Part 3

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

And I’ve asked Lady Wanley. I just want her to see that I can get on without her. All the county’s coming. I sent ’em all cards, whether I knew ’em or not, and they’ve all accepted.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

Don’t you remember, Marion, how bucked we were in the old days when Mrs. Bromsgrove came to dine with us, because her husband was on the L.C.C.?

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

I wish she could see me now. D’you remember ’ow she used to patronise me? I wish all that stuck-up lot on Brixton ’ill was here to see us ’ob-nob with the aristocracy.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

It’s the Archduke that done it, my dear.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

What’s Serlo now? Marquis of Serlo--pooh. He isn’t going to get any more opportunities from me--and if he says anything I’ll just send him off with a flea in his ear.

VINCENT.

Draw it mild, mater.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

Your mother’s a great woman, Vincent. This is the day of her life.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

I wish I ’adn’t been such a fool as to ask Serlo to stay here. And it’s just like that aggravating girl. When I wanted Ethel to marry him, she wouldn’t so much as look at him, and now that she can have some one else for the asking, she’s with ’im all day.

VINCENT.

Well, I’m for the bird in the hand, mater. The Archduke don’t look much like a marrying man to me.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Don’t you worry about that, my dear. Every man’s a marrying man when he’s got a chance of a pretty girl with ’alf a million of money.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

Here she is.

ETHEL _comes in with_ LORD SERLO.

ETHEL.

The Withers have just motored over, mother.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

They would be first, wouldn’t they? I expect Florrie Withers was waiting on the doorstep till the clock struck four. Where’s his Royal Highness?

ETHEL.

I don’t know at all.

SERLO.

He’s asleep in the garden; he’s sittin’ in the most comfortable arm-chair in the place, with another for each of his legs, and he’s clasping in his hands what looks suspiciously like a very long gin and soda to me.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Well, somebody must go and wake him up. I’ve asked ’alf the county to meet him, and he can’t go on sleeping.

JACK STRAW _comes in_.

JACK STRAW.

I say, what have you got a beastly band playing the Pomeranian anthem for? Woke me up. I was having such a jolly sleep too.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

[_Very affably._] The people are just coming, sir.

JACK STRAW.

What people?

PARKER-JENNINGS.

All the very best people in Cheshire, sir--no outsiders to-day. What ho!

JACK STRAW.

Good lord, are you giving a party?

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Don’t you remember, sir? I asked if I might invite a few friends to meet you.

JACK STRAW.

Oh, yes--Lady Wanley and Holland. I thought we might have a jolly little game of bridge in the garden. What have you got the village band in for?

VINCENT.

That’s not the village band, sir. That’s the Royal Blue Orchestra.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

Cost me £150 to have them down. Special train from London, and I don’t know what all.

VINCENT.

Shut up, pater. You needn’t tell every one how much you paid for things.

JACK STRAW.

How many do you expect?

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Oh--only my most intimate friends--about....

JACK STRAW.

Yes?

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Well, about three hundred and fifty.

JACK STRAW.

By George, that’s cheerful. D’you want me to shake hands with them all?

PARKER-JENNINGS.

They’re the very best people in the county, sir. _Crème de la crème._

_A servant enters to announce_ MR. _and_ MRS. WITHERS. _They come in._

SERVANT.

Mr. and Mrs. Withers.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

How d’you do? It’s so nice of you to come before any one else.

MRS. WITHERS.

We know you’re not used to these grand affairs, Maria, and we thought you might want a couple of old friends to do something for you.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Oh, thank you. But there are plenty of servants. May I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Withers to your Royal ’Ighness.

JACK STRAW.

How d’you do.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

We were just going into the garden. I daresay people will begin to come presently.

[_They all go out except_ ETHEL _and_ LORD SERLO.

SERLO.

I say, I’m going to hook it to-morrow.

ETHEL.

Are you? I’m very sorry.

SERLO.

I wish I thought that.

ETHEL.

Why are you going so soon?

SERLO.

Your respected mother has given your humble notice to quit.

