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_ ACT IV - SCENE I
The kitchen is decorated with bunches of flowers. A long table is spread with silver, china and food. CLARA is setting mugs to each place. MAGGIE comes in from the back kitchen with a large dish of salad.
MAGGIE.
When folks do come down to the countryside they likes to enjoy themselves among the vegetables.
CLARA.
[Placing the last mug.]
There--Now all is ready for them.
MAGGIE.
[Bending over a place at the end of the table.]
Come you and look at this great old bumble-dore, Joan, what have flyed in through the window.
CLARA.
[Goes to MAGGIE'S side and bends down over the table.]
O what a beautiful thing. Look at the gold on him, and his legs are like feathers.
MAGGIE.
[Taking the bee carefully up in a duster and letting it fly through the window.]
The sign of a stranger, so they do say.
CLARA.
A stranger, Maggie?
MAGGIE.
You mind my words, 'tis a stranger as'll sit where yon was stuck, afore the eating be finished.
CLARA.
I don't believe in such signs, myself.
MAGGIE.
I never knowed it not come true.
[THOMAS comes in. He is wearing his best clothes and looks pleased, yet nervous.]
THOMAS.
Well, maids. Upon my word 'tis a spread. Never saw so many different vituals brought together all at a time afore in this house.
MAGGIE.
'Tis in honour of Miss Clara's going to be married like, master.
THOMAS.
So 'tis, so 'tis. Well--A single rose upon the bush. Bound to be plucked, you know. Couldn't be left to fade in the sun, eh, girls?
CLARA.
Where shall Maggie and me stop whilst the supper is going on, master? Mistress has not told us yet.
THOMAS.
[Nervously.]
Mistress haven't told you--haven't she? Well- -well--at such a time we must all--all rejoice one with t'other, like. No difference made t'wixt master and man. Nor t'wixt maid and missus. Down at the far end of the table you can sit yourselves, my wenches. Up against George--How's that?
CLARA.
That will do very well for us, Master.
MAGGIE.
I don't expect as missus will let we bide there long.
THOMAS.
Look here, my wench, I be master in my own house, and at the asking in marriage of my only sister like, 'tis me as shall say what shall sit down with who. And there's an end of it. That's all.
MAGGIE.
I hear them a coming in, master.
[EMILY, holding the hands of JESSIE and ROBIN, comes into the room. Her eyes fall on THOMAS who is standing between CLARA and MAGGIE, looking suddenly sheepish and nervous.]
EMILY.
[In a voice of suppressed anger.]
Thomas! O, if I catch any more of these goings on in my kitchen.
[JOAN, very elegantly dressed and hanging on the arm of MILES HOOPER, follows EMILY into the room.]
EMILY.
I'll not have the food kept back any longer for Luke Jenner. If folk can't come to the time when they're asked, they baint worth waiting for, so sit you down, all of you.
[She sits down at the head of the table, a child on either side of her. JOAN languidly sinks into a chair and MILES puts himself at her right. A place at her left remains empty. THOMAS sits opposite. Three places at the end of the table are left vacant. As they sit down, GEORGE, wearing a new smock and neck handkerchief, comes in.]
EMILY.
[Beginning to help a dish.]
You need not think you're to be helped first, Clara, for all that the party is given for you, like. The poor little children have been kept waiting a sad time for their supper, first because you was such a while a having your head curled and puffed out, and then 'twas Luke Jenner as didn't come.
[CLARA sits down at a place at the end of the table. GEORGE and MAGGIE still remain standing.]
EMILY.
[Perceiving CLARA'S movement.]
Well, I never did see anything so forward. Who told you to sit yourself down along of your betters, if you please, madam serving maid?
[GEORGE comes involuntarily forward and stands behind CLARA'S chair. CLARA does not move.]
EMILY.
Get you out of that there place this instant, do you hear? [Turning to MILES.] To see the way the young person acts one might think as she fancied herself as something uncommon rare and high. But you'll not take any fool in, not you, for all that you like to play the fine lady. Us can see through your game very clear, can't us, Mr. Hooper?
MILES.
O certainly, to be sure, Missis Spring. No one who has the privilege of being acquainted with a real lady of quality could be mistook by any of the games played by this young person.
