Part 7

(_Pouring forth the words in a torrent of passionate entreaty. LADY PATRICIA stands staring at him first in bewilderment, then in amazement, then in dawning comprehension, finally in arctic realisation._) It was cruel of them—it was unfair to steal a march on me like this. For your sake—for mine—they should have left the confession to me. I would have withheld nothing. I would have told you all of my own free will. But they’ve spoken. And I see it—they’ve put the vilest construction on the few words they overheard last night. They have made you believe the worst of me. But it’s not true, Patricia. I swear it. It’s not true. (_LADY PATRICIA makes a gesture as though to speak._) No, no, let _me_ speak!... I have been faithful to the letter of our marriage vow—I have been unfaithful to the spirit. I am a man with a man’s passions, but for your sake I fought and kept my sinful love pure. Doubt all else—but believe that. You must believe it. You shall.... I am not trying to excuse myself. There is no excuse for what I have done. But O, Patricia, you know that to love and not to love isn’t in our control. And if I never loved you with all the passion I pretended ... I’m really deeply attached to you. It was for your sake I pretended. I felt it might kill you should you ever dream that your wonderful love was not returned in full ... that I loved ... elsewhere.

LADY PATRICIA.

(_In a cold, level voice._) What are you talking about?

MICHAEL.

(_Floored._) Eh ...?

LADY PATRICIA.

You appear to be under the impression that the Dean and Aunt Eileen have told me something unpleasant about you.

MICHAEL.

Well, haven’t they?

LADY PATRICIA.

They have told me nothing.

MICHAEL.

Oh.... I—I thought they had....

LADY PATRICIA.

And now perhaps you will kindly explain the meaning of all this.

MICHAEL.

I—I’ve told you everything.

LADY PATRICIA.

Who is the woman?

MICHAEL.

Clare Lesley.

LADY PATRICIA.

Clare—Lesley!... I don’t believe it—it’s impossible. I don’t believe it!... (_MICHAEL is silent._) Do you mean to tell me that you don’t adore me?

MICHAEL.

I’m—I’m very fond of you.

LADY PATRICIA.

Fond of me? Then all your passion has been a sham, and you’ve been making love to that—that—oh, what is the horrible word?...

MICHAEL.

(_Deferentially._) Er—impossible ...?

LADY PATRICIA.

No—no ... with two “p’s.” ...

MICHAEL.

Appalling ...?

LADY PATRICIA.

No.... Flapper.... Oh, how I’ve been fooled! And they know it—the Dean and Aunt Eileen. You’ve made me a figure of fun—something to point and jeer at.... Oh, I could kill myself and—you!

MICHAEL.

I am not worthy to live.

LADY PATRICIA.

And to think of all I have gone through for your sake—how I’ve forced myself to take your kisses and return them—how for months and months I fought and struggled to keep down the one great passion of my life. All for your sake—all because I thought you loved me! Oh, the bitter irony of it!

MICHAEL.

What do you mean by this?

LADY PATRICIA.

But now the one obstacle to my love has been removed. I will go to him now—I will put my arms around him. He shall love me and I will love him.

MICHAEL.

What are you saying, Patricia? Are you mad? Of whom are you speaking?

LADY PATRICIA.

Bill. Bill O’Farrel—Bill, whom I love and who loves me.

MICHAEL.

Bill O’Farrel!

LADY PATRICIA.

For two years he has been the passion of my soul. He will now become my heart’s delight. Yes, Michael, you have taken my wonderful and unrequited love for you too much for granted. You have played the infatuated husband so artistically that I believed in it to the extent of playing the infatuated wife in return.

MICHAEL.

You!

LADY PATRICIA.

Yes, I! I remained with you—I pretended to be absorbed in you, because I thought it would kill you if you realised that I wanted something more than you.

MICHAEL.

Bill O’Farrel....

LADY PATRICIA.

Yes—Bill O’Farrel!

MICHAEL.

Does any one know of this?

LADY PATRICIA.

They all know.

MICHAEL.

That you’ve tricked and fooled me and made a laughing-stock of me? Oh——

LADY PATRICIA.

What have you done with me?

MICHAEL.

When did they find it out?

LADY PATRICIA.

They overheard us last night.

MICHAEL.

You and O’Farrel?

LADY PATRICIA.

Yes.

MICHAEL.

In the tree—when they overheard us?

LADY PATRICIA.

You, too! Ah, I see it all now—I see it all. She said I must confess to you—that aunt—she said the result would astonish me. And now—now she’s hugging herself with vindictive joy at having humiliated me to the dust. But she has not finished with me yet. No! I can still strike back—and strike I will! You have no love for me. Very well. I know where to go for love.

MICHAEL.

What do you mean?

LADY PATRICIA.

Bill loves me—he loves me—he worships me. I shall go to him—I shall hold him to me—I shall love him.

MICHAEL.

I forbid it.

LADY PATRICIA.

Who are you to forbid me?

MICHAEL.

I am your husband.

LADY PATRICIA.

You! You are no husband of mine! He is my husband because he loves me!

MICHAEL.

If you go to him, I will return to Clare.

LADY PATRICIA.

To Clare!

MICHAEL.

To the girl who loves me with all the strength of her young heart and soul.

LADY PATRICIA.

You shall never do that!

MICHAEL.

And who’s to prevent me?

LADY PATRICIA.

I.

MICHAEL.

You—the woman who has tricked me—fooled me, and now threatens to leave me for another!

LADY PATRICIA.

Threatens! I don’t threaten. I mean to do it.

MICHAEL.

Very well, then. Leave _me_ to go my own way.

LADY PATRICIA.

