Scene Six
The bedroom. The beds and floor are littered with Mary Wollstonecraft’s books. MARY enters. She is distressed and angry and frightened – overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. She collapses to her knees.
She takes up one of the books and clutches it to her heart.
JANE enters, cautiously.
JANE. That was so cruel. I’m so sorry.
MARY turns away from her touch.
MARY. Don’t. Please.
JANE takes a scrap of paper from her pocket, and gives it to MARY.
JANE. Here. It’s from him.
MARY. You saw him?
JANE. He sent someone into the shop. I went to meet him. He is desperate. Quite desperate.
MARY reads the note.
He wants you to go away with him, doesn’t he? To elope.
MARY. Yes.
JANE. Mary, if you want to go, I will come with you. He thinks I should. I could be so useful to you. I can speak French. Think what a help that would be. And I cannot stay here. Mama is already treating me like a prisoner. Imagine what it will be like after you’ve gone.
MARY. She has his child. She loves him.
JANE. But he does not love her. She isn’t right for him. It was a mistake.
MARY. Would you please leave me, Jane?
JANE. Oh, my poor Mary. You will answer him, won’t you? He’s waiting for your answer. I will find a way to take it to him.
MARY. Thank you.
JANE starts to go, then pauses.
JANE. There is no life but loving.
JANE leaves.
In her mind, MARY sees HARRIET struggling in the river, just as her mother did. HARRIET is trying to hold the baby’s head above the water, even as she forces her own head under.
MARY can bear it no longer. She closes her eyes and covers her ears, and buries her face.
Scene Seven
Night. The bedroom. MARY and JANE are asleep. Raised voices can be heard downstairs, and a little screech of alarm. MARY awakens and sits up. She listens.
MARY. Jane. Jane. Wake up.
JANE wakes up, slowly.
I think he’s here.
JANE. Shelley?
MARY. I heard his voice. It’s him. I know it is.
MARY is on her feet. MRS GODWIN enters. She is in her dressing gown.
MRS GODWIN. Back into bed.
MARY. Is it Shelley? What’s happening?
MRS GODWIN. Yes, it is Shelley. And I never saw a man in such a state. He’s taken something – that’s obvious.
JANE. What do you mean?
MRS GODWIN. Laudanum or something of the sort.
JANE. Oh, no!
MARY. I want to see him.
MRS GODWIN. His eyes are as wide as saucers. Mr Godwin is going to walk him about the streets. And try to talk some sense into him. Your poor father. At this time of night.
MARY. I can walk him round the streets. Papa doesn’t have to.
MRS GODWIN. And this is the sort of man you want to throw away your life for? None of them are worth it. Let me tell you. For all their promises and their grand gestures. They’re weak. Weak inside. And they leave us to pay the price for it.
MARY. You don’t know him at all!
Downstairs, a door is heard closing. MARY rushes to the window and starts to open it. MRS GODWIN rushes forward and pushes her aside, roughly and desperately.
JANE. Mary!
MRS GODWIN (distressed). Now look what you’ve done. Please. Just settle down. This place has become a madhouse, and I shan’t have it.
She leaves. MARY is trembling.
JANE. Do you think he’ll be all right?
It’s frightening. Laudanum.
MARY. Find me a pen, will you?
JANE. A pen?
JANE finds one, and MARY takes up a piece of paper. MARY takes the pen, and begins to write.
Is it your answer?
MARY. Yes.
Scene Eight
Early morning. Two days later. GODWIN’s study. GODWIN enters and opens the curtains. He goes to his desk, preparing to start work. He notices a note on the top of some books. He looks at it for a moment, before picking it up and reading it.
MRS GODWIN rushes in.
MRS GODWIN. Where are the girls? They’re not in their…
GODWIN. They’ve gone.
With him.
MRS GODWIN. Gone?
GODWIN. To France, I assume. Apparently they will write as soon as they arrive at their destination.
MRS GODWIN. But… But not Jane? Why? Why would she…? Oh, no. Oh, no. Jane.
GODWIN. Who would have thought they could be so quiet?
