by Unknown
(The ladies repeat the word in a daze.)
MISS FANNY. They had not apprised us that they have a visitor.
(They think this reticence unfriendly, and are wondering whether they ought not to retire hurt, when MISS SUSAN enters in her bombazine, wraps, and bonnet. She starts at sight of them, and has the bearing of a guilty person.)
MISS WILLOUGHBY (stiffly). We have but now been advertised of your intention for this evening, Susan.
MISS HENRIETTA. We deeply regret our intrusion.
MISS SUSAN (wistfully). Please not to be piqued, Mary. ‘Twas so — sudden.
MISS WILLOUGHBY. I cannot remember, Susan, that your estimable brother had a daughter. I thought all the three were sons.
MISS SUSAN (with deplorable readiness). Three sons and a daughter. Surely you remember little Livvy, Mary?
MISS WILLOUGHBY (bluntly). No, Susan, I do not.
MISS SUSAN. I — I must go. I hear Livvy calling.
MISS FANNY (tartly). I hear nothing but the band. We are not to see your niece?
MISS SUSAN. Another time — tomorrow. Pray rest a little before you depart, Mary. I — I — Phoebe Livvy — the headache ——
(But before she can go another lady enters gaily.)
VALENTINE. Ah, here is Miss Livvy.
(The true culprit is more cunning than MISS SUSAN, and before they can see her she quickly pulls the strings of her bonnet, which is like MISS HENRIETTA’S, and it obscures her face.)
MISS SUSAN. This — this is my niece, Livvy — Miss Willoughby, Miss Henrietta, Miss Fanny Willoughby.
VALENTINE. Ladies, excuse my impatience, but —
MISS WILLOUGHBY. One moment, sir. May I ask, Miss Livvy, how many brothers you have.
PHOEBE. Two.
MISS WILLOUGHBY. I thank you.
(She looks strangely at MISS SUSAN, and MISS PHOEBE knows that she has blundered.)
PHOEBE (at a venture). Excluding the unhappy Thomas.
MISS SUSAN (clever for the only moment in her life). We never mention him.
(They are swept away on the arms of the impatient CAPTAIN.)
MISS WILLOUGHBY, MISS HENRIETTA, AND MISS FANNY. What has Thomas done?
(They have no suspicion as yet of what MISS PHOEBE has done; but they believe there is a scandal in the Throssel family, and they will not sleep happily until they know what it is.)
ACT III
THE BALL
A ball, but not the one to which we have seen Miss Susan and Miss Phoebe rush forth upon their career of crime. This is the third of the series, the one of which Patty has foretold with horrid relish that it promises to be specially given over to devilries. The scene is a canvas pavilion, used as a retiring room and for card play, and through an opening in the back we have glimpses of gay uniforms and fair ladies intermingled in the bravery of the dance. There is coming and going through this opening, and also through slits in the canvas. The pavilion is fantastically decorated in various tastes, and is lit with lanterns. A good-natured moon, nevertheless, shines into it benignly. Some of the card tables are neglected, but at one a game of quadrille is in progress. There is much movement and hilarity, but none from one side of the tent, where sit several young ladies, all pretty, all appealing and all woeful, for no gallant comes to ask them if he may have the felicity. The nervous woman chaperoning them, and afraid to meet their gaze lest they scowl or weep in reply, is no other than Miss Susan, the most unhappy Miss Susan we have yet seen; she sits there gripping her composure in both hands. Far less susceptible to shame is the brazen Phoebe, who may be seen passing the opening on the arm of a cavalier, and flinging her trembling sister a mischievous kiss. The younger ladies note the incident; alas, they are probably meant to notice it, and they cower, as under a blow.
HARRIET (a sad-eyed, large girl, who we hope found a romance at her next ball). Are we so disagreeable that no one will dance with us? Miss Susan, ‘tis infamous; they have eyes for no one but your niece.
CHARLOTTE. Miss Livvy has taken Ensign Blades from me.
HARRIET. If Miss Phoebe were here, I am sure she would not allow her old pupils to be so neglected.
