Lyre and Lancet: A Story in Scenes
Footman. Everything for the Court is on top now, my lady.
[He opens the door for Spurrell.Lady Cantire (to Spurrell, who is still irresolute). For goodness' sake don't hop about on that step! Come in, and let us start.
Lady Maisie. Please get in – there's plenty of room!
Spurrell (to himself). They are chummy, and no mistake! (Aloud, as he gets in.) I do hope it won't be considered any intrusion – my coming up along with your ladyships, I mean!
Lady Cantire (snappishly). Intrusion! I never heard such nonsense! Did you expect to be asked to run behind? You really mustn't be so ridiculously modest. As if your Andromeda hadn't procured you the entrée everywhere!
[The omnibus starts.Spurrell (to himself). Good old Drummy! No idea I was such a swell. I'll keep my tail up. Shyness ain't one of my failings. (Aloud, to an indistinct mass at the further end of the omnibus, which is unlighted.) Er – hum – pitch dark night, my lady, don't get much idea of the country! (The mass makes no response.) I was saying, my lady, it's too dark to – (The mass snores peacefully.) Her ladyship seems to be taking a snooze on the quiet, my lady. (To Lady Maisie.) (To himself.) Not that that's the term for it!
Lady Maisie (distantly). My mother gets tired rather easily. (To herself.) It's really too dreadful; he makes me hot all over! If he's going to do this kind of thing at Wyvern! And I'm more or less responsible for him, too! I must see if I can't – It will be only kind. (Aloud, nervously.) Mr. – Mr. Blair!
Spurrell. Excuse me, my lady, not Blair– Spurrell.
Lady Maisie. Of course, how stupid of me. I knew it wasn't really your name. Mr. Spurrell, then, you – you won't mind if I give you just one little hint, will you?
Spurrell. I shall take it kindly of your ladyship, whatever it is.
Lady Maisie (more nervously still). It's really such a trifle, but – but, in speaking to mamma or me, it isn't at all necessary to say "my lady" or "your ladyship." I – I mean, it sounds rather, well —formal, don't you know!
Spurrell (to himself). She's going to be chummy now! (Aloud.) I thought, on a first acquaintance, it was only manners.
Lady Maisie. Oh – manners? yes, I – I dare say – but still – but still —not at Wyvern, don't you know. If you like, you can call mamma "Lady Cantire," and me "Lady Maisie," now and then, and, of course, my aunt will be "Lady Culverin," but – but if there are other people staying in the house, you needn't call them anything, do you see?
Spurrell (to himself). I'm not likely to have the chance! (Aloud.) Well, if you're sure they won't mind it, because I'm not used to this sort of thing, so I put myself entirely in your hands, – for, of course, you know what brought me down here?
Lady Maisie (to herself). He means my foolish letter! Oh, I must put a stop to that at once! (In a hurried undertone.) Yes – yes; I – I think I do I mean, I do know – but – but please forget it —indeed, you must!
Spurrell (to himself). Forget I've come down as a vet? The Culverins will take care I don't forget that! (Aloud.) But, I say, it's all very well; but how can I? Why, look here; I was told I was to come down here on purpose to —
Lady Maisie (on thorns). I know – you needn't tell me! And don't speak so loud! Mamma might hear!
Spurrell (puzzled). What if she did? Why, I thought her la – your mother knew!
Lady Maisie (to herself). He actually thinks I should tell mamma! Oh, how dense he is! (Aloud.) Yes – yes – of course she knows – but – but you might wake her! And – and please don't allude to it again – to me or – or any one. (To herself.) That I should have to beg him to be silent like this! But what can I do? Goodness only knows what he mightn't say, if I don't warn him!
Spurrell (nettled). I don't mind who knows. I'm not ashamed of it, Lady Maisie – whatever you may be!
Lady Maisie (to herself, exasperated). He dares to imply that I've done something to be ashamed of! (Aloud, haughtily.) I'm not ashamed – why should I be? Only – oh, can't you really understand that – that one may do things which one wouldn't care to be reminded of publicly? I don't wish it – isn't that enough?
