Because he's got fifty thousand a year, and you're head over ears in debt. You've got to raise something like four thousand pounds at once, or you go under. You've got yourself a good deal talked about during the last ten years, but people have stood you because you had plenty of money. If you go broke they'll drop you like a hot potato. And I daresay it wouldn't be inconvenient to change Lady Frederick Berolles into Lady Mereston. My sister has always led me to believe that it is rather attractive to be a Marchioness.
Unlike a duchess, its cheap without being gaudy.
You asked me why you might want to marry a boy from ten to fifteen years younger than yourself, and I've told you.
And now perhaps you'll tell me why you're going to interfere in my private concerns?
Well, you see his mother happens to be my sister, and I'm rather fond of her. It's true her husband was the most sanctimonious prig I've ever met in my life.
I remember him well. He was president of the Broad Church Union and wore side-whiskers.
But she stuck to me through thick and thin. I've been in some pretty tight places in my day, and she's always given me a leg up when I wanted it. I've got an idea it would just about break her heart if Charlie married you.
Thanks.
You know, I don't want to be offensive, but I think it would be a pity myself. And besides, unless I'm much mistaken, I've got a little score of my own that I want to pay off.
Have you?
You've got a good enough memory not to have forgotten that you made a blithering fool of me once. I swore I'd get even with you, and by George, I mean to do it.
[Laughing.] And how do you propose to stop me if I make up my mind that I'm going to accept Charlie?
Well, he's not proposed yet, has he?
Not yet, but I've had to use every trick and device I can think of to prevent him.
Look here, I'm going to play this game with my cards on the table.
Then I shall be on my guard. You're never so dangerous as when you pretend to be frank.
I'm sorry you should think so badly of me.
I don't. Only it was a stroke of genius when Nature put the soul of a Jesuit priest into the body of a Yorkshire squire.
I wonder what you're paying me compliments for. You must be rather afraid of me.
[They look at one another for a moment.
Well, let's look at these cards.
First of all, there's this money you've got to raise.
Well?
This is my sister's suggestion.
That means you don't much like it.
If you'll refuse the boy and clear out – we'll give you forty thousand pounds.
I suppose you'd be rather surprised if I boxed your ears.
Now, look here, between you and me high falutin's rather absurd, don't you think so? You're in desperate want of money, and I don't suppose it would amuse you much to have a young hobbledehoy hanging about your skirts for the rest of your life.
Very well, we'll have no high falutin! You may tell Lady Mereston that if I really wanted the money I shouldn't be such an idiot as to take forty thousand down when I can have fifty thousand a year for the asking.
I told her that.
You showed great perspicacity. Now for the second card.
My dear, it's no good getting into a paddy over it.
I've never been calmer in my life.
You always had the very deuce of a temper. I suppose you've not given Charlie a sample of it yet, have you?
[Laughing.] Not yet.
Well, the second card's your reputation.
But I haven't got any. I thought that such an advantage.
You see Charlie is a young fool. He thinks you a paragon of all the virtues, and it's never occurred to him that you've rather gone the pace in your time.
It's one of my greatest consolations to think that even a hundred horse-power racing motor couldn't be more rapid than I've been.
Still it'll be rather a shock to Charlie when he hears that this modest flower whom he trembles to adore has…
Very nearly eloped with his own uncle. But you won't tell him that story because you hate looking a perfect ass.
Madam, when duty calls, Paradine Fouldes consents even to look ridiculous. But I was thinking of the Bellingham affair.
Ah, of course, there's the Bellingham affair. I'd forgotten it.
Nasty little business that, eh?
Horrid.
Don't you think it would choke him off?
I think it very probable.
Well, hadn't you better cave in?
[Ringing the bell.] Ah, but you've not seen my cards yet. [A servant enters.] Tell my servant to bring down the despatch-box which is on my writing-table.
SERVANT.
Yes, miladi.
[Exit.
What's up now?
Well, four or five years ago I was staying at this hotel, and Mimi la Bretonne had rooms here.
I never heard of the lady, but her name suggests that she had an affectionate nature.
She was a little singer at the Folies Bergères, and she had the loveliest emeralds I ever saw.
But you don't know Maud's.
The late Lord Mereston had a passion for emeralds. He always thought they were such pure stones.
[Quickly.] I beg your pardon?
Well, Mimi fell desperately ill, and there was no one to look after her. Of course the pious English ladies in the hotel wouldn't go within a mile of her, so I went and did the usual thing, don't you know.
[Lady Frederick's man comes in with a small despatch-box which he places on a table. He goes out. Lady Frederick as she talks, unlocks it.
Thank God I'm a bachelor, and no ministering angel ever smoothes my pillow when I particularly want to be left alone.
I nursed her more or less through the whole illness, and afterwards she fancied she owed me her worthless little life. She wanted to give me the precious emeralds, and when I refused was so heart-broken that I said I'd take one thing if I might.
And what was that?
A bundle of letters. I'd seen the address on the back of the envelope, and then I recognised the writing. I thought they'd be much safer in my hands than in hers. [She takes them out of the box and hands them to Paradine.] Here they are.
[He looks and starts violently.
89 Grosvenor Square. It's Mereston's writing. You don't mean? What! Ah, ah, ah. [He bursts into a shout of laughter.] The old sinner. And Mereston wouldn't have me in the house, if you please, because I was a dissolute libertine. And he was the president of the Broad Church Union. Good Lord, how often have I heard him say: "Gentlemen, I take my stand on the morality, the cleanliness and the purity of English Family Life." Oh, oh, oh.