(The only possible reply for MISS SUSAN is to make herself look as small as possible. A lieutenant comes to them, once a scorner of woman, but now SPICER the bewitched. HARRIET has a moment’s hope.)
How do you do, sir?
SPICER (with dreadful indifference, though she is his dear cousin). Nay, ma’am, how do you do? (Wistfully.) May I stand beside you, Miss Susan?
(He is a most melancholic young man, and he fidgets her.)
MISS SUSAN (with spirit). You have been standing beside me, sir, nearly all the evening. SPICER (humbly. It is strange to think that he had been favourably mentioned in despatches). Indeed, I cannot but be cognisant of the sufferings I cause by attaching myself to you in this unseemly manner. Accept my assurances, ma’am, that you have my deepest sympathy.
MISS SUSAN. Then why do you do it?
SPICER. Because you are her aunt, ma’am. It is a scheme of mine by which I am in hopes to soften her heart. Her affection for you, ma’am, is beautiful to observe, and if she could be persuaded that I seek her hand from a passionate desire to have you for my Aunt Susan — do you perceive anything hopeful in my scheme, ma’am?
MISS SUSAN. No, sir, I do not.
(SPICER wanders away gloomily, takes too much to drink, and ultimately becomes a general. ENSIGN BLADES appears, frowning, and CHARLOTTE ventures to touch his sleeve.)
CHARLOTTE. Ensign Blades, I have not danced with you once this evening.
BLADES (with the cold brutality of a lover to another she). Nor I with you, Charlotte. (To SUSAN.) May I solicit of you, Miss Susan, is Captain Brown Miss Livvy’s guardian; is he affianced to her?
MISS SUSAN. No, sir.
BLADES. Then by what right, ma’am, does he interfere? Your elegant niece had consented to accompany me to the shrubbery — to look at the moon. And now Captain Brown forbids it. ‘Tis unendurable.
CHARLOTTE. But you may see the moon from here, sir.
BLADES (glancing at it contemptuously). I believe not, ma’am. (The moon still shines on.)
MISS SUSAN (primly). I am happy Captain Brown forbade her.
BLADES. Miss Susan, ‘twas but because he is to conduct her to the shrubbery himself.
(He flings out pettishly, and MISS SUSAN looks pityingly at the wallflowers.)
MISS SUSAN. My poor Charlotte! May I take you to some very agreeable ladies?
CHARLOTTE (tartly). No, you may not. I am going to the shrubbery to watch Miss Livvy.
MISS SUSAN. Please not to do that.
CHARLOTTE (implying that MISS SUSAN will be responsible for her early death). My chest is weak. I shall sit among the dew.
MISS SUSAN. Charlotte, you terrify me. At least, please to put this cloak about your shoulders. Nay, my dear, allow me.
(She puts a cloak around CHARLOTTE, who departs vindictively for the shrubbery. She will not find LIVVY there, however, for next moment MISS PHOEBE darts in from the back.)
PHOEBE (in a gay whisper). Susan, another offer [Transcriber’s note: officer?] — Major Linkwater — rotund man, black whiskers, fierce expression; he has rushed away to destroy himself.
(We have been unable to find any record of the Major’s tragic end.)
AN OLD SOLDIER (looking up from a card table, whence he has heard the raging of BLADES). Miss Livvy, ma’am, what is this about the moon?
(PHOEBE smiles roguishly.)
PHOEBE (looking about her). I want my cloak, Aunt Susan.
MISS SUSAN. I have just lent it to poor Charlotte Parratt.
PHOEBE. Oh, auntie!
OLD SOLDIER. And now Miss Livvy cannot go into the shrubbery to see the moon; and she is so fond of the moon!
(MISS PHOEBE screws her nose at him merrily, and darts back to the dance, but she has left a defender behind her.)
A GALLANT (whose name we have not succeeded in discovering). Am I to understand, s
ir, that you are intimating disparagement of the moon? If a certain female has been graciously pleased to signify approval of that orb, any slight cast upon the moon, sir, I shall regard as a personal affront.
