Part 21

FANNY. What did they think of my marriage? Gerty was a bit jealous, wasn’t she?

NEWTE. Well, would have been, if she’d known who he was. [Laughs.]

FANNY. Tell her. Tell her [she draws herself up] I’m Lady Bantock, of Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire. It will make her so mad. [Laughs.]

NEWTE [laughs]. I will.

FANNY. Give them all my love. [Ernest appears in answer to her bell.] Oh, Ernest, tell Bennet—[the eyes and mouth of Ernest open]—to see that Mr. Newte has some refreshment before he leaves. A glass of champagne and—and some caviare. Don’t forget. [Ernest goes out.] Good-bye. You’ll come again?

NEWTE. Whenever you want me—and remember—the watchword is “Tact”!

FANNY. Yes, I’ve got the word all right. [Laughs.] Don’t forget to give my love to the girls.

NEWTE. I won’t. So long! [He goes out.]

Fanny closes the door. Honoria has re-entered from the dressing-room. She looks from the handkerchief still hanging over the keyhole to Fanny.

HONORIA. Your ladyship’s handkerchief?

FANNY. Yes. Such a draught through that keyhole.

HONORIA [takes the handkerchief, hands it to Fanny]. I will tell the housekeeper.

FANNY. Thanks. Maybe you will also mention it to the butler. Possibly also to the—[She suddenly changes.] Honoria. Suppose it had been you—you know, you’re awfully pretty—who had married Lord Bantock, and he had brought you back here, among them all—uncle, aunt, all the lot of them—what would you have done?

HONORIA [she draws herself up]. I should have made it quite plain from the first, that I was mistress, and that they were my servants.

FANNY. You would, you think—

HONORIA [checking her outburst]. But then, dear—you will excuse my speaking plainly—there is a slight difference between the two cases. [She seats herself on the settee. Fanny is standing near the desk.] You see, what we all feel about you, dear, is—that you are—well, hardly a fit wife for his lordship. [Fanny’s hands are itching to box the girl’s ears. To save herself, she grinds out through her teeth the word “Tack!”] Of course, dear, it isn’t altogether your fault.

FANNY. Thanks.

HONORIA. Your mother’s marriage was most unfortunate.

FANNY [her efforts to suppress her feelings are just—but only just—successful.] Need we discuss that?

HONORIA. Well, he was an Irishman, dear, there’s no denying it. [Fanny takes a cushion from a chair—with her back to Honoria, she strangles it. Jane has entered and is listening.] Still, perhaps it is a painful subject. And we hope—all of us—that, with time and patience, we may succeed in eradicating the natural results of your bringing-up.

JANE. Some families, finding themselves in our position, would seek to turn it to their own advantage. We think only of your good.

FANNY. Yes, that’s what I feel—that you are worrying yourselves too much about me. You’re too conscientious, all of you. You, in particular, Jane, because you know you’re not strong. You’ll end up with a nervous breakdown. [Mrs. Bennet has entered. Honoria slips out. Fanny turns to her aunt.] I was just saying how anxious I’m getting about Jane. I don’t like the look of her at all. What she wants is a holiday. Don’t you agree with me?

MRS. BENNET. There will be no holiday, I fear, for any of us, for many a long day.

FANNY. But you must. You must think more of yourselves, you know. You’re not looking well, aunt, at all. What you both want is a month—at the seaside.

MRS. BENNET. Your object is too painfully apparent for the subject to need discussion. True solicitude for us would express itself better in greater watchfulness upon your own behaviour.

FANNY. Why, what have I done?

Bennet enters, followed, unwillingly, by Ernest.

MRS. BENNET. Your uncle will explain.