Gentlemen Never Tell – stage play

A Mrs. Hawking diversion:

Gentlemen Never Tell

by Phoebe Roberts and Bernie Gabin

~~~

Dramatis Personae

London, England, 1889

MR. JUSTIN HAWKING, a liberated gentleman, late thirties
MR. NATHANIEL HAWKING, Justin’s younger brother, mid thirties

Venice, Italy, 1885

MR. JUSTIN HAWKING, agent of Hawking Capital, mid thirties
MR. PETER MORGAN, his valet, late twenties
MISS ROSALINE PEMBROKE, a fellow bon vivant traveler, early thirties
The Honorable MR. CASSIUS EVANS, a socialite and old school friend, early thirties
THEO PRYCE, Lord Cornin, the groom-to-be and old school friend, mid thirties
MISS ANNABEL BROADWATER, the bride-to-be, late twenties
MISS CORA LITTLE, maid companion to Annabel, mid twenties
MRS. EMMELINE BROADWATER, Annabel’s guardian aunt and mistress of the house, early fifties
MR. MARTIN QUINCY, Mrs. Broadwater’s butler, late twenties

~~~

ACT I

Scene 1.1

(London, 1889. JUSTIN HAWKING visits with his brother NATHANIEL HAWKING in a supper club over a brandy.)

JUSTIN:

Am I correct in understanding that you’ve become something of an amateur detective?

NATHANIEL:

I beg your pardon?

JUSTIN:

You know— ever since that business with the murdered ballerina, and you pointing the policeman in the direction of the murderess.

NATHANIEL:

You mean, the murderess that you dallied with. Yes, I suppose so.

JUSTIN:

I take it you’ve kept up with it in the years since?

NATHANIEL:

You could certainly say that. Why do you ask?

JUSTIN:

Well, I was wondering. Judging by your letters, you’ve not been in the highest spirits of late.

NATHANIEL:

It’s been a hard several years.

JUSTIN:

Yes, since your— what was it, a mugging?

NATHANIEL:

I’d rather not talk about it.

JUSTIN:

And it must not be easy to lose that Stone girl. I’d be low too if I had to manage Auntie all on my own again.

NATHANIEL:

Is there a point to all this?

JUSTIN:

Yes. Do you recall my trip to Venice a few years back?

NATHANIEL:

Where you went to that masked ball?

JUSTIN:

Not just any masked ball— Masquerade, old boy. Can you understand what that means, as an old married London man?

NATHANIEL:

Have I mentioned that I’ve had a difficult time lately?

JUSTIN:

Forgive me, I don’t mean to rub it in. But during my little jaunt I had quite an interesting adventure, and I thought it might amuse you to hear.

NATHANIEL:

Oh, God. This isn’t going to be one of those stories, is it? Because Reggie found one of your blue letters on my desk, and that is not how I’d hoped to have that talk with him.

JUSTIN:

Ha! No, not this time. Although… there may be just a touch of it.

NATHANIEL:

I should expect no less.

JUSTIN:

But I had rather a caper of my own to solve, and it took a bit of detectiving. If you’ve a moment, it might cheer you to hear about it.

Scene 1.2

(Venice, 1885. JUSTIN enters with PETER MORGAN, his valet, who carries in his bags.)

JUSTIN:

Ah, Venezia! Have you ever seen any city so lovely?

MORGAN:

I don’t know, sir. I was fond of Norfolk.

JUSTIN:

Pardon me, Mr. Morgan. I’d forgotten you had no poetry in your soul.

MORGAN:

Truly my cross to bear, sir. Still, steady on; we’re not just here for your friend’s engagement party. They’re expecting us to bring in the Broadwater contract for the company.

JUSTIN:

Of course, of course, you old killjoy, you. I still can’t believe that Theo, of all people, managed to get himself engaged to one of the most eligible heiresses in Europe! Heaven knows what carnival witch he had to bargain with for that.

MORGAN:

Rather a stroke of luck for us, though. It will give us a leg up, with Pembroke’s of London sniffing about too.

JUSTIN:

It may come down to a boxing match yet. Still, chin up! We’re in a fabled romantic city— and for Masquerade, no less!

MORGAN:

I thought all the bishops decided everyone was having too much fun and had put a stop to it.

JUSTIN:

Ah, but my old pal Lord Cornin is holding his own. Lucky for us, my old schoolfellow has a grander sense of adventure than Pope.

MORGAN:

And here in the Broadwaters’? Easy to get lost in a place like this. And didn’t you say everybody’ll be wearing masks?

JUSTIN:

Oh, the mischief we can get up to, with a little imagination.

MORGAN:

If you say so, sir. We English aren’t known for it.

JUSTIN:

This week, Morgan, we’re all bold and swarthy Italians! So a little less brain and a lot more gut, what say?

MORGAN:

I take it you’ve got plans beyond wooing Mrs. Broadwater’s fortune.

JUSTIN:

Wooing’s the word for it. All the young ladies will have high expectations. And the gentlemen, too, for that matter.

MORGAN:

Really, sir? The gentlemen too? Can’t say I’ve ever understood it, but have it your own way.

JUSTIN:

No matter, old boy. We can’t all be philosophers. But you can bet I’ll be ready for any adventure that comes my way.

         (Enter ROSALINE.)

JUSTIN:

Comme ça.

MORGAN:

Oh, dear.

JUSTIN:

Morgan? Go fly a kite.

MORGAN:

Righto.

         (MORGAN exits. JUSTIN approaches ROSALINE.)

JUSTIN:

Good afternoon, miss. You aren’t here for Lord Cornin’s Masquerade, are you?

ROSALINE:

As a matter of fact I am, sir. Among other things. Why do you want to know?

JUSTIN:

Wishful thinking, I suppose. There are some faces one hopes never to hide behind a mask.

ROSALINE:

My goodness.

JUSTIN:

May I be so bold as to ask your name?

ROSALINE:

And here I though you couldn’t get any bolder. You may call me Rosaline. And you must be Mr. Justin Hawking.

JUSTIN:

I say! Does my reputation precede me?

ROSALINE:

In all possible ways.

JUSTIN:

Well. I suppose that saves a bit of time. What have you heard?

ROSALINE:

Well, it certainly wasn’t that you worked slowly. Let’s say just I’ve been warned.

JUSTIN:

I see. Well, if you’ll give me the chance, I can prove that it’s earned.

ROSALINE:

Tempting, sir, but I’m not as dull as I look. You may take pride in your reputation, but I can’t have my good name bandied about.

JUSTIN:

And who would do such a thing?

ROSALINE:

I know how you public school boys talk.

JUSTIN:

Oh, indeed? And who was it that told you about me? Tell me, was it some public school boys?

         (Pause.)

JUSTIN:

It sounds as if I’m not the one who’s the gossip.

ROSALINE:

A fair cop.

JUSTIN:

I’ve learned over the years, that if I’m to have any hope of enjoying the company of ladies, I mustn’t give them a reason to regret it.

ROSALINE:

You really do have this worked out to a science.

JUSTIN:

I’d love to offer you references, but as I’ve said. A gentleman never tells.

         (Pause.)

ROSALINE:

Well. I can see you don’t lack for courage, even if I can’t vouch for skill. However, Mr. Hawking, you’ll have to excuse me for now.

JUSTIN:

You’re in Venice for a party, miss. Might as well have some fun.

ROSALINE:

Worry not, sir. I intend to.

         (ROSALINE exits as CASSIUS enters.)

CASSIUS:

Oh, heavens. What doorman did you pay to let you in here?

JUSTIN:

Why, if it isn’t the Honorable Cassius Evans. I’d ask you the same, except I know you don’t pay your debts. However have you been?

CASSIUS:

Better than you, I imagine. Last I heard, the Partridge girl threw you over for your baby brother.

JUSTIN:

Oh, yes, it must have been much better living under that rock for the last decade. I imagine that made easier to sneak off with the footmen.

CASSIUS:

You never do change, do you, Hawking?

JUSTIN:

At least it means one of us is still handsome. What brings you to darken Theo’s doorstep?

CASSIUS:

Why, I’m a guest same as you are. Except I’m a great deal more fun, so he’s asked me to see to the party arrangements. You know how close the old boy and I were back at Harrow.

JUSTIN:

Really. Because I recall you shaking him for pocket money and scapegoating him for smoking in the dormitory.

CASSIUS:

Nonsense, we were thick as thieves. Of course he’d want me bringing a little class and taste. Before a climber like you brought down the grade.

JUSTIN:

Are you still so bitter after all these years? I suppose I did break your heart.

CASSIUS:

Why, Hawking, you have changed after all! I never recalled you being funny before.

JUSTIN:

Well, you had so little else to recommend you, I never wanted to horn in.

CASSIUS:

That’s rich, friend. Given what you used to have to do with me.

JUSTIN:

Ha! I knew you were still hung up. But I’m afraid that ship has sailed years ago.

CASSIUS:

You arrogant imp. 

JUSTIN:

Save your sweet nothings! I’ve raised my standards in the intervening years. Try not to take it too hard.

CASSIUS:

Oh, yes, why wouldn’t I want to miss all this?

JUSTIN:

Come, now. I know you, Honorable Cash. You’ve always got an angle you’re playing. If you’re not here for your undying love of me, you’re here for some other end.

CASSIUS:

Oh, how very cunning. Handsome man about town didn’t cross the length of the continent for nothing. No wonder Miss Rosaline is so bowled over; your wit must leave the ladies devastated. Well, best keep dreaming of me, darling. It’ll keep you warmer than that girl.

JUSTIN:

Why’s that? What do you know?

CASSIUS:

A great deal more than you. Now, I’ll thank you to leave me to it.

JUSTIN:

Fine, have your schemes. And here I was considering you for old time’s sake.

CASSIUS:

Like I said, old boy. Keep dreaming.

         (CASSIUS exits.)

JUSTIN:

(aside) I left that part out of my story to Nathaniel. The old boy’s fragile that way.

Scene 1.3

(Enter MORGAN to the atrium. He nearly collides with CORA LITTLE, Venetian masks in hand.)

MORGAN:

Oh! Steady on, miss, beg your pardon.

CORA:

Oh, not at all! I should have watched where I was going.

MORGAN:

Those are some fancy masks you’ve got there.

CORA:

Yes, my mistress sent me off for them.

MORGAN:

Indeed? My gentleman’s after them too.

CORA:

I can show you where I got them, if that’s where you’re off to now.

MORGAN:

That’d be kind of you. For now I’m just to bugger off somewhere. My name’s Morgan, by the by. Peter Morgan.

CORA:

Miss Cora Little; pleased to meet you. And what, Peter Morgan, have you done to warrant banishment?

