Getting Married (2/2) (1/12)
Mrs. Bridgenorth Do you never feel nervous on these occasions, Collins?
Collins Lord bless you, no, ma’am. It would be a joke, after marrying five of your daughters, if I was to get nervous over marrying the last of them.
Mrs. Bridgenorth I have always said you were a wonderful man, Collins.
Collins Almost blushing. Oh, ma’am!
Mrs. Bridgenorth Yes. I never could arrange anything⁠—a wedding or even dinner⁠—without some hitch or other.
Collins Why should you give yourself the trouble, ma’am? Send for the greengrocer, ma’am: that’s the secret of easy housekeeping. Bless you, it’s his business. It pays him and you, let alone the pleasure in a house like this. Mrs. Bridgenorth bows in acknowledgment of the compliment. They joke about the greengrocer, just as they joke about the mother-in-law. But they can’t get on without both.
Mrs. Bridgenorth What a bond between us, Collins!
Collins Bless you, ma’am, there’s all sorts of bonds between all sorts of people. You are a very affable lady, ma’am, for a Bishop’s lady. I have known Bishop’s ladies that would fairly provoke you to up and cheek them; but nobody would ever forget himself and his place with you, ma’am.
Mrs. Bridgenorth Collins: you are a flatterer. You will superintend the breakfast yourself as usual, of course, won’t you?
Collins Yes, yes, bless you, ma’am, of course. I always do. Them fashionable caterers send down such people as I never did set eyes on. Dukes you would take them for. You see the relatives shaking hands with them and asking them about the family⁠—actually ladies saying “Where have we met before?” and all sorts of confusion. That’s my secret in business, ma’am. You can always spot me as the greengrocer. It’s a fortune to me in these days, when you can’t hardly tell who anyone is or isn’t. He goes out through the tower, and immediately returns for a moment to announce, The General, ma’am.
Mrs. Bridgenorth* rises to receive her brother-in-law, who enters resplendent in full-dress uniform, with many medals and orders. General Bridgenorth is a well set up man of fifty, with large brave nostrils, an iron mouth, faithful dog’s eyes, and much natural simplicity and dignity of character. He is ignorant, stupid, and prejudiced, having been carefully trained to be so; and it is not always possible to be patient with him when his unquestionably good intentions become actively mischievous; but one blames society, not himself, for this. He would be no worse a man than Collins, had he enjoyed Collins’s social opportunities. He comes to the hearth, where Mrs. Bridgenorth* is standing with her back to the fireplace.
Mrs. Bridgenorth Good morning, Boxer. They shake hands. Another niece to give away. This is the last of them.
The General Very gloomy. Yes, Alice. Nothing for the old warrior uncle to do but give away brides to luckier men than himself. Has⁠—He chokes. has your sister come yet?
Mrs. Bridgenorth Why do you always call Lesbia my sister? Don’t you know that it annoys her more than any of the rest of your tricks?
The General Tricks! Ha! Well, I’ll try to break myself of it; but I think she might bear with me in a little thing like that. She knows that her name sticks in my throat. Better call her your sister than try to call her L⁠—He almost breaks down. L⁠—well, call her by her name and make a fool of myself by crying. He sits down at the near end of the table.
Mrs. Bridgenorth Going to him and rallying him. Oh come, Boxer! Really, really! We are no longer boys and girls. You can’t keep up a broken heart all your life. It must be nearly twenty years since she refused you. And you know that it’s not because she dislikes you, but only that she’s not a marrying woman.
The General It’s no use. I love her still. And I can’t help telling her so whenever we meet, though I know it makes her avoid me. He all but weeps.
Mrs. Bridgenorth What does she say when you tell her?
The General Only that she wonders when I am going to grow out of it. I know now that I shall never grow out of it.
Mrs. Bridgenorth Perhaps you would if you married her. I believe you’re better as you are, Boxer.
The General I’m a miserable man. I’m really sorry to be a ridiculous old bore, Alice; but when I come to this house for a wedding⁠—to these scenes⁠—to⁠—to recollections of the past⁠—always to give the bride to somebody else, and never to have my bride given to me⁠—He rises abruptly. May I go into the garden and smoke it off?
Mrs. Bridgenorth Do, Boxer.
Collins returns with the wedding cake.
Mrs. Bridgenorth Oh, here’s the cake. I believe it’s the same one we had for Florence’s wedding.
The General I can’t bear it. He hurries out through the garden door.
Collins Putting the cake on the table. Well, look at that, ma’am! Ain’t it odd that after all the weddings he’s given away at, the General can’t stand the sight of a wedding cake yet. It always seems to give him the same shock.