ETHEL.

What do you mean?

SERLO.

Look here, let’s be frank with one another, shall we?

ETHEL.

Aren’t we always?

SERLO.

Well, if you ask me point blank, anythin’ but.

ETHEL.

Then let us be frank at once.

SERLO.

Well, ten days ago your people were all over me. I suppose you know why as well as I do.

ETHEL.

D’you think we need talk of that?

SERLO.

Frankness is rather tryin’, ain’t it?

ETHEL.

No. Please go on.

SERLO.

It was dear Lord Serlo all day long; they couldn’t have enough of me. Rippin’ good chap, Serlo. Just the sort of cove one would like to have for a son-in-law.

ETHEL.

Lord Serlo!

SERLO.

Half a mo. I ain’t done yet. Eminently suitable match, and all that sort of thing, only the young lady couldn’t stick me at any price.

ETHEL.

I don’t know why you should say this.

SERLO.

Better have it out, you know; rotten, keepin’ things on your chest. Don’t blame the young lady. Don’t know that I should much fancy myself if I was a blushing damsel. Not everybody’s money. Got a bit damaged in transit, eh, what? Been mixed up in one or two scandals. Not the right thing for an old-established marquess. Bit inclined to drink. No harm in him, you know, but not the sort of man you’d like to spend the rest of your life with. Young woman got a mind of her own. Lets the noble lord see she wouldn’t take him if he was given away with a pound of tea. All right, says noble lord, bet’s off. Not much, says mother of young woman. Half a million goin’ beggin’. Give her time to get used to you. Fascinating cove really. More she knows you more she’ll like you. Come down and stay in the country.

ETHEL.

[_With a laugh._] How can you talk such nonsense!

SERLO.

All right, says noble lord, I’m on. Jolly nice girl, and all that sort of thing. Noble lord rather smit. Thinks if she’ll have him he’ll turn over a new leaf--give up everythin’ rotten and try and make her a good husband. Rather taken with the idea of double harness. He may look a fool, but noble lord knows a good thing when he sees it, and the young lady’s about the best thing he’s ever set eyes on.

ETHEL.

Are you talking seriously by any chance?

SERLO.

Now don’t interrupt me. I’ve just got into a good steady canter, and I’ll get it all off my chest at once.

ETHEL.

I’m so sorry.

SERLO.

Well, when eligible marquess gets down in the country, what d’you think he finds? Blessed if there ain’t a foreign prince on the scene. My word, that’s enough to put the noble lord’s aristocratic nose right out of joint, ain’t it? Look here, old boy, you keep your weather eye open, and all that sort of thing, says the noble lord to himself. May be an ass, don’t you know, but when there’s a bloomin’ hurricane comin’ along he can see which way the wind is blowin’. Brother rather chilly, father rather chilly, mother regular iceberg. All right, says noble lord to himself, but what about Pretty Polly?

ETHEL.

Is that me by any chance?

SERLO.

For the last month Pretty Polly had been simply turnin’ her back on noble lord, snubbin’ him right and left, and all of a sudden she becomes extraordinary affable. Hulloa, what’s this, says noble lord, and his little heart goes pit-a-pat. He may be a fool, but he ain’t a damned fool, and in a day or two he tumbles to it. So, like a wise man, he packs his bag and hooks it.

ETHEL.

I don’t know what on earth you mean?

SERLO.

Don’t you? Well, will you have it straight from the shoulder?

ETHEL.

We agreed to be quite frank.

SERLO.

All right. No spoof. My dear, I just saw that you were fairly knocked silly by the Archduke, and there wasn’t a ghost of a chance for little Ned Serlo.

ETHEL.

It’s not true.

SERLO.

Oh, yes, it is. You see, I’m a bit knocked silly myself, and that makes you precious far-sighted.

ETHEL.

You!

SERLO.

All right, you needn’t get up on your hind legs. I’m not goin’ to propose to you now. I know it would be no precious good. At first I didn’t care twopence; it was just a business arrangement--half a million down on one side and an old-established marquisate on the other. But now.... Well, you know I’m rather an ass at saying what I mean--when I really mean it.