MORGAN:

Wasn’t me, miss. It’s that he’s rather like a bloodhound. When he’s scented a fox, he’d rather you drop the leash and let him to it.

CORA:

So he’s one of those dogs, then.

MORGAN:

Careful, there. That’s my dog you’re talking about.

CORA:

Fair enough! I shouldn’t like to bandy about my lady’s name— even if she did have me once lock her fiancé in the study for a bit of quiet.

MORGAN:

Ha! That’s nothing. I once had to deter a persistent young lady by reporting a nasty bout of plague.

CORA:

I once had to dress as milady to confuse a particularly tenacious school governor.

MORGAN:

I’ve had to knot sheets for a daring second-floor escape after a club prank gone disastrously awry.

CORA:

Oh, knotted bedsheets? Amateur hour!

MORGAN:

Ah, but did you have to shinny down with her luggage?

CORA:

No, empty-handed. I suppose you’ve got me beat there!

MORGAN:

He’s not so bad, really. I don’t know how else I’d get to see the world and have adventures.

CORA:

Now that’s the life. If you get tired of it, do let me know and I’ll take your place. Do you think he’d notice the difference if I grew a mustache?

MORGAN:

Ha! Well, if you do, I can recommend a top-notch wax— but don’t you like it here?

CORA:

In Venice, for certain! But usually we’re shut away in a dreary old house in Exmoor. Nothing to do there but watch the rain and pray a restless ghost decides to haunt the place.

MORGAN:

Any luck so far?

CORA:

No, even the ghosts find it dull.

MORGAN:

Well, I’m glad you’re getting a bit of a holiday now. I hope you can take in some of the city while you’re here.

CORA:

When I’m sent off to find fancy dress masks, at least.

MORGAN:

In that case, I shall take you up on your offer to show me. My gent shan’t remember I exist anytime soon.

(Voices can be heard approaching from the hall.)

CORA:

Well, why not? I’ve some time before dinner. We can compare whose adventures have been the most harrowing. Shall we?

(Exit MORGAN and CORA. Enter JUSTIN and CASSIUS to THEO with ANNABEL and MRS. BROADWATER.)

THEO:

I say! Is that my old friend Justin Hawking, or a highwayman wearing his clothes?

JUSTIN:

A bit of both, perhaps, if it will impress these lovely ladies with you.

THEO:

Ah, yes! Ladies, you’ve met my old schoolfellow the Honorable Cassius Evans. And Justin Hawking, of Hawking Capital and Investments— permit me to introduce my fiancée, Miss Annabel Broadwater, and her esteemed aunt, Mrs. Emmeline Broadwater.

JUSTIN:

The pleasure’s all mine, madame and mademoiselle. I should have known the mistresses of this magnificent house would be ladies of such beauty and taste.

ANNABEL:

I never would have thought you’d have any charming friends, Theo.

MRS. BROADWATER:

One might have hoped over the years they’d have rubbed off on you.

THEO:

(Nervous laugh) Oh, if only, madam!

CASSIUS:

You are generous, lady, to host us here for the festivities.

MRS. BROADWATER:

Yes, well, my late husband saddled us with this white elephant in this country of oily Papists. Might as well see some use of the place.

JUSTIN:

Madam is a romantic.

ANNABEL:

Oh, indeed. You know, it would have been Auntie and Uncle’s thirtieth wedding anniversary this coming week. What better way to celebrate than a raucous party where no one can see anyone else’s face? Theo is so clever about these things.

THEO:

We shall have to give them the complete tour. Justin, old boy, have you taken a moment for the Broadwaters’ famed statue?

JUSTIN:

I haven’t, what is it?

MRS. BROADWATER:

It was a wedding present. My late husband’s pride.

CASSIUS:

Oh, it’s a most magnificent piece. A robust Italic marble depicting the heroic death of Hector. It is quite renowned for… realism.

ANNABEL:

You can see the veins standing out in agony as Hector is dragged behind Achilles’ chariot.

JUSTIN:

Sounds a treat. I shall be delighted to admire it… anytime except after dinner. Shall we go through to cocktail hour?

CASSIUS:

But where’s the last member of our party tonight? The charming young lady Justin encountered in the courtyard.

ANNABEL:

Oh, have you met Rosaline already?

JUSTIN:

Briefly. Is she a friend of yours?

CASSIUS:

Oh, her family and Theo’s have been close for a long time. Surely you must have heard of the Pembrokes, haven’t you?

JUSTIN:

I say, Pembroke? As in—?

(Enter ROSALINE.)

ROSALINE:

Pembroke’s of London, yes. Lord Harry is my uncle.

CASSIUS:

Oh, didn’t you know?

JUSTIN:

Am I to take it you’re acting on his behalf in a professional capacity?

ROSALINE:

I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Hawking. I’m simply here to attend a lovely party. I will say, however, you weren’t the only one hoping to make the acquaintance of Mrs. Broadwater.

ANNABEL:

And why would he be? Auntie is such a charmer. Now, I believe that’s all of us for dinner. Quincy!

(Enter the butler, MARTIN QUINCY.)

ANNABEL:

We’ll be in for cocktails now, before we change.

QUINCY:

 Of course, miss. If the ladies and gentlemen will kindly follow me.

(QUINCY exits, followed by ANNABEL, THEO, and MRS. BROADWATER. JUSTIN stops CASSIUS.)

JUSTIN:

Is Miss Pembroke the little secret you were crowing over?

CASSIUS:

Do you think everything I do is about you? It’s just a delightful bonus.

(CASSIUS exits.)

ROSALINE:

I’m sure you thought I’d disappointed you enough. Are you surprised?

JUSTIN:

I’ll confess it. Although it would explain why anyone bothers to trust their money to a wet lump of mulch like Lord Harry.

ROSALINE:

Well, that I can’t disagree with that. Uncle dear isn’t charming at the best of times, especially when he’s forgotten to trim the hair in his ears. But I’m afraid you see that there’s more than just propriety keeping me from your charming offer.

JUSTIN:

Oh, not at all, miss. Why, I’d say this makes things infinitely more interesting.

ROSALINE:

Do you fancy a spot of competition?

JUSTIN:

With a slight raising of the stakes. If I win Mrs. Broadwater’s contract, you must agree to spend the last evening of Masquerade as my guest.

ROSALINE:

And what precisely would that entail?

JUSTIN:

A chance, miss. To… win you over.

ROSALINE:

Hm. And what if I win?

JUSTIN:

Use me as you would your spaniel.

(ROSALINE considers.)

ROSALINE:

If I win… you must take Annabel’s maid companion to the ball.

JUSTIN:

And… after that, will you make me eat sweets and stay up past my bedtime?

ROSALINE:

Trust me, dear, it’s not for your sake.

JUSTIN:

I’m happy to show a plain girl a good time. Never let it be said that Justin Lionel Hawking is ungenerous of spirit.

ROSALINE:

Yes, the moment you accosted me, that’s just what I thought— that you were quite the hero.

JUSTIN:

You must terribly want me to not take things too hard if you’re offering me a consolation prize.

ROSALINE:

If I were, Mr. Hawking, it is because I am very good at what I do. You won’t find this a walk in the park.

JUSTIN:

I don’t plan to go easy on you. Enough that I’ll ask that, when Hawking tosses out Uncle Harry by the hair in his ears, you don’t hold it against me at the ball. Let us agree, no hard feelings, then?

(They shake on it.)

ROSALINE:

None at all. As I said— I am very good. And I’m pleased for the chance to prove it.

         (ROSALINE exits.)

JUSTIN:

Of course I’ve never minded a challenge. But I’d no idea just how challenging things were to become that very night.

Scene 1.4

(The Broadwater atrium at night. There is a crashing sound, then scraping, grunting, and the scurrying of feet. Voices can be heard in the halls, then QUINCY appears with a lantern. Enter THEO in nightdress.)

THEO:

Hello? What’s all this, then? I say, Quincy, are we being invaded?

QUINCY:

I do believe there’s been a break-in, sir.

THEO:

A break in? But this is a fine, respectable house!

QUINCY:

Yes, sir, I imagine they were after the fine, respectable things.

THEO:

Well, what have they taken?

(They peer around until they see the STATUE of Hector, now turned on its side missing its head. Enter ANNABEL, ROSALINE, MRS. BROADWATER, and CORA, also in nightdress.)

ANNABEL:

What an awful commotion! What is it?

THEO:

It’s the statue!

MRS. BROADWATER:

Theo, you dolt, what’s gone on? Have you knocked into something trying to sneak your way to the larder again?

THEO:

What? No, madam, I told you, I was diverted on my way to the library—

ANNABEL:

But what’s happened to the statue?

ROSALINE:

It appears someone’s mistaken Hector for Medusa, because the poor lad’s been beheaded.

(Enter JUSTIN and MORGAN.)

JUSTIN:

What’s all this?

THEO:

It’s the statue!

JUSTIN:

Dear God! Hasn’t Achilles seen the boy’s suffered enough?

MRS. BROADWATER:

Who is responsible for this?

QUINCY:

No one saw, madam. Whoever it was, it appears they’ve fled.

ROSALINE:

Is nothing else missing? They came just to… decapitate a statue?

ANNABEL:

And my uncle’s most beloved piece, just days from the anniversary of their wedding! Who would do such a thing?

(Enter CASSIUS.)

CASSIUS:

I say, what’s made night owls of you lot?

ALL

For God’s sake, it’s the statue!

CASSIUS:

By Jove! Rough night for poor Hector?

JUSTIN:

What took you, Cassius? Drink yourself to sleep again?

CASSIUS:

Forgive me that I wasn’t already out prowling for someone else’s bedroom.

ROSALINE:

Enough of this idle chatter. Mrs. Broadwater, how distressing this whole business must be for you! What can we do to comfort you in this trying moment?

MRS. BROADWATER:

Quincy, see that the rest of the house is secured. I am too overwrought to manage anymore tonight.

QUINCY:

Of course, madam.

(QUINCY exits.)

ANNABEL:

Cora, send for Miss Dunn. Say her mistress is in need of a sleeping draught, and to see that the glass is topped off.

CORA:

Certainly, Annabel. Now, I hope you won’t trouble over this. We shan’t allow this to cast a pall on your engagement party.

ANNABEL:

Yes, we wouldn’t want the cloud over it to feel upstaged.

(ANNABEL and ROSALINE escort MRS. BROADWATER out. MORGAN stops CORA before she can follow.)

MORGAN:

Cora?

CORA:

Hello, Peter.

MORGAN:

I thought you were Miss Annabel’s maid.

CORA:

Yes, I thought you might. Companion, rather.

