An elegant drawing room. Enter Sylvia, impatiently fanning herself, followed by her maid Louisa.
Sylvia For the last time, Louisa, what business is it of yours?
Louisa My foolish notion that for once you might behave like everyone else. Your father asks me if you’re not delighted Mr Richard’s arriving today. Oh yes, sir, I answer, how could she be anything else? Do you realise you’re probably the only girl in the world who turns that ‘yes’ into a lie? ‘No’ is not natural, Miss Sylvia.
Sylvia Not natural! What a stupid little innocent you are. I suppose you think marriage is wonderful.
Louisa Since you ask, then once more – yes.
Sylvia Oh, go and find someone else to be absurd to. It’s not for your feelings to judge mine.
Louisa But mine happen to be like the rest of the world’s. Why do yours have to be so peculiar?
Sylvia The impudence of her! She’d tell me I was a freak, if she dared.
Louisa As we’re not equals, we shall never know. (She curtsies.) Alas.
Sylvia Louisa, you are deliberately trying to provoke me.
Louisa I swear not. But seriously, Miss Sylvia, what’s so dreadful about my telling your father you’re looking forward to meeting the man he wants you to marry?
Sylvia Because it’s not true. I’m perfectly content as I am.
Louisa That’s a new one.
Sylvia There’s no need for my father to think he’s doing me a great favour by marrying me off. He’s far too sure of himself. It only makes him think he understands me.
Louisa You mean you’d turn this Mr Richard down?
Sylvia How should I know? He may not suit me at all. I find the thought of that most upsetting.
Louisa But everyone says he’s one of the nicest young men. Handsome, attractive, intelligent, a true gentleman – what more do you want? How can you think of anything more delicious?
Sylvia Delicious! They’re completely scatterbrained, the words you use.
Louisa If you ask me, Miss Sylvia, it’s lucky a man like him does want to marry by the book. Because there’s hardly a girl wouldn’t marry him without it, if he cared to raise a finger. Heavens above, it must turn out well, with a creature like that. He has everything.
Sylvia The way you describe him, yes. I know they say he’s like that. But it’s only a ‘they say’. I may feel quite otherwise, myself. A good-looking young man, they say. That’s almost even worse.
Louisa You’ve got everything upside down!
Sylvia Not in the least. It’s excellent sense. Good-looking men invariably grow into conceited asses. I’ve noticed it.
Louisa Ah. He’s right to be good-looking. But wrong to be a conceited ass.
Sylvia A fine figure of a man, they say. (Sarcastically.) I swoon at the very thought.
Louisa It’s not a crime, Miss Sylvia.
Sylvia I don’t require good looks in a husband. They’re ornamental superfluities.
Louisa Lord deliver us, if I every marry – your super-whatsits will be my without-which-nots.
Sylvia You haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, my girl. Marriage is about mind, not body. All I ask is decency of character, but that’s harder to find than people think. So they sing this Richard’s praises – but who’s ever lived with him? Men are always pretending to be something else, especially when they’re clever. Take Mr Erskine. (She mimics a voice.) ‘Such a civil fellow, so agreeable.’ You can hear it said every day of the week. But you wait, you just trust yourself to that innocent, smiling face of his – and watch it change ten minutes afterwards into one that’s all scowls, frowns, tyranny … and keeps a whole household trembling in terror. That’s the only face they ever see! While he parades around everywhere in public with that charming smirk we all think we know him by. It’s no more than a mask he puts on, Louisa!
Louisa Her and her masks …
Sylvia Or Mr Lennox! One’s delighted to see him enter a room, no? And you know something? At home he never says a word. He’s like ice, a hermit, untouchable. An apparition who creeps out of some gloomy study for his meals and then makes everyone there die of frozen boredom. There’s a ‘delicious’ husband for you.
Louisa I’m getting chilblains just listening to you. Ah yes – but how about Mr Thompson?
Sylvia I’m glad you mentioned him. The other day I visit, I’m announced, Mr Thompson comes to me with open arms, not a trouble in the world. You’d have thought he’d just passed the tenderest half-hour with his wife – the pig! I find her, the poor darling, heartbroken in her boudoir, her cheeks ashy-grey, the tears still in her swollen eyes. As I might very well one day find myself, Louisa. It’s terrifying, can’t you see? Just think what they truly are – men. Husbands.
Louisa You shouldn’t have ended with that word. It undermines all the rest.