ETHEL.

I’m very sorry. I’m afraid I’ve been unkind to you.

SERLO.

Oh, no, you haven’t. I do seem a rotten little bounder, don’t I?

ETHEL.

No, I think you might be an awfully good friend.

SERLO.

It’s jolly of you to say so. You know, I can’t stick your family. Can you?

ETHEL.

[_Smiling._] You see, I knew them before they were rich. When you’ve lived all your life in a sordid narrow way, it’s very hard to have such enormous wealth as ours.

SERLO.

You make allowances for them, but you never did for me.

ETHEL.

It would have been very impertinent of me.

SERLO.

It never struck you that it’s devilish hard to be a marquess with no means of livelihood but your title. And the worst of a title is that it’ll get you plenty of credit, but dooced little hard cash.

ETHEL.

I never thought of that.

SERLO.

Well, look here, what I wanted to say is this: it’s no business of mine about the Archduke. You know, I don’t know much about royalty, but I don’t think a foreign prince is likely to marry the daughter of nobody in particular just because she’s got nice eyes and a pot of money. [ETHEL _is about to speak_.] No, let me go on. You may be going to have a rotten time, and I just want you to know that if at any time you want me--well, you know what I mean, don’t you. Let’s forget that you’re an heiress, and I’m an old-established marquess. You’re an awfully ripping sort, and I’m just Ned Serlo. I’m not a bad sort either, and perhaps we might be happy together.

ETHEL.

[_Touched._] It’s very charming of you. I’m so glad that I know you better now. Whatever happens I know I can count on you.

SERLO.

That’s all right then. Meanwhile noble lord’s goin’ to hook it--leave the coast clear, and bear it like a man, don’t you know.

_Enter_ JACK STRAW.

JACK STRAW.

Well, how are the weather and the crops?

SERLO.

[_Rather surprised._] Blessed if I know, sir.

JACK STRAW.

I merely asked because you looked as if you’d been discussing them.

[_He gives_ SERLO _a glance_. SERLO _shows no sign of moving_.

JACK STRAW.

I’m not driving you away, am I?

SERLO.

[_Getting up._] Not at all, sir. I thought I’d go and have a look at the party.

JACK STRAW.

Do go and pretend you’re me, there’s a good fellow, and shake hands with some of those confounded people. You’ll see where I ought to stand, because there’s a little piece of red carpet on the lawn.

SERLO.

I’m afraid they’re not takin’ any of me, sir.

[_Exit._

JACK STRAW.

The only advantage I’ve ever been able to find in being a royal personage is that when anybody’s in your way you just tell him to go, and he goes.

ETHEL.

Why did you want Lord Serlo to go, sir?

JACK STRAW.

Because I wanted to be alone with you. Ask me another, quickly.

ETHEL.

Oughtn’t I to help mother to receive people?

JACK STRAW.

I’m sure you ought. But, you see, that’s another advantage of being a royal personage, that you can’t go till I give you your dismissal. I say, don’t you hate parties?

ETHEL.

Dreadfully.

JACK STRAW.

So do I. Let’s pretend there isn’t one, shall we? I say, why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfy?

ETHEL.

I should like to have a little talk with you, sir.

JACK STRAW.

That’s jolly. I wish we had a regiment of soldiers there to turn all those people out.

ETHEL.

May I say anything I like to you, sir?

JACK STRAW.

Good heavens, why not?

ETHEL.

Until I was sixteen the most exalted person I’d ever met in my life was a London County Councillor. I’m not quite sure if I know how to behave with royal personages.

JACK STRAW.

Why on earth don’t you buy a book on etiquette? I always carry one about with me.

ETHEL.

Mother bought several when you said you’d come down.

JACK STRAW.

I wonder if she’s got the same as mine. You know I never can remember to call a serviette a napkin.

ETHEL.

Mamma’s very particular about that.

JACK STRAW.

