Джон Голсуорси
The Eldest Son
FREDA. It's what always happens – even when it's not a – gentleman.
BILL. That's enough.
FREDA. But I'm not like that girl down in the village. You needn't be afraid I'll say anything when – it comes. That's what I had to tell you.
BILL. What!
FREDA. I can keep a secret.
BILL. Do you mean this? [She bows her head.]
BILL. Good God!
FREDA. Father brought me up not to whine. Like the puppies when they hold them up by their tails. [With a sudden break in her voice] Oh! Bill!
BILL. [With his head down, seizing her hands] Freda! [He breaks away from her towards the fire] Good God!
She stands looking at him, then quietly slips away by the door under the staircase. BILL turns to speak to her, and sees that she has gone. He walks up to the fireplace, and grips the mantelpiece.
BILL. By Jove! This is – !
The curtain falls.
ACT II
The scene is LADY CHESHIRE's morning room, at ten o'clock on the following day. It is a pretty room, with white panelled walls; and chrysanthemums and carmine lilies in bowls. A large bow window overlooks the park under a sou'-westerly sky. A piano stands open; a fire is burning; and the morning's correspondence is scattered on a writing-table. Doors opposite each other lead to the maid's workroom, and to a corridor. LADY CHESHIRE is standing in the middle of the room, looking at an opera cloak, which FREDA is holding out.
LADY CHESHIRE. Well, Freda, suppose you just give it up!
FREDA. I don't like to be beaten.
LADY CHESHIRE. You're not to worry over your work. And by the way, I promised your father to make you eat more. [FREDA smiles.]
LADY CHESHIRE. It's all very well to smile. You want bracing up. Now don't be naughty. I shall give you a tonic. And I think you had better put that cloak away.
FREDA. I'd rather have one more try, my lady.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Sitting doom at her writing-table] Very well.
FREDA goes out into her workroom, as JACKSON comes in from the corridor.
JACKSON. Excuse me, my lady. There's a young woman from the village, says you wanted to see her.
LADY CHESHIRE. Rose Taylor? Ask her to come in. Oh! and Jackson the car for the meet please at half-past ten.
JACKSON having bowed and withdrawn, LADY CHESHIRE rises with worked signs of nervousness, which she has only just suppressed, when ROSE TAYLOR, a stolid country girl, comes in and stands waiting by the door.
LADY CHESHIRE. Well, Rose. Do come in! [ROSE advances perhaps a couple of steps.]
LADY CHESHIRE. I just wondered whether you'd like to ask my advice. Your engagement with Dunning's broken off, isn't it?
ROSE. Yes – but I've told him he's got to marry me.
LADY CHESHIRE. I see! And you think that'll be the wisest thing?
ROSE. [Stolidly] I don't know, my lady. He's got to.
LADY CHESHIRE. I do hope you're a little fond of him still.
ROSE. I'm not. He don't deserve it.
LADY CHESHIRE: And – do you think he's quite lost his affection for you?
ROSE. I suppose so, else he wouldn't treat me as he's done. He's after that – that – He didn't ought to treat me as if I was dead.
LADY CHESHIRE. No, no – of course. But you will think it all well over, won't you?
ROSE. I've a – got nothing to think over, except what I know of.
LADY CHESHIRE. But for you both to marry in that spirit! You know it's for life, Rose. [Looking into her face] I'm always ready to help you.
ROSE. [Dropping a very slight curtsey] Thank you, my lady, but I think he ought to marry me. I've told him he ought.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Sighing] Well, that's all I wanted to say. It's a question of your self-respect; I can't give you any real advice. But just remember that if you want a friend —
ROSE. [With a gulp] I'm not so 'ard, really. I only want him to do what's right by me.
LADY CHESHIRE. [With a little lift of her eyebrow – gently] Yes, yes – I see.
ROSE. [Glancing back at the door] I don't like meeting the servants.
LADY CHESHIRE. Come along, I'll take you out another way. [As they reach the door, DOT comes in.]