Enter Mr Morgan, Sylvia’s father, a letter in hand.
Morgan So here we are – the best of days to you, my dear. Louisa tells me you’re all expectation – yes? Most exciting, is it not? And I’ve just received this letter from Richard’s father.
He shows the letter enthusiastically. Sylvia looks studiously gloomy. Louisa stands with her eyes down.
What’s wrong with you both? You there, Louisa – has someone died?
Louisa Sir, a mask that makes you tremble with terror, a freezing hermit creeping out of a broom cupboard. To say nothing of a lady who looks like a dead codfish fallen into an ash pail. There, sir. We’ve just been rapt in contemplation of that.
Morgan Broom cupboards, ash pails – what does all this gibberish mean?
Sylvia I was simply explaining to Louisa the hideous reality of being a mistreated wife, Father.
Louisa (dabbing her eyes with her apron) Yes indeed.
Morgan All I can make of this, my dear, is that marriage frightens you – but that’s largely because you haven’t yet met Richard.
Louisa That’s no use, sir. For a start we hear he’s good-looking. Which is almost even worse. (She sobs.)
Morgan Am I dreaming? Even worse?
Louisa I’m only repeating what I’ve just been taught, Mr Morgan. It’s gospel with your daughter.
Morgan Oh come now, Sylvia, there’s no question of that. You know I dote on you. Richard’s father’s an old and dear friend, even though he’s been abroad all these years. You know we arranged this visit when I stayed with him on his return. But strictly on condition that you approved of each other, and had every freedom to say what you felt. Why, I positively forbid you to think of me. If you don’t like him, you have only to speak – and off he goes. And the same in the contrary case.
Louisa It’ll be like one of those tender duets at the opera. (She sings.) ‘I love you, you love me, quick where’s a church and wed we’ll be.’ Or – ‘She loves me, nay, I love her, nay, Oh lordy where’s my horse, I want to ride away.’
Sylvia Ugh!
Sylvia runs to hit Louisa with her fan. Louisa dodges behind Mr Morgan. He smilingly bars Sylvia’s way.
Morgan My dear, I’ve never met Richard, as you know. He was away when I stayed with his father. But from all I’ve heard of him, you’ll neither of you regret this.
Sylvia turns away. A little silence while she thinks, then she turns with a smile back to Mr Morgan.
Sylvia You’re very sweet, Father. My decision, yes?
Morgan I insist on it.
Sylvia Then your obedient daughter, sir. (A pause.) If I dared, I’d tell you of an idea I’ve just had. Which would set my heart completely at rest.
Morgan If it can be done – granted.
Sylvia Easily done. But, Papa you’ve been so kind to me already.
Morgan My love, in this world of ours to be kind enough one has to be too kind.
Louisa (to Sylvia) Only the kindest of men could say that.
Morgan Out with it, my child.
Sylvia If today I could only watch Richard in secret … examine him, without his realising. Papa, Louisa’s no fool. She could take my place. And I hers.
Mr Morgan turns abruptly away, to hide a smile.
Morgan (assuming gravity) I must consider a moment. I really don’t know, Sylvia, it’s most unusual. If Richard knew that such a deception … (Another secret smile.) But in all the circum stances … (He turns to Sylvia.) So be it, my dear. I allow you your stratagem. But you, Louisa, could you play your part in it?
Louisa takes the fan from Sylvia and puts on a haughty, ladylike air.
Louisa I trust you know whose hand you seek, sir. Just you dare to come the Don John with me, sir, or lack respect for what I am. This is my face, sir, and a specimen of the good grace with which I attend your addresses. (Grinning, her normal self.) What say you? Do you know Louisa any more?
Morgan Well I’m blessed! I hardly recognised you myself. But time’s short, my dears. Richard might surprise us. So run and dress for your parts – and warn the other servants.
Sylvia (to Louisa) All I really need’s an apron.
Louisa And we shall proceed to our dressing-table. (Playing the mistress to Sylvia.) My coiffure, Louisa. You must get used to your new functions. A little more devotion to your mistress, if you don’t mind.
Sylvia (curtsying deep to her) I shall endeavour to please, m’lady.
Enter Martin, Sylvia’s brother, a lieutenant in the Royal Navy.
Martin Congratulations, dear sister. A little bird tells me we’re about to clap eyes on the intended.
