Act 3 — Scene 1

Scene 1: Cavendish Square

It is the afternoon of the same day. BERTIE, ushered in by DIGBY, comes into the empty library. He has just been told that MR. MANNOCK is not yet home.

BERTIE (looking at his watch). I suppose the train was late.

DIGBY. No, sir, apparently not. The car has returned with Mr. Mannock’s dressing-case.

BERTIE. Then where⁠——

DIGBY. I understand from Lawson that Mr. Mannock gave instructions that he would be walking home.

BERTIE (amazed). Walking! Why?

DIGBY. Naturally I can’t say, sir, except that it is a fine afternoon, and that Mr. Mannock may have felt in good spirits.

BERTIE. Good spirits! Good Lord!

DIGBY. Yes, sir. Even if he walked all the way he should be here very soon now, sir. Of course, if he popped on to a ’bus⁠——

BERTIE. My good Digby, you can’t pop on to a ’bus without years of practice. If he has taken his life in his hands like that, he may be at Crouch End, or God knows where, by now. Well, I shall wait, if I wait all day.

DIGBY. Yes, sir.

BERTIE. Tell her ladyship I’m here.

DIGBY. Very good, sir.

(He goes out. BERTIE sits down with a paper and waits. FREDA comes in.)

FREDA. Hullo, Bertie.

BERTIE (getting up and taking her hand). Hullo, Freda. (Petulantly) Why on earth do you let your Father dash off to Cricklewood like this?

FREDA. Is that where he is?

BERTIE. I don’t know. Oh, confound their knavish tricks!

FREDA (surprised). Bertie, you’re quite ruffled.

BERTIE. I’ve had a ruffling morning.

FREDA. Bobo a trifle tetchy?

BERTIE. If you are referring to the Prime Minister⁠——

FREDA. I am.

BERTIE. The answer is in the affirmative. “Tetchy,” perhaps, hardly does it justice.

FREDA. How very grim for you.

BERTIE. Oh, I shall survive.

FREDA. I’m sure you will. You’re the surviving sort. (She sits down.)

BERTIE (thoughtfully). Now I wonder if that’s a compliment or not. (He sits down too.)

FREDA. Well, I shouldn’t have much use for anybody who wasn’t a survivor.

BERTIE. Ah, then it is a compliment.

FREDA. Of course it is.

BERTIE (tentatively). But if he were a survivor, if he very distinctly were, then you—you could imagine yourself having some slight use for him?

FREDA (demurely). You might go as far as that, Mr. Capp—quite unofficially.

BERTIE. Yes.... I’m forty. I just mention it.

FREDA. I’m nineteen. I just throw it out.

BERTIE. In a mid-Victorian novel I should point out sadly that I was old enough to be your father.

FREDA. And in a modern novel I should agree that, if you had married at twenty, and got to work at once, you might just have done it.

BERTIE (after a pause). Did I tell you that my Uncle Joseph died the other day?

FREDA.. No.... My sister’s small baby has just been vaccinated.

BERTIE (reproachfully). He was the rich one, you know.

FREDA. Oh, I beg his pardon! (Tactfully) Did he—was his mind clear at the last?

BERTIE. Perfectly, I’m glad to say.

FREDA. How clear?

BERTIE. About a hundred and twenty thousand.

FREDA (delighted). Bertie, what a brain!

BERTIE (looking at her proudly). You know, every now and then, you’re just like the Freda of ten years ago, who used to sit on my knee and try to wear my eye-glass.

FREDA. My dear Bertie, surely I’ve sat on your knee since then!

BERTIE. Not so systematically.

FREDA (sitting on it and wearing his eye-glass). But how absurd to let these old customs die out. (After a pause) Have you actually proposed to me yet?

BERTIE (with dignity). I am just going to.

FREDA. I don’t want to hurry you.

BERTIE (beginning). Freda!

FREDA. Yes?

BERTIE. What about it? I should like to be married to you—tremendously.

FREDA. Nice person.

BERTIE. Would you care about it at all?

FREDA. Terribly.

BERTIE. I think your Father and Mother would like the idea. I don’t know if that matters nowadays.

FREDA. My dear Bertie, of course it does. Family quarrels are so vulgar—besides upsetting things. I want you to get on.