MORGAN:

I… I never meant to be so bold. Forgive me.

CORA:

Think nothing of it. I shouldn’t have deceived you.

(She exits.)

CASSIUS:

Well, that’s blown our beauty sleep all to hell. And here Justin needs all the help he can get.

THEO:

The old lady will skin me alive for this happening during my party.

JUSTIN:

Worry not, old boy, the thing is bound to turn up. It’s made of bleeding marble, how far could it have gotten?

CASSIUS:

Well, nothing to be done in the middle of the night. Let’s sleep on it, and deal fresh in the morning. Come along, Theo, nothing a good stiff brandy can’t fix. Or three.

(CASSIUS ushers THEO out.)

JUSTIN:

Well! I think this horse race has taken a turn, Morgan. What say you?

(Pause.)

JUSTIN:

Morgan? What’s got into you?

MORGAN:

Ah— nothing, sir. Do you really think that head will turn up?

JUSTIN:

I do, rather. With Hawking of the Yard on the case.

MORGAN:

You mean to track the blooming thing down yourself?

JUSTIN:

Imagine the gratitude Mrs. Broadwater shall pour down on he that restores her late husband’s beloved statue! Enough, I should imagine, that she’ll be more than happy to permit that clever soul the stewardship of her finances.

MORGAN:

Clever indeed, sir. But do you think you can do it? The… detectiving, I mean.

JUSTIN:

Nothing to it, my man! Why, did you know my baby brother’s taken it up as a hobby? I say, Morgan, if Nathaniel does it— how hard can it be?

(MORGAN exits.)

NATHANIEL:

Oh, indeed? Oh, indeed?

JUSTIN:

Come, now.

NATHANIEL:

Is that really what you think?

JUSTIN:

Oh, it was only a bit of a boast. Like Achilles, before he dragged our marble friend.

NATHANIEL:

I see. And who does that make me— the fellow being dragged?

JUSTIN:

Well, you’ll see I ate my words before long.

Scene 1.5

JUSTIN:

After catching a few hours’ sleep, I sent Morgan off to do a little reconnaissance about the household. Well, my intrepid eyes and ears?

(MORGAN enters to JUSTIN.)

MORGAN:

I spoke to the Broadwaters’ housekeeper, Mrs. Graves. She swears on the Holy Ghost that she saw all the staff to bed by ten o’clock, and seems she’s right strict about her lights out times.

JUSTIN:

And she’s sure no one crept out in the middle of the night? I know I’ve climbed out through a dormitory window or two in my time.

MORGAN:

They’re on the third floor, so it would call for quite the acrobat. And the stairs would take any lurker past Mrs. Graves’s sitting room, and she keeps an old blunderbuss above her fireplace.

JUSTIN:

I did a bit of poking as well. The doors, the windows, everything was locked and nothing forced or broken— which suggests that the assailant was already in the house, or at least in league with someone who was. My goodness, don’t I sound like quite the detective already?

MORGAN:

So Hawking of the Yard believes it to be one of the guests, then?

JUSTIN:

Unless there’s a creeping phantom haunting the halls, sworn to take vengeance on overbearing décor.

MORGAN:

But why would one of them behead the hostess’s beloved sculpture?

JUSTIN:

Who knows what wicked wiles beat within men’s secret hearts? Revenge on the late Mr. Broadwater? Zealous defense of aesthetic good taste? Ours is not to reason why; ours is but to do and die.

MORGAN:

Still, sir. A motive might point us in the culprit’s direction.

JUSTIN:

Motive, eh? Listen to you, Inspector Morgan. It’s a solid tack, old boy. And a certain bit of advantage over Miss Pembroke.

MORGAN:

Ah, yes, sir. A surefire way to win her affections— a sound drubbing in a test of skill.

JUSTIN:

Duke Theseus wooed the Amazon queen with his sword, and won her loves doing her injuries.

MORGAN:

I can’t— vouch for the lady’s taste, sir—

JUSTIN:

I only mean, to the likes of Rosaline and I, there is a thrill in a competition, a little edge of friction— that’s the way to impress a woman of her strong character. Trust me, I’ve played this game enough by now to know.

         (MORGAN considers this.)

MORGAN:

Sir, when a young lady… catches your eye… what about her makes you think she might be game?

JUSTIN:

Well, that’s an easy one, old boy. I ask her.

MORGAN:

That’s all?

JUSTIN:

Your master is a clever man, but I can’t in fact read minds. I hope this doesn’t too much disappoint you.

MORGAN:

Begging your pardon, sir, but I do believe you’ve been slapped more than anyone I’ve ever met.

JUSTIN:

Unfortunately not every lady has the advantage of being both charming and broad-minded. What makes you suddenly ask? Why, Morgan! Has someone caught your eye?

MORGAN:

Please, Mr. Hawking!

JUSTIN:

Come now, I’m only glad you’ve gotten into the spirit of things. Who is she?

MORGAN:

Sir, I’d rather not talk of it. All respect, Mr. Hawking, but you’ve no care for privacy at all.

JUSTIN:

Why does everyone seem to think I’m so very indiscreet?

MORGAN:

Sir, you’ve had me bring you sherry in the bath.

JUSTIN:

Fair enough. But heaven knows I couldn’t get on if I couldn’t keep a secret. And I confess I’m dreadfully curious.

MORGAN:

Please, sir, I’m not ready to say just yet.

JUSTIN:

As you like it, old boy. Still, I wouldn’t be half the swordsman I am if I didn’t have a few tricks up my sleeve. Why, I used to have a pack of boys that followed me about, buying me drinks to see me in action, just hoping they could watch and learn.

MORGAN:

What did they used to call it, sir? “Uncle Justin’s School for Rakes”?

JUSTIN:

You’re very fortunate, Mr. Morgan. I’ll teach you for free.

MORGAN:

And… all that works?

         (Enter THEO.)

THEO:

Like a charm! I’ve seen it with my own eyes.

JUSTIN:

May I introduce, Mr. Morgan, an alumnus of the first graduating class?

THEO:

It’s true. I once saw him have a pair of twins slapping and hair-pulling after a raised eyebrow across a dinner table.

JUSTIN:

Ah, Miss June and Miss July. Like sugar and spice.

MORGAN:

Good gracious.

JUSTIN:

You’ll have to forgive Morgan here; he’s a straitlaced sort. Of course, you’re headed for the straight and narrow yourself now, aren’t you?

THEO:

Oh. Yes. I suppose.

JUSTIN:

Congratulations, by the way, on your engagement. Annabel seems like quite the firecracker.

THEO:

Oh. Yes. I suppose.

         (JUSTIN and MORGAN exchange a look.)

JUSTIN:

I say, old man, is everything all right?

THEO:

What? What makes you ask that?

JUSTIN:

Begging your pardon, but if I were to plight my troth for all eternity, I’d hope I’d have a bit more to say of my beloved than “Oh, yes, I suppose.”

THEO:

Oh. Well… yes. I suppose.

         (Pause.)

JUSTIN:

Are you quite sure—

THEO:

Well, since you ask—

MORGAN:

Of course…

THEO:

Make no mistake, Annabel is a lovely girl—

JUSTIN:

Very lovely.

MORGAN:

Quite so.

THEO:

And so clever, and funny, and simply a joy to be around—

JUSTIN:

Couldn’t agree more.

THEO:

You really think so?

JUSTIN:

Of course.

THEO:

You want her?

JUSTIN:

I beg your pardon?

THEO:

Please, Justin, old boy, you must understand.

JUSTIN:

When a man offers me his fiancée, I very much hope to! That’s a mistake I’ll not be making again.

THEO:

Are you quite sure you don’t want her? It would give me a cracking excuse, and from what I’ve heard, might be of some consolation to her.

JUSTIN:

I told you, it’s not worth the trouble. Never again.

MORGAN:

If I may ask, my lord, what’s troubling you and the Honorable Miss Broadwater?

THEO:

Oh, it’s all become quite the mess. We had a lovely time when we were courting, Annabel and I. She would tease me, and I would laugh. She would tell me what to do, and I would do it. She’d told me to go away, and I wouldn’t… until now we’re engaged. And things are seeming so dreadfully… final… I find myself wondering if I haven’t made rather a mistake.

JUSTIN:

Oh, Theo, you wag. You always do this. Decide the sun rises and sets upon a girl until she looks back at you. You only want them when you can’t have them.

THEO:

Here now, that’s not fair!

JUSTIN:

You were the just the same at school. Remember that barmaid at the Criterion? You used to moon over her when she emptied the mop buckets in the alley? Until she marched over and kissed you and soaked your trousers with mop water.

THEO:

A gentleman wouldn’t hold a boyhood fancy against me.

JUSTIN:

A gentleman wouldn’t ask me to deflower his fiancée.

THEO:

But this isn’t just a fancy! There’s someone else. Someone who makes me see what love truly is.

JUSTIN:

Oh, God. And what miraculous creature has brought on this revelation?

THEO:

Well, that’s the rub. It’s… Annabel’s companion. Miss Cora Little.

MORGAN:

No.

THEO:

I beg your pardon, sir?

MORGAN:

Ah… nothing, my lord. Only… Miss Little?

THEO:

I know it sounds like something from a fairy tale. A lordling who has never known love before, falling for a Venus of penniless but honorable birth.

JUSTIN:

Yes, imagine that.

THEO:

But she makes me feel all the things that the poets sing of, and I feel as though it can’t be ignored.

JUSTIN:

You are making it powerfully difficult. Can’t you just break things off?

THEO:

Oh, you know how it is! You chase a woman for weeks, she decides you ought to get married, and what’s a decent chap to do? It would be terribly ill-mannered. Not to mention the old lady would skin me alive.

JUSTIN:

Mrs. Broadwater hardly seems the type to see her plans fall apart without having anything to skin about it.

THEO:

But you see that I can’t marry Annabel now. Not when my soul belongs to another. So will you help me?

JUSTIN:

You mean, help you out of your engagement?

THEO:

I knew you would understand! You’ve been a true friend to me since the day Professor Landridge nearly caught me in his office and you hid me beneath his overcoat.

JUSTIN:

Well. I should hate to think of all this inflicted on Miss Annabel.

THEO:

I shan’t forget it. Anything you want in reward, I shall be happy to give.

JUSTIN:

Yes, including your fiancée, apparently.

THEO:

Thank you, old friend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must help choose the hors d’oeuvres for my engagement party.

         (Exit THEO.)

JUSTIN:

And here I thought we wouldn’t have to spend every moment working, Morgan. But it seems we’ve another job to carry off.

         (Pause.)

JUSTIN:

Are you quite all right? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.