Sylvia We are, Martin. But I’ve no time for idle sailors, I’ve something serious on hand. Your servant, sirs.
Sylvia and Louisa quickly leave. Mr Morgan delightedly takes Martin’s arm.
Morgan Oh, Martin – if you only knew … Listen.
Martin Something jolly afoot, sir?
Morgan Richard comes – but we shall see him in disguise.
Martin Are you giving him a fancy-dress ball? Morgan Hear what his father writes. (He reads from the letter.) Um … ‘I don’t know what you will think of a whim my son has taken into his head. He admits himself that it is a singular one. But the motive is excusable, the intention delicate. Here it is: he has asked me to let him arrive at your house dressed up as his own manservant, one John Brass by name – who for his part will impersonate his master.’
Martin (laughing) Splendid!
Morgan (reading again) ‘My son knows how serious an engagement to marry is and he hopes, so he claims, and behind this briefly worn disguise, to learn something of the character of your daughter, so he can then decide what to do. You and I agreed, did we not, that the two parties should be allowed complete freedom of choice? Trusting in all you told me of your charming daughter, I have agreed to this – but I take the precaution of warning you beforehand, though my son begged me to leave you in the dark. You will of course act with the young lady in all this as you think fit.’ (With renewed delight.) Oh but my boy, this isn’t all. Here’s what’s just happened. Your sister is quite as worried as Richard, whose little game she knows nothing of, and – can’t you guess? – she’s just asked her own dear papa if …
Martin (beginning to laugh) Not if she can …?
Morgan Play …
Martin Exactly the same trick?
Mr Morgan nods. They dissolve into laughter.
Morgan What think you to it? Have you ever heard anything more extraordinary? Should I tell her or not?
Martin Upon my soul, Father, if this is the way the wind blows, I wouldn’t have it shift quarter for all the world.
Morgan After all, their motives are serious at heart.
Martin While, as servants, they’ll be thrown together all the time.
Morgan And we’ll see if they can pierce the pretence.
Martin Richard might fall for her, maid though she seems. That’d be quite a prize.
Morgan And we’ll find how she gets out of her own little trap, eh, my boy?
Martin Oh, Father, it’s bound to be the most glorious sport. It’ll madden both of them.
Mr Morgan makes a quick gesture of silence. They straighten their faces. Enter Sylvia. now dressed as a lady’s maid.
Sylvia Here I am, Father. Do I make a pretty domestic? And you, Mr Lieutenant? I can see by your silly grin that you know what’s going on.
Martin I say, Sylvie, Richard’s manservant’s as good as struck his colours already. Why, you might even take his master, into the bargain.
Sylvia (examining herself in a mirror) If you must know, I shouldn’t mind if I did. It might be rather amusing to make him lose his head. Leave him slightly stunned at being under the spell of someone so far below him. If my looks could do that … Anyway, it would help me find out what he’s truly like.
Morgan And his servant?
Sylvia I’m not worried about him. He wouldn’t dare push his attentions. Obviously there’ll be something in my look that will warn even a vulgar person like that.
Martin I shouldn’t be too sure. That vulgar person will be your equal – won’t he, Father?
Morgan And is bound to fall for you, my dear.
Sylvia (a shrug) Attracting him won’t be without its uses. Servants are born gossips. I shall merely convert him into his master’s biographer.
Enter a Footman.
Footman Sir, a serving person ’as just happeared who wishes to ’ave words with you. He is haccompanied by a porter with a trunk.
The Footman bows and leaves.
Richard’s man, no doubt of it. Where’s Louisa?
Sylvia Dressing. And Richard shall be duly dazzled. She’ll soon be ready.
Morgan Shh. Here he is.
Enter Richard, dressed in livery as a man servant. He is strikingly handsome. Sylvia watches him covertly, and is evidently impressed.
Richard I seek Mr Morgan – who must be he to whom I have the honour to bow?
Morgan He is, my man. I am he.
Richard Ah then, sir, you’ve no doubt had news of us. I’m Mr Richard’s servant. He is briefly delayed, and has sent me ahead to assure you of the compliments he fervently trusts soon to pay himself.
Morgan Elegantly put, my honest lad. (To Sylvia.) Well, Louisa? No greeting? What say you to this new fellow-servant?
Sylvia I, sir? I say he’s welcome. And could promise … worse.
Richard (bowing to her) I shall do my best.
Martin At least he’s quite passable to look at. You’ll have to watch your heart, Louisa.