OLD SOLDIER. Hoity-toity.
(But he rises, and they face each other, as MISS SUSAN feels, for battle. She is about to rush between their undrawn swords when there is a commotion outside; a crowd gathers and opens to allow some officers to assist a fainting woman into the tent. It is MISS PHOEBE, and MISS SUSAN with a cry goes on her knees beside her. The tent has filled with the sympathetic and inquisitive, but CAPTAIN BROWN, as a physician, takes command, and by his order they retire. He finds difficulty in bringing the sufferer to, and gets little help from MISS SUSAN, who can only call upon MISS PHOEBE by name.)
VALENTINE. Nay, Miss Susan, ‘tis useless calling for Miss Phoebe. ‘Tis my fault; I should not have permitted Miss Livvy to dance so immoderately. Why do they delay with the cordial?
(He goes to the back to close the opening, and while he is doing so the incomprehensible MISS PHOEBE seizes the opportunity to sit up on her couch of chairs, waggle her finger at MISS SUSAN, and sign darkly that she is about to make a genteel recovery.)
PHOEBE. Where am I? Is that you, Aunt Susan? What has happened?
VALENTINE (returning). Nay, you must recline, Miss Livvy. You fainted. You have over-fatigued yourself.
PHOEBE. I remember.
(BLADES enters with the cordial.)
VALENTINE. You will sip this cordial.
BLADES. By your leave, sir.
(He hands it to PHOEBE himself.)
VALENTINE. She is in restored looks already, Miss Susan.
PHOEBE. I am quite recovered. Perhaps if you were to leave me now with my excellent aunt ——
VALENTINE. Be off with you, apple cheeks.
BLADES. Sir, I will suffer no reference to my complexion; and, if I mistake not, this charming lady was addressing you.
PHOEBE. If you please, both of you. (They retire together, and no sooner have they gone than MISS PHOEBE leaps from the couch, her eyes sparkling. She presses the cordial on MISS SUSAN.) Nay, drink it, Susan. I left it for you on purpose. I have such awful information to impart. Drink. (MISS SUSAN drinks tremblingly and then the bolt is fired.) Susan, Miss Henrietta and Miss Fanny are here!
MISS SUSAN. Phoebe!
PHOEBE. Suddenly my eyes lighted on them. At once I slipped to the ground.
MISS SUSAN. You think they did not see you?
PHOEBE. I am sure of it. They talked for a moment to Ensign Blades, and then turned and seemed to be going towards the shrubbery.
MISS SUSAN. He had heard that you were there with Captain Brown. He must have told them.
PHOEBE. I was not. But oh, sister, I am sure they suspect, else why should they be here? They never frequent balls.
MISS SUSAN. They have suspected for a week, ever since they saw you in your veil, Phoebe, on the night of the first dance. How could they but suspect, when they have visited us every day since then and we have always pretended that Livvy was gone out.
PHOEBE. Should they see my face it will be idle to attempt to deceive them.
MISS SUSAN. Idle indeed; Phoebe, the scandal! You — a schoolmistress!
PHOEBE. That is it, sister. A little happiness has gone to my head like strong waters.
(She is very restless and troubled.)
MISS SUSAN. My dear, stand still, and think.
PHOEBE. I dare not, I cannot. Oh, Susan, if they see me we need not open school again.
MISS SUSAN. We shall starve.
PHOEBE (passionately). This horrid, forward, flirting, heartless, hateful little toad of a Livvy.
MISS SUSAN. Brother James’s daughter, as we call her!
PHOEBE. ‘Tis all James’s fault.
MISS SUSAN. Sister, when you know that James has no daughter!
PHOEBE. If he had really had one, think you I could have been so wicked as to personate her? Susan, I know not what I am saying, but you know who it is that has turned me into this wild creature.
MISS SUSAN. Oh, Valentine Brown, how could you?
PHOEBE. To weary of Phoebe — patient, ladylike Phoebe — the Phoebe whom I have lost — to turn from her with a ‘Bah, you make me old,’ and become enamoured in a night of a thing like this!