DOT. [With a glance at ROSE] Can we have this room for the mouldy rehearsal, Mother?
LADY CHESHIRE. Yes, dear, you can air it here.
Holding the door open for ROSE she follows her out. And DOT, with a book of "Caste" in her hand, arranges the room according to a diagram.
DOT. Chair – chair – table – chair – Dash! Table – piano – fire – window! [Producing a pocket comb] Comb for Eccles. Cradle? – Cradle – [She viciously dumps a waste-paper basket down, and drops a footstool into it] Brat! [Then reading from the book gloomily] "Enter Eccles breathless. Esther and Polly rise-Esther puts on lid of bandbox." Bandbox!
Searching for something to represent a bandbox, she opens the workroom door.
DOT. Freda?
FREDA comes in.
DOT. I say, Freda. Anything the matter? You seem awfully down. [FREDA does not answer.]
DOT. You haven't looked anything of a lollipop lately.
FREDA. I'm quite all right, thank you, Miss Dot.
DOT. Has Mother been givin' you a tonic?
FREDA. [Smiling a little] Not yet.
DOT. That doesn't account for it then. [With a sudden warm impulse] What is it, Freda?
FREDA. Nothing.
DOT. [Switching of on a different line of thought] Are you very busy this morning?
FREDA. Only this cloak for my lady.
DOT. Oh! that can wait. I may have to get you in to prompt, if I can't keep 'em straight. [Gloomily] They stray so. Would you mind?
FREDA. [Stolidly] I shall be very glad, Miss Dot.
DOT. [Eyeing her dubiously] All right. Let's see – what did I want?
JOAN has come in.
JOAN. Look here, Dot; about the baby in this scene. I'm sure I ought to make more of it.
DOT. Romantic little beast! [She plucks the footstool out by one ear, and holds it forth] Let's see you try!
JOAN. [Recoiling] But, Dot, what are we really going to have for the baby? I can't rehearse with that thing. Can't you suggest something, Freda?
FREDA. Borrow a real one, Miss Joan. There are some that don't count much.
JOAN. Freda, how horrible!
DOT. [Dropping the footstool back into the basket] You'll just put up with what you're given.
Then as CHRISTINE and MABEL LANFARNE Come in, FREDA turns abruptly and goes out.
DOT. Buck up! Where are Bill and Harold? [To JOAN] Go and find them, mouse-cat.
But BILL and HAROLD, followed by LATTER, are already in the doorway. They come in, and LATTER, stumbling over the waste-paper basket, takes it up to improve its position.
DOT. Drop that cradle, John! [As he picks the footstool out of it] Leave the baby in! Now then! Bill, you enter there! [She points to the workroom door where BILL and MABEL range themselves close to the piano; while HAROLD goes to the window] John! get off the stage! Now then, "Eccles enters breathless, Esther and Polly rise." Wait a minute. I know now. [She opens the workroom door] Freda, I wanted a bandbox.
HAROLD. [Cheerfully] I hate beginning to rehearse, you know, you feel such a fool.
DOT. [With her bandbox-gloomily] You'll feel more of a fool when you have begun. [To BILL, who is staring into the workroom] Shut the door. Now. [BILL shuts the door.]
LATTER. [Advancing] Look here! I want to clear up a point of psychology before we start.
DOT. Good Lord!
LATTER. When I bring in the milk – ought I to bring it in seriously – as if I were accustomed – I mean, I maintain that if I'm —
JOAN. Oh! John, but I don't think it's meant that you should —
DOT. Shut up! Go back, John! Blow the milk! Begin, begin, begin! Bill!
LATTER. [Turning round and again advancing] But I think you underrate the importance of my entrance altogether.
MABEL. Oh! no, Mr. Latter!
LATTER. I don't in the least want to destroy the balance of the scene, but I do want to be clear about the spirit. What is the spirit?
DOT. [With gloom] Rollicking!
LATTER. Well, I don't think so. We shall run a great risk, with this play, if we rollick.