Sylvia My heart is my business. Sir.
Richard Don’t worry, Miss Louisa. I should never presume on what the gentleman says.
Sylvia I approve of your modesty, sir. Pray keep it so.
Martin But why are we so proper! Louisa, I can’t help feeling that his calling you ‘miss’ is overdoing it. You don’t want to be on a high horse with each other all the time. Come on, come on, be more natural. This is our maid Louisa – and you, my good chap, what’s your name?
Richard John Brass, sir. At your service.
Sylvia (embarrassed) Very well then … John.
Richard Louisa, it shall be. And I remain no less your servant.
Martin ‘Your servant’! But that’s not the right language, John. You mean ‘my handsome jade’ … ‘my black-eyed beauty’ … ‘my spanking wench’ … ‘my …’
Mr Morgan has to turn aside to hide his face. Sylvia hisses at her brother.
Sylvia (aside) Martin, don’t you make fun of me!
Richard I couldn’t use such familiar terms, sir – without permission first.
Sylvia You may address me as you like, John. It seems the ice is broken for us, since it amuses these … gentlemen so much.
Richard I’m most grateful, Louisa. And conscious of the honour you do me.
Morgan Bravo, my children. If you happen to fall in love, you’re free of all formality now.
Martin Gently, Father. Love is another matter. Perhaps you don’t know that I have a bone to pick with Louisa. Yes, Father, alas, I can’t deny it. Louisa knows I have a certain … fondness for her. Though she turns up her nose at it, the hussy. But I really must draw the line at having a country bumpkin with a name like Brass treading in my footsteps.
Sylvia Must you indeed! So this is your attitude, sir. Well – I wish Mr Brass –
Martin (raising a finger) John.
Sylvia John … to fall in love with me.
Richard You are wrong to wish, Louisa. A face like yours is obeyed without wishes.
Martin Oh really, Brass! You’ve cribbed that bit of gallantry from your betters.
Richard I have indeed, sir. (Indicating Sylvia.) From those eyes.
Martin Stop it, that’s even worse. I forbid you to be so clever.
Sylvia He was only clever at your expense, sir. And if he finds things in my eyes, they are his to take.
Morgan Martin, my boy, you’ve lost your cause. But we must tell your sister that Richard comes. As for you, Louisa, show this young man to his master’s quarters. Good day to you … Brass.
Richard (bowing) Sir.
Mr Morgan and Martin leave. Sylvia and Richard both show signs of acute embarrassment. Both try to speak, both say nothing. Nervous circumstantial smiles. They drift apart.
Sylvia (aside) They think it’s all a joke. Never mind, I’ll find some good use for it. (Secret look at Richard.) I must say he’s quite witty. And I certainly don’t feel sorry for the kitchen maid who wins him one day.
Richard (aside) What a ravishing girl … there are society women who’d envy a face like that … (He moves closer to her.)
Sylvia (aside) Now he’s going to make love to me. But I have to put up with it, if I’m going to learn anything.
Richard (with assumed boldness) Well then, Louisa my love, since we’re friends already and not on ceremony, can your mistress rival you for looks? She must be brave, to risk the comparison.
Sylvia John, your question informs me that like everyone else you’ve come here determined to flirt with me. Correct?
Richard If I’m honest, it never crossed my mind. I’ve never had much to do with chambermaids – mere gentleman’s gentleman though I may be. The servant mentality has never agreed with me. But you … I feel almost shy, I’ve lost my tongue, I keep feeling – ridiculous! – I should bow to you. As for calling you my spanking wench, it seems like blasphemy. You’d laugh if I treated you with the respect I feel. How can a mere maid look so like a princess?
Sylvia How very original. What you’ve just said is exactly what all the other menservants who’ve ever seen me have said.
Richard And I’ll wager all their masters, too.
Sylvia Charming. I tell you once more, my ears are deaf to the wheedlings of men in clothes like yours.
Richard You don’t like my livery?
Sylvia I do not, John. So that’s love disposed of. Let us simply be friends.
Richard Just friends? Then I’m afraid your proposal’s made up of two impossible clauses.
Sylvia (aside) What an extraordinary member of the menial classes! (To Richard.) None the less, it has to be signed. My stars tell me I shall marry a man of breeding, and I’ve sworn to listen to no one else.