Mrs. Bridgenorth Well, it’s his last shock. You have married the whole family now, Collins. She takes up The Times again and resumes her seat.
Collins Except your sister, ma’am. A fine character of a lady, ma’am, is Miss Grantham. I have an ambition to arrange her wedding breakfast.
Mrs. Bridgenorth She won’t marry, Collins.
Collins Bless you, ma’am, they all say that. You and me said it, I’ll lay. I did, anyhow.
Mrs. Bridgenorth No: marriage came natural to me. I should have thought it did to you too.
Collins Pensive. No, ma’am: it didn’t come natural. My wife had to break me into it. It came natural to her: she’s what you might call a regular old hen. Always wants to have her family within sight of her. Wouldn’t go to bed unless she knew they was all safe at home and the door locked, and the lights out. Always wants her luggage in the carriage with her. Always goes and makes the engine driver promise her to be careful. She’s a born wife and mother, ma’am. That’s why my children all ran away from home.
Mrs. Bridgenorth Did you ever feel inclined to run away, Collins?
Collins Oh yes, ma’am, yes: very often. But when it came to the point I couldn’t bear to hurt her feelings. She’s a sensitive, affectionate, anxious soul; and she was never brought up to know what freedom is to some people. You see, family life is all the life she knows: she’s like a bird born in a cage, that would die if you let it loose in the woods. When I thought how little it was to a man of my easy temper to put up with her, and how deep it would hurt her to think it was because I didn’t care for her, I always put off running away till next time; and so in the end I never ran away at all. I daresay it was good for me to be took such care of; but it cut me off from all my old friends something dreadful, ma’am: especially the women, ma’am. She never gave them a chance: she didn’t indeed. She never understood that married people should take holidays from one another if they are to keep at all fresh. Not that I ever got tired of her, ma’am; but my! how I used to get tired of home life sometimes. I used to catch myself envying my brother George: I positively did, ma’am.
Mrs. Bridgenorth George was a bachelor then, I suppose?
Collins Bless you, no, ma’am. He married a very fine figure of a woman; but she was that changeable and what you might call susceptible, you would not believe. She didn’t seem to have any control over herself when she fell in love. She would mope for a couple of days, crying about nothing; and then she would up and say⁠—no matter who was there to hear her⁠—“I must go to him, George”; and away she would go from her home and her husband without with-your-leave or by-your-leave.
Mrs. Bridgenorth But do you mean that she did this more than once? That she came back?
Collins Bless you, ma’am, she done it five times to my own knowledge; and then George gave up telling us about it, he got so used to it.
Mrs. Bridgenorth But did he always take her back?
Collins Well, what could he do, ma’am? Three times out of four the men would bring her back the same evening and no harm done. Other times they’d run away from her. What could any man with a heart do but comfort her when she came back crying at the way they dodged her when she threw herself at their heads, pretending they was too noble to accept the sacrifice she was making. George told her again and again that if she’d only stay at home and hold off a bit they’d be at her feet all day long. She got sensible at last and took his advice. George always liked change of company.
Mrs. Bridgenorth What an odious woman, Collins! Don’t you think so?
Collins Judicially. Well, many ladies with a domestic turn thought so and said so, ma’am. But I will say for Mrs. George that the variety of experience made her wonderful interesting. That’s where the flighty ones score off the steady ones, ma’am. Look at my old woman! She’s never known any man but me; and she can’t properly know me, because she don’t know other men to compare me with. Of course she knows her parents in⁠—well, in the way one does know one’s parents not knowing half their lives as you might say, or ever thinking that they was ever young; and she knew her children as children, and never thought of them as independent human beings till they ran away and nigh broke her heart for a week or two. But Mrs. George she came to know a lot about men of all sorts and ages; for the older she got the younger she liked ’em; and it certainly made her interesting, and gave her a lot of sense. I have often taken her advice on things when my own poor old woman wouldn’t have been a bit of use to me.
Mrs. Bridgenorth I hope you don’t tell your wife that you go elsewhere for advice.
Collins Lord bless you, ma’am, I’m that fond of my old Matilda that I never tell her anything at all for fear of hurting her feelings. You see, she’s such an out-and-out wife and mother that she’s hardly a responsible human being out of her house, except when she’s marketing.
Mrs. Bridgenorth Does she approve of Mrs. George?
Collins Oh, Mrs. George gets round her. Mrs. George can get round anybody if she wants to. And then Mrs. George is very particular about religion. And she’s a clairvoyant.
Mrs. Bridgenorth Surprised. A clairvoyant!
