Priestley Plays Four Page 13

  FANNY: (Grimly.) I don’t see her.

  Some exclamations of surprise and exchange of glances.

  JULIAN: Look here – what’s happened?

  FANNY: All in good time.

  1ST ACTRESS: I think I saw Miss Vincent with Mr. Ludlow just before we came up here.

  FANNY: They you were mistaken.

  2ND ACTRESS: Who was it then? I didn’t think it was Miss Vincent.

  Enter EDMUND LUDLOW, actor-manager, an elderly man with a presence. LUDLOW immediately takes charge of the situation. He faces the company.

  LUDLOW: Ladies and gentlemen – Miss Vincent has left us.

  Some cries of astonishment and annoyance.

  Left us in circumstances of the basest treachery.

  FANNY: (Grimly.) And still owing much money in the town. Over five pounds to Trimbleby’s alone.

  LUDLOW: So I believe, my love. I will not speak of ingratitude –

  FANNY: (Grimly.) I will! The ungrateful creature!

  LUDLOW: But as you know, I propsed to revive The Maniac of the Wreck chiefly because of Miss Vincent, and although she knew this, and allowed herself to be billed in the leading role, I have evidence now that she has agreed to accept the offer from Mr. Buckstone – for small parts –

  FANNY: Very small parts.

  LUDLOW: At least a week ago. Inexcusable, of course, Black treachery. In the old days she would have found it impossible to live down such an act – but now – when ambition is preferred to honour – when money and false pride reign undisputed –

  JULIAN: (Cutting in, impatiently.) Well, the point is that she’s gone. And we certainly can’t do the Maniac of the Wreck without her. And what about our Twelfth Night – also widely announced? We haven’t a Viola now.

  LUDLOW: (Heavy rebuke.) If you will kindly allow me. Mr. Napier, to discuss my business… Clearly we can’t do the Maniac, so I’m proposing to put back The Soldier’s Widow or The Deserted Mill, which always takes…

  A groan from the company.

  STOKES: It depends on your broadsword combat – as I’ve said before…

  LUDLOW: Yes, yes, I agree. We’ll have special rehearsals this time of the broadsword combat. And as for our Twelfth Night, we can put it off a week or so –

  JULIAN: While you try to find a Viola worth seeing? Not much chance.

  LUDLOW: (With solemnity.) I have a Viola worth seeing. And unless I am much mistaken, a far better one than Miss Vincent’s. A Lady Teazle and a Rosalind and a Ophelia too. Mr. Kettle remembered that our friend Mr. Murphy of the Norfolk Circuit recommened us a good juvenile female lead who wanted a change. Mr. Kettle saw her, and has brought her back with him. She has already given me some excellent readings from classic roles. (Calls to L..) Walter, you can do the honours.

  KETTLE enters L., smiling.

  KETLLE: Ladies and gentlemen – may I present to you our new juvenile female lead – Miss Jenny Villiers!

  JENNY now enters L.. She is very pretty, rather fragile type, with auburn, light-brown or golden ringleys, and is charmingly dressed. She smilingly curtsies, while the others applaud smilingly. She then drops a small gaily-coloured purse. KETTLE tries to pick it up, but JULIAN is quicker, and stand offering it to her, smiling, while KETTLE scowls at him. JENNY smiles at JULIAN.

  JULIAN: Yours, I think, Miss Villiers.

  JENNY: Thank you.

  JULIAN: I am your new leading juvenile – Julian Napier.

  As the two stand looking at each other, the whole scene is completely silent and frozen and the light on it begins to fade slowly. The effect is rather like an old daguerreotype. MARTIN takes a pace forward, staring at the scene.

  MARTIN: (In slow, rather drugged tone.) So that’s how it began. But of course, that’s how it would begin. But is it beginning again now? Has this happened – or is it still happening – or am I dreaming. What am I talking about? I’m dreaming, of course.

  He takes a pace of two forwards. The scene, much fainter now, comes to life in quick dumb show, with the music playing softly. JENNY is being introduces to the others, but in a quiet gliding fashion they all move towards left, and soon are all gone with the light gone too now. MARTIN mover upstage, then turns round to look at his desk light, which is now burning as before. In a bewildered, slow fashion he comes back towards desk and his chair, then sits down heavily and buries his face in his hands. After a moment we hear FANNY’s voice in darkness upstage R.. MARTIN slowly raises his head.

