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,