BERTIE. Quite.... Then that’s all right.

FREDA. Yes, that’s all right.

BERTIE. Do we celebrate it in the usual way?

FREDA. Well, we shall have to begin some time. (Kissing him) Dear Bertie!

BERTIE (rather moved). Thank you. I’ll try not to let you down.

(LADY JANE comes in. BERTIE, full of apologetic noises, struggles to get up.)

FREDA (calmly). Subterfuge is useless, Bertie. (She gets off his knee) Bertie has just asked me to marry him, Mother.

LADY JANE (delighted). My dear Bertie! How—(she seeks for the right word)—how satisfactory! (She holds out her hand, which he kisses) I am so glad. (To FREDA) Dear child! (She puts up a cheek.)

FREDA. Tell her about your Uncle Joseph.

BERTIE. He died, you know, the other day.

LADY JANE. Not unexpectedly, I hope?

BERTIE. Oh, no! On the contrary.

LADY JANE. That’s a comfort. And—all satisfactory?

BERTIE. Very.

LADY JANE. You must tell Richard the details. (To FREDA) Run along now, dear. Bertie really came here on business, I suspect. (To him) Isn’t that so?

FREDA (holding up a finger). Now, Bertie, don’t say I was just an accident.

BERTIE. A delightful interlude.

FREDA. That’s better. But I still think⁠——

LADY JANE. Nonsense, Freda, you know how busy Bertie is.

FREDA. “For men must work, and women must weep....” I shall be weeping upstairs, if you want another interlude before you go.

BERTIE (opening the door for her). Rather! Of course I do. (She goes out. He closes the door and comes quickly to LADY JANE) I say, what about it? You read the speech, of course.

LADY JANE. Naturally.

BERTIE. The P.M.’s furious.

LADY JANE. That’s also natural.

BERTIE. Did you know he was going to? I beg your pardon, I oughtn’t to have asked you that.

LADY JANE. I knew what Richard’s views were. Naturally.

BERTIE. Well, of course, we all did. (He takes a turn up and down) Look here, we had a draft of the speech. Knowing his views, the P.M. insisted on it. That draft merely echoed the policy of the Cabinet. It went no further. I brought it back to Mannock the night before last, and told him that the P.M. approved. He goes down to Leeds, gives ’em the speech, and at the critical point throws over the Cabinet and dashes off on his own. Just as we were afraid he would.

LADY JANE. It won’t be difficult to explain that.

BERTIE. So I told the P.M. Naturally he feels that he has been done, Mannock having practically promised him that the other speech was⁠——

LADY JANE (horrified). Bertie, you’re not suggesting anything against Richard’s honour!

BERTIE (equally horrified). Good Lord, of course I’m not!

LADY JANE. But is the Prime Minister?

BERTIE (apologetically). You must make allowances for him. You see, he’s just getting over influenza. When he’s quite strong again, he’ll see that it’s ridiculous to talk about honour—it’s just a question of tactics. But at present—well, you know how you feel after influenza.

LADY JANE (in the voice of one who knows the explanation by heart). It’s perfectly simple. Richard made a private memorandum of his own views, which he intended to lay before the Cabinet. Accidentally, owing to some carelessness of his secretary, this must have been included in the first draft of the speech. When it was discovered, the speech was typed out afresh and sent to the Prime Minister. Richard, again owing to some carelessness, took the earlier draft to Leeds.

BERTIE (also knowing it by heart). Quite, quite.

LADY JANE. Richard will tell us what happened then. He may have found himself in the middle of it before he realised that he had the wrong draft, and have been carried away. Or he may have thought that this was the draft which had been submitted to the Prime Minister, and that the P.M., though not approving it, had wished a kite to be flown, knowing that he could always repudiate Richard afterwards.

BERTIE. Quite.

LADY JANE. Of course it was careless of Reader. He has been dismissed, by the way.

BERTIE. Quite. Oh, there are plenty of explanations. And if the P.M. had been in normal health⁠——

LADY JANE. What does he want?

BERTIE. Well, he wants an explanation of some kind, and he wants it for the Press. And he wants something pretty humble from Mannock personally. And he wants to smoke very badly and can’t, because of his throat—that’s really what’s worrying him.