  FANNY: Yes, dear, but you can make more of it than that. It’s a big scene, and properly done, it always takes famously. Now when I did it, I always got on tip-toe and stretched my hands out on ‘Horror, horror’, and then on ‘Distraction, come’, I crossed my hands in front of my face. I’ll show you what I mean, dear – just watch me.

  Golden light comes up on Fanny and JENNY, who are rehearsing upstage R.. If possible, JENNY should now be wearing plainer working dress. As MARTIN stares at them as their light comes up, his light at desk begins to fade. FANNY now illustrates the movements, which are as false and stagey as the dialogue. And it is clear that JENNY cannot take this speech seriously.

  You see, dear? ‘Oh, horror, horror!’ (She stands on tip-toe, with arms outstretched and fingers wide apart.) Then – so and so and so and so – slowly coming down, you see, dear, till you get to ‘Distraction, come possess me now, for I will be thy bride’…like this… (She bows her head, shuddering, and crosses her hands before her face.)

  JENNY suddenly giggles.

  What’s the matter, dear?

  JENNY: I’m sorry, Mrs. Ludlow. I do see what you mean, and you’re doing it beautifully. It’s just – that – well, this Moorish princess sounds such an idiot, asking to be Distraction’s bride.

  FANNY: (With dignified rebuke.) Properly played, Miss Villiers, I assure you, the part never fails. Ask Mr. Ludlow.

  Enter KETTLE, L..

  Yes, Walter? Am I wanted on the stage?

  KETTLE: Yes, Mrs. Ludlow.

  FANNY: Very well. I’m just taking Miss Villiers through his big scene in the Moorish Princess – which she doesn’t seem to quite appreciate. Here’s the book – (Hands him a prompt book.) just see what you can do.

  She goes off L. in dignified disapproval.

  JENNY: Oh dear – I hope I haven’t offended her. You see, I couldn’t help laughing – not at her – but at the part – it’s so silly! You must admit it is. Listen. (She assumes tragic posture and tone, not too obviously burlesqued, doing the same movements as FANNY.)

  ‘Oh Carlos! Noble youth! How have my fears

  Betray’d thee to thy doom!

  Inhuman father! Noble, injured youth!

  Methinks I see thee stretched upon the rack,

  Naught I can do can save him. Vain, alas!

  Vain are my maiden tears and pray’rs!

  Distraction, come possess me now, for I

  Will be thy bride!’

  You see, Mr. Kettle? I can’t act it because I can’t believe in it. No girl ever behaved like that, or talked like that. It isn’t true!

  KETTLE: Of course it isn’t. But then no girl ever talked like Viola or Rosalind.

  JENNY: (Earnestly.) But that’s not the same thing. We’d like to talk as Viola and Rosalind do. It’s what we feel, turned into wonderful words. But this isn’t. It’s all just silly stuff. Asking for Distraction as if it were some old admirer who lived round the corner. Now – isn’t it silly?

  KETLLE: (In humorous whisper.) Yes. I’ve thought so for years. Language, situations, gestures – all ridiculous. You’re quite right.

  JENNY: Ph, bless you for saying that! You see, if she only said something quite simple and direct, like –

  ‘Oh Carlos – noble Carlos – because I was

  frightened I betrayed you – perhaps to

  your death!’

  Just standing there, quite still, looking down on him –

  KETTLE: Do it like that.

  JENNY: Oh – do you think I dare?

  A
s they stand there, looking at each other, MARTIN takes a pace or two forward, nearer to them.

  MARTIN: (Quietly, but with a note of excitement.) Yes, my dear, yes. Dare – break through the routine, smash the old moulds – dare – as we all must do – to give it new life –

  JENNY: (To KETTLE.) All right. I will.

  VOICE: (Off L..) Miss Villiers, Mr. Kettle, wanted on stage!

  KETTLE: (Calling.) Coming!

  He leads the way, JENNY following rather reluctantly, the light fading as they go.

  MARTIN: (Calling.) Jenny!

  JENNY hesitates, turns and looks round in rather bewildered fashion. MARTIN calls more anxiously.

  Jenny Villiers!

  But she has gone off L. now and her light too.

  Light up on the desk now. MARTIN turns and looks at it, and then comes slowly down. Door R. opens now, showing strong white light and OTLEY looks in.

  OTLEY: Were you calling me, Mr. Cheveril?

  MARTIN: (Confused.) What? No, I don’t think so. I mean, I’m sure I wasn’t.

  OTLEY: (Dubiously.) I thought I heard you calling – that’s all.

