Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)
Page 325
Fouldes.
She’s a very clever woman.
Mereston.
I’ve implored her to let me lend her the money, and she absolutely refuses. You see, she’s kept nothing from me at all.
Lady Mereston.
My dear Charlie, it’s a very old dodge to confess what doesn’t matter in order to conceal what does.
Mereston.
What do you mean, mother?
Lady Mereston.
Lady Frederick has told you nothing of the Bellingham affair?
Mereston.
Why should she?
Lady Mereston.
It is surely expedient you should know that the woman you have some idea of marrying escaped the divorce court only by the skin of her teeth.
Mereston.
I don’t believe that, mother.
Fouldes.
Remember that you’re talking to your respected parent, my boy.
Mereston.
I’m sorry that my mother should utter base and contemptible libels on — my greatest friend.
Lady Mereston.
You may be quite sure that I say nothing which I can’t prove.
Mereston.
I won’t listen to anything against Lady Frederick.
Lady Mereston.
But you must.
Mereston.
Are you quite indifferent to the great pain you cause me?
Lady Mereston.
I can’t allow you to marry a woman who’s hopelessly immoral.
Mereston.
Mother, how dare you say that?
Fouldes.
This isn’t the sort of thing I much like, but hadn’t you better hear the worst at once?
Mereston.
Very well. But if my mother insists on saying things, she must say them in Lady Frederick’s presence.
Lady Mereston.
That I’m quite willing to do.
Mereston.
Good.
[He rings the bell. A servant enters.
Fouldes.
You’d better take care, Maudie. Lady Frederick’s a dangerous woman to play the fool with.
Mereston.
[To the servant.] Go to Lady Frederick Berolles and say Lord Mereston is extremely sorry to trouble her ladyship, but would be very much obliged if she’d come to the drawing-room for two minutes.
Servant.
Very well, my lord.
[Exit.
Fouldes.
What are you going to do, Maud?
Lady Mereston.
I knew there was a letter in existence in Lady Frederick’s handwriting which proved all I’ve said about her. I’ve moved heaven and earth to get hold of it, and it came this morning.
Fouldes.
Don’t be such a fool. You’re not going to use that?
Lady Mereston.
I am indeed.
Fouldes.
Your blood be upon your own head. Unless I’m vastly mistaken you’ll suffer the greatest humiliation that you can imagine.
Lady Mereston.
That’s absurd. I have nothing to fear.
Lady Frederick. comes in.
Mereston.
I’m so sorry to disturb you. I hope you don’t mind?
Lady Frederick.
Not at all. I knew you wouldn’t have sent for me in that fashion without good cause.
Mereston.
I’m afraid you’ll think me dreadfully impertinent.
Lady Mereston.
Really you need not apologise so much, Charlie.
Mereston.
My mother has something to say against you, and I think it right that she should say it in your presence.
Lady Frederick.
That’s very nice of you, Charlie — though I confess I prefer people to say horrid things of me only behind my back. Especially if they’re true.
Fouldes.
Look here, I think all this is rather nonsense. We’ve most of us got something in our past history that we don’t want raked up, and we’d all better let bygones be bygones.
Lady Frederick.
I’m waiting, Lady Mereston.
Lady Mereston.
It’s merely that I thought my son should know that Lady Frederick had been the mistress of Roger Bellingham. [Lady Frederick turns quickly and looks at her; then bursts into a peal of laughter. Lady Mereston springs up angrily and hands her a letter.] Is this in your handwriting?
Lady Frederick.
[Not at all disconcerted.] Dear me, how did you get hold of this?
Lady Mereston.
You see that I have ample proof, Lady Frederick.
Lady Frederick.
[Handing the letter to Mereston.] Would you like to read it? You know my writing well enough to be able to answer Lady Mereston’s question.
[He reads it through and looks at her in dismay.
Mereston.
Good God!... What does it mean?
Lady Frederick.
Pray read it aloud.
Mereston.
I can’t.
Lady Frederick.
Then give it to me. [She takes it from him.] It’s addressed to my brother-in-law, Peter Berolles. The Kate to whom it refers was his wife. [Reads.] Dear Peter: I’m sorry you should have had a row with Kate about Roger Bellingham. You are quite wrong in all you thought. There is absolutely nothing between them. I don’t know where Kate was on Tuesday night, but certainly she was not within a hundred miles of Roger. This I know because....
Mereston.
[Interrupting.] For God’s sake don’t go on.
[Lady Frederick looks at him and shrugs her
shoulders.
Lady Frederick.
It’s signed Elizabeth Berolles. And there’s a postscript: You may make what use of this letter you like.
Mereston.
What does it mean? What does it mean?
Lady Mereston.
Surely it’s very clear? You can’t want a more explicit confession of guilt.
Lady Frederick.
I tried to make it as explicit as possible.
Lady Mereston.
Won’t you say something? I’m sure there must be some explanation.
Lady Frederick.
