Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)

by William Somerset Maugham

  Footman. Yes, sir.

  Arnold. [Dismissing him.] All right.

  [The Footman goes out. He goes again to the window and calls.

  Arnold. Elizabeth! [He sees Mrs. Shenstone.] Oh, Anna, do you know where Elizabeth is?

  [Mrs. Shenstone comes in from the garden. She is a woman of forty, pleasant and of elegant appearance.

  Anna. Isn’t she playing tennis?

  Arnold. No, I’ve been down to the tennis court. Something very tiresome has happened.

  Anna. Oh?

  Arnold. I wonder where the deuce she is.

  Anna. When do you expect Lord Porteous and Lady Kitty?

  Arnold. They’re motoring down in time for luncheon.

  Anna. Are you sure you want me to be here? It’s not too late yet, you know. I can have my things packed and catch a train for somewhere or other.

  Arnold. No, of course we want you. It’ll make it so much easier if there are people here. It was exceedingly kind of you to come.

  Anna. Oh, nonsense!

  Arnold. And I think it was a good thing to have Teddie Luton down.

  Anna. He is so breezy, isn’t he?

  Arnold. Yes, that’s his great asset. I don’t know that he’s very intelligent, but, you know, there are occasions when you want a bull in a china shop. I sent one of the servants to find Elizabeth.

  Anna. I daresay she’s putting on her shoes. She and Teddie were going to have a single.

  Arnold. It can’t take all this time to change one’s shoes.

  Anna. [With a smile.] One can’t change one’s shoes without powdering one’s nose, you know.

  [Elizabeth comes in. She is a very pretty creature in the early twenties. She wears a light summer frock.

  Arnold. My dear, I’ve been hunting for you everywhere. What have you been doing?

  Elizabeth. Nothing! I’ve been standing on my head.

  Arnold. My father’s here.

  Elizabeth. [Startled.] Where?

  Arnold. At the cottage. He arrived last night.

  Elizabeth. Damn!

  Arnold. [Good-humouredly.] I wish you wouldn’t say that, Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth. If you’re not going to say “Damn” when a thing’s damnable, when are you going to say “Damn”?

  Arnold. I should have thought you could say, “Oh, bother!” or something like that.

  Elizabeth. But that wouldn’t express my sentiments. Besides, at that speech day when you were giving away the prizes you said there were no synonyms in the English language.

  Anna. [Smiling.] Oh, Elizabeth! it’s very unfair to expect a politician to live in private up to the statements he makes in public.

  Arnold. I’m always willing to stand by anything I’ve said. There are no synonyms in the English language.

  Elizabeth. In that case I shall be regretfully forced to continue to say “Damn” whenever I feel like it.

  [Edward Luton shows himself at the window. He is an attractive youth in flannels.

  Teddie. I say, what about this tennis?

  Elizabeth. Come in. We’re having a scene.

  Teddie. [Entering.] How splendid! What about?

  Elizabeth. The English language.

  Teddie. Don’t tell me you’ve been splitting your infinitives.

  Arnold. [With the shadow of a frown.] I wish you’d be serious, Elizabeth. The situation is none too pleasant.

  Anna. I think Teddie and I had better make ourselves scarce.

  Elizabeth. Nonsense! You’re both in it. If there’s going to be any unpleasantness we want your moral support. That’s why we asked you to come.

  Teddie. And I thought I’d been asked for my blue eyes.

  Elizabeth. Vain beast! And they happen to be brown.

  Teddie. Is anything up?

  Elizabeth. Arnold’s father arrived last night.

  Teddie. Did he, by Jove! I thought he was in Paris.

  Arnold. So did we all. He told me he’d be there for the next month.

  Anna. Have you seen him?

  Arnold. No! he rang me up. It’s a mercy he had a telephone put in the cottage. It would have been a pretty kettle of fish if he’d just walked in.

  Elizabeth. Did you tell him Lady Catherine was coming?

  Arnold. Of course not. I was flabbergasted to know he was here. And then I thought we’d better talk it over first.

  Elizabeth. Is he coming along here?

  Arnold. Yes. He suggested it, and I couldn’t think of any excuse to prevent him.

