_Shortly after mid-day, while the sun beats strongly upon the terrace_,
ABUD _is working dexterously at the rose trees_. DR. REMNANT _comes down
the steps, hatted, and carrying a stick and a book. He is an elderly man
with a kind manner; type of the eighteenth century casuistical parson.
On his way he stops to say a word to the gardener._
DR. REMNANT. Will it rain before nightfall?
ABUD. About then, sir, I should say.
_Down the other steps comes_ MRS. OPIE, _a prim, decorous, but well bred
and unobjectionable woman. She is followed by_ ANN.
MRS. OPIE. A good morning to you, Parson.
DR. REMNANT. And to you, Mrs. Opie, and to Miss Ann.
ANN. Good morning, Dr. Remnant. [_To_ ABUD.] Have you been here ever
since . . . ?
ABUD. I've had dinner, Miss.
ABUD'S _work takes him gradually out of sight_.
MRS. OPIE. We are but just breakfasted.
DR. REMNANT. I surmise dissipation.
ANN. [_To_ MRS. OPIE.] Thank you for waiting five hours.
MRS. OPIE. It is my rule to breakfast with you.
DR. REMNANT. [_Exhibiting the book._] I am come to return, and to
borrow.
ANN. Show me.
DR. REMNANT. Ballads by Robert Burns.
ANN. [_Taking it._] I'll put it back.
MRS. OPIE. [_Taking it from her._] I've never heard of him.
DR. REMNANT. Oh, ma'am, a very vulgar poet!
GEORGE LEETE _comes quickly down the steps_.
GEORGE. [_To_ REMNANT.] How are you?
DR. REMNANT. Yours, sir.
GEORGE. Ann.
ANN. Good morning, George.
GEORGE. Did you sleep well?
ANN. I always do . . . but I dreamt.
GEORGE. I must sit down for a minute. [_Nodding._] Mrs. Opie.
MRS. OPIE. I wish you a good morning, sir.
GEORGE. [_To_ ANN.] Don't look so solemn.
LADY COTTESHAM _comes quickly to the top of the steps_.
SARAH. Is Papa badly hurt?
ANN. [_Jumping up._] Oh, what has happened?
GEORGE. Not badly.
SARAH. He won't see me.
_His three children look at each other._
DR. REMNANT. [_Tactfully._] May I go my ways to the library?
SARAH. Please do, Doctor Remnant.
DR. REMNANT. I flatly contradicted all that was being said in the
village.
SARAH. Thoughtful of you.
DR. REMNANT. But tell me nothing.
DR. REMNANT _bows formally and goes_. GEORGE _is about to speak when_
SARAH _with a look at_ MRS. OPIE _says_. . .
SARAH. George, hold your tongue.
MRS. OPIE. [_With much hauteur._] I am in the way.
_At this moment_ DIMMUCK, _an old but unbenevolent-looking butler, comes
to the top of the steps_.
DIMMUCK. The master wants Mrs. Opie.
MRS. OPIE. Thank you.
GEORGE. Your triumph!
MRS. OPIE _is departing radiant_.
DIMMUCK. How was I to know you was in the garden?
MRS. OPIE. I am sorry to have put you to the trouble of a search, Mr.
Dimmuck.
DIMMUCK. He's in his room.
_And he follows her towards the house._
GEORGE. Carp fought with him at twelve o'clock.
_The other two cannot speak from amazement._
SARAH. No!
GEORGE. Why, they didn't tell me and I didn't ask. Carp was laughing.
Tatton chuckled . . . afterwards.
SARAH. What had he to do?
GEORGE. Carp's second.
SARAH. Unaccountable children!
GEORGE. Feather parade . . . throw in . . . parry quarte: over the arm
. . . put by: feint . . . flanconade and through his arm . . . damned
easy. The father didn't wince or say a word. I bound it up . . . the
sight of blood makes me sick.
_After a moment_, SARAH _turns to_ ANN.
SARAH. Yes, and you've been a silly child.
GEORGE. Ah, give me a woman's guess and the most unlikely reason to
account for anything!
ANN. I hate that man. I'm glad Papa's not hurt. What about a surgeon?
GEORGE. No, you shall kiss the place well, and there'll be poetic
justice done.