[CLARA looks him gravely in the face without moving.]
EMILY.
Get up, do you hear, and help Maggie pass the dishes!
THOMAS.
[Nervously.]
Nay, nay, 'twas my doing, Emily. I did tell the wenches as they might sit their-selves along of we, just for th' occasion like.
EMILY.
And who are you, if you please, giving orders and muddling about like a lord in my kitchen?
THOMAS.
[Faintly.]
Come, Emily, I'm the master.
EMILY.
And I, the mistress. Hear that, you piece of London impudence?
GEORGE.
[Comes forward.]
Master Luke be coming up the garden, mistress.
[LUKE JENNER enters. He goes straight up to JOAN and holds out his hand to her, and then to MILES.]
LUKE. I do wish you happiness with all my heart, Miss Clara. Miles, my lad, 'tis rare--rare pleased as I be to shake your hand this day.
EMILY.
Come, come, Luke Jenner, you've been and kept us waiting more nor half an hour. Can't you sit yourself down and give other folk a chance of eating their victuals quiet? There's naught to make all this giddle-gaddle about as I can see.
LUKE.
[Sitting down in the empty place by JOAN'S side.]
Beg pardon, mistress, I know I'm a bit late. But the victuals as are waited for do have a better flavour to them nor those which be ate straight from the pot like.
THOMAS.
That's true 'tis. And 'tis hunger as do make the best sauce.
[GEORGE and MAGGIE quietly seat themselves on either side of CLARA. EMILY is too busy dispensing the food to take any notice. GEORGE hands plates and dishes to CLARA, and silently cares for her comfort throughout the meal.]
THOMAS.
Well, Emily; well, Luke. I didn't think to lose my little sister afore she'd stopped a three days in the place. That I did not. But I don't grudge her to a fine prospering young man like friend Hooper, no, I don't.
EMILY.
No one called upon you for a speech, Thomas. See if you can't make yourself of some use in passing the green stuff.
[Turning to LUKE.]
We have two serving maids and a man, Mister Jenner, but they're to be allowed to act the quality to-day, so we've got to wait upon ourselves.
LUKE.
A man is never so well served as by his own two hands, mistress. That's my saying at home.
THOMAS.
And a good one too, Luke, my boy, for most folk, but with me 'tis otherwise. I've got another pair of hands in the place as do for me as well, nor better than my own.
EMILY.
Yes, Thomas, I often wonders where you'd be without mine.
THOMAS.
I wasn't thinking of yourn, Emily. 'Tis George's hands as I was speaking of.
EMILY.
[Contemptuously.]
George! You'll all find out your mistake one day, Thomas.
MILES.
[To JOAN, who has been nervously handling her knife and fork and watching CLARA'S movements furtively.]
My sweet Miss is not shewing any appetite.
JOAN.
I'm--I'm not used to country fare.
EMILY.
O, I hear you, Clara. Thomas, this is very fine. Clara can't feed 'cause she's not used to country fare! What next, I'd like to know!
ROBIN.
[Who has been watching JOAN.]
Why does Aunt sometimes put her knife in her mouth, Mother?
MILES.
My good boy, 'tis plain you've never mixed among the quality or you would know that each London season has its own new fashion of acting. This summer 'tis the stylish thing to put on a countryfied mode at table.
JESSIE.
Joan don't eat like that, Mister Hooper.
MILES.
Joan's only a maid servant, Miss Jessie. You should learn to distinguish between such people and fine ladles like your aunt.
JOAN.
[Forcing herself to be more animated.]
Give me some fruit, Miles--I have no appetite to-day for heavy food. 'Tis far too warm.
MILES. As for me, the only food I require is the sweet honey of my Missy's voice.
THOMAS.
Ah, 'tis a grand thing to be a young man, Miles Hooper. There was a day when such things did come handy to my tongue, like.
EMILY.
[Sharply.]
I don't seem to remember that day, Thomas.
THOMAS.
[Sheepishly, his look falling.]
Ah--'twas afore--afore our courting time, Emily.
LUKE.
[Energetically.]
Prime weather for the hay, farmer. I count as this dry will last until the whole of it be carried. [A knock is heard at the door.
THOMAS.
