TREGONING. Not exactly, but she couldn't very well be with us. I thought
perhaps you might have heard. We're expecting . .
_He hesitates with the bashfulness of a young husband._ TRENCHARD _helps
him out with a citizen's bow of respect for a citizen's duty_.
TRENCHARD. Indeed. I congratulate you. I hope all will be well. Please
give my love . . my best love to Ethel.
BOOTH. [_in an awful voice._] Lunch, Emily?
EMILY. [_scared._] I suppose so, Booth, thank you.
BOOTH. I think the boy had better run away and play . . [_he checks
himself on the word._] Well, take a book and keep quiet; d'ye hear me,
Christopher?
CHRISTOPHER, _who looks incapable of a sound, gazes at his father with
round eyes_. EMILY _whispers "Library" to him and adds a kiss in
acknowledgement of his good behaviour. After a moment he slips out,
thankfully._
EDWARD. How's Ethel, Denis?
TREGONING. A little smashed, of course, but no harm done.
ALICE MAITLAND _comes in, brisk and businesslike; a little impatient of
this universal cloud of mourning_.
ALICE. Edward, Honor has gone to her room. I want to take her some food
and make her eat it. She's very upset.
EDWARD. Make her drink a glass of wine, and say it is necessary she
should come down here. And d'you mind not coming back yourself, Alice?
ALICE. [_her eyebrows up._] Certainly, if you wish.
BOOTH. [_overhearing._] What's this? What's this?
_Alice gets her glass of wine and goes. The Major is suddenly full of
importance._
BOOTH. What is this, Edward?
EDWARD. I have something to say to you all.
BOOTH. What?
EDWARD. Well, Booth, you'll hear when I say it.
BOOTH. Is it business? . . because I think this is scarcely the time for
business.
EDWARD. Why?
BOOTH. Do you find it easy and reverent to descend from your natural
grief to the consideration of money . . ? I do not. [_he finds_
TRENCHARD _at his elbow._] I hope you are getting some lunch,
Trenchard.
EDWARD. This is business and more than business, Booth. I choose now,
because it is something I wish to say to the family, not write to each
individually . . and it will be difficult to get us all together again.
BOOTH. [_determined at any rate to give his sanction._] Well, Trenchard,
as Edward is in the position of trustee--executor . . I don't know your
terms . . I suppose there's nothing more to be said.
TRENCHARD. I don't see what your objection is.
BOOTH. [_with some superiority._] Don't you? I should not have called
myself a sentimental man, but . .
EDWARD. You had better stay, Denis; you represent Ethel.
TREGONING. [_who has not heard the beginning of this._] Why? . .
HONOR _has obediently come down from her room. She is pale and thin,
shaken with grief and worn out besides; for needless to say the brunt of
her father's illness, the brunt of everything has been on her. Six weeks
nursing, part of it hopeless, will exhaust anyone. Her handkerchief to
her eyes and every minute or two she cascades tears._ EDWARD _goes and
affectionately puts his arm round her_.
EDWARD. My dear Honor, I am sorry to be so . . so merciless. There! . .
there! [_he hands her into the room; then shuts the door; then turns and
once more surveys the family, who this time mostly return the
compliment. Then he says shortly._] I think you might all sit down.
[_But he goes close to his mother and speaks very distinctly, very
kindly._] Mother, we're all going to have a little necessary talk over
matters . . now, because it's most convenient. I hope it won't . . I
hope you don't mind. Will you come to the table?
MRS. VOYSEY _looks up as if understanding more than he says_.
MRS. VOYSEY. Edward . .
EDWARD. Yes, mother?
BOOTH. [_commandingly._] You'll sit here, mother, of course.
_He places her in her accustomed chair at the foot of the table. One by
one the others sit down_, EDWARD _apparently last. But then he discovers
that_ HUGH _has lost himself in a corner of the room and is gazing into
vacancy_.
EDWARD. Hugh, would you mind attending?
HUGH. What is it?
EDWARD. There's a chair.
HUGH _takes it. Then for a minute--while_ EDWARD _is trying to frame in
coherent sentences what he must say to them--for a minute there is
silence, broken only by_ HONOR'S _sniffs, which culminate at last in a
noisy little cascade of tears_.
BOOTH. Honor, control yourself.
_And to emphasise his own perfect control he helps himself majestically
to a glass of sherry. Then says_ . .
BOOTH. Well, Edward?
EDWARD. I'll come straight to the point which concerns you. Our father's
will gives certain sums to you all . . the gross amount something over a
hundred thousand pounds. There will be no money.
_He can get no further than the bare statement, which is received only
with varying looks of bewilderment, until_ MRS. VOYSEY, _discovering
nothing from their faces, breaks this second silence_.
MRS. VOYSEY. I didn't hear.
HUGH. [_in his mother's ear._] Edward says there's no money.