Spurrell (to himself). I see what she's at now – doesn't want it to come out that she's travelled down here with a vet! (Aloud, stiffly.) A lady's wish is enough for me at any time. If you're sorry for having gone out of your way to be friendly, why, I'm not the person to take advantage of it. I hope I know how to behave.
[He takes refuge in offended silence.Lady Maisie (to herself). Why did I say anything at all! I've only made things worse – I've let him see that he has an advantage. And he's certain to use it sooner or later – unless I am civil to him. I've offended him now – and I shall have to make it up with him!
Spurrell (to himself). I thought all along she didn't seem as chummy as her mother – but to turn round on me like this!
Lady Cantire (waking up). Well, Mr. Andromeda, I should have thought you and my daughter might have found some subject in common; but I haven't heard a word from either of you since we left the station.
Lady Maisie (to herself). That's some comfort! (Aloud.) You must have had a nap, mamma. We – we have been talking.
Spurrell. Oh yes, we have been talking, I can assure you, Lady Cantire!
Lady Cantire. Dear me. Well, Maisie, I hope the conversation was entertaining?
Lady Maisie. M – most entertaining, mamma!
Lady Cantire. I'm quite sorry I missed it. (The omnibus stops.) Wyvern at last! But what a journey it's been, to be sure!
Spurrell (to himself). I should just think it had. I've never been so taken up and put down in all my life! But it's over now; and, thank goodness, I'm not likely to see any more of 'em!
[He gets out with alacrity.PART VI
ROUND PEGS IN SQUARE HOLES
In the Entrance Hall at Wyvern.
Tredwell (to Lady Cantire). This way, if you please, my lady. Her ladyship is in the Hamber Boudwore.
Lady Cantire. Wait. (She looks round.) What has become of that young Mr. Androm – ? (Perceiving Spurrell, who has been modestly endeavouring to efface himself.) Ah, there he is! Now, come along, and be presented to my sister-in-law. She'll be enchanted to know you!
Spurrell. But indeed, my lady, I – I think I'd better wait till she sends for me.
Lady Cantire. Wait? Fiddlesticks! What! A famous young man like you! Remember Andromeda, and don't make yourself so ridiculous!
Spurrell (miserably). Well, Lady Cantire, if her ladyship says anything, I hope you'll bear me out that it wasn't —
Lady Cantire. Bear you out? My good young man, you seem to need somebody to bear you in! Come, you are under my wing. I answer for your welcome – so do as you're told.
Spurrell (to himself, as he follows resignedly). It's my belief there'll be a jolly row when I do go in; but it's not my fault!
Tredwell (opening the door of the Amber Boudoir). Lady Cantire and Lady Maisie Mull (To Spurrell.) What name, if you please, sir?
Spurrell (dolefully). You can say "James Spurrell" – you needn't bellow it, you know!
Tredwell (ignoring this suggestion). Mr. James Spurrell.
Spurrell (to himself, on the threshold). If I don't get the chuck for this, I shall be surprised, that's all!
[He enters.In a Fly.
Undershell (to himself). Alone with a lovely girl, who has no suspicion, as yet, that I am the poet whose songs have thrilled her with admiration! Could any situation be more romantic? I think I must keep up this little mystification as long as possible.
Phillipson (to herself). I wonder who he is? Somebody's Man, I suppose. I do believe he's struck with me. Well, I've no objection. I don't see why I shouldn't forget Jim now and then – he's quite forgotten me! (Aloud.) They might have sent a decent carriage for us instead of this ramshackle old summerhouse. We shall be hours getting to the house at this rate!
Undershell (gallantly). For my part, I care not how long we may be. I feel so unspeakably content to be where I am.
Phillipson (disdainfully). In this mouldy, lumbering old concern? You must be rather easily contented, then!
Undershell (dreamily). It travels only too swiftly. To me it is a veritable enchanted car, drawn by a magic steed.
Phillipson. I don't know whether he's magic – but I'm sure he's lame. And stuffiness is not my notion of enchantment.
