The Title by Arnold Bennett (free ebook reader TXT) 📖

Not that I am aware of. But I must give a month's notice--for certain personal reasons with which I need not trouble you. CULVER. Young woman, you know that you are absolutely indispensable to me. You know that without you I should practically cease to exist. I am quite open with you as to that--and as to everything. You are acquainted with the very depths of my character and the most horrible secrets of my life. I conceal nothing from you, and I demand that you conceal nothing from me. What are your reasons for giving me notice in this manner?

MISS STARKEY. My self respect would not allow me to remain with a gentleman who had refused a title. Oh, Mr. Culver, to be the private secretary to a baronet has been my life's dream. And--and--I have just had the offer of a place where a peerage is in prospect. Still, I wouldn't have, taken even that if you had not--if you had not--(controlling herself, coldly). Kindly accept my notice. I give it at once because I shall have no time to lose for the peerage.

CULVER. Miss Starkey, you drive me to the old, old conclusion--all women are alike.

MISS STARKEY. Then my leaving will cause you no inconvenience, because you'll easily get another girl exactly like me.

CULVER. You are a heartless creature. (In an ordinary voice.) Did we finish the first letter? This is the second one. (Dictates.) 'My dear Lord Woking'--

MISS STARKEY. But you've just given me that one.

CULVER (firmly.) 'My dear Lord Woking.' Go on the same as the first one down to 'I cannot adequately express to you my sense of the honour in contemplation.' 'Full stop. I need hardly say that, in spite of my feeling that I have done only too little to deserve it, I accept it with the greatest pleasure and the greatest gratitude. Believe me, etc.'

MISS STARKEY. But--

CULVER. Don't imagine that your giving me notice has affected me in the slightest degree. It has not. I told you I had two letters. I have not yet decided whether to accept or refuse the title. (Enter Mrs. Culver, back.) Go and copy both letters and bring them in to me in a quarter of an hour, whether I ring or not. That will give you plenty of time for post. Now--run! (Exit Miss Starkey, back. Culver rises, clears his throat, and obviously braces himself for a final effort of firmness. Mrs. Culver calmly rearranges some flowers in a vase.) Well, my dear, I was expecting you.

MRS. CULVER (very sweetly), Arthur, I was wrong.

CULVER (startled). Good God! (Mrs. Culver bends down to examine the upholstery of a chair. Culver gives a gesture, first of triumph, and then of apprehension.)

MRS. CULVER (looking straight at him). I say I was wrong.

CULVER (lightly, but uneasily). Oh no! Oh no!

MRS. CULVER. Of course I don't mean wrong in my arguments about the title. Not for a moment. I mean I was wrong not to sacrifice my own point of view. I'm only a woman, and it's the woman's place to submit. So I do submit. Naturally I shall always be a true wife to you, but--

CULVER. Now child, don't begin to talk like that. I don't mind reading novels, but I won't have raw lumps of them thrown at me.

MRS. CULVER (with a gentle smile), I must talk like this. I shall do everything I can to make you comfortable, and I hope nobody, and especially not the poor children, will notice any difference in our relations.

CULVER (advancing, with a sort of menace). But?

MRS. CULVER. But things can never be the same again.

CULVER. I knew the confounded phrase was coming. I knew it. I've read it scores of times. (Picking up the vase.) Hermione, if you continue in that strain, I will dash this vase into a thousand fragments.

MRS. CULVER (quietly taking the vase from him and putting it down). Arthur, I could have forgiven you everything. What do I care--really--about a title? (Falsely.) I only care for your happiness. But I can't forgive you for having laid a trap for me last night--and in front of the children and a stranger too.

CULVER. Laid a trap for you?

MRS. CULVER. You knew all about the title when you first came in last night and you deliberately led me on.

CULVER. Oh! That! Ah well! One does what one can. You've laid many a trap for me, my girl. You're still about ten up and two to play in the trap game.

MRS. CULVER. I've never laid a trap for you.

CULVER. Fibster! Come here. (Mrs. Culver hesitates.) Come hither--and be kissed. (She approaches submissively, and then, standing like a marble statue, allows herself to be kissed. Culver assumes the attitude of the triumphant magnanimous male.) There! That's all right.

MRS. CULVER (having moved away; still very sweetly and coldly). Can I do anything else for you before I go to bed?

CULVER (ignoring the question; grandly and tolerantly). Do you suppose, my marble statue, that after all I've said at the Club about the rascality of this Honours business, I could ever have appeared there as a New Year Baronet? The thing's unthinkable. Why, I should have had to resign and join another Club!

MRS. CULVER (calmly and severely). So that's it, is it? I might have known what was really at the bottom of it all. Your Club again! You have to choose between your wife and your Club, and of course it's your wife that must suffer. Naturally!

CULVER. Go on! You'll be saying next that I've committed bigamy with my Club.

MRS. CULVER (with youthful vivacity). I'm an old woman--

CULVER (flatteringly). Yes, look at you! Hag! When I fell in love with you your hair was still down. The marvel to me is that I ever let you put it up.