  Teddie. Couldn’t you put the other people off?

  Arnold. They’re coming by car. They may be here any minute. It’s too late to do that.

  Elizabeth. Besides, it would be beastly.

  Arnold. I knew it was silly to have them here. Elizabeth insisted.

  Elizabeth. After all, she is your mother, Arnold.

  Arnold. That meant precious little to her when she — went away. You can’t imagine it means very much to me now.

  Elizabeth. It’s thirty years ago. It seems so absurd to bear malice after all that time.

  Arnold. I don’t bear malice, but the fact remains that she did me the most irreparable harm. I can find no excuse for her.

  Elizabeth. Have you ever tried to?

  Arnold. My dear Elizabeth, it’s no good going over all that again. The facts are lamentably simple. She had a husband who adored her, a wonderful position, all the money she could want, and a child of five. And she ran away with a married man.

  Elizabeth. Lady Porteous is not a very attractive woman, Arnold. [To Anna.] Do you know her?

  Anna. [Smiling.] “Forbidding” is the word, I think.

  Arnold. If you’re going to make little jokes about it, I have nothing more to say.

  Anna. I’m sorry, Arnold.

  Elizabeth. Perhaps your mother couldn’t help herself — if she was in love?

  Arnold. And had no sense of honour, duty, or decency? Oh, yes, under those circumstances you can explain a great deal.

  Elizabeth. That’s not a very pretty way to speak of your mother.

  Arnold. I can’t look on her as my mother.

  Elizabeth. What you can’t get over is that she didn’t think of you. Some of us are more mother and some of us more woman. It gives me a little thrill when I think that she loved that man so much. She sacrificed her name, her position, and her child to him.

  Arnold. You really can’t expect the said child to have any great affection for the mother who treated him like that.

  Elizabeth. No, I don’t think I do. But I think it’s a pity after all these years that you shouldn’t be friends.

  Arnold. I wonder if you realise what it was to grow up under the shadow of that horrible scandal. Everywhere, at school, and at Oxford, and afterwards in London, I was always the son of Lady Kitty Cheney. Oh, it was cruel, cruel!

  Elizabeth. Yes, I know, Arnold. It was beastly for you.

  Arnold. It would have been bad enough if it had been an ordinary case, but the position of the people made it ten times worse. My father was in the House then, and Porteous — he hadn’t succeeded to the title — was in the House too; he was Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs, and he was very much in the public eye.

  Anna. My father always used to say he was the ablest man in the party. Every one was expecting him to be Prime Minister.

  Arnold. You can imagine what a boon it was to the British public. They hadn’t had such a treat for a generation. The most popular song of the day was about my mother. Did you ever hear it? “Naughty Lady Kitty. Thought it such a pity . . .”

  Elizabeth. [Interrupting.] Oh, Arnold, don’t!

  Arnold. And then they never let people forget them. If they’d lived quietly in Florence and not made a fuss the scandal would have died down. But those constant actions between Lord and Lady Porteous kept on reminding everyone.

  Teddie. What were they having actions about?

  Arnold. Of course my father divorced his wife, but Lady Porteous refused to divorce Porteous. H
e tried to force her by refusing to support her and turning her out of her house, and heaven knows what. They were constantly wrangling in the law courts.

  Anna. I think it was monstrous of Lady Porteous.

  Arnold. She knew he wanted to marry my mother, and she hated my mother. You can’t blame her.

  Anna. It must have been very difficult for them.

  Arnold. That’s why they’ve lived in Florence. Porteous has money. They found people there who were willing to accept the situation.

  Elizabeth. This is the first time they’ve ever come to England.

  Arnold. My father will have to be told, Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth. Yes.

  Anna. [To Elizabeth.] Has he ever spoken to you about Lady Kitty?

  Elizabeth. Never.

  Arnold. I don’t think her name has passed his lips since she ran away from this house thirty years ago.

  Teddie. Oh, they lived here?

  Arnold. Naturally. There was a house-party, and one evening neither Porteous nor my mother came down to dinner. The rest of them waited. They couldn’t make it out. My father sent up to my mother’s room, and a note was found on the pincushion.

  Elizabeth. [With a faint smile.] That’s what they did in the Dark Ages.