MORGAN:

Not at all, sir. Just… what’s all in front of me.

JUSTIN:

Yes, well. Theo has that effect on people. No matter now; we were discussing battle plans for your romantic campaign.

MORGAN:

It’s no matter, sir. We’ve so many more pressing things to see to.

Scene 1.6

JUSTIN:

Now, as you can see, Nathaniel, I had quite a full plate before me. Springing Theo, my bet with Rosaline, solving the mystery— and of course doing my duty by the firm.

NATHANIEL:

Bless you for remembering that.

JUSTIN:

So you can imagine, next time the party was all met over tea, I had a rather narrow tightrope to walk.

         (JUSTIN joins the table with THEO, ANNABEL, ROSALINE, CORA, CASSIUS, and MRS. BROADWATER. QUINCY serves.)

ANNABEL:

And whatever did the policeman do?

JUSTIN:

The gendarme dragged her away, her eyes full of longing for what would never be. And as our gazes met for that one final time, I called out after— “We’ll always have the Mariinsky ball.”

NATHANIEL:

Oh, indeed. Still dining out on that little jaunt? What was that, two years later? I was there, that’s not what happened.

JUSTIN:

Oh, so I embellished a little for the story’s sake. Haven’t you ever had to sing for your supper?

THEO:

My God. Is that true, old boy?

JUSTIN:

Every word.

NATHANIEL:

Oh, for Christ’s sake.

THEO:

To think, a ballet dancer and a murderer!

JUSTIN:

One never knows what hidden depths a sweet smile may conceal. Which puts me in mind of last night’s excitement…

ROSALINE:

Oh, indeed? Does our resident detective have suspicions of us?

JUSTIN:

You sneer, but I tell you any one of us could be hiding a diabolical, statue vandal’s heart beneath our genteel exteriors.

MRS. BROADWATER:

Oh, for heaven’s sake! Do you take us all for murderous Russian harlots?

CORA:

I should say the stakes in your story were much higher.

ANNABEL:

You must have been in terrible danger. How exciting!

CASSIUS:

Oh, hardly the first romantic assignation to have it out for Justin Hawking.

JUSTIN:

Lucky for us all, I’m handy with a crumpet knife. Wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Broadwater?

         (He offers her a crumpet dressed on a plate.)

MRS. BROADWATER:

A common skill with this lot, given how much you’ve all been packing away.

JUSTIN:

Ha! What was that you observed of Theo? A scheme to sneak off to the larder the other night?

THEO:

I told you that wasn’t me! I’ve no idea where that steak and kidney pie disappeared to!

ANNABEL:

Yes, because they’re so very easy to misplace.

JUSTIN:

Speaking of misplacing, Theo, do you recall hiking on the moor back in school and we lost you in a wrong turn in the swamp?

THEO:

I heard a bird calling and I thought it was Teddy Marcotte laughing at me!

CASSIUS:

What’s gotten into you, Hawking?

JUSTIN:

(Muttered) We’re running down Theo— help me, won’t you?

CASSIUS:

Oh, what fun. Yes, we found him neck deep in the mud with a feral pony chewing his cap. The sound of his crying led us right to him.

MRS. BROADWATER:

Crying, Lord Cornin? Made of quite stern stuff, I see.

THEO:

That pony looked very large from that angle!

ROSALINE:

Yes, Theo’s a sensitive soul. Unlike you lot of Neanderthals.

CASSIUS:

Oh, indeed. When all the old boys were chasing barmaids, Theo hardly ever called them by his mother’s name. (To JUSTIN) Too much?

ANNABEL:

Mr. Morgan! Would you kindly clear some of these plates, before I give in to my secret desire to smash them over these brutes’ heads?

MORGAN:

Of course, miss.

         (CORA tries to get MORGAN’s attention as he approaches.)

CORA:

Hello, Peter. How have you been finding Venice?

MORGAN:

It’s a lovely city, Miss Little, thank you.

CORA:

And what of your masks? Did they meet with your standards?

MORGAN:

That’ll be for Mr. Hawking to say. Thank you, miss.

(MORGAN turns from her before she can say anything more.)

MORGAN:

What shall I do with the plates, Mr. Quincy?

QUINCY:

Clear them to the cart to take to the kitchen.

MORGAN:

Can’t we take them in the dumbwaiter?

QUINCY:

 The door’s stuck shut; I haven’t had time to see it repaired.

         (MORGAN carries the plates to the cart, but goes over to inspect the dumbwaiter. After a moment, he attempts the door anyway. With a heave, he forces it open— and startles to discover the STATUE’s missing head. He leaps in front of it to hide it from view.)

ANNABEL:

Mr. Morgan? Are you quite all right?

MORGAN:

Yes, miss! Only— loading up the plates.

         (MORGAN seizes the head and moves it to the cart, hiding it beneath the cover of a tray. He wheels it over to JUSTIN.)

MORGAN:

Mr. Hawking, I think you’re quite finished, then?

JUSTIN:

Beg pardon? I say, Morgan, I’ve just started on the clotted cream.

(Sotto voce) And I think I’m getting close to the culprit revealing themselves!

MORGAN:

Sir! Your plate, then!

         (He tips open the cover so only JUSTIN can see the head.)

JUSTIN:

Yes! Of course! My plate. Do see it out of here, now, will you? Quickly, now! Before our lovely tea is disrupted.

         (MORGAN exits, wheeling the cart with the head out.)

MRS. BROADWATER:

I think it’s rather too late for that. Quincy, would you get the doors? There’s been entirely too much merriment for my taste.

         (QUINCY leads her off.)

ANNABEL:

Go apologize, Theo! She still hasn’t forgiven you for the time you mistook her special teacup and passed out drunk on the croquet lawn!

THEO:

Oh, God!

         (THEO dashes out.)

ANNABEL:

Just what game do you think you’re playing?

JUSTIN:

Why, only investigating, miss. What’s the trouble, guilty conscience?

ANNABEL:

Drop it, Hawking. You’re trying to make Theo look like even more of an absolute pillock than he already is.

JUSTIN:

Why ever would I do that?

ANNABEL:

It’s beyond me to say, because God and heaven know Theo doesn’t need the help!

CASSIUS:

A fair cop.

ANNABEL:

So listen here, you glib grinning cocks. My aunt already believes that boy couldn’t find his arse with a bloodhound and a regiment of Gurkhas. If you push his considerable shortcomings any harder, she’ll disapprove the marriage and toss him out bum over teakettle.

JUSTIN:

And… that would be terrible?

ANNABEL:

I swear to merciful Jesus, if any of you do anything to ruin this for me, I shall ruin you. Have I made myself clear?

CASSIUS:

It’s was all Justin’s idea.

JUSTIN:

…anything for a lady.

ANNABEL:

That’s the spirit. Now extricate yourself from my business before I do it for you.

         (ANNABEL exits, snapping for CORA to follow. CASSIUS darts off in the opposite direction.)

CASSIUS:

Well, you heard the lady!

JUSTIN:

Coward! (To ROSALINE) Whatever are they running from? I think she might be my dream girl.

ROSALINE:

You truly are brazen, aren’t you?

JUSTIN:

Don’t be jealous now. My earlier offer still stands.

ROSALINE:

In all frankness now, Hawking. Stand down.

JUSTIN:

And here I thought you weren’t afraid of a little competition. But it’s not only for our bet. I mean well, believe me.

ROSALINE:

Oh, yes. Heaven knows a woman’s never had any trouble at all from well-meaning men.

JUSTIN:

Be reasonable. I love the dear old boy, I do. But do you really think Annabel will be happy married to a clod like Theo?

ROSALINE:

Do you think that’s Annabel’s biggest problem?

JUSTIN:

I’m sorry, does she fight fires or rescue orphans?

ROSALINE:

For Christ’s sake. Before you ride in on your white horse and decide what saves her day, consider for a moment what you know of her day and who you’re actually saving. Because it isn’t who you think.

JUSTIN:

What on earth does that mean?

ROSALINE:

If you have to ask— you ought not to involve yourself.

         (ROSALINE exits.)

NATHANIEL:

She’s right, you know. Learned that myself the hard way the last few years.

JUSTIN:

Well, I hadn’t yet.

NATHANIEL:

Of course not. Because you’re a Hawking, and we all love learning the hard way.

Scene 1.7

         (MORGAN waits nervously in the hall, with the trolley hiding the statue’s head. Enter CORA.)

CORA:

Peter? I was looking for you.

MORGAN:

Ah! Miss Little! Is there anything I can do for you?

CORA:

You rushed out so quickly. I was hoping we might talk some more.

MORGAN:

That’s very kind of you, miss, though I’m certain you’d find the talk in the tearoom more… on your level.

CORA:

Is that what you think?

MORGAN:

It’s not for me to say, Miss Little.

CORA:

No one in there’s ever had to spike a teapot or smuggle a live goose into a boudoir.

MORGAN:

Have you had to do that?

CORA:

You’ll find out if we talk.

MORGAN:

I’m not sure it’s a good idea, Miss Little.

CORA:

Please, Peter. It’s Cora— I’m not posh, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just the daughter of an impoverished cousin who works as companion to earn my keep. Same as you!

MORGAN:

I work for my keep too. But I’m nobody’s cousin at all.

CORA:

So you and I can’t be friends?

MORGAN:

From what I’ve heard… you’ve got a much better prospect for a friend in… someone else.

CORA:

What?

MORGAN:

Perhaps it’s not for me to say. But there’s someone who could do a great deal more for you than the likes of me.

CORA:

Oh, no. Oh, Peter. You must understand—

(Enter JUSTIN.)

JUSTIN:

Ah, Morgan, there you are! And— Miss Little! Ah, yes, I was looking for the— stack of dirty teacups! So that’s where they got off to. I’d been wondering.

CORA:

I was just leaving, sir.

JUSTIN:

Oh, don’t rush off. Unless— you’ve got someone waiting for you.

CORA:

Not at all, Mr. Hawking.

JUSTIN:

Oh, of course, of course. Still, if I may say, a charming girl like you must draw a certain quality of admirer. Even if he’s been too shy to say so.

CORA:

I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir!

MORGAN:

Mr. Hawking, if we can attend to business! The— the teacups?

JUSTIN:

Ah. Of course. The teacups.

CORA:

 I shall leave you to them, sirs!

         (She curtseys and dashes off.)

JUSTIN:

Well! So much for talking up Theo. “May I recommend my old pal, miss? He’s a cracking fellow, except that he’s about to be married to someone else! Perhaps after the wedding you could meet for a stroll?” Bloody Theo. What did she want of you?

MORGAN:

Ah… just to talk, I think.