Richard By heaven, what a coincidence – I’ve sworn exactly the same. On my oath. John Brass shall never marry any but a lady.
Sylvia Then keep your oath.
Richard But perhaps I’m betraying it less than we think. You’ve a surprisingly distinguished air about you, Louisa. Sometimes one has breeding without realising it.
Sylvia I’d thank you for that – if it didn’t unmarry my mother.
Richard Then take revenge on mine – if you think I merit the same accusation.
Sylvia (aside) He does. (To Richard.) Enough of frivolous conversation. A husband of rank inhabits my stars, and I won’t take a jot less.
Richard Do you know, if I was he, I’d feel threatened? I’d be frightened to fulfil the prediction. In astrology I’m an atheist – but I’m beginning to discover a profound faith in your face.
Sylvia (aside) Why does he go on like this? (To Richard.) Will you please stop? What can my horoscope mean to you, since it excludes you?
Richard It didn’t say I wouldn’t fall in love with you.
Sylvia No, but it said it wouldn’t do you one bit of good. And so do I.
Richard You’re magnificent, Louisa. So proud. I longed for this quality in you, the moment I saw you. She lacks the one virtue, I said to myself. Yet now … what is defeat, so long as she may conquer?
Sylvia (aside) But honestly, what a remarkably perceptive young man … (To Richard.) Tell me, who are you, where did you learn to speak like this?
Richard The son of honest parents … who were not rich.
Sylvia Then I sincerely wish you a better place in life. I wish I could help you to it. Fate’s been unkind to you.
Richard And Cupid even unkinder. Louisa, I could imagine giving up a fortune to have you in my arms.
Sylvia (aside) Thank goodness. Now we know where we are. (To Richard.) John, I’m not going to be angry over foolish banter. But now please let’s change the subject. Let’s come to your master. You are capable of talking about something else besides love, I presume?
Richard From the moment you stop inspiring it.
Sylvia I shall lose my temper. You go too far. Once and for all, will you stop being in love with me!
Richard If you will stop being.
Sylvia (aside) Heaven knows why, but I think he’s beginning to amuse me. (To Richard.) So, John, you refuse to change your tune. Must I leave the room? (Aside.) As I should have minutes ago.
Richard (approaching her) Listen, my sweet Louisa, I too want to talk about –
She looks at him, they stare at each other.
– something else.
Another intense look between the two.
But I seem to have forgotten what it was.
Sylvia I’m just the same. I had a very great deal to ask you. And now it’s all gone.
Richard (recovering) I remember – whether you like your mistress.
Sylvia That’s a back way to the same old road. Good day.
Richard No, I swear. I ask for my master’s sake.
Sylvia Very well. So be it. I too want to know what he’s like. Your devotion to him does predispose me in his favour. If he employs you, he must have some merit.
Richard I wonder if by any chance you’d allow me to thank your hand for saying that?
Sylvia (snatching her hand away) And I wonder if you’d deign to overlook my silliness in even saying it in the first place?
Richard There’s another of those answers that drive me wild. Do what you will, I can’t resist it. Here I am. The prettiest, most desirable girl I’ve ever seen, I’m in love with her in two sentences … and misery. She won’t be touched.
Sylvia What I should like to know is how I’ve had the soft-heartedness to listen to you at all. It really is most peculiar.
Richard You’re right. Our situation is unique.
Sylvia (aside) In spite of everything, I still haven’t left. I’m not even about to leave. It’s not amusing any more. (To Richard.) I’m going.
Richard We didn’t finish what we were saying.
Sylvia I said I’m going. No more mercy. When your master comes I shall try to know him for myself – that is, for my mistress. If he’s worth the trouble. Meanwhile –
Enter Brass, dressed as Richard, in a Regency swell’s clothes, walking-stick, lorgnette, etc., ushered in by the Footman, who withdraws.
Richard Then here’s your chance – my master.
Brass Ah, so there we are, Brass me boy! Me porter and you and all, they been looked after?
Richard In this house, Mr Richard, an unkind reception is unthinkable.
Brass Me ’appy bride’s with the old boy. So the flunkey says.
Sylvia You no doubt mean Mr Morgan and Miss Sylvia his daughter, sir!
Brass Dah, what’s the odds – here’s me to get spliced, here’s they to do the splicin’. All fixed, bar the ceremony. A bagatelle, me love.
Sylvia Bagatelle! It deserves some consideration.
Brass True, my sweet. Some – then consider no more.