I've often noticed that the religious temperament is very susceptible to the charms of my sex.
May I look?
Well, I don't know. I suppose so.
[Reading.] "Heart's delight"… And he signs himself, "your darling chickabiddy." The old ruffian.
She was a very pretty little thing.
I daresay, but thank heaven, I have some sense of decency left, and it outrages all my susceptibilities that a man in side-whiskers should call himself anybody's chickabiddy.
Protestations of undying affection are never ridiculous when they are accompanied by such splendid emeralds.
[Starting and growing suddenly serious.] And what about Maud?
Well?
Poor girl, it'd simply break her heart. He preached at her steadily for twenty years, and she worshipped the very ground he trod on. She'd have died of grief at his death except she felt it her duty to go on with his work.
I know.
By Jove, it's a good card. You were quite right to refuse the emeralds: these letters are twice as valuable.
Would you like to burn them?
Betsy!
There's the stove. Put them in.
[He takes them up in both hands and hurries to the stove. But he stops and brings them back, he throws them on the sofa.
No, I won't.
Why not?
It's too dooced generous. I'll fight you tooth and nail, but it's not fair to take an advantage over me like that. You'll bind my hands with fetters.
Very well. You've had your chance.
But, by Jove, you must have a good hand to throw away a card like that. What have you got – a straight flush?
I may be only bluffing, you know.
Lord, it does me good to hear your nice old Irish brogue again.
Faith, and does it?
I believe you only put it on to get over people.
[Smiling.] Begorrah, it's not easy to get over you.
Lord, I was in love with you once, wasn't I?
Not more than lots of other people have been.
And you did treat me abominably.
Ah, that's what they all said. But you got over it very well.
I didn't. My digestion was permanently impaired by your brutal treatment.
Is that why you went to Carlsbad afterwards instead of the Rocky Mountains?
You may laugh, but the fact remains that I've only been in love once, and that was with you.
[Smiling as she holds out her hand.] Good-night.
For all that I'm going to fight you now for all I'm worth.
I'm not frightened of you, Paradine.
Good-night.
[As he goes out, Captain Montgomerie enters.
[Yawning and stretching her arms.] Oh I'm so sleepy.
I'm sorry for that. I wanted to have a talk with you.
[Smiling.] I daresay I can keep awake for five minutes, you know – especially if you offer me a cigarette.
Here you are.
[He hands her his case and lights her cigarette.
[With a sigh.] Oh, what a comfort.
I wanted to tell you, I had a letter this morning from my solicitor to say that he's just bought Crowley Castle on my behalf.
Really. But it's a lovely place. You must ask me to come and stay.
I should like you to stay there indefinitely.
[With a quick look.] That's charming of you, but I never desert my London long.
[Smiling.] I have a very nice house in Portman Square.
[Surprised.] Really?
And I'm thinking of going into Parliament at the next election.
It appears to be a very delightful pastime to govern the British nation, dignified without being laborious.
Lady Frederick, although I've been in the service I have rather a good head for business, and I hate beating about the bush. I wanted to ask you to marry me.
It's nice of you not to make a fuss about it. I'm very much obliged but I'm afraid I can't.
Why not?
Well, you see, I don't know you.
We could spend the beginning of our married life so usefully in making one another's acquaintance.
It would be rather late in the day then to come to the conclusion that we couldn't bear the sight of one another.
Shall I send my banker's book so that you may see that my antecedents are respectable and my circumstances – such as to inspire affection.
I have no doubt it would be very interesting – but not to me.
[She makes as if to go.
Ah, don't go yet. Won't you give me some reason?
If you insist. I'm not in the least in love with you.
D'you think that much matters?
You're a friend of Gerald's, and he says you're a very good sort. But I really can't marry every one that Gerald rather likes.
He said he'd put in a good word for me.
If I ever marry again it shall be to please myself, not to please my brother.
I hope I shall induce you to alter your mind.
I'm afraid I can give you no hope of that.
You know, when I determine to do a thing, I generally do it.
That sounds very like a threat.
You may take it as such if you please.
And you've made up your mind that you're going to marry me?
Quite.
Well, I've made up mine that you shan't. So we're quits.
Why don't you talk to your brother about it?
Because it's no business of his.
Isn't it? Ask him!
What do you mean by that?
Ask him? Good-night.
Good-night. [He goes out. Lady Frederick goes to the French window that leads to the terrace and calls.] Gerald!
Hulloa!
[He appears and comes into the room.
Did you know that Captain Montgomerie was going to propose to me?
Yes.
Is there any reason why I should marry him?
Only that I owe him nine hundred pounds.
[Aghast.] Oh, why didn't you tell me?
You were so worried, I couldn't. Oh, I've been such a fool. I tried to make a coup for Rose's sake.
Is it a gambling debt?
Yes.
[Ironically.] What they call a debt of honour?
I must pay it the day after to-morrow without fail.
But that's the day my two bills fall due. And if you don't?
I shall have to send in my papers, and I shall lose Rosie. And then I shall blow out my silly brains.
But who is the man?
He's the son of Aaron Levitzki, the money-lender.
[Half-comic, half-aghast.] Oh lord!
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