LADY JANE. Oh!... Oh, well!... Who’s going to the Admiralty?

BERTIE (uncomfortably). Nothing’s settled as far as I know. And won’t be until he’s well again.

LADY JANE. Not even Mowbray?

BERTIE. No....

LADY JANE. Bertie, you’re one of the family now. Tell me frankly: is it certain that Mowbray will be Chancellor of the Exchequer?

BERTIE. Nothing is certain.

LADY JANE. Oh! Well, that’s something. (After a pause) Has Leeds done Richard any harm?

BERTIE. At the moment, yes, certainly. Ultimately, I should say, no.

LADY JANE. He’s played the wrong card?

BERTIE. I think so. But you never know. The P.M.’s queer in some ways. And it depends a little on how the Press takes it up. They were very non-committal this morning.

LADY JANE. In the circumstances, to be non-committal is to be on our side.

BERTIE. Quite.... (Looking at his watch) But where is he, where is he? What’s all this about walking home?

LADY JANE. Walking home? What do you mean?

BERTIE. Why, Digby said⁠——(and now MANNOCK comes in) Ah!

MANNOCK (cheerfully). Hullo, Bertie. Digby told me you were here. (To his wife) Ah, you’ve been looking after him. That’s good. (He is younger than when we first saw him, more eager.)

BERTIE. We wondered what had happened to you.

MANNOCK. I sent the car on and walked. It was such a jolly afternoon.

LADY JANE. Walked! From Euston? (She looks at him in amazement.)

MANNOCK. Yes. Such a jolly afternoon.

LADY JANE. Oh!... (Before words come to her, she decides that, after all, it doesn’t matter very much.) Bertie has come round about the speech.

MANNOCK (at a loss). Speech?

LADY JANE. He thinks it was a mistake in tactics, as it turns out.

BERTIE. Yes, but there’s more to it than that. The P.M.⁠——

MANNOCK. Oh, the speech! Oh, I see.

LADY JANE. I was telling him that that could easily be explained.

BERTIE. Quite.

LADY JANE. He thinks—oh, by the way, we may regard Bertie as one of the family now. Freda⁠——

BERTIE. Please.

LADY JANE. Freda⁠——

MANNOCK. Freda and Bertie?

LADY JANE. Yes. I have told Bertie how delighted we are.

MANNOCK (violently). No! I won’t have it!

LADY JANE (amazed). Richard!

BERTIE (equally amazed). Why, what⁠——

MANNOCK (recovering himself with an effort). I beg your pardon.

LADY JANE. But I don’t understand. Only the other day⁠——

MANNOCK. I want Freda to marry for love ... I’m sorry, Bertie. Perhaps she does love you.

BERTIE (embarrassed). Well, I—I don’t understand. I asked her to marry me, and she—apparently she⁠——

MANNOCK. Are you in love with her?

BERTIE (out of his depth). Well, I—I asked her to marry me, and⁠——Yes, of course I am. I mean—(bewildered) I don’t understand.

MANNOCK. Good God, man, you must know if you’re in love or not.

LADY JANE (interposing firmly). Bertie, perhaps you wouldn’t mind fetching Freda.

BERTIE (relieved). Right.

[He goes out.

LADY JANE. Thank you.... Richard, what’s the matter? What has happened?

(MANNOCK takes a turn up the room, wondering how much to tell her, when to tell her.)

MANNOCK (looking up suddenly). Do you mean about Freda?

LADY JANE. Why this sudden change? Two nights ago we were both saying⁠——

MANNOCK. That’s just it. I want to be sure that she is not doing it just because she thinks we want it.

LADY JANE. I probably know Freda better than you⁠——

MANNOCK. I don’t know her at all.

LADY JANE. Then you may take my word for it that, if she marries anybody, it will be because she wants to do so.

MANNOCK (thoughtfully). Yes, I suppose so. (With a laugh to himself) After all, it hasn’t really very much to do with me—now.

LADY JANE. Naturally we both want her to be happy. Bertie has come into money, he tells me. I suppose he was waiting for that. I think it’s the most satisfactory thing that could have happened.

MANNOCK (thoughtfully). Yes, I’m not sure that it isn’t.