JUSTIN:

To talk? With you?

MORGAN:

No, sir, with the bleeding head.

JUSTIN:

What’s got you so peppery?

MORGAN:

Nothing! Nothing, it’s just… she wants to make friends.

JUSTIN:

And… you’ve too many to be accepting applications?

MORGAN:

Sir, she’s one of them. One of them toff girls. I don’t know what to say to the likes of them.

JUSTIN:

Say to her? Why, whatever she cares to hear!

MORGAN:

Beg pardon?

JUSTIN:

You know those maid companions, they see and hear all manner of juicy matter. You know, rather like you.

MORGAN:

Not entirely like me.

JUSTIN:

You can make use of it! She can tell us what Rosaline’s up to, or what we can say to free Theo from Annabel, or if she’s spied anything about the bloody statue heist.

MORGAN:

What? No. I— I can’t do that, sir. I can’t.

JUSTIN:

Why ever not?

MORGAN:

I don’t know, sir, I… find I rather want to be her friend too.

JUSTIN:

Why, that’s capital! Make use of that!

MORGAN:

That’s it, sir. I can’t just… make use of her. It wouldn’t be right.

JUSTIN:

Oh. Indeed. Well. Forgive me if I don’t know what to say. I can hardly be expected to have prepared for this sort of betrayal.

MORGAN:

Don’t say that, Mr. Hawking.

JUSTIN:

What would you call it, after eight years’ faithful service? Haven’t I been your friend in kind? I thought we were in this together.

MORGAN:

But we’re not, sir. Not all in that way.

JUSTIN:

I beg your pardon?

MORGAN:

Don’t take it wrong, sir. We’ve had such fun over the years; I’ve no complaints. But it’s all on your terms. I know that’s how it must be, and you’ve been very kind. But this girl… she’s been very decent to me. I can’t just… take advantage for our own ends.

JUSTIN:

Is there an understanding between you?

MORGAN:

Sir, we’ve only just met. It’s just that… we’re not all like you. Some of us can’t go on on our own. Some of us, people leave marks on.

JUSTIN:

I see. (Sighs) As my father used to say, “Who’s to know why Samson loved Delilah? Only that he did.”

         (Pause.)

JUSTIN:

I never— I never meant to make you feel as if… all I cared was what use I could make of you.

MORGAN:

I’m very glad of my place, sir. And very happy in it. Only… the way you flit about from woman to woman. Or… the occasional gent. Perhaps you don’t know. What it is to need someone.

JUSTIN:

Here now, Morgan. I’m not made of stone.

MORGAN:

Course not. But it’s not the same as never having your heart break.

JUSTIN:

Wrong again, old boy, I’m afraid.

MORGAN:

Really, sir?

JUSTIN:

There was a woman I saw something of, when I was younger man. Beautiful and clever and funny— all the usual specs. But she had an edge, too— the steel blade in the velvet glove. I’ve always been soft for a girl who’s just bit a sharp on me.

MORGAN:

Sounds about right, sir.

JUSTIN:

Of course it never came to anything. She had no patience for an eye than wandered, nor should she, so it was only a matter of time. But I confess— I missed her when she was gone.

MORGAN:

Did you… did you love her?

JUSTIN:

Not the way you mean. But I wanted her to think better of me than she did. It’s… not often a man is shown exactly who he is.

MORGAN:

What became of the lady, sir?

JUSTIN:

She married my brother. He always was the good boy.

         (Pause.)

MORGAN:

I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have… thought I knew.

JUSTIN:

Nothing in it, old boy. Only… I shouldn’t like you to believe I’ve no need of anyone. Because I’ve need of you. As my support, and my true friend. I should be quite sorry if you didn’t know that.

 MORGAN:

I’m sorry too, sir. But… we’ve got the head now. Surely that’s something.

JUSTIN:

Yes… if the culprit stashed it in the dumbwaiter… they can’t have meant to just leave it. Eventually the staff would have tried to fix it. Or some raffish lad would climb inside to pull some prank, if my school days were any sign.

MORGAN:

You’ve… ridden in a dumbwaiter, sir?

JUSTIN:

I was rather more limber in my school days.

MORGAN:

And a few stone lighter, I imagine.

JUSTIN:

Manners, old boy. At any rate, I’m certain the thief intends to come back for it.

MORGAN:

But when? Can’t be too long, or it should be discovered. But it’s in the middle of the house, where people are always walking.

JUSTIN:

And I doubt they feels safe under mere cover of darkness, after the debacle the evening they struck. By Jove, the Masquerade!

MORGAN:

During the ball, you mean?

JUSTIN:

The whole house shall be occupied with it, even the servants, and even if the blackguard is spotted— everyone shall be wearing masks! It’s perfect.

MORGAN:

If we watch the dumbwaiter during the ball, we’ll catch him in the act!

JUSTIN:

Precisely! Make ready our masks, my dear fellow. Because, as I believe the detectives say, I think we’re hunting game!

         (MORGAN exits.)

Scene 1.8

JUSTIN:

Well? What do you think of my detective work?

NATHANIEL:

Did you mean that? What you said to your man?

JUSTIN:

About riding in the dumbwaiter?

NATHANIEL:

About Clara.

JUSTIN:

Ah, yes. That.

NATHANIEL:

Did you?

JUSTIN:

I’m a rake, not a liar. Are you surprised?

NATHANIEL:

I never could tell. If it wounded only your pride, or something else.

JUSTIN:

I’m not like Morgan, or you. I don’t believe there’s just one someone I’m meant to walk the way with. But… there are some that left their mark. And when I didn’t leave the same… well.

NATHANIEL:

You never liked to talk about it.

JUSTIN:

You never liked to hear about it. Though I can’t say that I blame you.

NATHANIEL:

I suppose in my old age I’ve gained a little perspective. And it has been thirteen years. She’s hardly pining across the moors for Heathcliff.

JUSTIN:

Oh, really? You’re ready for any gory details, then?

NATHANIEL:

I said I’ve grown, not been canonized.

(JUSTIN laughs.)

NATHANIEL:

I must say, I’m glad that you can speak to your man that way. I know you’ve always gone your own way, but… I’m eased to know you’ve got someone you can count on.

JUSTIN:

Are you saying you worry for me?

NATHANIEL:

Well. I do hate thinking of you out there all alone.

JUSTIN:

Goodness, my baby brother worries for me. I suppose that makes it more bearable how desperately you envy me.

NATHANIEL:

Envy you? Not a chance.

JUSTIN:

Oh, really? And why, then, was that letter of mine out on your desk where my sweet nephew could find it?

(Pause.)

NATHANIEL:

I told you. I’m not canonized.

ACT II

Scene 2.1

JUSTIN:

Well. At any rate, the first night of the masquerade was upon us. And it was time to put my plan into effect.

         (Enter JUSTIN and MORGAN, in evening dress with masks.)

JUSTIN:

Are you ready, dear fellow?

MORGAN:

Ready as I can be. But are you certain this is the only way, sir? Our changing places?

JUSTIN:

Morgan, we must give to all and sundry that I’m thoroughly occupied at the ball. That way, no one will wonder at my disappearance while I lie in wait at the dumbwaiter. Now hand over that mask, and let’s see you put on mine!

MORGAN:

But couldn’t I do the staking out, sir? No one at the ball would miss the likes of me.

JUSTIN:

Do you want to be the one to brawl with that hardened criminal, then?

MORGAN:

A brawl, sir? Do you… fancy yourself the scrappier between the two of us? May I ask, in God’s name, why?

JUSTIN:

Well. I have got the stick. And worse comes to worst, I shall stay the blackguard with my commanding presence.

MORGAN:

Commanding presence? He won’t be a boot boy at the Hotel Savoy.

JUSTIN:

I thank you for your concern, my man. But buck up, you’re about to have some fun. What most men dream of all their lives, you shall get to live.

MORGAN:

But, sir— I shall have to pretend to be you. How ever shall I manage?

JUSTIN:

Oh, you’ve had years to observe me. Try not to enjoy it too much. And if you don’t see me in a few hours’ time, come find whatever chair the villain’s tied me to.

MORGAN:

Won’t be the first chair I’ve walked in and found you tied to.

JUSTIN:

Bon chance, dear fellow! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!

(JUSTIN exits. MORGAN dons the mask and attempts to put on the aspect of his master.)

MORGAN:

All right, then, let’s have it. Justin Hawking. Public school— slight duck walk— find the nearest murderer and have it off with them in the cloakroom. “Hello, sir or madam. Do you fancy me?” Oh, God help us.

(Enter CORA, also masked and in evening dress.)

MORGAN:

Ah, Miss Pembroke, is it?

CORA:

Oh! You, uh… recognize my mask?

MORGAN:

And the particular cadence of your bustle as you walk.

CORA:

Ah, Mr. Hawking. I recognize you now.

MORGAN:

Well, I am known by my elegant leg. How lovely to see you— or, not see you, as the case may be.

CORA:

Then how do you know it’s lovely?

MORGAN:

Ah… a charitable hope? I mean, who knows what wicked wiles beat within men’s secret heart?

CORA:

I know by the way you watch my bustle. Allow me to leave and permit you another opportunity.

MORGAN:

No! That is—now that I’ve caught you, I shan’t let you go without begging a dance.

CORA:

And what makes you think I’d ever dance with you?

MORGAN:

Well. I do believe there’s a bet on.

CORA:

Here now, nobody’s won that bet yet.

MORGAN:

Perhaps. But— how shall you know if you want to, if you don’t get a taste?

CORA:

And Annabel said you were a perfect brute.

MORGAN:

Well. Lucky for you, she’s right.

(They dance.)

MORGAN:

Forgive me, my— dancing’s not quite as sharp as my wit.

CORA:

I would have thought a fellow of your background would have danced since boyhood.

MORGAN:

Ah— well— I suppose my dancing master wasn’t as pretty as my governess.

CORA:

Ever the rake, aren’t you? I see why the traveling life appeals—always someone new to charm.

MORGAN:

Here, now. As they say “Not everyone who wanders… is like that.” Why— take my man, Mr. Morgan.

CORA:

Oh! Shall I, then?

MORGAN:

Oh, goodness.

CORA:

Ha! Are you blushing beneath that mask? Never saw that of Justin Hawking!

MORGAN:

Of course not! Only… Morgan’s a gentle soul. Romantic, one might say.

CORA:

Might one?

MORGAN:

One might. Certainly, he’s very fond of the old boy— of me, that is— but he’s rather the sobering balance to my flights of fancy.

CORA:

I thought he was a romantic.

MORGAN:

He is! A— sober romantic. A grounded sort. Very solid, very sensible sort of romance.