Now who'll that be? Did you see anyone a-coming up the path, Mother?
EMILY.
Do you expect me to be carving of the fowls and a-looking out of the window the same time, Thomas?
THOMAS.
George, my lad, do you open the door and see who 'tis.
[JOAN looks anxiously across the table at CLARA. Then she drops her spoon and fork and takes up her fan, using it violently whilst GEORGE slowly gets up and opens the door. LORD LOVEL is seen standing on the threshold.]
LORD LOVEL.
[To GEORGE.]
Kindly tell me, my man, is this the farm they call Ox Lease?
GEORGE.
Ah, that's right enough.
LORD LOVEL.
I'm sorry to break in upon a party like this, but I want to see Miss Clara Spring if she is here.
THOMAS.
[Standing up.]
You've come at the very moment, master. This be a giving in marriage supper. And 'tis Miss Clara, what's only sister to me, as is to be wed.
LORD LOVEL.
Impossible, my good sir!
THOMAS.
Ah, that's it. Miles Hooper, he's the happy man. If you be come by Painswick High Street you'll have seen his name up over the shop door.
LORD LOVEL.
Miss Clara--Miles Hooper--No, I can't believe it.
THOMAS.
[Pointing towards JOAN and MILES.]
There they be--the both of them. Turtle doves on the same branch. You're right welcome, master, to sit down along of we as one of the family on this occasion.
LORD LOVEL.
[Looking at JOAN who has suddenly dropped her fan and is leaning back with a look of supplication towards CLARA.]
I must have come to the wrong place--that's not the Miss Clara Spring I know.
MILES.
[Bending over JOAN.]
My sweet Missy has no acquaintance with this gentleman, I am sure.
[LORD LOVEL suddenly turns round and perceives CLARA seated by MAGGIE at the table. He quickly goes towards her, holding out his hand.]
LORD LOVEL.
Miss Clara. Tell me what is going on.
[Looking at her cap and apron.]
Why have you dressed yourself like this?
THOMAS.
Come, come. There seems to be some sort of a hitch here. The young gentleman has very likely stopped a bit too long at the Spotted Cow on his way up.
JOAN.
[Very faintly, looking at CLARA.]
O do you stand by me now.
CLARA.
[Lays her hand on LORD LOVEL's arm.]
Come with me, my lord. I think I can explain everything if you will only step outside with me. Come
--[She leads him swiftly through the door which GEORGE shuts behind them.]
[JOAN leans back in her chair as though she were going to faint.]
THOMAS.
Well, now--but that's a smartish wench, getting him out so quiet, like. George, you'd best step after them to see as the young man don't annoy her in any way.
EMILY.
That young person can take good care of herself. Sit you down, Thomas and George, and get on with your eating, if you can.
JESSIE.
Why did he think Joan was our aunt, mother?
EMILY.
'Cause he was in that state when a man don't know his right leg from his left arm.
GEORGE.
[Who has remained standing.]
Look you here, Master Thomas-- see here mistress. 'Tis time as there was an end of this cursed play acting, or whatever 'tis called.
EMILY.
Play acting there never has been in my house, George, I'd like for you to know.
GEORGE.
O yes there have been, mistress. And 'tis time it was finished. [Pointing to JOAN.] You just take and ask that young person what she do mean by tricking herself out in Miss Clara's gowns and what not, and by having herself called by Miss Clara's own name.
MILES.
[Taking JOAN'S hand in his.]
My sweet Miss must pay no attention to the common fellow. I dare him to speak like that of my little lady bride.
GEORGE.
A jay bird in peacock's feathers, that's what 'tis. And she's took you all in, the every one of you.
JESSIE.
O George, isn't she really our aunt from London?
GEORGE.
No, that she baint, Miss Jessie.
THOMAS.
Come, come, my lad. I never knew you act so afore.
EMILY.
'Tis clear where he have spent his time this afternoon.
LUKE.
Nay, nay, I never did see George inside of the Spotted Cow in all the years I've known of him. George baint made to that shape.
ROBIN.
Then who is Aunt Clara, George?
GEORGE.
She who be just gone from out of the room, Master Robin, and none other.
THOMAS.
Come, George, this talk do sound so foolish.
GEORGE.