Sylvia (aside to Richard) John, I must say good breeding seems to come very cheap in your part of the world.
Brass What you a-whisperin’ to me man there, m’beauty?
Sylvia Nothing. I go to fetch Mr Morgan.
Brass One bran’ new son-in-law, at ’is orders.
Sylvia He’s not your father-in-law yet, sir.
Richard (warningly) She’s right, sir. The ceremony is not yet performed.
Brass So ’ere us is to do it.
Richard Then wait till it’s done.
Brass Stap me boots, what a ’eap o’ fuss over a day’s difference.
Sylvia Indeed, what is the great difference between being married or not – I was wrong, sir. I find myself eager to tell my … Mr Morgan that you are here.
Brass The wife also, if you don’t mind. But ’ang on, m’dear. You’re a sight for sore eyes, I must say. Would you be her maid like?
Sylvia I am.
Brass (examining her) Very nice. Very nice indeed. Well, what do you reckon, me saucy lass? Shall I do? Eh? Take your fancy, do I?
Sylvia Sir, what you take is … my breath away.
Brass Lovely, that’s the spirit. Keep feelin’ that, you and me might take it up one day, eh?
Sylvia Your modesty in not looking higher overwhelms me, sir. But I leave you now.
Brass Tell the old sprout I’m waitin’ to give ’im a clap on the back.
Sylvia (aside as she goes) How astounding life is! The master ought to be the servant.
Exit Sylvia.
Brass There you are, sir. Like a dream. That girl’s ’alf out of her petticoats already.
Richard You abominable idiot!
Brass You mean … when I came in so genteel!
Richard You swore a hundred times that you’d drop that common way of speaking you have! I coached you! I told you – just be grave and serious, that’s all. Oh dear God, I was mad to rely on you.
Brass I’ll do better next time round. I’ll be more than grave, sir, I’ll be like, miserable. I’ll even blub if needs be.
Richard I don’t know where I am any more. It makes my head spin. What the devil am I going to do?
Brass Waste of time, is she, the daughter?
Richard Shut your mouth, here’s Mr Morgan. And watch your language.
Enter Mr Morgan.
Morgan (to Brass) My dear Richard, a thousand apologies. I’ve only just heard you were here.
Brass A thousand, sir – that’s overspendin’. One’s quite enough, for one small bloomer. Anyways, all my apologies, too – borrow as many as you like.
Morgan I shall try not to need them.
Brass You’re the master. I’m the servant.
Heavy wink at Richard, who reacts in horror behind Mr Morgan’s back.
Morgan Believe me, I’m delighted to see you. I’ve been awaiting you with impatience, my dear boy.
Brass I’d ’ave liked to turn up along of me man Brass there. But you know what it’s like when you gets in after a long stage, you feel proper fagged out and all. I felt the least I ought was sprig meself up a bit first.
Morgan And I perceive that you indeed did. My daughter’s still at her toilette. Shall we go take some refreshment, while we wait?
Brass Clink, clink – never said no to a glass – and never mind who with, eh, eh?
Morgan (to Richard) Brass, my lad, go and have yourself looked after.
Brass You want to watch ’im, Mr Morgan, fancies ’imself a gentleman, don’t you know. Only touches the best. Drink you out of ’ouse and ’ome.
Morgan No matter, Richard. He’s welcome to it.*
They stroll off, leaving Richard in mute outrage.
Enter Louisa, dressed as a lady, attended by Sylvia, as her maid, carrying a shawl and parasol. Richard hastily bows. Louisa stops and examines him coldly for a moment.
Louisa (to Sylvia) And who may this be, pray?
Sylvia Mr Richard’s man, Miss Sylvia.
Louisa (with contempt) Hm. A likely fellow.
She goes on. Sylvia gives a torn look back at Richard, who tries to persuade her by signs to stop and talk with him. She hesitates. Louisa turns and speaks sharply to her.
Louisa! If you must have amours, kindly conduct them in the kitchen – not in my presence.
She sweeps on and out. Sylvia stifles her anger, and follows. Enter Martin briskly, with a pair of muddy top-boots in his hand.
Martin Ah, Brass, you’ll do.
He throws the boots at Richard.
Give these a good clean, will you? And look sharp about it.
He goes, leaving Richard staring at the boots.
* Marivaux’s text ends at Mr Morgan’s line. All that follows is my invention. J.F.