Go to her. Go to her. And I will go to him.

(_She turns and moves towards the house. He takes a step or two to the left, then stops with an exclamation._)

MICHAEL.

Clare!...

LADY PATRICIA.

(_She turns, looks to the left, and starts with a faint cry._) Bill!

(_They both stand irresolute and embarrassed. BILL and CLARE enter from the left, also irresolute and embarrassed._)

BILL.

Er—good morning, Cousin Patricia.

LADY PATRICIA.

Good morning, Bill.

CLARE.

Good morning, Mr. Cosway.

MICHAEL.

Good morning, Clare.

BILL.

(_A pause. He says in a whisper to CLARE_:) I say—_you_ tell them.

CLARE.

(_In a whisper._) No—you.

BILL.

Awfully—er—jolly morning, Cousin Patricia, isn’t it.

LADY PATRICIA.

Yes ... very ... jolly.

CLARE.

I’ve been for—for a walk, Mr. Cosway.

MICHAEL.

Oh, yes—it’s nice weather for walking. Are you tired?

CLARE.

Oh, no, thank you. (_To BILL in a whisper_:) Tell them....

BILL.

I say ... I say, Michael.

MICHAEL.

Sir?

BILL.

You’ll be glad—I mean you’ll be awfully surprised to hear that I—that Clare and I—that’s to say, that we’re—Clare and I, you know——

CLARE.

(_In a whisper._) Oh, get it out!

BILL.

Well, you see—we’re engaged.

LADY PATRICIA AND MICHAEL.

Engaged!

BILL.

Yes. We hadn’t meant to be—but ... we are.

CLARE.

We tried awfully hard to hold out for—for the sake of others ... but——

(_She goes impulsively up to MICHAEL, puts her hand on his arm and speaks in a low voice._)

I’m awfully sorry, Mike. I’m a beast, I know. But I can’t help it....

MICHAEL.

(_Rigid and staring before him._) How long have you loved him?

CLARE.

Oh ... ages ... I ought to have told you, but——

MICHAEL.

I don’t wish to hear another word.

(_Bill has gone up to LADY PATRICIA, who stands motionless with a tragic face, staring before her. His appearance is that of a naughty schoolboy, hat in hand and shifting from one foot to the other._)

BILL.

(_To LADY PATRICIA._) I—I—I—I’m sorry—I’ve behaved rottenly—but I—I—I’m awfully fond of you.... Of course I ought—but you see—I—that’s to say—but she—she’s—you know what I mean—I’m——

LADY PATRICIA.

Enough....

(_BILL goes to CLARE, who gives him her hand._)

CLARE.

Now for the pater....

BILL.

Help!...

(_They go into the house. MICHAEL and LADY PATRICIA stand motionless, with clenched hands, staring before them. A long pause. The gateway bell rings. A pause. JOHN enters from the house and opens the wicket door. BALDWIN enters._)

BALDWIN.

’Scuse me, Mr. John, but I think as I lef’ my ’ymn-book and prayer-book on the lawn.

JOHN.

I haven’t seen ’em.

BALDWIN.

That’s them yonder. (_Distant sound of church bells._) Lord, if that ain’t the first bell! (_JOHN goes out._) Beg pardon, m’lady. Beg pardon, sir. I jest want my prayer-book an’ ’ymn-book. (_Picks them up._) Thank ’ee, m’lady. They was given me by Mrs. Baldwin as was me first wife. I thought as ’ow I’d lef’ them on ’er grave jest now when I went to ’ave a look at it. But——

MICHAEL.

That will do, Baldwin.

BALDWIN.

Thank ’ee, sir.

(_He is just about to go out when the house door opens and the ringing laughter of BILL and CLARE brings him to a standstill. They enter, followed by the voice of MRS. O’FARREL: “Be off—both of you!” and her laugh._)

BILL.

I say, darling, weren’t they corking?

CLARE.

(_Pointing to the motionless MICHAEL and LADY PATRICIA and putting a finger to her lips._) S-sh!...

BILL.

Oh....

(_Very sedately they pass up the path to the gateway, but just as they go out BILL passes his arm through CLARE’S and squeezes it. They disappear. MRS. O’FARREL and the DEAN enter from the house, followed later by JOHN and ROBERT._)

DEAN.

(_Jovially._) So much for tact and diplomacy!

MRS. O’FARREL.

And common-sense!

DEAN.

(_Lowering his voice and indicating the rigid MICHAEL and LADY PATRICIA._) And these two?

MRS. O’FARREL.

Best leave them alone.

DEAN.

No, no!...

(_Goes up to MICHAEL and LADY PATRICIA, while MRS. O’FARREL goes out; JOHN, standing near the door, waits for the DEAN._)

Are you not going to join us in church? (_A pause._) My dear friends, on such a morning as this we should all sing the _Te Deum_, and forget everything but the joy of being alive....

(_He looks smilingly from one to the other, then goes out, followed by JOHN. ROBERT waits at the door. A pause. BALDWIN stands hesitating. LADY PATRICIA turns to MICHAEL._)

LADY PATRICIA.

Michael!...

MICHAEL.

Yes.

LADY PATRICIA.

Under the great rose window in the south transept our pew is now full of purple and amber lights and shafts of chrysoprase. Shall we not sit there again together?

MICHAEL.

I don’t see what else there is to do.... Patricia!

LADY PATRICIA.

Michael!... Repentance is very exquisite, and how beautiful is forgiveness. Come....

(_Followed at a respectful distance by BALDWIN, they go out together in silence side by side, and the Curtain falls as they pass under the gateway._)

THE END.

The Gresham Press, UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, WOKING AND LONDON