DOT. Shall we? Now look here – !
MABEL. [Softly to BILL] Mr. Cheshire!
BILL. [Desperately] Let's get on!
DOT. [Waving LATTER back] Begin, begin! At last! [But JACKSON has came in.]
JACKSON. [To CHRISTINE] Studdenham says, Mm, if the young ladies want to see the spaniel pups, he's brought 'em round.
JOAN. [Starting up] Oh! come 'on, John! [She flies towards the door, followed by LATTER.]
DOT. [Gesticulating with her book] Stop! You – [CHRISTINE and HAROLD also rush past.]
DOT. [Despairingly] First pick! [Tearing her hair] Pigs! Devils! [She rushes after them. BILL and MABEL are left alone.]
MABEL. [Mockingly] And don't you want one of the spaniel pups?
BILL. [Painfully reserved and sullen, and conscious of the workroom door] Can't keep a dog in town. You can have one, if you like. The breeding's all right.
MABEL. Sixth Pick?
BILL. The girls'll give you one of theirs. They only fancy they want 'em.
Mann. [Moving nearer to him, with her hands clasped behind her] You know, you remind me awfully of your father. Except that you're not nearly so polite. I don't understand you English-lords of the soil. The way you have of disposing of your females. [With a sudden change of voice] What was the matter with you last night? [Softly] Won't you tell me?
BILL. Nothing to tell.
MABEL. Ah! no, Mr. Bill.
BILL. [Almost succumbing to her voice – then sullenly] Worried, I suppose.
MABEL. [Returning to her mocking] Quite got over it?
BILL. Don't chaff me, please.
MABEL. You really are rather formidable.
BILL. Thanks.
MABEL, But, you know, I love to cross a field where there's a bull.
BILL. Really! Very interesting.
MABEL. The way of their only seeing one thing at a time. [She moves back as he advances] And overturning people on the journey.
BILL. Hadn't you better be a little careful?
MABEL. And never to see the hedge until they're stuck in it. And then straight from that hedge into the opposite one.
BILL. [Savagely] What makes you bait me this morning of all mornings?
MABEL. The beautiful morning! [Suddenly] It must be dull for poor Freda working in there with all this fun going on?
BILL. [Glancing at the door] Fun you call it?
MABEL, To go back to you, – now – Mr. Cheshire.
BILL. No.
MABEL, You always make me feel so Irish. Is it because you're so English, d'you think? Ah! I can see him moving his ears. Now he's pawing the ground – He's started!
BILL. Miss Lanfarne!
MABEL. [Still backing away from him, and drawing him on with her eyes and smile] You can't help coming after me! [Then with a sudden change to a sort of sierra gravity] Can you? You'll feel that when I've gone.
They stand quite still, looking into each other's eyes and FREDA, who has opened the door of the workroom stares at them.
MABEL. [Seeing her] Here's the stile. Adieu, Monsieur le taureau!
She puts her hand behind her, opens the door, and slips through, leaving BILL to turn, following the direction of her eyes, and see FREDA with the cloak still in her hand.
BILL. [Slowly walking towards her] I haven't slept all night.
FREDA. No?
BILL. Have you been thinking it over? [FREDA gives a bitter little laugh.]
BILL. Don't! We must make a plan. I'll get you away. I won't let you suffer. I swear I won't.
FREDA. That will be clever.
BILL. I wish to Heaven my affairs weren't in such a mess.
FREDA. I shall be – all – right, thank you.
BILL. You must think me a blackguard. [She shakes her head] Abuse me – say something! Don't look like that!
FREDA. Were you ever really fond of me?
BILL. Of course I was, I am now. Give me your hands.
She looks at him, then drags her hands from his, and covers her face.
BILL. [Clenching his fists] Look here! I'll prove it. [Then as she suddenly flings her arms round his neck and clings to him] There, there!
There is a click of a door handle. They start away from each other, and see LADY CHESHIRE regarding them.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Without irony] I beg your pardon.