Collins Calm. Oh yes, ma’am, yes. All you have to do is to mesmerize her a bit; and off she goes into a trance, and says the most wonderful things! not things about herself, but as if it was the whole human race giving you a bit of its mind. Oh, wonderful, ma’am, I assure you. You couldn’t think of a game that Mrs. George isn’t up to.
Lesbia Grantham comes in through the tower. She is a tall, handsome, slender lady in her prime; that is, between 36 and 55. She has what is called a well-bred air, dressing very carefully to produce that effect without the least regard for the latest fashions, sure of herself, very terrifying to the young and shy, fastidious to the ends of her long fingertips, and tolerant and amused rather than sympathetic.
Lesbia Good morning, dear big sister.
Mrs. Bridgenorth Good morning, dear little sister. They kiss.
Lesbia Good morning, Collins. How well you are looking! And how young! She turns the middle chair away from the table and sits down.
Collins That’s only my professional habit at a wedding, Miss. You should see me at a political dinner. I look nigh seventy. Looking at his watch. Time’s getting along, ma’am. May I send up word from you to Miss Edith to hurry a bit with her dressing?
Mrs. Bridgenorth Do, Collins.
Collins goes out through the tower, taking the cake with him.
Lesbia Dear old Collins! Has he told you any stories this morning?
Mrs. Bridgenorth Yes. You were just late for a particularly thrilling invention of his.
Lesbia About Mrs. George?
Mrs. Bridgenorth Yes. He says she’s a clairvoyant.
Lesbia I wonder whether he really invented George, or stole her out of some book.
Mrs. Bridgenorth I wonder!
Lesbia Wheres the Barmecide?
Mrs. Bridgenorth In the study, working away at his new book. He thinks no more now of having a daughter married than of having an egg for breakfast.
The General, soothed by smoking, comes in from the garden.
The General With resolute bonhomie. Ah, Lesbia!
Mrs. Bridgenorth How do you do? They shake hands; and he takes the chair on her right.
Mrs. Bridgenorth goes out through the tower.
Lesbia How are you, Boxer? You look almost as gorgeous as the wedding cake.
The General I make a point of appearing in uniform whenever I take part in any ceremony, as a lesson to the subalterns. It is not the custom in England; but it ought to be.
Lesbia You look very fine, Boxer. What a frightful lot of bravery all these medals must represent!
The General No, Lesbia. They represent despair and cowardice. I won all the early ones by trying to get killed. You know why.
Lesbia But you had a charmed life?
The General Yes, a charmed life. Bayonets bent on my buckles. Bullets passed through me and left no trace: that’s the worst of modern bullets: I’ve never been hit by a dumdum. When I was only a company officer I had at least the right to expose myself to death in the field. Now I’m a General even that resource is cut off. Persuasively drawing his chair nearer to her. Listen to me, Lesbia. For the tenth and last time⁠—
Lesbia Interrupting. On Florence’s wedding morning, two years ago, you said “For the ninth and last time.”
The General We are two years older, Lesbia. I’m fifty: you are⁠—
Lesbia Yes, I know. It’s no use, Boxer. When will you be old enough to take no for an answer?
The General Never, Lesbia, never. You have never given me a real reason for refusing me yet. I once thought it was somebody else. There were lots of fellows after you; but now they’ve all given it up and married. Bending still nearer to her. Lesbia: tell me your secret. Why⁠—
Lesbia Sniffing disgustedly. Oh! You’ve been smoking. She rises and goes to the chair on the hearth. Keep away, you wretch.
The General But for that pipe, I could not have faced you without breaking down. It has soothed me and nerved me.
Lesbia Sitting down with The Times in her hand. Well, it has nerved me to tell you why I’m going to be an old maid.
The General Impulsively approaching her. Don’t say that, Lesbia. It’s not natural: it’s not right: it’s⁠—
Lesbia Fanning him off. No: no closer, Boxer, please. He retreats, discouraged. It may not be natural; but it happens all the time. You’ll find plenty of women like me, if you care to look for them: women with lots of character and good looks and money and offers, who won’t and don’t get married. Can’t you guess why?
The General I can understand when there is another.
Lesbia Yes; but there isn’t another. Besides, do you suppose I think, at my time of life, that the difference between one decent sort of man and another is worth bothering about?
The General The heart has its preferences, Lesbia. One image, and one only, gets indelibly⁠—
Lesbia Yes. Excuse my interrupting you so often; but your sentiments are so correct that I always know what you are going to say before you finish. You see, Boxer, everybody is not like you. You are a sentimental noodle: you don’t see women as they really are. You don’t see me as I really am. Now I do see men as they really are. I see you as you really are.
The General Murmuring. No: don’t say that, Lesbia.