger hands them) Thanks! (Mr. Pillenger passes kidneys to Dorvaston, which he serves himself)

Lucy. You kept it up again last night, Jack?

Dor. I had a gentle flutter at the Plough and Rainbow. There was a little pool, so of course I went in.

Miss P. I hope you changed your things, (Dorvaston and Lucy laugh) Captain Dorvaston. Damp clothing is so very dangerous.

Lucy. Pool is a kind of billiards, Auntie.

Miss P. Oh, I misunderstood! Your tea, Captain Dorvaston. (she hands tea to Dorvaston)

Dor. Thank you, ma'am. (Pillenger hands salt, etc.)

Lucy. How did you do over it? (hands toast to Dorvaston)

Dor. So so. I took a few lives at the finish.

Miss P. Dear me! It sounds rather a bloodthirsty pastime.

Dor. There was a man there named Crayll—nailing good player! Potted 'em just as he liked. He seemed to be a thirsty little beggar. I should say he took a bit of knowing.

Lucy. Who's that, Jack?

Dor. This fellah Crayll. He's stopping at the Plough and Thingummy—we're going to try a horse together.

Lucy. To-day?

Dor. Yes. Said he'd call round some time this morning. (pause)

Pil. Hannah, we must dine earlier this evening, in view of the Penny Reading.

Dor. Another of those festive gatherings! Hope you don't expect me to tip 'em anything this time?

Pil. No, Captain Dorvaston; your contribution on the last occasion may have been well intentioned—I judge no man, and will hope so——

Dor. Thought it was just the thing to wake 'em up after that Shakespearian bit of yours—The Ball of Worsted.

Pil. The Fall of Wolsey!

Miss P. I was not present last time. What did Captain Dorvaston read?

Dor. It was an account of the last American glove fight, don't you know?

Miss P. Oh!

Pil. Described with a wealth of technical detail. (hands his cup to Miss Pillenger) The whole occurrence was most regrettable. I was observing, Hannah, we shall have to dine earlier——

Miss P. I had some idea of making it a cold meal.

Pil. Cold meal! A most unpleasant suggestion. Cold food, especially in the evening, has a tendency to lie heavy on the stom—er—that is, I see nothing feasible in the notion.

Dor. Oh no, hang it all, ma'am! Cold stuff ain't the kind of thing to do a Penny Reading on.

Miss P. I thought under the circumstances it might be easier for Cook.

Pil. Eh?

Dor. What? (long pause, the men look at her)

Miss P. But as you both object——

Dor. Hold on, ma'am!

Pil. One moment, Hannah!

Miss P. I will explain to Cook.

Pil. Hannah! Hannah! You're so hasty.

Dor. Hannah—ma'am—pity to be hasty.

Pil. If you will permit me to explain myself, Captain Dorvaston? I have no wish, Hannah, to add weight to Cook's very arduous duties.

Dor. Hear, hear! (slaps the table)

Pil. (raising his voice) And therefore it seems to me—er—unmanly to lay stress upon possible digestive difficulties which fortitude and a little pepsin should enable us to face with calmness. Let the meal be a cold one. (Lucy has folded up napkin again, and taken "Standard" from back of chair, and is reading it)

Dor. Point of fact, it makes a pleasant change.

Miss P. But, Audley!

Pil. The question is decided. We will not pursue the subject. (pause)

Dor. (to Lucy) Anything in the paper?

Lucy. There's something about the Huntworth Divorce case.

Pil. We have no wish to hear any news relating to such a matter.

Dor. But it's an old business, ain't it? When I was at Malta last year, the chaps used to chat about it at mess.

Lucy. Lord Huntworth brought the divorce, didn't he?

Pil. Yes, Lord Huntworth was the petitioner. It was a sad case.

Dor. I know Bob Carruthers.

Lucy. Who's he? (rises and crosses up to Dorvaston—still reading the paper)

Dor. The co——

Pil. Tut! tut!

Dor. Bob was an extraordinary good chap!

Pil. How can any individual be described as good who has occupied the position of—er—a co-respondent?

Dor. Bob managed it.

Pil. You seem to ignore poor Lord Huntworth.

Dor. Didn't know Huntworth—did know Bob. He once lent me a monkey when I wanted it badly—lent it when he wanted it badly. Devilish good chap!

Pil. Tut! tut!

Dor. Beg pardon, sir—slipped out.

Lucy. Did you know Lady Huntworth, Jack? (crosses to R. and sits under tree)

Dor. No. Heard she was a nice woman.

Pil. Nice?

Dor. So fellahs who met her used to say.

Miss P. But I always understood the suit was undefended.

Pil. Entirely undefended.

Dor. Matrimonial thimblerig is a confusing game to watch.

Pil. Thimblerig?

Dor. Three thimbles, don't you know? Husband—wife—and the other chap. (Mr. Pillenger looks up) Well, what I meant to say was, it ain't easy for the looker-on to say which thimble the fault is under. By-the-bye, I saw something in the paper about Lady Huntworth the other day.

Pil. Surely the whole affair is uninteresting and unsavory?

Dor. Noosance to forget a thing! What was the bit you were reading, Lucy?

Lucy. That yesterday the rule was made absolute. What does that mean?

Dor. Only that the time was up. They keep 'em in blinkers for six months after the verdict. (Dorvaston draws napkin through the ring) But that wasn't what I read? What the devil was it now?