CORA:

My, you have quite a bit to say about your valet.

MORGAN:

Well. I’d be lost without him. And I’d rather the right people know. For example… Miss Annabel’s companion. Miss Little.

CORA:

Miss Little!… What would Mr. Morgan care for her to know?

MORGAN:

Well, you see, I understand he rather gave her the impression that he… didn’t care for her friendship.

CORA:

Ah, yes. I’d heard something of that.

MORGAN:

If that was the case, well, he should hope to make it clear that he’s very sorry that he did. And… it can’t hurt if some ladies and gentlemen of distinction vouched for him.

CORA:

Never fear, sir. I shall pass along the message.

         (The dance ends and he bows.)

MORGAN:

Thank you for the dance, Miss Pembroke. I am sure you have the rounds to make with the other adoring gentlemen.

CORA:

The night’s only just begun, Mr. Hawking. I think I’ve time for one more before I’m missed.

         (They draw together to begin the next dance.)

Scene 2.2

(JUSTIN lurks in the darkened tearoom, staking out the dumbwaiter in MORGAN’s mask. ROSALINE creeps up behind him and he jumps.)

ROSALINE:

What are you doing here?

JUSTIN:

Ah! Who goes there?

ROSALINE:

I could ask you the same!

JUSTIN:

It’s only Mr. Hawking’s man, Peter Morgan.

ROSALINE:

No, you aren’t.

JUSTIN:

I could be! That is to say— I most certainly am!

ROSALINE:

Then what are you doing lurking in the dark out here?

JUSTIN:

I— I wanted the quiet! I don’t like having fun, you see. And what about you?

ROSALINE:

I’m— Cora. Companion to Miss Annabel.

JUSTIN:

No, you aren’t!

ROSALINE:

How dare you! How would you know?

JUSTIN:

Why would Cora be out here creeping in the dark?

ROSALINE:

For your information— I like creeping!

JUSTIN:

No, you don’t.

ROSALINE:

How would you know what Cora likes?

JUSTIN:

Seems no more than you do! Now, who are you and what are you doing?

         (ROSALINE removes her mask.)

ROSALINE:

Ugh. It’s me, all right?

JUSTIN:

Why, Miss Pembroke! How can a lady of your breeding conscience such deception? Why, it’s more than a simple bloke in service like myself can bear—

         (She pulls off his mask as well.)

ROSALINE:

Oh, come off it, Justin! Is that how you think Morgan talks?

JUSTIN:

I don’t know, sometimes I drift when he goes on.

ROSALINE:

What are you up to, anyhow?

JUSTIN:

I’m springing a trap for the statue vandal. A trap into which you have blundered.

ROSALINE:

Oh, yes, you’ve caught me. I hated that statue from the moment I first laid eyes on it the night before.

JUSTIN:

Then whatever are you up to, pretending to be that girl? I thought you were in the ballroom.

ROSALINE:

I believe you’ve answered your own question, Sir Isaac Newton! I traded her my mask so Theo wouldn’t sneak after her and try to press his suit again.

JUSTIN:

You did? So did Morgan and I.

ROSALINE:

Pardon me, but I doubt either of you would fit into her dresses.

JUSTIN:

I meant, he and I swapped. So either I’ve done Morgan a great favor, or thrown him rather to the wolves. Want to put a wager on which?

ROSALINE:

At least Theo won’t get into any trouble, and Cora will have a few hours’ peace.

JUSTIN:

I don’t understand why you’re all so wrapped up in keeping Theo. We all know he’s a dolt. And it isn’t as if Annabel needs the money.

ROSALINE:

Oh, but that’s just it. Annabel’s money’s all in trust— to be released when she marries a man of appropriate social standing at her aunt’s approval.

JUSTIN:

But her aunt thinks he’s a pillock!

ROSALINE:

Oh, yes. But she finds his peerage very smart.

JUSTIN:

Ah.

ROSALINE:

Such is the lot of those whom society will not indulge trotting the globe doing as they please.

JUSTIN:

Really. She who lives in glass globes ought not to trot stones.

ROSALINE:

You mean, she who must pretend her uncle does all her work of consequence, and won’t drag her home again if she can’t seal the deal. Which is looking increasingly likely, with the mood Mrs. Broadwater’s been in.

JUSTIN:

Oh. Oh, I see. (Sighing) Rosaline, we can call off the wager. I only meant it as… waggish flirtation. I never met to trap you into something you don’t care to do; there’s no fun in that. Only too glad to bugger off, if you really don’t like me after all.

ROSALINE:

Don’t like you? Justin Hawking, I am you.

JUSTIN:

I beg your pardon?

ROSALINE:

You’ve seen it. It’s why you’re after me, unspeakably vain as you are. I travel the world, I wrangle and deal, I dazzle with my wit, my charm, my striking good looks. And, yes, Mr. Hawking, I’ve no interest in the conventional genteel path because I’d rather dally with all manner of fascinating people I meet along my way.

JUSTIN:

…you don’t say.

ROSALINE:

I do say! Or I would. If the world would permit me the way it does you.

         (Pause.)

ROSALINE:

I’m afraid, sir, that the only real difference between us is the only difference that matters to most.

JUSTIN:

Not to me. I meant what I said when I don’t judge.

ROSALINE:

Perhaps you don’t. But others will. Even if I should risk you… I risk any other blasted gossip who chances to find out about it. Even if you are as discreet as you say— there’s always the servants, or the hosts, or some other mean-spirited judge and jury who would shun me forever for a rumor.

JUSTIN:

I can’t argue. I’ve seen it.

ROSALINE:

What woman could ever get away with what you do as a matter of course? Proposition the first good-looking stranger you see, flirt with the host, and laugh off your roguish reputation over the fish course because it only makes them love you more?

         (Pause.)

ROSALINE:

So know this, sir. I would take you up on your offer. Indeed, I wish I could take you to the upstairs bedroom and show you a go-round like you’ve never had before. Because that would mean that I could.

         (Pause.)

JUSTIN:

Golly. See here, Rosaline—

ROSALINE:

Hush!

JUSTIN:

I beg your pardon, I’m doing my best!

ROSALINE:

No, not that! Did you hear that?

         (Pause.)

JUSTIN:

By Jove, someone’s coming!

ROSALINE:

Hide!

         (JUSTIN and ROSALINE withdraw to watch the dumbwaiter from hiding. After a moment, a figure enters, tuxedoed and masked from the party, scanning the hallway and creeping towards the dumbwaiter. The figure pulls at the jammed doors. JUSTIN leaps out.)

JUSTIN:

Stop where you are, statue vandal!

         (The figure freezes, then turns to run. JUSTIN throws his stick to tangle in the figure’s legs. JUSTIN pounces on him, and the two of them struggle awkwardly.)

JUSTIN:

Ha, got the brigand!

         (The figure kicks him in the back of the knee and he collapses.)

JUSTIN:

Ah! Damn it, my gammy knee!

ROSALINE:

Oh, blast it all!

         (ROSALINE snatches up the cane and knocks the figure down.

CASSIUS:

Ah! Bloody buggering hell!

JUSTIN:

What? Rosaline, his mask!

         (ROSALINE snatches the mask off, revealing CASSIUS.)

ROSALINE:

You?

JUSTIN:

Cash?

         (CASSIUS scrambles out.)

JUSTIN:

You absolute ass! Using my gammy knee against me! And— beheading the statue, too, I suppose.

ROSALINE:

Cassius Evans did the damn thing?

JUSTIN:

Must have done! He’d hardly lift a finger otherwise. Much less risk a biff to his pretty face.

ROSALINE:

But why? For what possible reason?

JUSTIN:

How in the blue blazes should I know? Perhaps to have the chance to take a swing at me.

ROSALINE:

Thank heaven neither of you can throw a punch to save your lives. But take your head from your own arse for a moment! Do you really think that popinjay would deface a bloody great statue in the house where he is a guest for no reason at all?

JUSTIN:

I’m sure he’ll have plenty of opportunity to explain himself to Mrs. Broadwater.

ROSALINE:

So that’s your plan, then? To turn him over as the statue vandal, so that Broadwater will, I don’t know— perhaps invest with Hawking Capital in breathless gratitude?

JUSTIN:

I shall be paid most handsomely in the look on his smug face. But if the lady is so moved, who am I to gainsay her?

ROSALINE:

So you’ll sacrifice your old friend just to win?

JUSTIN:

Oh, don’t be melodramatic.

ROSALINE:

He wouldn’t risk all this unless it were very dear indeed. Does he strike you as having been in a good way these last several years?

JUSTIN:

I don’t know if I would know.

ROSALINE:

Well, I’d think on it, if I were you, and if the consequences you imagine fit the crime. Just to satisfy a spat from twenty years ago.

         (Pause.)

ROSALINE:

Remember, Justin. We can’t all do what you do.

Scene 2.3

         (JUSTIN enters to QUINCY.)

QUINCY:

Mr. Hawking.

JUSTIN:

Mr. Quincy— excuse me. I was looking for Mr. Evans.

QUINCY:

I know, sir. I’m afraid the business with the statue’s head has given you rather the wrong impression. I felt it was my duty to correct it.

JUSTIN:

How do you know about that?

QUINCY:

I fear from the events of this evening you’ve come to believe the Honorable Cassius is responsible for the theft.

JUSTIN:

Theft? Not mere vandalism?

QUINCY:

No, sir. Theft was the intention. I can speak to that, because the intention was mine.

JUSTIN:

You, Mr. Quincy?

QUINCY:

Yes, sir. Though I’m afraid I rather botched the job, so to speak. I was hoping to make off with the piece to sell it, but instead I broke it in the effort. When Lord Cornin emerged, I feigned the same consternation as the rest of the household.

JUSTIN:

I see.

QUINCY:

Up to now I had been making a cowardly effort to conceal it, but if you are to put the blame on Mr. Evans, I felt I had the duty to speak.

JUSTIN:

The question remains, however, what exactly Cassius was up to when he came to retrieve the head.

QUINCY:

Mr. Evans knows nothing about it.

JUSTIN:

He was on a mission for that dumbwaiter, Quincy. Come now, man. What’s going on here?

         (At last CASSIUS enters.)

CASSIUS:

Oh, for God’s sake, Martin, what are you doing?

QUINCY:

Confessing, sir. To my plot to steal the statue.

CASSIUS:

Oh, no. Bless you, but no.

QUINCY:

I’ve already confessed, sir. Best not to involve yourself in this mess.

CASSIUS:

Enough, Martin. He saw me at the dumbwaiter; the jig is well and truly up. I suppose you know now, Justin. And you’ve come to make me pay for it.