LADY JANE. Well, then!

MANNOCK. Yes.... (To himself) God, how difficult it all is, when you get close to it.

LADY JANE. All what?

MANNOCK (waving his hands). Life. Everything.

(Before LADY JANE can take his temperature, BERTIE and FREDA come in.)

FREDA. What is it?

MANNOCK. Come here, Freda. (She comes to him, looking up into his face) Fond of Bertie?

FREDA (smiling). I’ve adored him for years.

MANNOCK. Going to be happy with him?

FREDA. I hope so.

MANNOCK (kissing her forehead). Well, good luck to you both. (Shaking Bertie’s hand) Good luck to you, Bertie.

LADY JANE. I think Freda is a very lucky girl. Bertie has a wonderful career in front of him.

BERTIE (modestly). Well, I hope⁠——

FREDA. Oh, Bertie’s all right.

MANNOCK (with a note of dismissal). All right, Freda. I just wanted to feel quite sure⁠——That’s all right, Bertie.

[BERTIE opens the door for FREDA, who goes out.

LADY JANE. Now then, tell Richard just what you were telling me. (She sits down for it.)

BERTIE (coming back to them). Well, what it really comes to⁠——

MANNOCK (smiling to himself happily). I have sent in my resignation to the Prime Minister.

LADY JANE. Richard! Is that wise? At this moment? (She turns to Bertie for help) Bertie?

BERTIE (shaking his head). He’s in the mood to accept it. You can’t hold a pistol to his head just now.

LADY JANE. That’s what I felt. (Anxiously to her husband) Has the letter gone?

MANNOCK. It has gone.

BERTIE. Good Lord!

LADY JANE. Is it too late? (To BERTIE) Can’t you⁠——

MANNOCK (patiently). I have resigned. He will accept my resignation. He can’t help himself. Well, I intend him to. That’s why I resigned.

LADY JANE (with restraint). I don’t want to—I daresay you know best. But surely it was a matter which should have been discussed first. You must think that it was wise, or you wouldn’t have done it. But at least let us hear your reasons. Here are Bertie and I, only too anxious to help.

(MANNOCK looks at her—and at BERTIE. A smile comes on to his face as he imagines himself saying, “Well, the fact is, I am running away with another woman.” Impossible, of course, with BERTIE there. Impossible anyhow, yet. He cannot mention SALLY’S name in this atmosphere; cannot hint that there is another woman, for fear of SALLY being identified. Impossible to discuss her, them, the situation, with anybody. Unless it were a friend of SALLY’S. EVERSLEY, perhaps. But he must be out of the Government first. Some such thoughts as these are in his mind, even if we cannot read them.)

MANNOCK. Well, yes, that’s reasonable. And yet—it’s no good. I can’t explain now. Except to say that I’m doing it with my eyes open. (In a whisper) At last. (To LADY JANE) You must give me a week—then I’ll explain everything.

LADY JANE (uncertain). Well—of course you know best⁠——

BERTIE (quite certain). That’s all right, Lady Jane. (He almost winks at her) I understand.

LADY JANE. Do you really think⁠——

BERTIE. You never can tell with the P.M. I’ve said that before. Mannock’s way—he has always played his cards well—there’s something up his sleeve—you leave it to him.

(MANNOCK has wandered away in search of an A.B.C. Trains don’t touch that sleepy little village between hills, but they can bring lovers within reach of it. Just to look up the train is something.)

LADY JANE (nodding to BERTIE). Very well. If you think⁠——

BERTIE. He knows what he’s doing.

LADY JANE. Very well, Richard. You do it your own way. Meanwhile⁠——

BERTIE. Meanwhile no harm in letting it be known that⁠——

LADY JANE. Important changes in the Cabinet are pending.

BERTIE. Well, yes, that⁠——

LADY JANE. I’ll ask Roger Coombes to lunch to-morrow, and drop a hint.

BERTIE. Yes.... I was going to say that I could let fall a word or two. By the way, perhaps we’d better say nothing about Freda until this is safely over. I should like to be able to preserve my impartiality for what it’s worth. A suggestion that, from what I have seen of Mannock lately, he is tired of the confinements of his present office⁠——

LADY JANE. And that a post of greater freedom⁠——

BERTIE. And more responsibility—exactly. (Chuckling) Otherwise he seriously thinks of retiring from public life altogether.

