Fanny and the Servant Problem. Jerome Klapka Jerome

Чтение книги онлайн.

      VERNON. Dear!

      FANNY. You will never be ashamed of me?

      VERNON. Dearest!

      FANNY. I was only a music-hall singer. There’s no getting over it, you know.

      VERNON. I should have loved you had you been a beggar-maid.

      FANNY [she still clings to him]. With an uncle a costermonger, and an aunt who sold matches. It wouldn’t have made any difference to you, would it? You didn’t marry me for my family, did you? You didn’t, did you?

      VERNON. Darling! I married you because you are the most fascinating, the most lovable, the most wonderful little woman in the world. [Fanny gives a sob.] As for your family – I’ve got a confession to make to you, dear. I made inquiries about your family before I proposed to you. Not for my own sake – because I knew I’d have to answer a lot of stupid questions. It seemed to me quite a good family.

      FANNY. It is! Oh, it is! There never was such a respectable family. That’s why I never could get on with them.

      VERNON [laughing]. Well, you haven’t got to – any more. We needn’t even let them know —

      Bennet returns.

      BENNET. Robert I find has returned. It is ten minutes to seven.

      VERNON. Thanks. Well, I shall be glad of a bath. [He turns to Fanny.] Bennet will send your maid to you. [He whispers to her.] You’ll soon get used to it all. As for the confounded family – we will forget all about them. [Fanny answers with another little stifled sob. Bennet is drawing the curtains, his back to the room. Vernon, seeing that Bennet is occupied, kisses the unresponsive Fanny and goes out.]

      At the sound of the closing of the door, Fanny looks up. She goes to the door through which Vernon has just passed, listens a moment, then returns. Bennet calmly finishes the drawing of the curtains. Then he, too, crosses slowly till he and Fanny are facing one another across the centre of the room.

      FANNY. Well, what are you going to do?

      BENNET. My duty!

      FANNY. What’s that? Something unpleasant, I know. I can bet my bottom dollar.

      BENNET. That, my girl, will depend upon you.

      FANNY. How upon me?

      BENNET. Whether you prove an easy or a difficult subject. To fit you for your position, a certain amount of training will, I fancy, be necessary.

      FANNY. Training! I’m to be – [She draws herself up.] Are you aware who I am?

      BENNET. Oh yes. And who you were. His lordship, I take it, would hardly relish the discovery that he had married his butler’s niece. He might consider the situation awkward.

      FANNY. And who’s going to train me?

      BENNET. I am. With the assistance of your aunt and such other members of your family as I consider can be trusted.

      FANNY [for a moment she is speechless, then she bursts out]. That ends it! I shall tell him! I shall tell him this very moment. [She sweeps towards the door.]

      BENNET. At this moment you will most likely find his lordship in his bath.

      FANNY. I don’t care! Do you think – do you think for a moment that I’m going to allow myself – I, Lady Bantock, to be – [Her hand upon the door.] I shall tell him, and you’ll only have yourself to blame. He loves me. He loves me for myself. I shall tell him the whole truth, and ask him to give you all the sack.

      BENNET. You’re not forgetting that you’ve already told him once who you were?

      [It stops her. What she really did was to leave the marriage arrangements in the hands of her business manager, George P. Newte. As agent for a music-hall star, he is ideal, but it is possible that in answering Lord Bantock’s inquiries concerning Fanny’s antecedents he may not have kept strictly to the truth.]

      FANNY. I never did. I’ve never told him anything about my family.

      BENNET. Curious. I was given to understand it was rather a classy affair.

      FANNY. I can’t help what other people may have done. Because some silly idiot of a man may possibly – [She will try a new tack. She leaves the door and comes to him.] Uncle, dear, wouldn’t it be simpler for you all to go away? He’s awfully fond of me. He’ll do anything I ask him. I could merely say that I didn’t like you and get him to pension you off. You and aunt could have a little roadside inn somewhere – with ivy.

      BENNET. Seeing that together with the stables and the garden there are twenty-three of us —

      FANNY. No, of course, he couldn’t pension you all. You couldn’t expect —

      BENNET. I think his lordship might prefer to leave things as they are. Good servants nowadays are not so easily replaced. And neither your aunt nor I are at an age when change appeals to one.

      FANNY. You see, it’s almost bound to creep out sooner or later, and then —

      BENNET. We will make it as late as possible [He crosses and rings the bell], giving you time to prove to his lordship that you are not incapable of learning.

      FANNY [she drops back on the settee. She is half-crying.] Some people would be pleased that their niece had married well.