I can't help that, master. Foolish deeds do call for foolish words, may be.
MILES.
My pretty Miss is almost fainting, I declare.
[He pours out water for JOAN and bends affectionately over her.]
Put the drunken fellow outside and let's have an end of this.
GEORGE.
[Advancing.]
Yes, us'll have an end to it very shortly. But I be going to put a straight question to the maid first, and 'tis a straight answer as her'll have to give me in reply.
MILES.
Not a word, not a word. Miss is sadly upset by your rude manners.
GEORGE.
Do you ask of the young lady but one thing, Master Hooper, and then I'll go when you will.
MILES.
Well, my man, what's that?
GEORGE.
Do you get her to speak the name as was given she at baptism, Mister Hooper.
MILES.
This is madness. My pretty Miss shall not be teased by such a question. Thomas, you'll have to get this stupid fellow locked up, or something.
GEORGE.
[Angrily.]
Her shall say it, if I stands here all night.
[JOAN suddenly bends forward and hides her face in her hands, her form shaken by violent weeping. The door opens and CLARA enters followed by LORD LOVEL. She has taken off her cap and apron.]
JOAN.
[Raising her head and stretching out her hands to CLARA.]
O speak for me, mistress. Speak for me and help.
CLARA.
I am Clara, she is Joan. Thomas, Emily, I pray you to forgive us both for taking you in like this.
THOMAS.
Well, I never did hear tell of such a thing.
EMILY.
I'm not going to believe a word the young person says.
LORD LOVEL.
She has told you but the truth, my good friends.
EMILY.
And who are you, to put your tongue into the basin, I'd like to know?
CLARA.
This is the nephew of my dear godmother. Lord Lovel is his name.
EMILY.
If you think I'm going to be took in with such nonsense, the more fool you, I says.
LORD LOVEL.
But all that Miss Clara tells you is true, Missis Spring. She and her serving maid, for certain reasons of their own, agreed to change parts for a few days.
THOMAS.
[Turning to JOAN.]
Is this really so, my maid?
[JOAN bows her head, her handkerchief still covering her face.]
THOMAS.
[To CLARA.]
Who ever would have thought on such a thing?
CLARA.
'Twas a foolish enough thing, but no harm is done. Look up, Joan, and do not cry so pitifully.
JOAN.
[Looking up at MILES.]
You'll never go and change towards me now that we're most as good as wed, will you, Mister Hooper?
MILES.
[Rising and speaking with cold deliberation.]
Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honour to wish you all a very pleasant evening.
THOMAS.
Come, come Miles, we be all a bit turned in the head, it seems. But things'll settle back to their right places if you gives them a chance. Sit you down and take a drink of sommat.
EMILY.
Don't be so foolish, Thomas. As if a man what's been stung by a wasp would care to sit himself down on a hornet's nest.
MILES.
You are perfectly right, madam. This is no place for me. I have been sported with. My good name has been treated as a jest.
JOAN.
O Mister Hooper, 'twas my doing, all of it, but I did it for the best, I did.
MILES.
[Going to the door.]
Thank you, my good woman. Next time you want to play a little prank like this, I beg that you will select your partner with more care. The name of Hooper is not a suitable one to toy with, let me tell you.
ROBIN.
Aren't you going to marry her then, Mister Hooper?
MILES.
I am not, Master Robin.
JESSIE.
You said as you could tell a real lady by her ways, but you couldn't very well, could he, Mother?
[MILES, covering his mortification with sarcastic bows made to the right and left, goes out. JOAN leans back almost fainting in her chair.]
LUKE.
[Taking her hand.]
This is the finest hearing in all the world for me, Miss--Miss Joan.
JOAN.
O Mr. Jenner, how deep you must despise me.
LUKE.
And that I'd never do, though I'm blest if I know why you did it.
CLARA.
It was as much my fault as hers, Mister Jenner. There were things that each of us wanted, and that we thought we might get, by changing places, one with the other.
THOMAS.
[To CLARA.]
Well, my maid, I'm blessed if I do know what you was a hunting about for, dressed up as a serving wench.
CLARA.
[Turning a little towards GEORGE.]
I thought to find something which was mine when I was a little child, but which I lost.
JESSIE.