  Arnold. I think he took a dislike to this house from that horrible night. He never lived here again, and when I married he handed the place over to me. He just has a cottage now on the estate that he comes to when he feels inclined.

  Elizabeth. It’s been very nice for us.

  Arnold. I owe everything to my father. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for asking these people to come here.

  Elizabeth. I’m going to take all the blame on myself, Arnold.

  Arnold. [Irritably.] The situation was embarrassing enough anyhow. I don’t know how I ought to treat them.

  Elizabeth. Don’t you think that’ll settle itself when you see them?

  Arnold. After all, they’re my guests. I shall try and behave like a gentleman.

  Elizabeth. I wouldn’t. We haven’t got central heating.

  Arnold. [Taking no notice.] Will she expect me to kiss her?

  Elizabeth. [With a smile.] Surely.

  Arnold. It always makes me uncomfortable when people are effusive.

  Anna. But I can’t understand why you never saw her before.

  Arnold. I believe she tried to see me when I was little, but my father thought it better she shouldn’t.

  Anna. Yes, but when you were grown up?

  Arnold. She was always in Italy. I never went to Italy.

  Elizabeth. It seems to me so pathetic that if you saw one another in the street you wouldn’t recognise each other.

  Arnold. Is it my fault?

  Elizabeth. You’ve promised to be very gentle with her and very kind.

  Arnold. The mistake was asking Porteous to come too. It looks as though we condoned the whole thing. And how am I to treat him? Am I to shake him by the hand and slap him on the back? He absolutely ruined my father’s life.

  Elizabeth. [Smiling.] How much would you give for a nice motor accident that prevented them from coming?

  Arnold. I let you persuade me against my better judgment, and I’ve regretted it ever since.

  Elizabeth. [Good-humouredly.] I think it’s very lucky that Anna and Teddie are here. I don’t foresee a very successful party.

  Arnold. I’m going to do my best. I gave you my promise and I shall keep it. But I can’t answer for my father.

  Anna. Here is your father.

  [Mr. Champion-Cheney shows himself at one of the French windows.

  C.-C. May I come in through the window, or shall I have myself announced by a supercilious flunkey?

  Elizabeth. Come in. We’ve been expecting you.

  C.-C. Impatiently, I hope, my dear child.

  [Mr. Champion-Cheney is a tall man in the early sixties, spare, with a fine head of gray hair and an intelligent, somewhat ascetic face. He is very carefully dressed. He is a man who makes the most of himself. He bears his years jauntily. He kisses Elizabeth and then holds out his hand to Arnold.

  Elizabeth. We thought you’d be in Paris for another month.

  C.-C. How are you, Arnold? I always reserve to myself the privilege of changing my mind. It’s the only one elderly gentlemen share with pretty women.

  Elizabeth. You know Anna.

  C.-C. [Shaking hands with her.] Of course I do. How very nice to see you here! Are you staying long?

  Anna. As long as I’m welcome.

  Elizabeth. And this is Mr. Luton.

  C.-C. How do you do? Do you play bridge?

  Luton. I do.

  C.-C. Capital. Do you declare without top honours?

  Luton. Never.

  C.-C. Of such is the kingdom of heaven. I see that you are a good young man.

  Luton. But, like the good in general, I am poor.

  C.-C. Never mind; if your principles are right, you can play ten shillings a hundred without danger. I never play less, and I never play more.

  Arnold. And you — are you going to stay long, father?

  C.-C. To luncheon, if you’ll have me.

  [Arnold gives Elizabeth a harassed look.

  Elizabeth. That’ll be jolly.

  Arnold. I didn’t mean that. Of course you’re going to stay for luncheon. I meant, how long are you going to stay down here?

  C.-C. A week.

  [There is a moment’s pause. Everyone but Champion-Cheney is slightly embarrassed.

  Teddie. I think we’d better chuck our tennis.

  Elizabeth. Yes. I want my father-in-law to tell me what they’re wearing in Paris this week.

  Teddie. I’ll go and put the rackets away.

  [Teddie goes out.

  Arnold. It’s nearly one o’clock, Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth. I didn’t know it was so late.