She makes as if to withdraw from an unwarranted intrusion, but suddenly turning, stands, with lips pressed together, waiting.
LADY CHESHIRE. Yes?
FREDA has muffled her face. But BILL turns and confronts his mother.
BILL. Don't say anything against her!
LADY CHESHIRE. [Tries to speak to him and fails – then to FREDA] Please-go!
BILL. [Taking FREDA's arm] No.
LADY CHESHIRE, after a moment's hesitation, herself moves towards the door.
BILL. Stop, mother!
LADY CHESHIRE. I think perhaps not.
BILL. [Looking at FREDA, who is cowering as though from a blow] It's a d – d shame!
LADY CHESHIRE. It is.
BILL. [With sudden resolution] It's not as you think. I'm engaged to be married to her.
[FREDA gives him a wild stare, and turns away.]
LADY CHESHIRE. [Looking from one to the other] I don't think I – quite – understand.
BILL. [With the brutality of his mortification] What I said was plain enough.
LADY CHESHIRE. Bill!
BILL. I tell you I am going to marry her.
LADY CHESHIRE. [To FREDA] Is that true?
[FREDA gulps and remains silent.]
BILL. If you want to say anything, say it to me, mother.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Gripping the edge of a little table] Give me a chair, please. [BILL gives her a chair.]
LADY CHESHIRE. [To FREDA] Please sit down too.
FREDA sits on the piano stool, still turning her face away.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Fixing her eyes on FREDA] Now!
BILL. I fell in love with her. And she with me.
LADY CHESHIRE. When?
BILL. In the summer.
LADY CHESHIRE. Ah!
BILL. It wasn't her fault.
LADY CHESHIRE. No?
BILL. [With a sort of menace] Mother!
LADY CHESHIRE. Forgive me, I am not quite used to the idea. You say that you – are engaged?
BILL. Yes.
LADY CHESHIRE. The reasons against such an engagement have occurred to you, I suppose? [With a sudden change of tone] Bill! what does it mean?
BILL. If you think she's trapped me into this —
LADY CHESHIRE. I do not. Neither do I think she has been trapped. I think nothing. I understand nothing.
BILL. [Grimly] Good!
LADY CHESHIRE. How long has this-engagement lasted?
BILL. [After a silence] Two months.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Suddenly] This is-this is quite impossible.
BILL. You'll find it isn't.
LADY CHESHIRE. It's simple misery.
BILL. [Pointing to the workroom] Go and wait in there, Freda.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Quickly] And are you still in love with her?
FREDA, moving towards the workroom, smothers a sob.
BILL. Of course I am.
FREDA has gone, and as she goes, LADY CHESHIRE rises suddenly, forced by the intense feeling she has been keeping in hand.
LADY CHESHIRE. Bill! Oh, Bill! What does it all mean? [BILL, looking from side to aide, only shrugs his shoulders] You are not in love with her now. It's no good telling me you are.
BILL. I am.
LADY CHESHIRE. That's not exactly how you would speak if you were.
BILL. She's in love with me.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Bitterly] I suppose so.
BILL. I mean to see that nobody runs her down.
LADY CHESHIRE. [With difficulty] Bill! Am I a hard, or mean woman?
BILL. Mother!
LADY CHESHIRE. It's all your life – and – your father's – and – all of us. I want to understand – I must understand. Have you realised what an awful thins this would be for us all? It's quite impossible that it should go on.
BILL. I'm always in hot water with the Governor, as it is. She and I'll take good care not to be in the way.
LADY CHESHIRE. Tell me everything!
BILL. I have.
LADY CHESHIRE. I'm your mother, Bill.
BILL. What's the good of these questions?
LADY CHESHIRE. You won't give her away – I see!
BILL. I've told you all there is to tell. We're engaged, we shall be married quietly, and – and – go to Canada.
LADY CHESHIRE. If there weren't more than that to tell you'd be in love with her now.
BILL. I've told you that I am.
LADY CHESHIRE. You are not. [Almost fiercely] I know – I know there's more behind.