MRS GODWIN. We must get the first coach to Dover. They can’t have been gone very long. We shall have to close the shop. Well, it can’t be helped. If we stop them quickly, no one…
GODWIN. I will not go after them.
MRS GODWIN. Yes you will. Of course you will.
GODWIN. I will not. She gave me her word.
MRS GODWIN. Then I will!
She rushes out. GODWIN is white-faced with anger and shock. He reads the note again, then crumples it in his hand.
In another part of the stage, we see FANNY, in Wales, opening GODWIN’s letter containing the news about MARY and SHELLEY. She feels as though she has been dealt a physical blow.
FANNY. Oh, no. Mary. Mary.
It grows dark. In a boat, on the Channel, MARY, SHELLEY and JANE are being rowed across to France. It is cold, and the water beneath them is black and churning. MARY is lying with her head against SHELLEY’s chest. She is thinking of her father and of FANNY. But a kiss from SHELLEY is enough to recall her to the relief and pleasure of being with him.
The boat moves on, over the water.
End of Act Two.
ACT THREE
Scene One
MARY is dreaming. In her dream, it is night. She is on a mountain top. The wind is howling. Thunder crashes overhead. Ahead of her is a figure dressed in black. She clambers towards it, stumbling. She calls out in desperation.
MARY. Father!
The figure turns and stares at her with hostility. It is GODWIN. Then he turns away from her and walks on.
Scene Two
Night. A lofty room, in a large dilapidated house in Switzerland. MARY is trying to open the shutters at the window, as quietly as she can. SHELLEY and JANE are sleeping on a bed. SHELLEY awakens and comes to her.
SHELLEY. Mary?
MARY. I woke up. I can’t get back to sleep.
SHELLEY. You’re not feeling unwell again?
MARY. No. I didn’t mean to disturb you.
He puts his arms around her and kisses her.
I was hoping a little light might come in, but there isn’t any moon tonight. I was going to write in the journal.
SHELLEY. Good idea.
MARY. That’s the last of the candle.
SHELLEY. I know.
MARY. We’ll have to get some more tomorrow.
SHELLEY. Yes.
MARY. Where will we get them from?
SHELLEY. I don’t know. We’ll have to walk down to the village and knock on people’s doors. What’s the French for candle?
MARY. They won’t even open their doors. It’s as though they’re afraid of us.
Shelley, I don’t like this house. I know the mountains are wonderful – and the skies, and the air. But there’s something melancholy about this place.
SHELLEY. Something hostile.
MARY. Yes. I wish we hadn’t taken it. Six months. Right through the winter.
SHELLEY. I tried to light the stove after you came up to bed. It doesn’t work.
MARY. What?
SHELLEY. No wonder the owners were smiling when they handed over the keys.
MARY. Do we have any money left? Please tell me – I’d rather know.
SHELLEY. Not much. About twenty pounds. Just enough to get home with.
MARY. Is that what you want to do?
SHELLEY. I don’t
know what else we can do. My watch was the last valuable thing I had. No one’s going to send us any money from England. I’ve left a trail of debts.
MARY. I dreamt about my father again just now.
SHELLEY. What did you dream?
MARY. Do you remember that desolate village we passed through – the one where the Cossacks had been through and taken everything?
SHELLEY. Yes.
MARY. I dreamt I was there. Alone – I mean, without you and Jane. It was night. I saw a figure emerging from between two of the houses. Moving silently. Dressed in black. And I followed him, and when I got closer, I could see that it was my father. He moved through the village, up towards the hills. I could hardly keep up, he was moving so fast. And I knew that he was making for the tower that we saw – the dark tower on the headland.
SHELLEY. Yes. I remember it.
MARY. And I wanted to stop him before he got there. I had to. And I called out to him, but the wind blew the words back into my mouth. Then he stopped suddenly, and he looked round at me. And his look was so cold. So forbidding. And he turned away. And then I woke up.
SHELLEY. You have to write that down.
MARY. When I think of him, I have this feeling of dismay, deep inside. I’ve disappointed him.
SHELLEY. He was shocked, that’s all. He’ll come to see the situation more reasonably. He probably already has. It must be hard, I know. You’ve been close to him.