SARAH. How did you all part?
GEORGE. With bows and without a word.
SARAH. Coming home with him?
GEORGE. Not a word.
SARAH. Papa's very clever; but I'm puzzled.
GEORGE. Something will happen next, no doubt.
ANN. Isn't this done with?
SARAH. So it seems.
ANN. I should like to be told just what the game has been.
GEORGE. Bravo, Ann.
ANN. Tell me the rules . . . for next time.
SARAH. It would have been most advantageous for us to have formed an
alliance with Lord John Carp, who stood here for his father and his
father's party . . . now in opposition.
GEORGE. Look upon yourself--not too seriously--Ann, as the instrument of
political destiny.
ANN. I'm afraid I take in fresh ideas very slowly. Why has Papa given up
the Stamp Office?
SARAH. His colleagues wouldn't support him.
ANN. Why was that?
SARAH. They disapproved of what he did.
ANN. Did he do right . . . giving it up?
SARAH. Yes.
GEORGE. We hope so. Time will tell. An irreverent quipster once named
him Carnaby Leech.
SARAH. I know.
GEORGE. I wonder if his true enemies think him wise to have dropped off
the Stamp Office?
ANN. Has he quarrelled with Sir Charles?
SARAH. Politically.
ANN. Isn't that awkward for you?
SARAH. Not a bit.
GEORGE. Hear a statement that includes our lives. Markswayde goes at his
death . . . see reversionary mortgage. The income's an annuity now. The
cash in the house will be ours. The debts are paid . . . at last.
ANN. And there remains me.
GEORGE. Bad grammar. Meanwhile our father is a tongue, which is worth
buying; but I don't think he ought to go over to the enemy . . . for the
second time.
SARAH. One party is as good as another; each works for the same end, I
should hope.
GEORGE. I won't argue about it.
ANN. I suppose that a woman's profession is marriage.
GEORGE. My lord has departed.
ANN. There'll be others to come. I'm not afraid of being married.
SARAH. What did Papa want Mrs. Opie for?
ANN. There'll be a great many things I shall want to know about men now.
GEORGE. Wisdom cometh with sorrow . . . oh, my sister.
SARAH. I believe you two are both about as selfish as you can be.
GEORGE. I am an egotist . . . with attachments.
ANN. Make use of me.
GEORGE. Ann, you marry--when you marry--to please yourself.
ANN. There's much in life that I don't like, Sally.
SARAH. There's much more that you will.
GEORGE. I think we three have never talked together before.
ABUD, _who has been in sight on the terrace for a few moments, now comes
down the steps_.
ABUD. May I make so bold, sir, as to ask how is Mrs. George Leete?
GEORGE. She was well when I last heard.
ABUD. Thank you, sir.
_And he returns to his work._
ANN. I wonder will it be a boy or a girl.
GEORGE. Poor weak woman.
SARAH. Be grateful to her.
ANN. A baby is a wonderful thing.
SARAH. Babyhood in the abstract . . . beautiful.
ANN. Even kittens . . .
_She stops, and then in rather childish embarrassment, moves away from
them._
SARAH. Don't shudder, George.
GEORGE. I have no wish to be a father. Why?
SARAH. It's a vulgar responsibility.
GEORGE. My wayside flower!
SARAH. Why pick it?
GEORGE. Sarah, I love my wife.
SARAH. That's easily said.
GEORGE. She should be here.
SARAH. George, you married to please yourself.
GEORGE. By custom her rank is my own.
SARAH. Does she still drop her aitches?
GEORGE. Dolly . . .
SARAH. Pretty name.
GEORGE. Dolly aspires to be one of us.
SARAH. Child-bearing makes these women blowzy.
GEORGE. Oh heaven!
ANN. [_Calling to_ ABUD _on the terrace_.] Finish to-day, Abud. If it
rains . . .
_She stops, seeing_ MR. TETGEEN _standing at the top of the steps
leading from the house. This is an intensely respectable,
selfcontained-looking lawyer, but a man of the world too._
MR. TETGEEN. Lady Cottesham.
SARAH. Sir?
MR. TETGEEN. My name is Tetgeen.
SARAH. Mr. Tetgeen. How do you do?
