Fanny's First Play/Act 1

*In the dining-room of a house in Denmark Hill, an elderly lady sits at breakfast reading the newspaper. Her chair is at the end of the oblong dining-table furthest from the fire. There is an empty chair at the other end. The fireplace is behind this chair; and the door is next the fireplace, between it and the corner. An arm-chair stands beside the coal-scuttle. In the middle of the back wall is the sideboard, parallel to the table. The rest of the furniture is mostly dining-room chairs, ranged against the walls, and including a baby rocking-chair on the lady's side of the room. The lady is a placid person. Her husband, Mr Robin Gilbey, not at all placid, bursts violently into the room with a letter in his hand.*
GILBEY. *[grinding his teeth]* This is a nice thing. This is a b—

MRS GILBEY. *[cutting him short]* Leave it at that, please.
Whatever it is, bad language wont make it better.

GILBEY. *[bitterly]* Yes, put me in the wrong as usual. Take your
boy's part against me. *[He flings himself into the empty chair opposite her]*.

MRS GILBEY. When he does anything right, hes your son. When he does
anything wrong hes mine. Have you any news of him?

GILBEY. Ive a good mind not to tell you.

MRS GILBEY. Then dont. I suppose hes been found. Thats a comfort, at all events.

GILBEY. No, he hasnt been found. The boy may be at the bottom of the
river for all you care. *[Too agitated to sit quietly, he rises and paces the room distractedly]*.

MRS GILBEY. Then what have you got in your hand?

GILBEY. Ive a letter from the Monsignor Grenfell. From New York.
Dropping us. Cutting us. *[Turning fiercely on her]* Thats a nice
thing, isnt it?

MRS GILBEY. What for?

GILBEY. *[flinging away towards his chair]* How do *I* know what
for?

MRS GILBEY. What does he say?

GILBEY. *[sitting down and grumblingly adjusting his spectacles]*
This is what he says. "My dear Mr Gilbey: The news about Bobby had
to follow me across the Atlantic: it did not reach me until to-day.
I am afraid he is incorrigible. My brother, as you may imagine, feels
that this last escapade has gone beyond the bounds; and I think,
myself, that Bobby ought to be made to feel that such scrapes involve
a certain degree of reprobation." "As you may imagine"! And we know
no more about it than the babe unborn.

MRS GILBEY. What else does he say?

GILBEY. "I think my brother must have been just a little to blame
himself; so, between ourselves, I shall, with due and impressive
formality, forgive Bobby later on; but for the present I think it had
better be understood that he is in disgrace, and that we are no longer
on visiting terms. As ever, yours sincerely." *[His agitation*
masters him again] *Thats a nice slap in the face to get from a man*
in his position! This is what your son has brought on me.

MRS GILBEY. Well, I think it's rather a nice letter. He as good as
tells you hes only letting on to be offended for Bobby's good.

GILBEY. Oh, very well: have the letter framed and hang it up over
the mantelpiece as a testimonial.

MRS GILBEY. Dont talk nonsense, Rob. You ought to be thankful to
know that the boy is alive after his disappearing like that for nearly
a week.

GILBEY. Nearly a week! A fortnight, you mean. Wheres your feelings,
woman? It was fourteen days yesterday.

MRS GILBEY. Oh, dont call it fourteen days, Rob, as if the boy was in
prison.

GILBEY. How do you know hes not in prison? It's got on my nerves so,
that I'd believe even that.

MRS GILBEY. Dont talk silly, Rob. Bobby might get into a scrape like
any other lad; but he'd never do anything low.

*Juggins, the footman, comes in with a card on a salver. He is a*
rather low-spirited man of thirty-five or more, of good appearance and
address, and iron self-command.

JUGGINS. *[presenting the salver to Mr Gilbey]* Lady wishes to see
Mr Bobby's parents, sir.

GILBEY. *[pointing to Mrs Gilbey]* Theres Mr Bobby's parent. I
disown him.

JUGGINS. Yes, sir. *[He presents the salver to Mrs Gilbey]*.

MRS GILBEY. You mustnt mind what your master says, Juggins: he
doesnt mean it. *[She takes the card and reads it]*. Well, I never!