I don’t know how you got hold of this letter, Lady Mereston. I agree with you, it is compromising. But Kate and Peter are dead now, and there’s nothing to prevent me from telling the truth.
[Paradine Fouldes takes a step forward and
watches her.
Lady Frederick.
My sister-in-law was a meek and mild little person, as demure as you can imagine, and no one would have suspected her for a moment of kicking over the traces. Well, one morning she came to me in floods of tears and confessed that she and Roger Bellingham [with a shrug] had been foolish. Her husband suspected that something was wrong and had kicked up a row.
Fouldes.
[Drily.] There are men who will make a scene on the smallest provocation.
Lady Frederick.
To shield herself she told the first lie that came into her head. She said to Peter that Roger Bellingham was my lover — and she threw herself on my mercy. She was a poor, weak little creature, and if there’d been a scandal she’d have gone to the dogs altogether. It had only been a momentary infatuation for Roger, and the scare had cured her. At the bottom of her heart she loved her husband still. I was desperately unhappy, and I didn’t care much what became of me. She promised to turn over a new leaf and all that sort of thing. I thought I’d better give her another chance of going straight. I did what she wanted. I wrote that letter taking all the blame on myself, and Kate lived happily with her husband till she died.
Mereston.
It was just like you.
Lady Mereston.
But Lord and Lady Peter are dead?
Lady Frederick.
Yes.
Lady Mereston.
And Roger Bellingham?
Lady Frederick.
&
nbsp; He’s dead too.
Lady Mereston.
Then how can you prove your account of this affair?
Lady Frederick.
I can’t.
Lady Mereston.
And does this convince you, Charlie?
Mereston.
Of course.
Lady Mereston.
[Impatiently.] Good heavens, the boy’s out of his senses. Paradine, for Heaven’s sake say something.
Fouldes.
Well, much as it may displease you, my dear, I’m afraid I agree with Charlie.
Lady Mereston.
You don’t mean to say you believe this cock-and-bull story?
Fouldes.
I do.
Lady Mereston.
Why?
Fouldes.
Well, you see, Lady Frederick’s a very clever woman. She would never have invented such an utterly improbable tale, which can’t possibly be proved. If she’d been guilty, she’d have had ready at least a dozen proofs of her innocence.
Lady Mereston.
But that’s absurd.
Fouldes.
Besides, I’ve known Lady Frederick a long time, and she has at least a thousand faults.
Lady Frederick.
[With flashing eyes.] Thanks.
Fouldes.
But there’s something I will say for her. She’s not a liar. If she tells me a thing, I don’t hesitate for a moment to believe it.
Lady Frederick.
It’s not a matter of the smallest importance if any of you believe me or not. Be so good as to ring, Charlie.
Mereston.
Certainly.
[He rings, and a Servant immediately comes in.
Lady Frederick.
Tell my servant that he’s to come here at once and bring the despatch-box which is in my dressing-room.
Servant.
Yes, miladi.
[Exit.
Fouldes.
[Quickly.] I say, what are you going to do?
Lady Frederick.
That is absolutely no business of yours.
Fouldes.
Be a brick, Betsy, and don’t give her those letters.
Lady Frederick.
I think I’ve had enough of this business. I’m proposing to finish with it.
Fouldes.
Temper, temper.
Lady Frederick.
[Stamping her foot.] Don’t say temper to me, Paradine.
[She walks up and down angrily. Paradine
sits at the piano and with one finger strums
“Rule Britannia.”
Mereston.
Shut up.
[He takes a book, flings it at his head and
misses.
Fouldes.
Good shot, sir.
Lady Frederick.
I often wonder how you got your reputation for wit, Paradine.
Fouldes.
By making a point of laughing heartily at other people’s jokes.
[The Footman enters with the despatch-box,
which Lady Frederick opens. She takes
a bundle of letters from it.
Fouldes.
Betsy, Betsy, for heaven’s sake don’t! Have mercy.
Lady Frederick.
Was mercy shown to me? Albert!
Footman.
Yes, miladi.
Lady Frederick.
You’ll go to the proprietor of the hotel and tell him that I propose to leave Monte Carlo to-morrow.
Mereston.
[Aghast.] Are you going?
Footman.
Very well, my lady.
Lady Frederick.
Have you a good memory for faces?
Footman.
Yes, my lady.
Lady Frederick.
You’re not likely to forget Lord Mereston?
Footman.
No, my lady.
Lady Frederick.
Then please take note that if his lordship calls upon me in London I’m not at home.
Mereston.
Lady Frederick!
Lady Frederick.
[To Footman.] Go.
[Exit Footman.
Mereston.
What d’you mean? What have I done?
[Without answering Lady Frederick takes
the letters. Paradine is watching her
anxiously. She goes up to the stove and
throws them in one by one.
Lady Mereston.
What on earth is she doing?
Lady Frederick.
I have some letters here which would ruin the happiness of a very worthless woman I know. I’m burning them so that I may never have the temptation to use them.