Undershell. I'm not prepared to deny the stuffiness. But cannot you guess what has transformed this vehicle for me – in spite of its undeniable shortcomings – or must I speak more plainly still?
Phillipson. Well, considering the shortness of our acquaintance, I must say you've spoken quite plainly enough as it is!
Undershell. I know I must seem unduly expansive, and wanting in reserve; and yet that is not my true disposition. In general, I feel an almost fastidious shrinking from strangers —
Phillipson (with a little laugh). Really? I shouldn't have thought it!
Undershell. Because, in the present case, I do not – I cannot – feel as if we were strangers. Some mysterious instinct led me, almost from the first, to associate you with a certain Miss Maisie Mull.
Phillipson. Well, I wonder how you discovered that. Though you shouldn't have said "Miss" —Lady Maisie Mull is the proper form.
Undershell (to himself). Lady Maisie Mull! I attach no meaning to titles – and yet nothing but rank could confer such perfect ease and distinction. (Aloud.) I should have said Lady Maisie Mull, undoubtedly – forgive my ignorance. But at least I have divined you. Does nothing tell you who and what I may be?
Phillipson. Oh, I think I can give a tolerable guess at what you are.
Undershell. You recognize the stamp of the Muse upon me, then?
Phillipson. Well, I shouldn't have taken you for a groom exactly.
Undershell (with some chagrin). You are really too flattering!
Phillipson. Am I? Then it's your turn now. You might say you'd never have taken me for a lady's maid!
Undershell. I might – if I had any desire to make an unnecessary and insulting remark.
Phillipson. Insulting? Why, it's what I am! I'm maid to Lady Maisie. I thought your mysterious instinct told you all about it?
Undershell (to himself – after the first shock). A lady's maid! Gracious Heaven! What have I been saying – or rather, what haven't I? (Aloud.) To – to be sure it did. Of course, I quite understand that. (To himself.) Oh, confound it all, I wish we were at Wyvern!
Phillipson. And, after all, you've never told me who you are. Who are you?
Undershell (to himself). I must not humiliate this poor girl! (Aloud.) I? Oh – a very insignificant person, I assure you! (To himself.) This is an occasion in which deception is pardonable – even justifiable!
Phillipson. Oh, I knew that much. But you let out just now you had to do with a Mews. You aren't a rough-rider, are you?
Undershell. N – not exactly– not a rough-rider. (To himself.) Never on a horse in my life! – unless I count my Pegasus. (Aloud.) But you are right in supposing I am connected with a muse – in one sense.
Phillipson. I said so, didn't I? Don't you think it was rather clever of me to spot you, when you're not a bit horsey-looking?
Undershell (with elaborate irony). Accept my compliments on a power of penetration which is simply phenomenal!
Phillipson (giving him a little push). Oh, go along – it's all talk with you – I don't believe you mean a word you say!
Undershell (to himself). She's becoming absolutely vulgar. (Aloud.) I don't – I don't; it's a manner I have; you mustn't attach any importance to it – none whatever!
Phillipson. What! Not to all those high-flown compliments? Do you mean to tell me you are only a gay deceiver, then?
Undershell (in horror). Not a deceiver, no; and decidedly not gay. I mean I did mean the compliments, of course. (To himself.) I mustn't let her suspect anything, or she'll get talking about it; it would be too horrible if this were to get round to Lady Maisie or the Culverins – so undignified; and it would ruin all my prestige! I've only to go on playing a part for a few minutes, and – maid or not – she's a most engaging girl!
[He goes on playing the part, with the unexpected result of sending Miss Phillipson into fits of uncontrollable laughter.At a Back Entrance at Wyvern. The Fly has just set down Phillipson and Undershell.
Tredwell (receiving Phillipson). Lady Maisie's maid, I presume? I'm the butler here – Mr. Tredwell. Your ladies arrived some time back. I'll take you to the housekeeper, who'll show you their rooms, and where yours is, and I hope you'll find everything comfortable. (In an undertone, indicating Undershell, who is awaiting recognition in the doorway.) Do you happen to know who it is with you?