LADY JANE (laughing at the absurdity of it). I think that can be safely left to you, Bertie. And you’re right about Freda. I hope she hasn’t been ringing up all her friends. I’d better see about that at once.

BERTIE. I’ll come along too. Well, so long, Mannock.

MANNOCK (who was just stepping out of the train). Going?

BERTIE. You’ll be seeing some more of me before very long, I expect. (With sudden enthusiasm) By Jove, if you play this hand properly, I believe—well, almost anything might happen.

MANNOCK (happily). I believe it might, Bertie.

[LADY JANE and BERTIE go out.

(MANNOCK, with the A.B.C. in his hands, is back in the train with SALLY.... This time it is READER who interrupts them.)

READER. Are you busy, sir?

MANNOCK (looking up). No ... no.

READER (formally). I gather, from what I have read in the papers, that I accidentally gave you the wrong draft of the speech. It was very careless of me, and I wish to express my regret.

MANNOCK (smiling). Very careless of you, Reader.

READER (his first smile in MANNOCK’S house). I thought I had better mention it.

MANNOCK. Thank you.... But we are not bothering about that now.

READER. Oh?

MANNOCK. No. Life has other things to offer than speeches at Leeds.... (Suddenly remembering) By the way, what were you trying to tell me about Mrs. Reader the other day?

READER (distressed). I oughtn’t to have—it was only in the shock of your⁠——

MANNOCK (smiling). Yes, never mind all that. I should like to know, if you would like to tell me.

READER (awkwardly, after a pause). She—we—we’re going to have a baby.

MANNOCK. Ah!... The first? (READER nods) Frightened? (READER nods again.)

READER (suddenly). I—I do love her so.

MANNOCK (gently). How long have you been married?

READER. Ten years.... It’s like yesterday.

MANNOCK (moved). Yes.... Oh, before I forget, I’d better write to Carfax. I know he wants somebody. (He goes to his desk) Sit down, won’t you?

READER. Thank you very much. It’s very kind of you. You see, I haven’t liked to tell her yet⁠——

MANNOCK (writing). Well, don’t, until we’ve got this fixed up.

READER. No.

MANNOCK. I daresay Carfax will stand for another fifty, if he’s sure he’s getting the right man. Then that will be a pleasant surprise for her.

READER (thawing). I am afraid she won’t look at it quite like that. You see, she is—if I may say so—very much interested in you. In your career. She will be sorry to.... You see, we often talk about you in the evenings. We wonder what you are going to do. Having no career of our own, so to speak⁠——

MANNOCK (writing). No career of your own. Lucky man!

READER. We find our interest in following yours. I believe that if I could go home to-morrow and tell my wife—before it got into the papers, you understand—that you were to be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer, she would be as happy and excited as if it had happened to me.

MANNOCK (with a laugh for the vanity of these things) Chancellor of the Exchequer, eh? (Shaking his head) No, Reader, no.

READER. Well, that’s as may be.... (Enthusiastically) To be Chancellor of the Exchequer! Think of the power it gives you! To know that there isn’t a house in the whole country which isn’t waiting for your decision—from the tiniest cottage to the hugest castle! Not a family that won’t be affected! It must be wonderful. The power of affecting all those people! It has always seemed to me the supreme goal for any man to reach. (Apologetically) Sometimes we have pretended—only in play, you understand—that it was I who had reached it ... we have wondered ... the power it gives you ... (he sees himself there, Ethel with him)—we have talked over what we should do⁠——

(And MANNOCK has been seeing himself there too. Just for a moment he has been there.)

MANNOCK (with a sigh). Yes.... (Then he is back with SALLY again. Gently he says) But there is something better than that. Something.... (You can see him thinking of it, smiling.... But now his thoughts have changed; the smile gives place to a frown. The career is fighting its way back into his mind. Fighting with SALLY. He jerks his head round at READER, READER who is tempting him, and says sharply) Chancellor of the Exchequer, eh? No, Reader, no. (Returning to the letter) I shan’t be a moment.

ACT III