MR. TETGEEN. The household appeared to be in some confusion and I took
the liberty to be my own messenger. I am anxious to speak with you.
SARAH. Ann, dear, ask if Papa will see you now.
DIMMUCK _appears_.
DIMMUCK. The master wants you, Miss Ann.
SARAH. Ask papa if he'll see me soon.
ANN _goes towards the house_.
SARAH. Dimmuck, Mr. Tetgeen has been left to find his own way here.
DIMMUCK. I couldn't help it, my lady.
_And he follows_ ANN.
SARAH. Our father is confined to his room.
GEORGE. By your leave.
_Then_ GEORGE _takes himself off up the steps, and out of sight. The old
lawyer bows to_ LADY COTTESHAM, _who regards him steadily_.
MR. TETGEEN. From Sir Charles . . . a talking machine.
SARAH. Please sit.
_He sits carefully upon the rim of the fountain, she upon the seat
opposite._
SARAH. [_Glancing over her shoulder._] Will you talk nonsense until the
gardener is out of hearing? He is on his way away. You have had a tiring
journey?
MR. TETGEEN. Thank you, no . . . by the night coach to Reading and
thence I have walked.
SARAH. The country is pretty, is it not?
MR. TETGEEN. It compares favourably with other parts.
SARAH. Do you travel much, Mr. Tetgeen? He has gone.
MR. TETGEEN. [_Deliberately and sharpening his tone ever so little._]
Sir Charles does not wish to petition for a divorce.
SARAH. [_Controlling even her sense of humour._] I have no desire to
jump over the moon.
MR. TETGEEN. His scruples are religious. The case would be weak upon
some important points, and there has been no public scandal . . . at the
worst, very little.
SARAH. My good manners are, I trust, irreproachable, and you may tell
Sir Charles that my conscience is my own.
MR. TETGEEN. Your husband's in the matter of . . .
SARAH. Please say the word.
MR. TETGEEN. Pardon me . . . not upon mere suspicion.
SARAH. Now, is it good policy to suspect what is incapable of proof?
MR. TETGEEN. I advise Sir Charles, that, should you come to an open
fight, he can afford to lose.
SARAH. And have I no right to suspicions?
MR. TETGEEN. Certainly. Are they of use to you?
SARAH. I have been a tolerant wife, expecting toleration.
MR. TETGEEN. Sir Charles is anxious to take into consideration any
complaints you may have to make against him.
SARAH. I complain if he complains of me.
MR. TETGEEN. For the first time, I think . . . formally.
SARAH. Why not have come to me?
MR. TETGEEN. Sir Charles is busy.
SARAH. [_Disguising a little spasm of pain._] Shall we get to business?
MR. TETGEEN _now takes a moment to find his phrase_.
MR. TETGEEN. I don't know the man's name.
SARAH. This, surely, is how you might address a seduced housemaid.
MR. TETGEEN. But Sir Charles and he, I understand, have talked the
matter over.
_The shock of this brings_ SARAH _to her feet, white with anger_.
SARAH. Divorce me.
MR. TETGEEN. [_Sharply._] Is there ground for it?
SARAH. [_With a magnificent recovery of self control._] I won't tell you
that.
MR. TETGEEN. I have said we have no case . . . that is to say, we don't
want one; but any information is a weapon in store.
SARAH. You did quite right to insult me.
MR. TETGEEN. As a rule I despise such methods.
SARAH. It's a lie that they met . . . those two men?
MR. TETGEEN. It may be.
SARAH. It must be.
MR. TETGEEN. I have Sir Charles's word.
_Now he takes from his pocket some notes, putting on his spectacles to
read them._
SARAH. What's this . . . a written lecture?
MR. TETGEEN. We propose . . . first: that the present complete severance
of conjugal relations shall continue. Secondly: that Lady Cottesham
shall be at liberty to remove from South Audley Street and Ringham
Castle all personal and private effects, excepting those family jewels
which have merely been considered her property. Thirdly: Lady Cottesham
shall undertake, formally and in writing not to molest--a legal
term--Sir Charles Cottesham. [_Her handkerchief has dropped, here he
picks it up and restores it to her._] Allow me, my lady.