GILBEY. Whats up now?

MRS GILBEY. *[reading]* "Miss D. Delaney. Darling Dora." Just like
that—in brackets. What sort of person, Juggins?

GILBEY. Whats her address?

MRS GILBEY. The West Circular Road. Is that a respectable address,
Juggins?

JUGGINS. A great many most respectable people live in the West
Circular Road, madam; but the address is not a guarantee of
respectability.

GILBEY. So it's come to that with him, has it?

MRS GILBEY. Dont jump to conclusions, Rob. How do you know? *[To Juggins]* Is she a lady, Juggins? You know what I mean.

JUGGINS. In the sense in which you are using the word, no, madam.

MRS GILBEY. I'd better try what I can get out of her. *[To Juggins]*
Shew her up. You dont mind, do you, Rob?

GILBEY. So long as you dont flounce out and leave me alone with her.
*[He rises and plants himself on the hearth-rug]*.

*Juggins goes out.*

MRS GILBEY. I wonder what she wants, Rob?

GILBEY. If she wants money, she shant have it. Not a farthing. A
nice thing, everybody seeing her on our doorstep! If it wasnt that
she may tell us something about the lad, I'd have Juggins put the
hussy into the street.

JUGGINS. *[returning and announcing]* Miss Delaney. *[He waits for*
express orders before placing a chair for this visitor]*.*

*Miss Delaney comes in. She is a young lady of hilarious disposition, very tolerable good looks, and killing clothes. She is so affable and confidential that it is very difficult to keep her at a distance by any process short of flinging her out of the house.*

DORA. *[plunging at once into privileged intimacy and into the middle of the room]* How d'ye do, both. I'm a friend of Bobby's. He told
me all about you once, in a moment of confidence. Of course he never
let on who he was at the police court.

GILBEY. Police court!

MRS GILBEY. *[looking apprehensively at Juggins]* Tch—! Juggins:
a chair.

DORA. Oh, Ive let it out, have I! *[Contemplating Juggins approvingly as he places a chair for her between the table and the sideboard]* But hes the right sort: I can see that. *[Buttonholing him]* You wont let on downstairs, old man, will you?

JUGGINS. The family can rely on my absolute discretion. *[He*
withdraws]*.*

DORA. *[sitting down genteelly]* I dont know what youll say to me:
you know I really have no right to come here; but then what was I to
do? You know Holy Joe, Bobby's tutor, dont you? But of course you
do.

GILBEY. *[with dignity]* I know Mr Joseph Grenfell, the brother of
Monsignor Grenfell, if it is of him you are speaking.

DORA. *[wide-eyed and much amused]* No!!! You dont tell me that old
geezer has a brother a Monsignor! And youre Catholics! And I never
knew it, though Ive known Bobby ever so long! But of course the last
thing you find out about a person is their religion, isnt it?

MRS GILBEY. We're not Catholics. But when the Samuelses got an
Archdeacon's son to form their boy's mind, Mr Gilbey thought Bobby
ought to have a chance too. And the Monsignor is a customer. Mr
Gilbey consulted him about Bobby; and he recommended a brother of his
that was more sinned against than sinning.

GILBEY. *[on tenderhooks]* She dont want to hear about that, Maria.
*[To Dora]* Whats your business?

DORA. I'm afraid it was all my fault.

GILBEY. What was all your fault? I'm half distracted. I dont know
what has happened to the boy: hes been lost these fourteen days—

MRS GILBEY. A fortnight, Rob.

GILBEY. —and not a word have we heard of him since.

MRS GILBEY. Dont fuss, Rob.

GILBEY. *[yelling]* I will fuss. Youve no feeling. You dont care
what becomes of the lad. *[He sits down savagely]*.

DORA. *[soothingly]* Youve been anxious about him. Of course. How
thoughtless of me not to begin by telling you hes quite safe. Indeed
hes in the safest place in the world, as one may say: safe under lock
and key.

GILBEY. *[horrified, pitiable]* Oh my— *[his breath fails him]*.
Do you mean that when he was in the police court he was in the dock?
Oh, Maria! Oh, great Lord! What has he done? What has he got for
it? *[Desperate]* Will you tell me or will you see me go mad on my
own carpet?