And look here, d’you know that you ought never to call a chicken a fowl? It’s awfully bad form. I wonder if that’s in your mother’s books. I say, what charming eyes you have.

ETHEL.

That’s another of the advantages of being a royal personage, that you can make pretty speeches, and no one takes them seriously.

JACK STRAW.

But you know, I’m a very insignificant royal personage. You mustn’t think I’m anything very grand really.

ETHEL.

It’s very nice of you to say so.

JACK STRAW.

You see, there are seventy-nine archdukes and duchesses in Pomerania. My grandfather had seventeen children, and they all married. How many children would each have had to make seventy-nine of us?

ETHEL.

It sounds very difficult.

JACK STRAW.

But you see I can’t be very important, can I? And of course I’ve got practically no money to speak of.

ETHEL.

It’s very good of you to put me at my ease. Then you wont mind if I say exactly what I want to?

JACK STRAW.

You won’t give me good advice, will you? I’ve got seventy-nine relations, and they all do that.

ETHEL.

I wouldn’t venture.

JACK STRAW.

I’ll bear whatever else you say with fortitude. We’ll pretend that you’re just Miss So-and-So.

ETHEL.

As in point of fact, I am.

JACK STRAW.

And that I’m--Jack Straw.

ETHEL.

[_Surprised._] Why on earth Jack Straw?

JACK STRAW.

[_Indifferently._] It’s the name of a public-house in Hampstead. Pray go on.

ETHEL.

I wondered if you’d do me a great favour.

JACK STRAW.

Ask me for the moon, and it shall be left at your front door by Carter Paterson to-morrow morning.

ETHEL.

It’s something much simpler than that.

JACK STRAW.

Put me out of suspense quickly.

ETHEL.

I should be very much obliged if--if you’d go away.

JACK STRAW.

[_Much surprised._] I? Now?

ETHEL.

I didn’t mean actually this minute. But if it suited your arrangements to go to-morrow....

JACK STRAW.

You don’t mean to say you want me to go away altogether?

ETHEL.

That is precisely what I did mean.

JACK STRAW.

Couldn’t you ask me something easier than that? Ask me for a lawyer who never told a lie, and I’ll deliver him to you, bound hand and foot.

ETHEL.

I don’t happen to want one just at this moment, thank you.

JACK STRAW.

But I’m having a very jolly time down here.

ETHEL.

[_With a change of tone._] Don’t you see that you’re exposing me every day to the most cruel humiliation?

JACK STRAW.

I thought I was making myself so pleasant.

ETHEL.

Oh, don’t pretend you don’t understand. I’ve seen the twinkle in your eyes when my mother set a little trap for you to fall in.

JACK STRAW.

I always fall in very neatly.

ETHEL.

But what do you think I felt when I knew how clearly you saw that she was throwing me at your head?

JACK STRAW.

It’s a distinctly pleasing sensation to have a pretty girl thrown at your head.

ETHEL.

It was only a joke to you; you don’t know how ashamed I was.

JACK STRAW.

But why do you suppose I came down to Taverner--to see your father and mother?

ETHEL.

I don’t know why you came--unless it was to make me desperately wretched.

JACK STRAW.

What would you say if I told you that I came because I loved you at first sight?

ETHEL.

I should say that your Royal Highness was very polite.

JACK STRAW.

Now, look here, don’t you think I’m rather nice, really?

ETHEL.

It would surely be very impertinent of me to have any opinion on the subject.

JACK STRAW.

Our friend Serlo would describe that as one in the eye.

ETHEL.

Would you allow me to go back to my mother’s guests, sir?

JACK STRAW.

[_Imperturbably._] Do you think you’d like me any better if I weren’t an Archduke?

ETHEL.

I haven’t thought about it.

JACK STRAW.

Then please give the matter your immediate attention.

ETHEL.

I should certainly like you no less.

JACK STRAW.

I have no doubt that if I were just a penniless adventurer you’d simply dote upon me.

ETHEL.

I don’t know if I’d put it quite so strongly as that.

JACK STRAW.