SARAH. I thank you.
MR. TETGEEN. [_Continuing._] Fourthly: Lady Cottesham shall undertake
. . . etc. . . . not to inhabit or frequent the city and towns of London,
Brighthelmstone, Bath, The Tunbridge Wells, and York. Fifthly: Sir
Charles Cottesham will, in acknowledgement of the maintenance of this
agreement, allow Lady C. the sum of two hundred and fifty pounds per
annum, which sum he considers sufficient for the upkeep of a small
genteel establishment; use of the house known as Pater House, situate
some seventeen miles from the Manor of Barton-le-Street, Yorkshire;
coals from the mine adjoining; and from the home farm, milk, butter and
eggs. [_Then he finds a further note._] Lady Cottesham is not to play
cards.
SARAH. I am a little fond of play.
MR. TETGEEN. There is no question of jointure.
SARAH. None. Mr. Tetgeen . . . I love my husband.
MR. TETGEEN. My lady . . . I will mention it.
SARAH. Such a humorous answer to this. No . . . don't. What is
important? Bread and butter . . . and eggs. Do I take this?
MR. TETGEEN. [_Handing her the paper._] Please.
SARAH. [_With the ghost of a smile._] I take it badly.
MR. TETGEEN. [_Courteously capping her jest._] I take my leave.
SARAH. This doesn't call for serious notice? I've done nothing legal by
accepting it?
MR. TETGEEN. There's no law in the matter; it's one of policy.
SARAH. I might bargain for a bigger income. [MR. TETGEEN _bows_.] On the
whole I'd rather be divorced.
MR. TETGEEN. Sir Charles detests scandal.
SARAH. Besides there's no case . . . is there?
MR. TETGEEN. Sir Charles congratulates himself.
SARAH. Sir Charles had best not bully me so politely . . . tell him.
MR. TETGEEN. My lady!
SARAH. I will not discuss this impertinence. Did those two men meet and
talk . . . chat together? What d'you think of that?
MR. TETGEEN. 'Twas very practical. I know that the woman is somehow the
outcast.
SARAH. A bad woman . . . an idle woman! But I've tried to do so much
that lay to my hands without ever questioning . . . ! Thank you, I don't
want this retailed to my husband. You'll take a glass of wine before you
go?
MR. TETGEEN. Port is grateful.
_She takes from her dress two sealed letters._
SARAH. Will you give that to Sir Charles . . . a letter he wrote me
which I did not open. This, my answer, which I did not send.
_He takes the one letter courteously, the other she puts back._
SARAH. I'm such a coward, Mr. Tetgeen.
MR. TETGEEN. May I say how sorry . . . ?
SARAH. Thank you.
MR. TETGEEN. And let me apologise for having expressed one opinion of my
own.
SARAH. He wants to get rid of me. He's a bit afraid of me, you know,
because I fight . . . and my weapons are all my own. This'll blow over.
MR. TETGEEN. [_With a shake of the head._] You are to take this offer as
final.
SARAH. Beyond this?
MR. TETGEEN. As I hinted, I am prepared to advise legal measures.
SARAH. I could blow it over . . . but I won't perhaps. I must smile at
my husband's consideration in suppressing even to you . . . the man's
name. Butter and eggs . . . and milk. I should grow fat.
ANN _appears suddenly_.
ANN. We go to Brighton to-morrow! [_And she comes excitedly to her
sister._]
SARAH. Was that duel a stroke of genius?
ANN. All sorts of things are to happen.
SARAH. [_Turning from her to_ MR. TETGEEN.] And you'll walk as far as
Reading?
MR. TETGEEN. Dear me, yes.
SARAH. [_To_ ANN.] I'll come back.
SARAH _takes_ MR. TETGEEN _towards the house_. ANN _seats herself. After
a moment_ LORD JOHN CARP, _his clothes dusty with some riding appears
from the other quarter. She looks up to find him gazing at her._
LORD JOHN. Ann, I've ridden back to see you.
ANN. [_After a moment._] We're coming to Brighton tomorrow.
LORD JOHN. Good.
ANN. Papa's not dead.
LORD JOHN. [_With equal cheerfulness._] That's good.
ANN. And he said we should be seeing more of you.