  MARTIN: I must have been dreaming…

  OTLEY: You’re sure you’re alright, Mr. Cheveril? You don’t want me to get hold of Dr. Cave?

  MARTIN: No, of course not… I’m all right, thanks… I must have dozed off.

  OTLEY: Well, I won’t disturb you – until your London call comes through.

  He closes door.

  MARTIN settles down in his chair, and takes up the booklet.

  MARTIN: (Staring at the title page.) Jenny Villiers… A Memoir and a Tribute…by Augustus Ponsonby Esquite… Honorary Secretary of the Barton Spa Shakespearean Society… (He gets up, feeling restless.)

  PONSONBY and STOKES have now entered secretly. PONSONBY is an absurd but rather charming little middle-aged bachelor.

  PONSONBY: (Speaking in darkness.) Yes, sir. Augustus Ponsonby –

  MARTIN: (Staring, astounded.) What?

  Light now comes up on PONSONBY.

  PONSONBY: Augustus Ponsonby… Honorary Secretary of the Barton Spa Shakepearean Society…and inveterate and most enthusiastic playgoer, sir…

  MARTIN: (Who has moved forward.) No doubt you were. But you’re not my idea of a ghost, my friend.

  PONSONBY: Well known in the town – and no doubt known to you, I trust, as a staunch supporter of Mr. Ludlow’s talented company here.

  Light now comes up on STOKES too.

  STOKES: Heard of you often, Mr. Ponsonby. I’m John Stokes. You must have seen me often.

  PONSONBY: Of course, of course, Mr. Stokes. Delighted to make your acquaintance. I cannot imagine what the company would do without you – such versatility, such strength and experience!

  STOKES: An old actor, Mr. Ponsonby. After more than forty-five years, a man learns how to carry himself through five acts – and a farce –

  PONSONBY: And carry other people too sometimes, eh, Mr. Stokes! Ha, ha, ha! You’ve seen some great nights in the theatre, I imagine, sir?

  STOKES: I have, sir. And they’ll never come again. In my time, Mr. Ponsonby, I’ve played with Edmund Kean, Charles Kemble, Liston, Mrs. Golver, Fanny Kelly –

  MR. PONSONBY: Great names, Mr. Stokes!

  STOKES: The Theatre was the theatre in those days, Mr. Ponsonby! It was all the public had, and so we all did our best with it. None of your panoramas and dioramas and Apollonicons, and the rest of them then. It was the Theatre and the Theatre as it ought to be. Now they’ll do to anything, just a rage for silly amusement, Mr. Ponsonby, – and it’s all money, money, money. I tell you, sir, the Theatre’s dying – and though it may last out my time, thank God – I don’t give it very much longer. The old spirit’s gone – the plays aren’t the same, the audiences aren’t the same, the actors aren’t the same –

  PONSONBY: No doubt you’re right Mr. Stokes. As an amateur, I wouldn’t venture to quarrel with your experience. Yet I called here specially this morning to tell Mr. Ludlow that many of us amateurs and patrons here wish to congratulate him on his company’s new acquisition, Miss Villiers.

  STOKES: I’m glad to hear you say so, Mr. Ponsonby. And Mr. Ludlow will be glad too. Miss Villiers has only been with us a few weeks, but we’re all very pleased with her. Plenty to learn yet, of course – that’s only natural – and I’ve given her a few pointers myself – she’s apt to be restless, and won’t keep her head still – but genuine talent there, sir, and a most pleasing personality – ambition of the right kind, too – a young lady with a fine future, sir. At least, if the Theatre had a future, which I doubt.

  PONSONBY: Would it be possible for us to see Miss Villiers in some leading Shakespearean roles?

  STOKES: Rehearsing ’em now, sir – rehearsing ’em now. In fact – well, here they are –

  The light opens out, golden as before, and JENNY, JULIAN and WALTER KETTLE enter, all with some prompt books.

  JULIAN: (Heartily.) Hallo, Ponsonby! You’re not supposed to be in here in this time of day!

  PONSONBY: I was looking for Mr. Ludlow –

  JULIAN: He’ll be round at the Lion.

  STOKES: I’ll take you there, Mr. Ponsonby.

  JULIAN: Jenny, may I introduce Mr. Augustus Ponsonby – one of our most enthusiastic patrons –

  PONSONBY: (Bowing.) And also one of your greatest admirers, Miss Villiers –

  JENNY: (Modestly.) I’m afraid I haven’t done anything here yet worth admiring, Mr. Ponsonby. But perhaps soon – with any luck –

  KETtLE: It’s not luck, but hard work. And we ought to be working now. You’ll have to excuse us, Mr. Ponsonby.