You know, I’m afraid you’re hopelessly romantic. You’ve confessed your attachment to me, and just because I happen incautiously to have chosen an Emperor for my grandfather, you want me to go away. It’s so unreasonable.

ETHEL.

But I haven’t confessed anything of the sort.

JACK STRAW.

I look upon your request that I should go away as equivalent to an avowal of undying passion.

ETHEL.

Shall I tell you what I would say to you if you weren’t an Archduke?

JACK STRAW.

Yes.

ETHEL.

I’d say you were the most audacious, impudent, and impertinent man I’d ever seen in my life.

[_She gives a rapid, ironical curtsey, and goes out. He is about to follow her when_ LADY WANLEY _and_ HOLLAND _come in_. JACK STRAW _stops and shakes hands with them_.

JACK STRAW.

Ah, I was hoping to have the pleasure of seeing you. You wrote me a little note, Mr. Holland.

HOLLAND.

[_Ironically._] I ventured to ask if I might have a few minutes’ private conversation with you.

JACK STRAW.

Perhaps you wouldn’t mind waiting here. I will rejoin you immediately.

[_He goes out._

HOLLAND.

You know, he positively freezes me.

LADY WANLEY.

I think it’s wonderful. One couldn’t suspect for a moment that he’s only....

HOLLAND.

Take care.

[_He looks round._

LADY WANLEY.

No one will come here. We can talk quite safely.

HOLLAND.

I wish to goodness we hadn’t ever thought of this fool trick. I knew it would lead to all sorts of bother.

LADY WANLEY.

It’s no good saying that now. We must keep our heads and get out of it as best we can.

HOLLAND.

What are you going to do?

LADY WANLEY.

Oh, that’s just like a man. You’re trying to put the whole blame on me. What are _you_ going to do?

HOLLAND.

Well, we must finish with it as quickly as we can.

LADY WANLEY.

Whatever happens, there must be no scene. I couldn’t bear to see him publicly humiliated.

HOLLAND.

Why on earth should you think of him?

LADY WANLEY.

Oh, I’m such a fool, Ambrose.

HOLLAND.

My dear, what _do_ you mean?

LADY WANLEY.

After all, I’m not a girl--I’m the mother of two healthy boys with enormous appetites. I think the man has bewitched me.

HOLLAND.

Good Lord!

LADY WANLEY.

It’s no good saying that. Of course he’s the most fascinating creature I’ve ever seen in my life.

HOLLAND.

You don’t mean to say you’re seriously in love with him?

LADY WANLEY.

A widow with a sense of humour is never seriously in love with anybody.

HOLLAND.

Well?

LADY WANLEY.

But I think it’s much better the young man should disappear as mysteriously as he came.

HOLLAND.

There we’re quite agreed. And we’ll tell him so with considerable frankness.

_Enter_ JACK STRAW.

JACK STRAW.

Now, my dear people, I am at your service.

[HOLLAND _and_ LADY WANLEY _are sitting down_. JACK STRAW _looks at_ HOLLAND_, who rises uneasily_.

HOLLAND.

Oh, don’t be such an ass, Jack.

JACK STRAW.

[_Frigidly._] I beg your pardon. [_Pause._] Perhaps you’d be good enough to put down my hat.

[HOLLAND _takes it and flings it crossly on a chair_.

JACK STRAW.

I don’t think you’re in a very good humour this afternoon, Mr. Holland. I venture to think your manners leave something to be desired.

HOLLAND.

Look here, we’ve had enough of this tomfoolery.

JACK STRAW.

Pray sit down. It distresses me to see you standing.

HOLLAND.

I believe the man’s out of his senses.

LADY WANLEY.

[_Very amiably._] Have you forgotten the waiter’s uniform which fitted you so wonderfully, Mr. Straw?

JACK STRAW.

[_Calmly._] Quite. I only remember the condition your ladyship was good enough to agree to, when I accepted your humorous suggestion.

HOLLAND.

But, look here, we must talk the matter out.

JACK STRAW.