O Georgie do know how to find things which is lost. 'Twas he as brought back the yellow pullet when her had strayed off.
ROBIN.
Yes. And 'twas George as did find your blue hair ribbon Aunt Clara, when it was dropped in the hayfield.
JESSIE.
I believe as Georgie knowed which of them was our aunt all the time.
ROBIN.
I believe it too.
THOMAS.
Why, George, you sly dog, what put you on the scent, like?
GEORGE.
'Twas not one, but many things. And if you wants a clear proof
[Turning to CLARA]
--put back the laces of your sleeve, Miss Clara.
CLARA.
What for, George?
GEORGE.
Whilst you was a-doing of the taters, this morning, you did pull up your sleeves. 'Twas then I held the proof. Not that 'twas needed for me, like.
[CLARA pushes up both her sleeves, and holds out her arms towards GEORGE.]
GEORGE.
[Pointing to the scar.]
There 'tis--there's where th' old gander have left his mark.
THE CHILDREN.
[Getting up.]
Where, where! O do let us see!
[They run round to where CLARA stands and look eagerly at the mark on her arm which she shews to them.
THOMAS.
George, my lad, you baint th' only one as can play fox.
EMILY.
Don't you be so set up as to think as you can, Thomas. For a more foolish figure of a goose never was cut. A man might tell when 'twas his own sister, if so be as he had his full senses upon him.
THOMAS.
Never you mind, Emily. What I says to George is, he baint th' only fox. How now, my lad?
GEORGE.
I don't see what you be driving at, master.
THOMAS.
[Slyly.]
What about that bit of blue ribbon, George?
CLARA.
Yes, Thomas. Ask Georgie if he will give it back to me.
GEORGE.
[Stepping forward till he is by CLARA'S side.]
No, and that I will not do. 'Tis little enough as I holds, but what little, I'll keep it.
CLARA.
[To GEORGE.]
Those words are like a frail bridge on which I can stand for a moment. Georgie, do you remember the days when you used to lead me by the hand into the deep parts of the wood, lifting me over the briars and the brambles so that I should not be hurt by their thorns?
GEORGE.
Hark you here, Clara. This once I'll speak. I never had but one true love, and that was a little maid what would run through the woods and over all the meadows, her hand in mine. I learnt she the note of every bird. And when th' evening was come, us would watch together till th' old mother badger did get from out of her hole, and start hunting in the long grasses.
CLARA.
[Taking GEORGE'S hand.]
Then, Georgie, there was no need for the disguise that I put upon myself.
GEORGE.
Do you think as the moon can hide her light when there baint no cloud upon the sky, Clara?
CLARA.
Georgie, I went in fear of what this gold and silver might raise up between you and me.
THOMAS.
That's all finished and done with now, my maid. If I'd a hundred sisters, George should have the pick of them, he should.
EMILY.
Thank you. Thomas. One of your sisters is about enough.
LUKE.
[Who has been sitting with JOAN'S hand in his.]
Hark you here, mistress. There's many a cloudy morning turns out a sunshiny day. Baint that a true saying, Joan?
JOAN.
[Looking up radiantly.]
O that it is, dear Luke.
LORD LOVEL.
Miss Clara, it seems that there is nothing more to be said.
EMILY.
And that's the most sensible thing as has been spoke this long while. Thomas, your sister favours you in being a poor, grizzling sort of a muddler. She might have took up with this young man, who has a very respectable appearance.
LORD LOVEL.
[Coming forward to GEORGE and shaking his hand.]
I'm proud to make your acquaintance, sir.
EMILY.
[Rising angrily.]
Come Thomas, come Luke, come Clara. Us might be a barn full of broody hens the way we be set around of this here table. 'Twill be midnight afore the things is cleared away and washed up.
THOMAS.
What if it be, Emily. 'Tisn't very often as I gets the chance of minding how 'twas in times gone past. Ah, I was a young man in those days, too, I was.
EMILY.
And 'tis a rare old addle head as you be got now, Thomas.
JESSIE.
[Slipping her hand into THOMAS'S.]
O do let us sit up till midnight, Dad.
ROBIN.
I shall eat a smartish lot more if we does.
[Curtain.]
[THE END]
Florence Henrietta Darwin's play: Bushes And Briars
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