CRICHTON. All, my lord, except the merest trifles.
LORD LOAM. It must be every one. (Lowering.) And remember this, Crichton, for the time being you are my equal. (Testily.) I shall soon show you whether you are not my equal. Do as you are told.
(CRICHTON departs to obey, and his lordship is now a general. He has no pity for his daughters, and uses a terrible threat.)
And girls, remember, no condescension. The first who condescends recites. (This sends them skurrying to their labours.)
By the way, Brocklehurst, can you do anything?
LORD BROCKLEHURST. How do you mean?
LORD LOAM. Can you do anything--with a penny or a handkerchief, make them disappear, for instance?
LORD BROCKLEHURST. Good heavens, no.
LORD LOAM. It"s a pity. Every one in our position ought to be able to do something. Ernest, I shall probably ask you to say a few words; something bright and sparkling.
ERNEST. But, my dear uncle, I have prepared nothing.
LORD LOAM. Anything impromptu will do.
ERNEST. Oh--well--if anything strikes me on the spur of the moment.
(He unostentatiously gets the footstool into position behind the chair.
CRICHTON reappears to announce the guests, of whom the first is the housekeeper.)
CRICHTON (reluctantly). Mrs. Perkins.
LORD LOAM (shaking hands). Very delighted, Mrs. Perkins. Mary, our friend, Mrs. Perkins.
LADY MARY. How do you do, Mrs. Perkins? Won"t you sit here?
LORD LOAM (threateningly). Agatha!
AGATHA (hastily). How do you do? Won"t you sit down?
LORD LOAM (introducing). Lord Brocklehurst--my valued friend, Mrs.
Perkins.
(LORD BROCKLEHURST bows and escapes. He has to fall back on ERNEST.)
LORD BROCKLEHURST. For heaven"s sake, Ernest, don"t leave me for a moment; this sort of thing is utterly opposed to all my principles.
ERNEST (airily). You stick to me, Brocky, and I"ll pull you through.
CRICHTON. Monsieur Fleury.
ERNEST. The chef.
LORD LOAM (shaking hands with the chef). Very charmed to see you, Monsieur Fleury.
FLEURY. Thank you very much.
(FLEURY bows to AGATHA, who is not effusive.)
LORD LOAM (warningly). Agatha--recitation!
(She tosses her head, but immediately finds a seat and tea for M.
FLEURY. TREHERNE and ERNEST move about, making themselves amiable. LADY MARY is presiding at the tea-tray.)
CRICHTON. Mr. Rolleston.
LORD LOAM (shaking hands with his valet). How do you do, Rolleston?
(CATHERINE looks after the wants of ROLLESTON.)
CRICHTON. Mr. Tompsett.
(TOMPSETT, the coachman, is received with honours, from which he shrinks.)
CRICHTON. Miss Fisher.
(This superb creature is no less than LADY MARY"S maid, and even LORD LOAM is a little nervous.)
LORD LOAM. This is a pleasure, Miss Fisher.
ERNEST (unabashed). If I might venture, Miss Fisher (and he takes her unto himself).
CRICHTON. Miss Simmons.
LORD LOAM (to CATHERINE"S maid). You are always welcome, Miss Simmons.
ERNEST (perhaps to kindle jealousy in Miss FISHER). At last we meet.
Won"t you sit down?
CRICHTON. Mademoiselle Jeanne.
LORD LOAM. Charmed to see you, Mademoiselle Jeanne.
(A place is found for AGATHA"S maid, and the scene is now an animated one; but still our host thinks his girls are not sufficiently sociable.
He frowns on LADY MARY.)
LADY MARY (in alarm). Mr. Treherne, this is Fisher, my maid.
LORD LOAM (sharply). Your what, Mary?
LADY MARY. My friend.
CRICHTON. Thomas.