JUSTIN:

Whatever possessed you? You were always a schemer, but to attempt an art heist? For what possible reason?

CASSIUS:

We were hired, if you must know. To rid the place of the hideous thing.

JUSTIN:

You? A gentleman thief?

CASSIUS:

As you can see, I’m hardly Black Bart. But heaven knows I need the money, so we made the attempt.

JUSTIN:

And you corrupted Broadwater’s own man into it?

QUINCY:

Rather the other way ‘round, and that’s the truth. I was the one engaged, and since I knew of Mr. Evans’s circumstances, I drafted him into the operation.

JUSTIN:

But why would you go to Cassius, of all the useless people? And why would you fall on your sword for him?

         (CASSIUS regards him.)

JUSTIN:

Oh. Oh, I see.

QUINCY:

I— I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Hawking—

CASSIUS:

Martin. That’s enough.

QUINCY:

But, Mr. Evans—

CASSIUS:

Martin! Justin knows. And better than most.

QUINCY:

Oh.

JUSTIN:

There’s only one thing Cash was ever good at. I suppose that would be enough to do it.

CASSIUS:

Martin, will you give me a moment with my old friend?

QUINCY:

Are you certain?

CASSIUS:

I am, my dear.

         (After a moment, QUINCY withdraws.)

CASSIUS:

Well, then. There you have it.

JUSTIN:

Have what?

CASSIUS:

Name it. All the power. Proof that you’re the better man. Whatever you like. It’s only all you’ve ever wanted for twenty years.

JUSTIN:

Yes, my whole brain has been taken up all that time with you.

CASSIUS:

So laugh it up, old boy. I’ll just wait patiently until you decide my fate.

JUSTIN:

Is that all you have to say for yourself? What I don’t understand is, why this? Just for what, money? Excitement?

CASSIUS:

Oh, come now, Hawking, are you really that thick? You know what my life is. Singing for my supper in my friends’ houses, playing the party boy so they have reason to keep me around.

JUSTIN:

Yes, I’ve heard the tribulations of the penniless aristocrat.

CASSIUS:

And we’re not as young as we used to be. The waggish bachelor antics wear thinner when you’re on the wrong side of thirty.

JUSTIN:

Do they?

CASSIUS:

You think you get by on charm? You ought to try it these days without all your money behind you. Even you won’t be handsome forever— and I’m not you. So when Quincy said he had a job for us… well, we were hardly in a position to say no.

JUSTIN:

Quincy there is the quite the gallant.

CASSIUS:

He’s a man of character. I love him, you know. If you can understand that.

JUSTIN:

I suppose I should hope so, given what he’s willing to do for you. For all that he engineered an art heist in his mistress’s house.

CASSIUS:

Don’t you dare, Justin. You’ve no idea.

JUSTIN:

So people keep telling me. Oh, Cassius, what am I to do with you?

CASSIUS:

What’s your intention? Turn me over to win the approval of the old lady? Are you so sure that will work out as you plan?

JUSTIN:

And what would you have me do? Hide everything for you, because you’ve been dealt a hard hand and let you do whatever you please?

CASSIUS:

Not whatever I please. Just this. You know this is the least of what I’ve been forced to hide. Can’t you understand that?

JUSTIN:

It isn’t as if I haven’t anything of my own to hide, Cash.

CASSIUS:

Then you ought to have some pity. What you and I had, I’ve no illusions of it— a romantic lark. But I did think we were friends, Justin. Does that mean nothing to you?

JUSTIN:

Dear fellow. Do you think, after all these years, we’d be here if it did?

         (JUSTIN kisses CASSIUS.)

JUSTIN:

Some people leave their mark.

CASSIUS:

What are we to do, old boy?

JUSTIN:

Who hired you? Perhaps that’s enough for Mrs. Broadwater.

CASSIUS:

Ah, but Justin, therein lies the problem. If Mrs. Broadwater hears of any of this, I’ll have done it all for nothing.

JUSTIN:

Whatever does that mean?

Scene 2.4

(QUINCY enters to show JUSTIN in to MRS. BROADWATER in her sitting room.)

QUINCY:

Mr. Hawking to speak with you, madam.

JUSTIN:

Good evening, Mrs. Broadwater. Thank you for seeing me.

MRS. BROADWATER:

 Yes, I am most magnanimous. Despite the lateness of the hour.

JUSTIN:

Indeed. And how did you enjoy the party—?

MRS. BROADWATER:

 Oh, spare me your mewling. Why ever do you invade my sitting room?

JUSTIN:

I assure you, madam, only on a matter of great importance. I know what happened to your statue.

MRS. BROADWATER:

Well. That is important.

QUINCY:

Madam, would you permit me to—?

MRS. BROADWATER:

Thank you, Quincy. That will be all for now.

(QUINCY exits.)

MRS. BROADWATER:

Well, Mr. Hawking? Will you keep me in suspense?

JUSTIN:

Pardon my sense of theater, madam. But I’ve done some detective work. Examining the clues, laying a trap, springing it to catch the culprit. And I confess, what I found surprised me.

MRS. BROADWATER:

Fancy that, the mystery was mysterious. Is there a point to all this?

JUSTIN:

I should say so. It was you, madam. You stole the statue.

MRS. BROADWATER:

Pray repeat yourself, dear boy. For a moment there you lost your mind.

JUSTIN:

Let us dispense with this, madam. It does not become my age or your dignity.

         (Pause.)

MRS. BROADWATER:

And here I thought you were yet another shiftless simpleton like Theo.

JUSTIN:

A common misconception. But I’m not as gormless as I look.

MRS. BROADWATER:

The one time it would have been of use. Who told you, that strutting cockerel Cassius Evans? I should have known that biscuit would crumble. I told Quincy to lift with his legs, but he insisted he needed a second back.

JUSTIN:

He didn’t say word about you. But none of you counted on having a brilliant detective in your midst. I deduced, madam, that when your faithful man Quincy struck a blow against the property of his mistress, the blow could only come by her orders. I can hardly say I blame you. The thing was horrid.

MRS. BROADWATER:

Horrid? It was nightmarish. I could hardly sleep at night without hearing Hector’s death screams.

JUSTIN:

My only question is, why ever would you need to employ your man in secret to abscond with your own statue?

MRS. BROADWATER:

And here you said you weren’t so gormless. That hideous statue was my husband’s pride and joy. Do you really think I could simply toss it out on the rubbish heap? People would be scandalized! Without the subterfuge I was stuck with the thing, unless I wanted to hear the whispers of the neighbors every time I walked by.

JUSTIN:

I suppose I hadn’t thought of that.

MRS. BROADWATER:

Fancy that.

JUSTIN:

I ought to more and more. I suppose you too carry a secret pain you must hide from the rest of the world?

MRS. BROADWATER:

Don’t be absurd. Because I’m an Englishwoman. Not a jellyfish.

JUSTIN:

Righto. My mistake.

MRS. BROADWATER:

The only thing that matters now, Mr. Hawking, is what you plan to do. You know my subterfuge now, and how I’ll not have it bandied about. What will it cost me for you to keep your clever mouth shut?

JUSTIN:

Are you making an offer?

MRS. BROADWATER:

For example, I’m aware of your ulterior motive for attending this little party— beyond the young ladies, at any rate. You’re on marching orders for your investment firm.

JUSTIN:

I suppose at least one of those is true.

MRS. BROADWATER:

And I know you’re not the only one. Miss Pembroke’s been pushing her interest as well. What if I promise you that the Pembrokes could lump it, and I’ll throw in my lot with Hawking Capital?

JUSTIN:

You’ll make assurances in exchange for my silence?

MRS. BROADWATER:

I swear on Hector’s severed head. So, Justin, my dear. Shall we make a deal?

Scene 2.5

         (QUINCY lays the table for tea, looking nervously to JUSTIN and ROSALINE as they enter.)

ROSALINE:

There you are! Are you ready?

JUSTIN:

Ready as I can be— have you called everyone together?

ROSALINE:

Yes, they’ll be here. Only I haven’t found Annabel.

JUSTIN:

Damn! Can you take her aside as it goes?

ROSALINE:

I can climb atop a moving train, Justin, but there’s no guarantee I can shift tracks from up there!

JUSTIN:

Then, my dear Miss Pembroke, do you trust me?

ROSALINE:

Oh, do you juggle elephants? In which case, permit me to bend over backwards!

JUSTIN:

Save that for later. For now, it’s enough to follow my lead.

         (Enter the whole household for tea— MRS. BROADWATER, ANNABEL, CASSIUS, CORA, MORGAN, and THEO.)

JUSTIN:

Ah, there you all are. Thank you for joining me here.

ANNABEL:

Yes, you’ve turned us all out for this unheard of ritual of afternoon tea.

JUSTIN:

Ah, but Miss Broadwater, a very singular one. Now, you may be wondering why I’ve gathered you together here—

CASSIUS:

Besides the Ceylon and biscuits? Or did Hawking of the Yard require us in the parlor for some accusing?

JUSTIN:

Both, fortunately. No sense in wasting a good biscuit. But I must inform you all I’ve solved the mystery of who vandalized Mrs. Broadwater’s beloved sculpture, so the culprit can be brought to the consequences so richly deserved.

THEO:

You have? Oh, how exciting!

QUINCY:

Must you, sir? After all, it is highly irregular to disturb Mrs. Broadwater’s tea—

JUSTIN:

I’m afraid so, Quincy. Justice waits for no biscuit.

CASSIUS:

Well, then, don’t make a meal of it.

JUSTIN:

Ladies and gentlemen, I have reviewed the clues, followed the trails, interviewed the witnessing parties. Having discovered all relevant facts and figures, I applied my singular brain to the task of teasing out the truth to which they led—

CASSIUS:

Oh, for God’s sake, Justin!

JUSTIN:

It was Theo. Theo did it, what, what?

THEO:

I say, what?

CASSIUS:

What?

JUSTIN:

Precisely.

THEO:

Do you mean, me?

ROSALINE:

Do you see any other Theos about?

THEO:

But I never! I was stone asleep!

JUSTIN:

Or is that what you wanted us to believe?

THEO:

Yes! Because I was!

JUSTIN:

No, dear fellow. I have seen through your cunning. You thought you could get away with disposing of the piece. You were to join this family, you’d have to bear the sight every day of the ghastly thing— his thoughts, not mine! But that you could not conscience.

MRS. BROADWATER:

Is this what you’re doing, Hawking?

JUSTIN:

It’s my solemn duty, madam. Wouldn’t you say, Cassius?

CASSIUS:

Why— I should have thought it myself.

THEO:

I say, chaps, why ever would you do this?

