Fanny and the Servant Problem Part 8

f.a.n.n.y [addresses the portrait]. I do wish you could talk.

Vernon bursts into the room. He has been riding. He throws aside his hat and stick.

VERNON. Hulloa! This is good of you. [He shakes hands with the Doctor.] How are you? [Without waiting for any reply, he goes to f.a.n.n.y, kisses her.] Good morning, dear. How have you been getting on together, you two? Has she been talking to you?

DR. FREEMANTLE. Oh, yes.

VERNON. Doesn't she talk well? I say, what have you been doing to yourself?

f.a.n.n.y. Jane thought this style--[with a gesture]--more appropriate to Lady Bantock.

VERNON. Um! Wonder if she's right? [To the Doctor] What do you think?

DR. FREEMANTLE. I think it a question solely for Lady Bantock.

VERNON. Of course it is. [To f.a.n.n.y] You know, you mustn't let them dictate to you. Dear, good, faithful souls, all of them. But they must understand that you are mistress.

f.a.n.n.y [she seizes eagerly at the chance]. You might mention it to them, dear. It would come so much better from you.

VERNON. No, you. They will take more notice of you.

f.a.n.n.y. I'd so much rather you did it. [To Dr. Freemantle] Don't you think it would come better from him?

DR. FREEMANTLE [laughs]. I'm afraid you'll have to do it yourself.

VERNON. You see, dear, it might hurt them, coming from me. It would seem like ingrat.i.tude. Mrs. Bennet--Why, it wasn't till I began to ask questions that I grasped the fact that she WASN'T my real mother.

As for old Bennet, ever since my father died--well, I hardly know how I could have got on without him. It was Charles Bennet that taught me to ride; I learned my letters sitting on Jane's lap.

f.a.n.n.y. Yes. Perhaps I had better do it myself.

VERNON. I'm sure it will be more effective. Of course I shall support you.

f.a.n.n.y. Thank you. Oh, by the by, dear, I shan't be able to go with you to-day.

VERNON. Why not?

f.a.n.n.y. I've rather a headache.

VERNON. Oh, I'm so sorry. Oh, all right, we'll stop at home. I'm not so very keen about it.

f.a.n.n.y. No, I want you to go, dear. Your aunts are looking forward to it. I shall get over it all the sooner with everybody out of the way.

VERNON. Well, if you really wish it.

The Misses Wetherell steal in. They are dressed for driving. They exchange greetings with the Doctor.

f.a.n.n.y. You know you promised to obey. [Tickles his nose with a flower.]

VERNON [laughing--to the Doctor]. You see what it is to be married?

DR. FREEMANTLE [laughs]. Very trying.

VERNON [turning to his aunts]. f.a.n.n.y isn't coming with us.

THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [to f.a.n.n.y]. Oh, my dear!

f.a.n.n.y. It's only a headache. [She takes her aside.] I'm rather glad of it. I want an excuse for a little time to myself.

THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I understand, dear. It's all been so sudden. [She kisses her--then to the room] She'll be all the better alone. We three will go on. [She nods and signs to her sister.]

f.a.n.n.y [kissing the Elder Miss Wetherell]. Don't you get betting.

THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Oh no, dear, we never do. It's just to see the dear horses. [She joins her sister. They whisper.]

VERNON [to the Doctor to whom he has been talking]. Can we give you a lift?

DR. FREEMANTLE. Well, you might as far as the Vicarage. Good-bye, Lady Bantock.

f.a.n.n.y [shaking hands]. Good-bye, Doctor.

VERNON. Sure you won't be lonely?

f.a.n.n.y [laughs]. Think I can't exist an hour without you? Mr.

Conceited!

VERNON [laughs and kisses her]. Come along. [He takes the Doctor and his younger Aunt towards the door.]

THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [who is following last]. I like you in that frock.

f.a.n.n.y [laughs]. So glad. It's Ernest who attends to the fires, isn't it?

THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Yes, dear.

f.a.n.n.y. I wish you'd send him up. [At door--calls after them] Hope you'll all enjoy yourselves!

VERNON [from the distance]. I shall put you on a fiver.

f.a.n.n.y. Mind it wins. [She listens a moment--closes door, comes back to desk, and takes a Bradshaw.] Five-six-three--five-six-three.

[Finds page.] St. Pancras, eight o'clock. Oh, Lord! Stamford, 10.45. Leave Stamford--[Ernest has entered.] Is that you, Ernest?

ERNEST. Yes.

f.a.n.n.y. Shut the door. Sure it went off last night, that telegram?

ERNEST. Yes.

f.a.n.n.y. If he doesn't catch that eight o'clock, he can't get here till nearly four. That will be awkward. [To Ernest] What time is it now?

ERNEST [looks at clock]. Twenty past eleven.