Phillipson (in a whisper). I can't quite make him out – he's so flighty in his talk. But he says he belongs to some Mews or other.
Tredwell. Oh, then I know who he is. We expect him right enough. He's a partner in a crack firm of Vets. We've sent for him special. I'd better see to him, if you don't mind finding your own way to the housekeeper's room, second door to the left, down that corridor. (Phillipson departs.) Good evening to you, Mr. – ah – Mr. – ?
Undershell (coming forward). Mr. Undershell. Lady Culverin expects me, I believe.
Tredwell. Quite correct, Mr. Undershell, sir. She do. Leastwise, I shouldn't say myself she'd require to see you – well, not before to-morrow morning – but you won't mind that, I dare say.
Undershell (choking). Not mind that! Take me to her at once!
Tredwell. Couldn't take it on myself, sir, really. There's no particular 'urry. I'll let her ladyship know you're 'ere; and if she wants you, she'll send for you; but, with a party staying in the 'ouse, and others dining with us to-night, it ain't likely as she'll have time for you till to-morrow.
Undershell. Oh, then whenever her ladyship should find leisure to recollect my existence, will you have the goodness to inform her that I have taken the liberty of returning to town by the next train?
Tredwell. Lor! Mr. Undershell, you aren't so pressed as all that, are you? I know my lady wouldn't like you to go without seeing you personally; no more wouldn't Sir Rupert. And I understood you was coming down for the Sunday!
Undershell (furious). So did I– but not to be treated like this!
Tredwell (soothingly). Why, you know what ladies are. And you couldn't see Deerfoot – not properly, to-night, either.
Undershell. I have seen enough of this place already. I intend to go back by the next train, I tell you.
Tredwell. But there ain't any next train up to-night – being a loop line – not to mention that I've sent the fly away, and they can't spare no one at the stables to drive you in. Come, sir, make the best of it. I've had my horders to see that you're made comfortable, and Mrs. Pomfret and me will expect the pleasure of your company at supper in the 'ousekeeper's room, 9.30 sharp. I'll send the steward's room boy to show you to your room.
[He goes, leaving Undershell speechless.Undershell (almost foaming). The insolence of these cursed aristocrats! Lady Culverin will see me when she has time, forsooth! I am to be entertained in the servants' hall! This is how our upper classes honour Poetry! I won't stay a single hour under their infernal roof. I'll walk. But where to? And how about my luggage?
[Phillipson returns.Phillipson. Mr. Tredwell says you want to go already! It can't be true! Without even waiting for supper?
Undershell (gloomily). Why should I wait for supper in this house?
Phillipson. Well, I shall be there; I don't know if that's any inducement.
[She looks down.Undershell (to himself). She is a singularly bewitching creature; and I'm starving. Why shouldn't I stay – if only to shame these Culverins? It will be an experience – a study in life. I can always go afterwards. I will stay. (Aloud.) You little know the sacrifice you ask of me, but enough; I give way. We shall meet – (with a gulp) – in the housekeeper's room!
Phillipson (highly amused). You are a comical little man. You'll be the death of me if you go on like that!
[She flits away.Undershell (alone). I feel disposed to be the death of somebody! Oh, Lady Maisie Mull, to what a bathos have you lured your poet by your artless flattery – a banquet presided over by your aunt's butler!
PART VII
IGNOTUM PRO MIRIFICO
The Amber Boudoir at Wyvern immediately after Lady Cantire and her daughter have entered.
Lady Cantire (in reply to Lady Culverin). Tea? oh yes, my dear; anything warm! I'm positively perished – that tedious cold journey and the long drive afterwards! I always tell Rupert he would see me far oftener at Wyvern if he would only get the company to bring the line round close to the park gates, but it has no effect upon him! (As Tredwell announces Spurrell, who enters in trepidation.) Mr. James Spurrell! Who's Mr. – ? Oh, to be sure; that's the name of my interesting young poet —Andromeda, you know, my dear! Go and be pleasant to him, Albinia, he wants reassuring.
Lady Culverin (a trifle nervous). How do you do, Mr. – ah – Spurrell? (To herself.
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