  PONSONBY: (Perturbed.) Oh – yes – of course – I’m so sorry –

  STOKES: Come along, we’ll go round to the Lion. You don’t want me for an hour, do you, Walter?

  After bowing again, PONSONBY goes out upstage R. with STOKES.

  JENNY: Rather a sweet little man.

  JULIAN: He’s a pompous little ass really – but he runs some sort of Shakespearean Society – and they’re good for a hundred seats on a benefit night.

  KETTLE: (Sharply.) He may be rather pompous, but he’s not an ass – and something better than a buyer of seats for benefit nights.

  JENNY: (Smiling at him.) Mr. Kettle, you’re very bad-tempered this morning. What’s the matter?

  KETTLE: (With the misery of a man in love.) I’m sorry, Miss Villiers…too much work, probably… I didn’t mean…

  JULIAN: (Carelessly.) Well, you needn’t work here, Walter. You can go down to the stage. I can take Jenny through our scenes. That’s why we’re here.

  KETTLE: (Miserably.) I don’t know about that –

  JULIAN: (Haughtily.) What? Are you insinuating that I’m not competent to take Miss Villiers through scene I’ve plays hundreds of times? You – ?

  JENNY: (With reproach suggesting familiarity.) Julian – please! (Smiling at KETTLE) I knew how busy you are, Mr. Kettle – and I did ask Julian specially –

  KETTLE: (Roughly.) No, you didn’t. I overheard him asking you –

  JENNY: I was going to ask him.

  JULIAN: But I was first, that’s all.

  JULIAN and JENNY suddenly look at each other, and it is clear that they are in love. KETTLE, seeing this look, turns away. He is now very near MARTIN standing on edge of light. The scene is now frozen.

  MARTIN: (Quietly, to KETTLE.) So you were in love with her too? And hadn’t a chance. Hoped to teach her all you know about acting – and I have an idea you were the man here who did now – and probably did teach her, too but never had a chance. I wish I could talk to you properly Walter Kettle, there’s something of me in you. I know exactly what you’re feeling. And it’ll soon be worse for you, much worse, poor devil. Go on, there’s nothing you can do.

  This re-animates the scene. KETTLE turns and looks from JULIAN to JENNY.

  KETTLE: (Bitterly.) All right. I’ll leave you. You have your prompt books?

  JULIAN: Yes, though I
doubt if we shall need them.

  KETTLE: (Walking away upstage, then L..) I doubt it too.

  JENNY and JULIAN now use the area upstage R.. They are watched by MARTIN.

  JULIAN: Let’s go straight to Act Two, Scene Four, after the music. Ready? (He becomes the Duke, acting in rotund style.) ‘Come hither, boy –’

  JENNY: I cross there – um?

  JULIAN: Yes. Not too quick. Now then –

  ‘Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love,

  In the sweet pangs of it remember me.

  For such as I am all true lovers are –

  Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,

  Save in the constant image of the creature

  That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?’

  JENNY: (As Viola.)

  ‘It give a very echo to the seat

  Where Love is throned.’

  JULIAN: (As the Duke.)

  ‘Thou dost speak masterly:

  My life upon’t, young though thou art, thine eye

  Hath stay’d upon some favour that it loves:

  Hath it not, boy?’

  JENNY: ‘A little, by your favour –’

  (Breaking off.) Oh, Julian – please – don’t look at me like that.

  JULIAN: (Seizing her hands.) How can I help it? And what does it matter?

  JENNY: Because – oh – we ought to work – we oughtn’t to be thinking about ourselves.

  JULIAN: (Triumphantly.) So that’s what you were thinking too!

  JENNY: No – I don’t mean –

  JULIAN: Yes, you do. And you can’t help it either! (Putting his arms around her, whispering.) My darling Jenny – my sweet, sweet Jenny – I love you – I worship you – I can think only about you!

  JENNY: (Overcome.) Julian – you hardly know me yet –

  JULIAN: I’ve known you for ever. And don’t call me just Julian – dearest!

  JENNY: (Whispering.) Dearest! I think – I love you too.

  He slowly lifts up her face, her arms creep round him, and they are about to kiss.

  MARTIN: (Harshly.) No, no, no!

  The light goes at once, leaving JENNY and JULIAN in darkness and only a tiny sport on MARTIN. The desk light downstage L. went long ago. There is the loud rushing wind sound, with music, both of which go quieter as MARTIN speaks again.