Pil. Tut! Really! Really! I think we've all finished, haven't we? (Gandy appears with letters, three of which Mr. Pillenger takes, and two Miss Pillenger) Hannah, you will probably wish to interview Cook. (Dorvaston rises, takes chair R., sits and begins to load his pipe)

Miss P. I will see her in your presence. (Gandy has come back to top of table) Gandy, will you ask Cook to come to me? I wish to give her my orders.

Gan. H'orders? (Dorvaston fills pipe and lights it)

Miss P. Orders.

Gan. I'll name it to her. (slowly exits through porch)

Pil. (opening letter, which he holds during the whole scene with Cook) Hannah, I would suggest that whatever you have to say to Cook may be said calmly and without undue severity.

Miss P. (opening letters which she holds during the whole scene with Cook) That should be left to my discretion; a stand must be made somewhere.

(Caroline has come out of kitchen during this; she advances to the table.)

Car. You wished to speak to me? (the men turn and face her)

Miss P. Yes, Cook. I want to give you the orders for to-day's dinner.

Car. Certainly! What do you fancy? What would you all like? (she glances round, both men beam at her)

Miss P. Before we speak of that I have a word to say with regard to the breakfast.

Car. To-morrow's breakfast?

Miss P. No, to-day's. I am very much astonished and annoyed.

Pil. Tut, tut!

Car. What was wrong with the breakfast? When I sent it out it looked all right.

Miss P. Why were my directions disregarded? I ordered the eggs to be poached—you boiled them; I mentioned fried bacon—none came to table; I requested you to procure fish—you gave us kidneys. Now what have you to say?

Car. I'm afraid I forgot about the eggs? I haven't any other excuse to offer.

Pil. A most reasonable explanation!

Dor. Things do slip one's memory. (Miss Pillenger glares at Dorvaston)

Car. I didn't cook any bacon; it had got rather low, and I didn't think the result would please you.

Pil. Impossible to cut rashers from bacon that is—er—practically non-existent.

Dor. Thing no fellah could do! (Miss Pillenger glares at him)

Car. I remember you did mention fish, but you've had a good deal of fish lately, so I thought I'd try you with kidneys. But if there has been any inconvenience, I'm sorry.

Pil. There has been no inconvenience.

Dor. None at all. (Miss Pillenger glares at Dorvaston)

Pil. Hannah, I think we may pass (as they say in the House of Commons) to the orders of the day.

Dor. Hear, hear! (Pillenger looks at him)

Miss P. Well, Cook, since you express your regret (Dorvaston and Lucy laugh) I will say no more. Now as to this evening, you will be in sole charge of the house, (both men look up) as I have given Keziah permission to go to the Penny Reading—so I think we will make it a cold meal, as that will entail less washing up.

Car. Just as you like.

Miss P. We will begin with salmon.

Car. (reflectively) Salmon? Yes, you might have salmon.

Miss P. Pickled salmon.

Car. Oh, no, not pickled! (both men shake their heads) That would be a pity! I'll make you a mayonnaise.

Pil. Delightful!

Dor. Rippin'!

Car. I shall want some lettuces. I'll tell Gandy.

Miss P. After that we will have two cold ducklings.

Car. Ducklings? It's late for ducklings.

Pil. Maturity in poultry is to be deprecated.

Dor. Leathery beasts at this time of the year. (Miss Pillenger glares at Dorvaston)

Miss P. Then why not a gosling?

Car. It's early for geese.

Dor. Deuced early!

Pil. Entirely premature.

Miss P. When I mentioned a goose I was thinking of Mr. Pillenger. (Dorvaston and Lucy laugh)

Pil. Tut, tut! Hannah!

Dor. Hope, ma'am, when you mentioned a duck, you were thinking of me.

Miss P. I fail to understand you. My brother is exceedingly partial to goose.

Car. There's a ham in cut, so I think we'd better fall back on fowls. It isn't easy to do anything very novel with cold fowls, but if I stuff and glaze them, I've no doubt they'll pass muster.

Miss P. But, Cook, I——

Car. You like sweets, of course?

Miss P. Certainly, you had better make us——

Car. Will you leave the sweets to me? I want to try a new kind of fruit salad; it's my first attempt, but you'll find it will be all right—and perhaps I might throw in a shape of jelly—we'll see.

Miss P. But——

Car. What time will you dine?—at least it isn't dinner—what time will you sup?

Miss P. At seven to-night, instead of half-past.

Car. Seven! I shall be ready. Is there anything else you wish to say to me?

Miss P. No, Cook; I don't suppose anything will be gained by my saying any more. (turns away and reads letters)

Car. Very good! (takes kidney dish off table, Mr. Pillenger assisting her; she crosses C.)

Dor. (speaking eagerly) Ah! here's that bit about Lady Huntworth. (Caroline looks round at him in a startled manner) It's in the Agony column. (reads) "Will Lady Huntworth communicate with Messrs. Brampton and Stokes, Capel Court, on a matter of considerable importance?"

Pil. Why should we resume the discussion of that disgraceful woman? (Caroline turns and looks at him)

Miss P. Why, indeed? (Caroline looks at her)

Dor. (to Lucy) When we were talking just now, couldn't remember where I'd read that. Hate to forget a thing.

Miss P. Cook! (Caroline stands thinking quietly) Cook!

Car. I—beg your pardon!

Miss P. We needn't keep you, if you quite understand about the supper.

Car. Oh, quite, thanks! (exit into kitchen; Dorvaston rises, looks after her U. B.)

Miss P. Don't you think that woman has a very singular manner?

Pil. Singular! No, she is certainly superior—very superior.

Miss P. (rises, crosses C.) She is so superior that she seems above taking my orders.