DORA. *[sweetly]* Yes, old dear—

MRS GILBEY. *[starting at the familiarity]* Well!

DORA. *[continuing]* I'll tell you: but dont you worry: hes all
right. I came out myself this morning: there was such a crowd! and a
band! they thought I was a suffragette: only fancy! You see it was
like this. Holy Joe got talking about how he'd been a champion
sprinter at college.

MRS GILBEY. A what?

DORA. A sprinter. He said he was the fastest hundred yards runner in
England. We were all in the old cowshed that night.

MRS GILBEY. What old cowshed?

GILBEY. *[groaning]* Oh, get on. Get on.

DORA. Oh, of course you wouldnt know. How silly of me! It's a
rather go-ahead sort of music hall in Stepney. We call it the old
cowshed.

MRS GILBEY. Does Mr Grenfell take Bobby to music halls?

DORA. No. Bobby takes him. But Holy Joe likes it: fairly laps it
up like a kitten, poor old dear. Well, Bobby says to me, "Darling—"

MRS GILBEY. *[placidly]* Why does he call you Darling?

DORA. Oh, everybody calls me Darling: it's a sort of name Ive got.
Darling Dora, you know. Well, he says, "Darling, if you can get Holy
Joe to sprint a hundred yards, I'll stand you that squiffer with the
gold keys."

MRS GILBEY. Does he call his tutor Holy Joe to his face *[Gilbey clutches at his hair in his impatience]*.

DORA. Well, what would he call him? After all, Holy Joe is Holy Joe;
and boys will be boys.

MRS GILBEY. Whats a squiffer?

DORA. Oh, of course: excuse my vulgarity: a concertina. Theres one
in a shop in Green Street, ivory inlaid, with gold keys and Russia
leather bellows; and Bobby knew I hankered after it; but he couldnt
afford it, poor lad, though I knew he just longed to give it to me.

GILBEY. Maria: if you keep interrupting with silly questions, I
shall go out of my senses. Heres the boy in gaol and me disgraced for
ever; and all you care to know is what a squiffer is.

DORA. Well, remember it has gold keys. The man wouldnt take a penny
less than £15 for it. It was a presentation one.

GILBEY. *[shouting at her]* Wheres my son? Whats happened to my
son? Will you tell me that, and stop cackling about your squiffer?

DORA. Oh, aint we impatient! Well, it does you credit, old dear.
And you neednt fuss: theres no disgrace. Bobby behaved like a
perfect gentleman. Besides, it was all my fault. I'll own it: I
took too much champagne. I was not what you might call drunk; but I
was bright, and a little beyond myself; and—I'll confess it—I wanted
to shew off before Bobby, because he was a bit taken by a woman on the
stage; and she was pretending to be game for anything. You see youve
brought Bobby up too strict; and when he gets loose theres no holding
him. He does enjoy life more than any lad I ever met.

GILBEY. Never you mind how hes been brought up: thats my business.
Tell me how hes been brought down: thats yours.

MRS GILBEY. Oh, dont be rude to the lady, Rob.

DORA. I'm coming to it, old dear: dont you be so headstrong. Well,
it was a beautiful moonlight night; and we couldnt get a cab on the
nod; so we started to walk, very jolly, you know: arm in arm, and
dancing along, singing and all that. When we came into Jamaica
Square, there was a young copper on point duty at the corner. I says
to Bob: "Dearie boy: is it a bargain about the squiffer if I make Joe
sprint for you?" "Anything you like, darling," says he: "I love
you." I put on my best company manners and stepped up to the copper.
"If you please, sir," says I, "can you direct me to Carrickmines
Square?" I was so genteel, and talked so sweet, that he fell to it
like a bird. "I never heard of any such Square in these parts," he
says. "Then," says I, "what a very silly little officer you must
be!"; and I gave his helmet a chuck behind that knocked it over his
eyes, and did a bunk.

MRS GILBEY. Did a what?