MISS SUSAN. Yes, yes, indeed; yet he has been kind to us also. He has been to visit us several times.
PHOEBE. In the hope to see her. Was he not most silent and gloomy when we said she was gone out?
MISS SUSAN. He is infatuate —— (She hesitates.) Sister, you are not partial to him still?
PHOEBE. No, Susan, no. I did love him all those years, though I never spoke of it to you. I put hope aside at once, I folded it up and kissed it and put it away like a pretty garment I could never wear again, I but loved to think of him as a noble man. But he is not a noble man, and Livvy found it out in an hour. The gallant! I flirted that I might enjoy his fury. Susan, there has been a declaration in his eyes all tonight, and when he cries ‘Adorable Miss Livvy, be mine,’ I mean to answer with an ‘Oh, la, how ridiculous you are. You are much too old — I have been but quizzing you, sir.’
MISS SUSAN. Phoebe, how can you be so cruel?
PHOEBE. Because he has taken from me the one great glory that is in a woman’s life. Not a man’s love — she can do without that — but her own dear sweet love for him. He is unworthy of my love; that is why I can be so cruel.
MISS SUSAN. Oh, dear.
PHOEBE. And now my triumph is to be denied me, for we must steal away home before Henrietta and Fanny see us.
MISS SUSAN. Yes, yes.
PHOEBE (dispirited). And tomorrow we must say that Livvy has gone back to her father, for I dare keep up this deception no longer. Susan, let us go.
(They are going dejectedly, but are arrested by the apparition of MISS HENRIETTA and MISS FANNY peeping into the tent. PHOEBE has just time to signify to her sister that she will confess all and beg for mercy, when the intruders speak.)
Miss HENRIETTA (not triumphant but astounded). You, Miss Phoebe?
PHOEBE (with bowed head). Yes.
MISS FANNY. How amazing! You do not deny, ma’am, that you are Miss Phoebe?
PHOEBE (making confession). Yes, Fanny, I am Miss Phoebe.
(To her bewilderment HENRIETTA and FANNY exchange ashamed glances.)
MISS HENRIETTA. Miss Phoebe, we have done you a cruel wrong.
MISS FANNY. Phoebe, we apologise.
MISS HENRIETTA. To think how excitedly we have been following her about in the shrubbery.
MISS FANNY. She is wearing your cloak.
MISS HENRIETTA. Ensign Blades told us she was gone to the shrubbery.
MISS FANNY. And we were convinced there was no such person.
MISS HENRIETTA. So of course we thought it must be you.
MISS FANNY (who has looked out). I can discern her in the shrubbery still. She is decidedly taller than Phoebe.
MISS HENRIETTA. I thought she looked taller. I meant to say so. Phoebe, ‘twas the cloak deceived us. We could not see her face.
PHOEBE (beginning to understand). Cloak? You mean, Henrietta — you mean, Fanny —
MISS FANNY. ‘Twas wicked of us, my dear, but we — we thought that you and Miss Livvy were the same person. (They have evidently been stalking CHARLOTTE in MISS PHOEBE’S cloak. MISS SUSAN shudders, but MISS PHOEBE utters a cry of reproach, and it is some time before they can persuade her to forgive them. It is of course also some time before we can forgive MISS PHOEBE.) Phoebe, you look so pretty. Are they paying you no attentions, my dear?
(PHOEBE is unable to resist these delightful openings. The imploring looks MISS SUSAN gives her but add to her enjoyment. It is as if the sense of fun she had caged a moment ago were broke loose again.)
PHOEBE. Alas, they think of none but Livvy. They come to me merely to say that they adore her.
MISS HENRIETTA. Surely not Captain Brown?
PHOEBE. He is
infatuate about her.
MISS FANNY. Poor Phoebe!
(They make much of her, and she purrs naughtily to their stroking, with lightning peeps at MISS SUSAN. Affronted Providence seeks to pay her out by sending ENSIGN BLADES into the tent. Then the close observer may see MISS PHOEBE’S heart sink like a bucket in a well. MISS SUSAN steals from the tent.)