I am quite willing to listen to you, my dear Holland. Your conversation is often interesting and sometimes epigrammatic. I stipulate only that you should use those forms of politeness which are usual between a person of your position and a person of mine.

HOLLAND.

I should never have consented to this folly if I’d known to what it was going to lead. In a moment of uncontrollable irritation, because Mrs. Jennings had behaved with the greatest insolence to a defenceless girl, we made up our minds to punish her. There was no great harm in it. We thought perhaps she’d ask you to dinner, and there would be an end of it. It never dawned on us that you’d come and stay here indefinitely.

JACK STRAW.

My dear fellow, why should you blame me for your own lack of intelligence?

HOLLAND.

[_Impatiently._] Ugh!

[JACK STRAW _goes over and sits beside_ LADY WANLEY.

JACK STRAW.

Our friend is quite incoherent, isn’t he?

LADY WANLEY.

We want you to go away, sir.

JACK STRAW.

Do you? I say, what a jolly frock. Where did you get it?

LADY WANLEY.

[_With a little laugh, disarmed by his impudence._] You’re perfectly irresistible.

JACK STRAW.

You’ve taken the words out of my mouth, that’s just what I was going to say to you.

LADY WANLEY.

Are you ever serious?

JACK STRAW.

Always when I’m talking to a pretty woman.

LADY WANLEY.

I wish I could understand you.

JACK STRAW.

My dear lady, I’ve been trying to understand myself for the last thirty odd years. By the way, how old am I, Holland?

HOLLAND.

How the deuce should I know?

JACK STRAW.

Well, my dear fellow, I think it’s very careless of you. You might have looked it out. Supposing some one had asked me my age?

LADY WANLEY.

I wish you really were a royal personage.

JACK STRAW.

It does seem hard that a waiter should have such a way with him, doesn’t it?

LADY WANLEY.

[_Confidentially._] Who are you really?

JACK STRAW.

Your devoted servant, madam. Who could be anything else after knowing you for ten minutes?

LADY WANLEY.

It’s charming of you to say so.

JACK STRAW.

I am very nice, aren’t I?

LADY WANLEY.

Much too nice. That is why I beseech your Royal Highness graciously to take his departure.

JACK STRAW.

You know, you haven’t yet told me where you got that frock.

LADY WANLEY.

Oh, I bought it in Paris. Do you like it?

JACK STRAW.

It’s ripping. And it suits you admirably.

HOLLAND.

Isabel, Isabel, we came here to be sensible.

LADY WANLEY.

My dear Ambrose, let me be sensible in my own way.

JACK STRAW.

Oh, my dear Holland, I wonder if you’d very much mind going to see if my red carpet is still in its place.

HOLLAND.

I’m not going to be made a fool of by you, my friend.

JACK STRAW.

Why not? You’re doing it very well.

LADY WANLEY.

Don’t be piggy, Ambrose.

HOLLAND.

What on earth do you want me to do?

LADY WANLEY.

I’m simply dying of thirst. I wish you’d get me a glass of lemonade.

HOLLAND.

I have no intention whatever of stirring from this spot.

JACK STRAW.

I’ve been wondering for the last week what I should do if I signified his dismissal to any one, and he flatly refused to go. Very awkward, isn’t it?

LADY WANLEY.

Mahomet and the mountain isn’t in it.

JACK STRAW.

Of course a hundred years ago I’d have cast him into a dungeon. But, between ourselves, I don’t happen to have a dungeon handy.

HOLLAND.

Now look here, we’ve had enough of this nonsense. The joke has gone far enough. Are you going or not?

JACK STRAW.

Well, if you ask me point blank, I’m not.

HOLLAND.

But don’t you know that I have only to say two words for you to be kicked out of the house by the servants?

JACK STRAW.

You forget that you’d be undoubtedly kicked out with me.

HOLLAND.

Now look here, Jack, we’ve been old pals, and we’ve gone through a deuce of a lot together. I don’t want to say beastly things to you. I know I’ve made a fool of myself, but you’re a decent chap. You must see that it’s necessary for you to go at once.

JACK STRAW.