DORA. A bunk. Holy Joe did one too all right: he sprinted faster
than he ever did in college, I bet, the old dear. He got clean off,
too. Just as he was overtaking me half-way down the square, we heard
the whistle; and at the sound of it he drew away like a streak of
lightning; and that was the last I saw of him. I was copped in the
Dock Road myself: rotten luck, wasn't it? I tried the innocent and
genteel and all the rest; but Bobby's hat done me in.

GILBEY. And what happened to the boy?

DORA. Only fancy! he stopped to laugh at the copper! He thought the
copper would see the joke, poor lamb. He was arguing about it when
the two that took me came along to find out what the whistle was for,
and brought me with them. Of course I swore I'd never seen him before
in my life; but there he was in my hat and I in his. The cops were
very spiteful and laid it on for all they were worth: drunk and
disorderly and assaulting the police and all that. I got fourteen
days without the option, because you see—well, the fact is, I'd done
it before, and been warned. Bobby was a first offender and had the
option; but the dear boy had no money left and wouldnt give you away
by telling his name; and anyhow he couldnt have brought himself to buy
himself off and leave me there; so hes doing his time. Well, it was
two forty shillingses; and Ive only twenty-eight shillings in the
world. If I pawn my clothes I shant be able to earn any more. So I
cant pay the fine and get him out; but if youll stand £3 I'll
stand one; and thatll do it. If youd like to be very kind and nice
you could pay the lot; but I cant deny that it was my fault; so I wont
press you.

GILBEY. *[heart-broken]* My son in gaol!

DORA. Oh, cheer up, old dear: it wont hurt him: look at me after
fourteen days of it; I'm all the better for being kept a bit quiet.
You mustnt let it prey on your mind.

GILBEY. The disgrace of it will kill me. And it will leave a mark on
him to the end of his life.

DORA. Not a bit of it. Dont you be afraid: Ive educated Bobby a
bit: hes not the mollycoddle he was when you had him in hand.

MRS GILBEY. Indeed Bobby is not a mollycoddle. They wanted him to go
in for singlestick at the Young Men's Christian Association; but, of
course, I couldnt allow that: he might have had his eye knocked out.

GILBEY. *[to Dora, angrily]* Listen here, you.

DORA. Oh, aint we cross!

GILBEY. I want none of your gaiety here. This is a respectable
household. Youve gone and got my poor innocent boy into trouble.
It's the like of you thats the ruin of the like of him.

DORA. So you always say, you old dears. But you know better. Bobby
came to me: I didnt come to him.

GILBEY. Would he have gone if you hadnt been there for him to go to?
Tell me that. You know why he went to you, I suppose?

DORA. *[charitably]* It was dull for him at home, poor lad, wasnt
it?

MRS GILBEY. Oh no. I'm at home on first Thursdays. And we have the
Knoxes to dinner every Friday. Margaret Knox and Bobby are as good as
engaged. Mr Knox is my husband's partner. Mrs Knox is very
religious; but shes quite cheerful. We dine with them on Tuesdays.
So thats two evenings pleasure every week.

GILBEY. *[almost in tears]* We done what we could for the boy.
Short of letting him go into temptations of all sorts, he can do what
he likes. What more does he want?

DORA. Well, old dear, he wants me; and thats about the long and short
of it. And I must say youre not very nice to me about it. Ive talked
to him like a mother, and tried my best to keep him straight; but I
dont deny I like a bit of fun myself; and we both get a bit giddy when
we're lighthearted. Him and me is a pair, I'm afraid.

GILBEY. Dont talk foolishness, girl. How could you and he be a pair,
you being what you are, and he brought up as he has been, with the
example of a religious woman like Mrs Knox before his eyes? I cant
understand how he could bring himself to be seen in the street with
you. *[Pitying himself]* I havnt deserved this. Ive done my duty as
a father. Ive kept him sheltered. *[Angry with her]* Creatures like
you that take advantage of a child's innocence ought to be whipped
through the streets.

DORA. Well, whatever I may be, I'm too much the lady to lose my
temper; and I dont think Bobby would like me to tell you what I think
of you; for when I start giving people a bit of my mind I sometimes
use language thats beneath me. But I tell you once for all I must
have the money to get Bobby out; and if you wont fork out, I'll hunt
up Holy Joe. He might get it off his brother, the Monsignor.