  Anna. [To Arnold.] I wonder if I can persuade you to take a turn in the garden before luncheon.

  Arnold. [Jumping at the idea.] I’d love it.

  [Anna goes out of the window, and as he follows her he stops irresolutely.

  I want you to look at this chair I’ve just got. I think it’s rather good.

  C.-C. Charming.

  Arnold. About 1750, I should say. Good design, isn’t it? It hasn’t been restored or anything.

  C.-C. Very pretty.

  Arnold. I think it was a good buy, don’t you?

  C.-C. Oh, my dear boy! you know I’m entirely ignorant about these things.

  Arnold. It’s exactly my period . . . I shall see you at luncheon, then.

  [He follows Anna through the window.

  C.-C. Who is that young man?

  Elizabeth. Mr. Luton. He’s only just been demobilised. He’s the manager of a rubber estate in the F.M.S.

  C.-C. And what are the F.M.S. when they’re at home?

  Elizabeth. The Federated Malay States. He joined up at the beginning of the war. He’s just going back there.

  C.-C. And why have we been left alone in this very marked manner?

  Elizabeth. Have we? I didn’t notice it.

  C.-C. I suppose it’s difficult for the young to realise that one may be old without being a fool.

  Elizabeth. I never thought you that. Everyone knows you’re very intelligent.

  C.-C. They certainly ought to by now. I’ve told them often enough. Are you a little nervous?

  Elizabeth. Let me feel my pulse. [She puts her finger on her wrist.] It’s perfectly regular.

  C.-C. When I suggested staying to luncheon Arnold looked exactly like a dose of castor oil.

  Elizabeth. I wish you’d sit down.

  C.-C. Will it make it easier for you? [He takes a chair.] You have evidently something very disagreeable to say to me.

  Elizabeth. You won’t be cross with me?

  C.-C. How old are you?

  Elizabeth. Twenty-five.

  C.-C. I’m never cross with a woman under thirty.

  Elizabeth. Oh, then I’ve g
ot ten years.

  C.-C. Mathematics?

  Elizabeth. No. Paint.

  C.-C. Well?

  Elizabeth. [Reflectively.] I think it would be easier if I sat on your knees.

  C.-C. That is a pleasing taste of yours, but you must take care not to put on weight.

  [She sits down on his knees.

  Elizabeth. Am I boney?

  C.-C. On the contrary. . . . I’m listening.

  Elizabeth. Lady Catherine’s coming here.

  C.-C. Who’s Lady Catherine?

  Elizabeth. Your — Arnold’s mother.

  C.-C. Is she?

  [He withdraws himself a little and Elizabeth gets up.

  Elizabeth. You mustn’t blame Arnold. It’s my fault. I insisted. He was against it. I nagged him till he gave way. And then I wrote and asked her to come.

  C.-C. I didn’t know you knew her.

  Elizabeth. I don’t. But I heard she was in London. She’s staying at Claridge’s. It seemed so heartless not to take the smallest notice of her.

  C.-C. When is she coming?

  Elizabeth. We’re expecting her in time for luncheon.

  C.-C. As soon as that? I understand the embarrassment.

  Elizabeth. You see, we never expected you to be here. You said you’d be in Paris for another month.

  C.-C. My dear child, this is your house. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t ask whom you please to stay with you.

  Elizabeth. After all, whatever her faults, she’s Arnold’s mother. It seemed so unnatural that they should never see one another. My heart ached for that poor lonely woman.

  C.-C. I never heard that she was lonely, and she certainly isn’t poor.

  Elizabeth. And there’s something else. I couldn’t ask her by herself. It would have been so — so insulting. I asked Lord Porteous, too.

  C.-C. I see.

  Elizabeth. I daresay you’d rather not meet them.

  C.-C. I daresay they’d rather not meet me. I shall get a capital luncheon at the cottage. I’ve noticed you always get the best food if you come in unexpectedly and have the same as they’re having in the servants’ hall.

  Elizabeth. No one’s ever talked to me about Lady Kitty. It’s always been a subject that everyone has avoided. I’ve never even seen a photograph of her.

  C.-C. The house was full of them when she left. I think I told the butler to throw them in the dust-bin. She was very much photographed.