Fouldes.
I never saw anything so melodramatic.
Lady Frederick.
Hold your tongue, Paradine. [Turning to Mereston.] My dear Charlie, I came to Monte Carlo to be amused. Your mother has persecuted me incessantly. Your uncle — is too well-bred to talk to his servants as he has talked to me. I’ve been pestered in one way and another, and insulted till my blood boiled, because apparently they’re afraid you may want to marry me. I’m sick and tired of it. I’m not used to treatment of this sort; my patience is quite exhausted. And since you are the cause of the whole thing I have an obvious remedy. I would much rather not have anything more to do with you. If we meet one another in the street you need not trouble to look my way because I shall cut you dead.
Lady Mereston.
[In an undertone.] Thank God for that.
Mereston.
Mother, mother. [To Lady Frederick.] I’m awfully sorry. I feel that you have a right to be angry. For all that you’ve suffered I beg your pardon most humbly. My mother has said and done things which I regret to say are quite unjustifiable.
Lady Mereston.
Charlie!
Mereston.
On her behalf and on mine I apologise with all my heart.
Lady Frederick.
[Smiling.] Don’t take it too seriously. It really doesn’t matter. But I think it’s far wiser that we shouldn’t see one another again.
Mereston.
But I can’t live without you.
Lady Mereston.
[With a gasp.] Ah!
Mereston.
Don’t you know that my whole happiness is wrapped up in you? I love you with all my heart and soul. I can never love any one but you.
Fouldes.
[To Lady Mereston.] Now you’ve done it. You’ve done it very neatly.
Mereston.
Don’t think me a presumptuous fool. I’ve been wanting to say this ever since I knew you, but I haven’t dared. You’re brilliant and charming and fascinating, but I have nothing whatever to offer you.
Lady Frederick.
[Gently.] My dear Charlie.
Mereston.
But if you can overlook my faults, I daresay you could make something of me. Won’t you marry me? I should look upon it as a great honour, and I would love you always to the end of my life. I’d try to be worthy of my great happiness and you.
Lady Frederick.
You’re very much too modest, Charlie. I’m enormously flattered and grateful. You must give me time to think it over.
Lady Mereston.
Time?
Mereston.
But I can’t wait. Don’t you see how I love you? You’ll never meet any one who’ll care for you as I do.
Lady Frederick.
I think you can wait a little. Come and see me to-morrow morning at ten, and I’ll give you an answer.
Mereston.
Very well, if I must.
Lady Frederick.
[Smiling.] I’m afraid so.
Fouldes.
[To Lady Frederick.] I wonder what the deuce your little game is now.
[She smiles triumphantly and gives him a deep,
ironical curtsey.
Lady Frederick.
Sir, your much obliged and very obedient, humble servant.
THIRD ACT
Scene: Lady Frederick’s dressing-room. At the back is a large opening, curtained, which leads to the bedroom; on the right a door leading to the passage; on the left a window. In front of the window, of which the blind is drawn, is a dressing-table. Lady Frederick’s maid is in the room, a very neat pretty Frenchwoman. She speaks with a slight accent. She rings the bell, and the Footman enters.
Maid.
As soon as Lord Mereston arrives he is to be shown in.
Footman.
[Surprised.] Here?
Maid.
Where else?
[The Footman winks significantly. The Maid
draws herself up with dignity, and with a
dramatic gesture points to the door.
Maid.
Depart.
[The Footman goes out.
Lady Frederick.
[From the bedroom.] Have you drawn the blind, Angélique?
Maid.
I will do so, miladi. [She draws the blind, and the light falls brightly on the dressing-table.] But miladi will never be able to stand it. [She looks at herself in the glass.] Oh, the light of the sun in the morning! I cannot look at myself.
Lady Frederick.
[As before.] There’s no reason that you should — especially in my glass.
Maid.
But if ’is lordship is coming, miladi must let me draw the blind. Oh, it is impossible.
Lady Frederick.
Do as you’re told and don’t interfere.
[The Footman enters to announce Mereston.
The Maid goes out.
Footman.
Lord Mereston.
Lady Frederick.
[As before.] Is that you, Charlie? You’re very punctual.
Mereston.
I’ve been walking about outside till the clock struck.
Lady Frederick.
I’m not nearly dressed, you know. I’ve only just had my bath.
Mereston.
Must I go?
Lady Frederick.
No, of course not. You can talk to me while I’m finishing.
Mereston.
All right. How are you this morning?
Lady Frederick.
I don’t know. I haven’t looked at myself in the glass yet. How are you?
Mereston.
A 1, thanks.
Lady Frederick.
Are you looking nice?
Mereston.
[Going to the glass.] I hope so. By Jove, what a strong light. You must be pretty sure of your complexion to be able to stand that.
Lady Frederick.
[Appearing.] I am.
Mereston.
[Going forward eagerly.] Ah.
[She comes through the curtains. She wears a
kimono, her hair is all dishevelled, hanging