GILBEY. You mind your own concerns. My solicitor will do what is
right. I'll not have you paying my son's fine as if you were anything
to him.

DORA. Thats right. Youll get him out today, wont you?

GILBEY. It's likely I'd leave my boy in prison, isnt it?

DORA. I'd like to know when theyll let him out.

GILBEY. You would, would you? Youre going to meet him at the prison
door.

DORA. Well, dont you think any woman would that had the feelings of a
lady?

GILBEY. *[bitterly]* Oh yes: I know. Here! I must buy the lad's
salvation, I suppose. How much will you take to clear out and let him
go?

DORA. *[pitying him: quite nice about it]* What good would that do,
old dear? There are others, you know.

GILBEY. Thats true. I must send the boy himself away.

DORA. Where to?

GILBEY. Anywhere, so long as hes out of the reach of you and your
like.

DORA. Then I'm afraid youll have to send him out of the world, old
dear. I'm sorry for you: I really am, though you mightnt believe it;
and I think your feelings do you real credit. But I cant give him up
just to let him fall into the hands of people I couldnt trust, can I?

GILBEY. *[beside himself, rising]* Wheres the police? Wheres the
Government? Wheres the Church? Wheres respectability and right
reason? Whats the good of them if I have to stand here and see you
put my son in your pocket as if he was a chattel slave, and you hardly
out of gaol as a common drunk and disorderly? Whats the world coming
to?

DORA. It is a lottery, isnt it, old dear?

*Mr Gilbey rushes from the room, distracted.*

MRS GILBEY. *[unruffled]* Where did you buy that white lace? I want
some to match a collaret of my own; and I cant get it at Perry and
John's.

DORA. Knagg and Pantle's: one and fourpence. It's machine
hand-made.

MRS GILBEY. I never give more than one and tuppence. But I suppose
youre extravagant by nature. My sister Martha was just like that.
Pay anything she was asked.

DORA. Whats tuppence to you, Mrs Bobby, after all?

MRS GILBEY. *[correcting her]* Mrs Gilbey.

DORA. Of course, Mrs Gilbey. I am silly.

MRS GILBEY. Bobby must have looked funny in your hat. Why did you
change hats with him?

DORA. I dont know. One does, you know.

MRS GILBEY. I never did. The things people do! I cant understand
them. Bobby never told me he was keeping company with you. His own
mother!

DORA. *[overcome]* Excuse me: I cant help smiling.

*Juggins enters.*
JUGGINS. Mr Gilbey has gone to Wormwood Scrubbs, madam.

MRS GILBEY. Have you ever been in a police court, Juggins?

JUGGINS. Yes, madam.

MRS GILBEY *[rather shocked]* I hope you had not been exceeding,
Juggins.

JUGGINS. Yes, madam, I had. I exceeded the legal limit.

MRS GILBEY. Oh, that! Why do they give a woman a fortnight for
wearing a man's hat, and a man a month for wearing hers?

JUGGINS. I didnt know that they did, madam.

MRS GILBEY. It doesnt seem justice, does it, Juggins?

JUGGINS. No, madam.

MRS GILBEY *[to Dora, rising]* Well, good-bye. *[Shaking her hand]*
So pleased to have made your acquaintance.

DORA. *[standing up]* Dont mention it. I'm sure it's most kind of
you to receive me at all.

MRS GILBEY. I must go off now and order lunch. *[She trots to the door]*. What was it you called the concertina?

DORA. A squiffer, dear.

MRS GILBEY. *[thoughtfully]* A squiffer, of course. How funny!
*[She goes out]*.

DORA. *[exploding into ecstasies of mirth]* Oh my! isnt she an old
love? How do you keep your face straight?

JUGGINS. It is what I am paid for.

DORA. *[confidentially]* Listen here, dear boy. Your name isnt
Juggins. Nobody's name is Juggins.

JUGGINS. My orders are, Miss Delaney, that you are not to be here
when Mr Gilbey returns from Wormwood Scrubbs.

DORA. That means telling me to mind my own business, doesnt it?
Well, I'm off. Tootle Loo, Charlie Darling. *[She kisses her hand to him and goes]*.