JUSTIN:

Because, Theodore— knowing what I know, I can’t stand by and let you marry this woman.

THEO:

Oh! Oh, I see!

JUSTIN:

And I don’t see how her esteemed aunt could consent to unite him with her ward now. Isn’t that so, Mrs. Broadwater?

         (Pause.)

MRS. BROADWATER:

(Flatly) Oh, Theo. How could you?

ANNABEL:

I beg your pardon?

THEO:

I’m afraid I’m entirely not good enough for you, dear Annabel. No hard feelings, then, what?

ANNABEL:

Most certainly hard feelings! You’ve ruined our engagement!

ROSALINE:

You must know, Annabel, you deserve a better man than all that.

ANNABEL:

I deserve to have my inheritance released! Do you think I’d stand for this booby if I didn’t need someone with at least enough backbone to hold up a wedding suit?

MRS. BROADWATER:

The fact remains that the girl must be married. Even if this chicken will not satisfy.

ROSALINE:

Oh, but my dear lady, don’t you see? There has been a man suffering in silence for sweet Annabel all this time, afraid to speak his heart when she was betrothed to another.

MRS. BROADWATER:

What on earth?

ROSALINE:

Oh, yes! A gallant soul who placed the happiness of his beloved and his old schoolfellow above even his own— but now… since she is free… can speak his feelings plain.

ANNABEL:

What? Is that why you’re putting this show on, Hawking?

JUSTIN:

Who, me? Oh, God, no! I mean— that is to say—

ROSALINE:

No, not Justin! Cassius!

         (Pause.)

CASSIUS:

Cassius what now?

JUSTIN:

Yes, old friend! You need hide your devotion no longer!

CASSIUS:

I say, I don’t— I can’t—

ANNABEL:

Are you quite certain you haven’t mistaken Cassius for some other fellow? Such as, nearly any other fellow on the planet?

ROSALINE:

Just think, Annabel, if you married this man. Who would serve as your husband in the best way he knew how.

JUSTIN:

Who would live in your house…

ROSALINE:

And follow your lead…

JUSTIN:

And lend you his peerage…

ROSALINE:

And see you receive all your parents’ money.

         (Pause.)

ANNABEL:

Why, Cassius. I never knew you cared.

CASSIUS:

I— well, that is to say, I—

QUINCY:

Mr. Evans! If you don’t mind my saying so, sir— I think you shall make a fine master of this household. I know, for my part… I should be very happy to have you.

CASSIUS:

Why, Mr. Quincy… I do believe you’re right.

ANNABEL:

What do you say, Cassius? Shall we marry?

CASSIUS:

And Mother thought I’d never find the right girl.

JUSTIN:

Well! There’s the mystery solved, the lovers united, and everyone’s honor satisfied. Indeed, Mrs. Broadwater?

MRS. BROADWATER:

Oh, indeed. I’m especially grateful to Miss Pembroke for saving my niece’s honor with a suitable gentleman. Grateful enough that… perhaps she and I should discuss some investments I’ve been meaning to make. I feel as though she’d be the right person.

JUSTIN:

…yes. Of course you should. Of course.

ROSALINE:

Why, madam. We should be honored.

MRS. BROADWATER:

After all, I should like to work with someone I can trust.

JUSTIN:

Very naturally, madam. And we all know what you can count on from me.

         (MRS. BROADWATER exits.)

CORA:

Rosaline! If Theo’s free now—

ROSALINE:

Oh, no.

THEO:

Why, Cora, you’re right! I am a free man!

CORA:

Oh, no.

THEO:

I know it may seem as if I’ve rather dishonored myself just now, but I promise, you’ll find my heart is true!

CORA:

What do I—?

JUSTIN:

Propose.

ROSALINE:

What?

CORA:

What?

MORGAN:

What?

ANNABEL:

Trust him. Propose!

CORA:

Ah— dearest Theo! It’s the day we’ve been praying for! Now at last we can be wed!

THEO:

Yes! Ah— that is— wed, did you say?

CORA:

Of course! It’s what we’ve been longing for, isn’t it?

THEO:

Oh! Well. Of course it is— of course, it is moving rather quickly, wouldn’t you say?

ROSALINE:

Why, Theo, whatever do you mean?

THEO:

Just that— oughtn’t we— wait a while— observe the proprieties, and all that?

CASSIUS:

Capital idea, Theo. Get a little travel in— see the world— heal the old spirit from these events.

THEO:

Yes, yes, the spirit’s simply shot through, my dear!

ROSALINE:

Like a pigeon at a Scottish hunt!

THEO:

But nothing like the high seas for healing!

CASSIUS:

Consign it all to the waves!

THEO:

You understand, don’t you?

CORA:

Are you quite certain? Because I’ve always fancied a dress of Honiton lace! And six children at least— I’ve already picked out their names!

THEO:

Oh, dear! Justin, old boy, make my apologies!

CORA:

What about wee Honoria and Roderick? Can’t you just imagine their dear little faces? Theo! Theo, come back!

         (THEO rushes out, CORA chasing playfully after him.)

JUSTIN:

Morgan, dear man, would you be so kind as to help Lord Cornin pack?

MORGAN:

Of course, sir. And… thank you, sir.

JUSTIN:

Think nothing of it, old man.

         (MORGAN exits.)

JUSTIN:

And is that it now? Any other troubles need solving? Because if not, I’m off for a pint, you’re on your own!

Scene 2.6

         (Enter MORGAN and CORA.)

MORGAN:

Well, Miss Little. I’d ask if Theo accepted your gracious proposal, but I can tell by your smile he did not.

CORA:

Yes, that galloping sound you may have heard was Theo stealing a team of horses to get as far away as possible.

MORGAN:

What are your plans, now that he shan’t be breathing down your neck?

CORA:

Well, Annabel’s found a much more appropriate match, so she won’t need a companion much longer. Miss Pembroke’s graciously offered me a place traveling with her.

MORGAN:

So you shall get to see the world at last.

CORA:

Yes! You’ve inspired me. I wanted to ask, Mr. Morgan… Peter… if I might write to you, if you would care to write me back.

MORGAN:

I should like that very much, miss— Cora.

         (Enter JUSTIN, ROSALINE, CASSIUS, and ANNABEL.)

JUSTIN:

Ah, Morgan. I can see by the gleam in your eye, you’ve heard Miss Little’s good news.

CORA:

Yes, sir. He’s regaled me of the fun one can have trotting the globe in the right company.

ROSALINE:

And I assure you, Cora dear, Mr. Hawking’s got nothing on me.

JUSTIN:

Well, lest you believe that, I wanted to give you the afternoon off, Mr. Morgan. So that you can enjoy Miss Broadwater’s engagement party.

CORA:

Why, perhaps he can accompany me, then. If he’d be so kind.

MORGAN:

He can, miss. But only if you’ll keep talking about him as if he’s not there. He’s keen to hear what you say behind his back.

CORA:

Well. I find it’s done us well enough so far.

         (He extends his arm to her, and he and CORA exit.)

JUSTIN:

Ah, young love. How exhausting.

ROSALINE:

I must say, Justin, you’ve been quite the gallant all around.

ANNABEL:

Who’d have thought the old dog would have it in him?

CASSIUS:

Not me, that’s certain.

ANNABEL:

By the by, Hawking. I shall have access to my own money soon. And when I do… perhaps we can discuss what you think I ought to do with it.

JUSTIN:

Nothing would please me more, miss.

CASSIUS:

See you at the party, Hawking. I’ll have Quincy save you a glass of champagne.

ANNABEL:

And I’ll have nobody save you a glass of nothing.

         (Exit ANNABEL and CASSIUS.)

ROSALINE:

Nothing would please you more? Is that so?

JUSTIN:

Why, Miss Pembroke. Don’t you clean up nicely.

ROSALINE:

Yes, there’s a silk purse beneath all this sow’s ear. I could say the same of you, except then it would only go to your head.

JUSTIN:

I am struggling a bit to keep it upright these days.

ROSALINE:

And dear Hector’s taught us the dangers of that. Well, the engagement party’s arrived. And I can’t say either one of us lost, since we’re both walking away with some Broadwater money.

JUSTIN:

Call it a draw, then?

ROSALINE:

I prefer to say we both won.

JUSTIN:

In that case… can we both claim a prize?

ROSALINE:

I believe the terms were I’d walk into the party on your arm, and I could make you take Cora in my place. But since your little switch with Mr. Morgan at the masquerade, I’d say that’s rather been satisfied already. In light of that… I still have Cora’s mask, if you’re still in the spirit of things.

JUSTIN:

Oh, dear girl. I shall miss you when we’re gone.

ROSALINE:

Who’s to say we’ll not cross paths again? After all, I can’t imagine we’ll never be competing for the same clients.

JUSTIN:

Well. Mr. Morgan and Miss Little shall enjoy that.

ROSALINE:

I know I for one shall relish the competition.

JUSTIN:

I beg you bring it, miss.

ROSALINE:

For now… I do believe most of the household shall be taken up with the engagement party. And there are quite a few rooms in this house now quite removed from anyone’s attention.

         (JUSTIN and ROSALINE kiss.)

JUSTIN:

As I said, miss. I beg you bring it.

Scene 2.7

JUSTIN:

And there you have it. Have I blown you away, or do you expect such color and pageantry from my life?

NATHANIEL:

Well. I’d been wondering how Cash Evans suddenly came into money. But I never imagined there was a story behind it.

JUSTIN:

And what do you think of my detective skills? In your… semi-professional opinion?

NATHANIEL:

I suppose you stumbled into a few techniques to decent effect. Such as lying in wait and tackling a blighter who kicked you in the knee. I’m more impressed with your people skills.

JUSTIN:

Well, those were never in question.

NATHANIEL:

Those weren’t the ones I mean.

JUSTIN:

Well. I was under orders to come back with my shield or on it. Didn’t want to let down my commanding officer.

NATHANIEL:

You cut through to the heart of quite a few matters. It was kind of you. To take on so much for people who couldn’t manage on their own.

JUSTIN:

Didn’t think I had it in me, did you?

NATHANIEL:

I always figured there was more to you than free suppers and loose girls.

JUSTIN:

Don’t you dare spread that rumor around. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.

NATHANIEL:

Worry not. I delight in telling everyone you’re a rake.

JUSTIN:

I take it I have cheered you? That was, after all, my goal.

NATHANIEL:

At ease, soldier. You’ve done well. Though… I must ask… what Miss Pembroke told you at the party…

JUSTIN:

Yes?

NATHANIEL:

Did the two of you really slip away to…? You know.

JUSTIN:

For goodness sake. I don’t know how many more times I have to say it. A gentleman never tells.

CURTAIN