MRS. CULVER. I'm only an old woman now. You have had the best part of my life. You might have given me great pleasure with this title. But no! Your Club comes first. And what a child you are! As if there's one single member of your Club who wouldn't envy you your baronetcy! However, I've nothing more to say. (Moving towards the door, back.) Oh yes, I have. (Casually.) I've decided to go away to-morrow and stay with grandma for a long holiday. She needs me, and if I'm not to break down entirely I must have a change. I've told Hildegarde our--arrangements. The poor girl's terribly upset. Please don't disturb me in the morning. I shall take the noon train. Good-night.

CULVER. Hermione!

MRS. CULVER (returning a little from the direction of the door, submissively). Yes, Arthur.

CULVER. If you keep on playing the martyr much longer there will be bloodshed, and you'll know what martyrdom is.

MRS. CULVER (in a slightly relenting tone). Arthur, you were always conscientious. Your conscience is working.

CULVER. I have no conscience. Never had.

MRS. CULVER (persuasively, and with much charm). Yes you have, and it's urging you to give way to your sensible little wife. You know you're only bluffing.

CULVER. Indeed I'm not.

MRS. CULVER. Yes, you are. Mr. Tranto advised you to give way, and you think such a lot of his opinion.

CULVER. Who told you Tranto advised me to give way?

MRS. CULVER. He did.

CULVER. Damn him!

MRS. CULVER (soothingly). Yes, yes.

CULVER. No, no!

MRS. CULVER. And your dear, indispensable Miss Starkey thinks the same. (She tries to kiss him.) CULVER. No, no! (Mrs. Culver succeeds in kissing him.)

Enter Miss Starkey.

(The other two spring apart. A short pause.)

CULVER. Which is the refusal?

MISS STARKEY. This one.

CULVER. Put it in the fire. (Miss Starkey obeys. Both the women show satisfaction in their different ways.) Give me the acceptance. (He takes the letter of acceptance and reads it.)

MRS. CULVER (while he is reading the letter). Miss Starkey, you look very pale. Have you had any dinner?

MISS STARKEY. Not yet, madam.

MRS. CULVER. You poor dear! (She strokes Miss Starkey. They both look at the tyrannical male.) I'll order something for you at once.

MISS STARKEY. I shall have to go to the post first.

CULVER (glancing up). I'll go to the post myself. I must have air, air! Where's the envelope? (Exit Miss Starkey quickly, back.) (Mrs. Culver gently takes the letter from her husband and reads it. Culver drops into a chair.)

MRS. CULVER (putting down the letter). Darling!

CULVER. I thought I was a brute?

MRS. CULVER (caressing and kissing him). I do so love my brute, and I am so happy. Darling! But you are a silly old darling, wasting all this time.

CULVER. Wasting all what time?

MRS. CULVER. Why, the moment I came in again I could see you'd decided to give way. (With a gesture of delight.) I must run and tell the children. (Exit, L.)

Enter Miss Starkey back.

MISS STARKEY. Here's the envelope.

CULVER (taking it). Tell them to get me my hat and overcoat.

MISS STARKEY. Yes, Sir Arthur. (Culver starts.) (Exit Miss Starkey, back.)

CULVER (as he puts the letter in the envelope; with an air of discovery). I suppose I do like being called 'Sir Arthur.'

Enter Hildegard and John both disgusted, back.

JOHN (to Hildegarde, as they come in). I told you last night he couldn't control even the mater. However, I'll be even with her yet.

CULVER. What do you mean, boy?

JOHN. I mean I'll be even with the mater yet. You'll see.

HILDEGARDE. Papa, you've behaved basely. Basely! What an example to us! I intend to leave this house and live alone.

CULVER. You ought to marry Mr. Sampson Straight. (Hildegarde starts and is silent.)

JOHN. Fancy me having to go back to school the son of a rotten baronet, and with the frightful doom of being a rotten baronet myself. What price the anti-hereditary-principle candidate! Dad, I hope you won't die just yet--it would ruin my political career. Stay me with flagons!

CULVER. Me too!

CURTAIN.


ACT III



ACT III

The next day, before lunch. Hildegarde and John are together.

JOHN (nervously impatient). I wish she'd come.

HILDEGARDE. She'll be here in a moment. She's fussing round dad.

JOHN. Is he really ill?

HILDEGARDE. Well of course. It came on in the night, after he'd had time to think things over. Why?

JOHN. I read in some paper about the Prime Minister having only a political chill. So I thought perhaps the pater--under the circs--

HILDEGARDE (shaking her head). You can't have political dyspepsia. Can't fake the symptoms. Who is to begin this affair, you or me?

JOHN. Depends. What line are you going on with her?

HILDEGARDE. I'm going to treat her exactly as she treats me. I've just thought of it. Only I shan't lose my temper.

JOHN. Sugarsticks?

HILDEGARDE. Yes.

JOHN. You'll never be able to keep it up.

HILDEGARDE. O yes I shall. Somehow I feel much more mature than I did yesterday.

JOHN. More mature? Stay me with flagons! I was always mature. If you knew what rot I think school is...! Well, anyway, you can begin.

HILDEGARDE. You're very polite to-day, Johnnie.

JOHN. Don't mention it. My argument 'll be the best, and I want to