MARY. Yes.
SHELLEY. My parents were always so distant from me. But I’m glad, in a way. Those family ties; they’re not entirely useful. They can stop us from pursuing what’s really important. Would your father – or your mother – ever have written anything if they’d stayed in their villages? Stayed with their families?
MARY. Probably not.
SHELLEY. We cannot put the needs of our loved ones before the greater good. We cannot be ruled by sentimentality.
MARY. Political Justice.
SHELLEY. Yes. It’s pure Political Justice. We’ll re-read those chapters tomorrow. It will help.
MARY. Thank you.
I see Jane’s with us again.
SHELLEY. She heard rats in her room. I couldn’t turn her away.
You don’t mind, do you?
MARY. I suppose I wouldn’t want to sleep alone in this house.
Let’s write in the journal.
SHELLEY. Yes.
MARY places the journal next to the candle and takes up a pen.
MARY. I’ll write something, and then you can write.
SHELLEY. One day people will read this journal, and they’ll know that we were really living.
Scene Three
The parlour. Skinner Street. GODWIN is sorting through a pile of books. MRS GODWIN is working on an inventory. FANNY enters carrying a small parcel of books.
FANNY. I’ve found a few more copies of Lessons for Children.
GODWIN. Ah. Where were they?
FANNY. In the spare room. Under some blankets. There are… five.
GODWIN. Very good. Add them to the inventory, Mrs Godwin.
MRS GODWIN. A fat lot of difference that will make.
FANNY. When is the valuer coming about the copyrights, Papa?
GODWIN. Tomorrow, I hope. If he can fit us in.
FANNY. Did he give any indication of what they might be worth?
GODWIN. No. But he’s a good man. Thorough. He’ll make sure we don’t undersell ourselves.
MRS GODWIN. Undersell ourselves to whom? Mr Nobody? Nobody is going to buy this business. Nobody would be mad enough.
GODWIN. I disagree.
MRS GODWIN. And we certainly won’t find a buyer in time.
GODWIN. It’s a promising concern for anyone with some capital to invest.
MRS GODWIN. It’s a disaster. It has been from the very start. When I think of the hours I’ve spent, running to and fro to the printers, standing behind that counter in the draughts, writing into the small hours. And where has it got us?
FANNY. It hasn’t been a complete disaster, Mama. We’ve just been a little unlucky with investment and…
MRS GODWIN. Oh, you don’t know anything about it. Don’t pretend you do. I feel sick.
FANNY. Please don’t upset yourself.
MRS GODWIN. I really think I’m going to be sick.
GODWIN. Then please do it quietly. These figures won’t add themselves.
MRS GODWIN. And Charles won’t even come home to help. I am abandoned by my own son.
There is a knock on the door of the shop downstairs. They all stop dead.
Oh, my good Lord.
FANNY. Are we expecting anyone?
MRS GODWIN. What if it’s the bailiffs?
GODWIN. How could it possibly be? We haven’t yet heard from the court.
The banging comes again. FANNY goes to the window and looks out, cautiously.
MRS GODWIN. Don’t be seen, you silly girl!
FANNY. Shall I go down, Papa?
GODWIN. Yes. But check who it is before you open the door.
FANNY. I will.
She leaves.
MRS GODWIN. What if it’s the bailiffs?
GODWIN. Try to control yourself, my dear. I’m quite sure it won’t be.
MRS GODWIN. I can’t go to prison, Mr Godwin.
GODWIN. I know. I doubt very much that it will come to that.
MRS GODWIN. Would it help if I went to see this monstrous man who wants to ruin us?
GODWIN. I don’t think that would help.
MRS GODWIN. I can be very charming when I need to be.
GODWIN. It’s not personal. He has no wish to see us destitute. He simply wants his money. And he no longer cares how he gets it. If we should find ourselves in prison…
MRS GODWIN. Oh, don’t…
GODWIN.…my friends and my supporters will rally round, I’m sure, and…
MRS GODWIN. And what can they do? None of them has the sort of money we need. A bunch of useless old wastrels.
FANNY enters. She has a note in her hand.
FANNY. It’s a letter. I think it’s from him.
MRS GODWIN. From the creditor?
FANNY. No. I think it’s from Shelley. It’s his handwriting.
She hands the letter to GODWIN, who opens it.
MRS GODWIN. Shelley? What does it say?
GODWIN. Hardly a letter. He thinks this a fit way to communicate.
MRS GODWIN. What does he say? Where was it posted?
GODWIN. They’re back.
FANNY. Back? In England?
GODWIN. Yes.
MRS GODWIN. Oh, thank God.
FANNY. Are they safe? Well?
GODWIN. It would seem so. They’ve taken lodgings.
MRS GODWIN. You mean, they’re not coming here?
FANNY. Whereabouts?
GODWIN. St Marylebone.
MRS GODWIN. That’s miles away!
FANNY. It’s not so far.
MRS GODWIN (to GODWIN). You said they would come back here. You said they would come back with their tails between their legs.
GODWIN does not reply.
Well. I suppose I had better get dressed, if I’m going all the way to Marylebone.
GODWIN. Nobody will be going to see them.
MRS GODWIN. But…
GODWIN. Nor will they be admitted to this house. Not unless they apologise and ask to return on a permanent basis.
MRS GODWIN. But I want to see Jane. I haven’t seen her for months. I can only imagine what a state she’s in. What if he is keeping her against her will?
GODWIN. I think Jane made it clear to you in Dover that it is very much her will to remain with Mr Shelley. I will not have you humiliating yourself by going after her again.
MRS GODWIN. But she might have changed her mind.
GODWIN. This says she has not.
Pause.
FANNY. I could go. I could take them any message you wish to send.
GODWIN. No one shall go. Now let us get on with our task. We have m
ore important matters to deal with.
Scene Four
Day. Outside a tavern. A noisy street. FANNY is waiting. SHELLEY arrives and rushes to her.
SHELLEY. Fanny! I wasn’t sure that you would come.
Hello.
FANNY. Hello.
SHELLEY. You found it all right. Hardly the most salubrious place to meet.
FANNY. I can’t stay long. If he knew where I was…
SHELLEY. How could he know? Unless he’s taken to following you? Has he?
FANNY. No. But it took me an hour to walk here. He’ll be wondering where I’ve gone. And if he asks me… you know I can’t lie to him.
SHELLEY. It’s his fault we have to meet like this. You know we came to the shop two days ago? We stood on the street for almost half an hour.
FANNY. Yes.
SHELLEY. Were you in?
FANNY. We were all in.
How’s Mary? How’s Jane?
SHELLEY. They’re well. Thriving. Mary’s pregnant.
FANNY. Oh.
SHELLEY. It took us an age to realise it. But it’s quite obvious now.
FANNY. I see.
SHELLEY. We’re overjoyed. Although I don’t know quite how we will manage. Things are rather difficult – financially. In fact I’ve been running around all morning trying to find a friend who can lend me enough for the rent. The landlady is getting belligerent.
FANNY. I’m sorry. It’s dreadful – being in debt. Crushing.
SHELLEY. Are things bad at Skinner Street?
FANNY. They’ve never been worse.
SHELLEY looks down in shame.
It’s not your fault.
SHELLEY. I wish I could have given him more, but…
FANNY. It’s not your fault.
Will you tell Jane that I’m sure her mother would see her, if she came to the house alone. If she waited until my father went out.
SHELLEY. Yes.
FANNY. Mama is quite unwell. She’s desperate to see Jane.
SHELLEY. I’ll tell her. Will you tell Godwin about the baby for us?
FANNY. I can’t. He has forbidden me from having any contact with you. He checks the post.
SHELLEY. Of course.
FANNY. Write to him.
SHELLEY. You think we should? We didn’t want to put it in a letter.
FANNY. You must. It might make a difference. I hope it will.
Pause.
SHELLEY. This is how it’s to be then, Fanny. Two camps. Enemy lines. And you’re the only one who can cross them. If anyone can bring us all together again, it’s you.
Mary Shelley Page 6