Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (1948 page)

WRAG. Now, my dear young relative, consider. Have your friends any need to pay it? Can’t you go back by the first train?

MAG. Never! Nothing should force me. If my mind had not been made up already, that vile handbill would decide me.

WRAG. Quite right — the family spirit. I should have done the same myself at your age — it runs in the blood. (
clock strikes
) What’s that? Half-past seven. Pardon me, my dear Miss Vanstone, this seasonable abruptness; but if you carry out your resolution, you must choose your course in half an hour. You are young; allow me to say, you are inexperienced — you are in danger — you require some one to rely upon.

MAG. Suppose I choose to rely upon myself, sir.

WRAG. Then you will enter the city of course, and fall into one of the traps that have been set for you, either at the theatre, or at your lodgings.

MAG. I may not go to the theatre to-night; and at present I have no lodgings.

WRAG. No lodgings? Well, really, I respect independence of character. In a young and lovely relative, I more than respect, I admire it; but without being considered too intrusive, may I ask where you intend to sleep?

WAG. Are there no hotels?

WRAG. Excellent ones for families — excellent ones for single gentlemen; but the very worst ones in the world for handsome young ladies who present themselves without male escort, or even luggage.

MAG. My luggage is at the station. What is to prevent my sending for it?

WRAG. Nothing — and nothing to prevent your having back with it the lawyer’s clerk, or the detective, who have been dispatched from London on your track.

MAG. Good Heavens!

WRAG. I merely point out that contingency for your serious consideration; and, on the strength of it, ask once more, where are you to sleep?

MAG. (
after a pause, bitterly
). I know not.

WRAG. Then I do; under my roof, of course, where Mrs. Wragge will be so charmed to see you.

MAG. Under your roof?

WRAG. Where so proper? The roof of your relative — of the man you must regard in the light of — a sort of uncle. So you must look on his wife as your aunt. Pray look upon her as your aunt. The house is close by; we are its only lodgers, and there is, luckily, a bed to let. So we should form a family party — a snug family party. Allow me to offer you my arm.

MAG. And yet, sir —
 
—

WRAG. You hesitate. Good gracious! is it possible, Miss Vanstone, you can have heard anything to my disadvantage?

MAG. Quite possible. I may have heard from other friends that — that — you are an impostor.

WRAG. Ha, ha! this horrid world — this age which feeds on slander. And yet, if it were the fact, without intending to be offensive — may I ask, my dear Miss Vanstone, if the position you now stand in is one that gives you a right to reject an imposter’s services?

MAG. Well, no, you are quite right; besides, I have no name to endanger. I’m nobody’s child, and nobody’s child must sleep under somebody’s roof.

WRAG. So, why not under mine?

MAG. I admit it. I accept your offer.

WRAG. Then if you will accompany me this way —
 
—

MAG. What must be, must be; ‘tis too late to retreat, (
she follows him off
L.)

SCENE II. — CAPTAIN WRAGGE’S
lodgings. A parlor in 3d grooves.

MRS. WRAGGE
discovered seated at table, a tattered book upon her knees, which she turns over.

MRS. W. Here it is — here’s the place at last. “How to cook an omelet.” Yes, an omelet with herbs. He wants it for his breakfast tomorrow, and I must learn to do it some how. (
reads
) “Beat up two eggs with a little milk or water; salt, pepper, chives, or parsley, mince small.” There — how am I to mince small when it’s all mixed up and running? “Put a piece of butter, the size of your thumb, into the frying-pan” — the size of your thumb — mine or anybody’s. “Broil, but not brown.” There, again, if it’s not brown, what colour must it be? “Pour in the omelet; allow it to set; raise it round the edge; when done, turn it over, and double it.” Oh! the number of times I’ve turned it over and doubled it. “Keep it soft, put the dish on the pan, and turn it over.” Which? turn over which, I want to know — the dish or the frying-pan?

CAPTAIN WRAGGE
enters
D.
in
F ,
followed by
MAGDALEN.

CAPT. W. (
shouting
). Mrs. Wragge!

MRS. W. (
jumping up
). Yes, dear; tea?

CAPT. W. Miss Magdalen Vanstone, our fair relative; indeed, I may say our niece, whom I have met by a fortunate accident, and who will be our guest for the night — our guest.

MRS. W. Oh, indeed! Please, miss, will you sit down. I’m very sorry — no, I don’t mean that — I mean I’m very glad.

CAPT. W. You’re very glad, of course.

MRS. W. I’m very glad, of course!

CAPT. W. Mrs. Wragge is not deaf, my dear Miss Vanstone, she’s only a little slow — constitutionally torpid, if I may use the expression. I am merely loud with her as a necessary stimulant to her ideas. Shout at her and her mind comes up to time; speak to her and she drifts miles away from you directly. (
loudly
) Mrs. Wragge.

MRS. W. Tea, dear?

CAPT. W. Put your cap straight. I beg ten thousand pardon; the sad truth is, I am a martyr to my own excessive sense of order. All untidiness, all want of system causes me the acutest irritation. My attention is distracted — my composure is upset Externally speaking, Mrs. Wragge is, to my infinite regret, the crookedest woman I ever met with. (
shouting
) More to the right!

MRS. W. There, dear! (
business with cap.
)

CAPT. W. Show Miss Vanstone her room — the land-lady’s spare room on the third floor front, and offer her all articles connected with the toilet of which she may stand in need. She has no luggage with her; supply the deficiency, and then make tea.

MRS. W. Yes, dear!

CAPT. W. And, meanwhile, I will step out for a few delicacies to make our evening meal acceptable. For its seed-cake, and its crumpets, York is as illustrious as its Minister, (
shouting
) Mrs. Wragge, you’re down at heel. (
takes small basket from beside cupboard, and goes off
D.
in
F.)

MRS. W. Oh, my poor head, it’s buzzing again as bad as ever.

MAG. Buzzing? (
takes a chair.
)

MRS. W. Yes, miss; will you wait a bit if you please, before we go up-stairs; please wait till I’m a little better.

MAG. Shall I ask for help?

MRS. W. Help! bless you, no; I don’t want help; I’m used to it. I’ve had the buzzing in my head off and on, how many years? Have ever you been at Darch’s dining-rooms, in London?

MAG. No.

MRS. W. That’s where the buzzing in my head first began. I was a waiter in them rooms, I was. The gentlemen all came together, were all hungry together, all gave their orders together. MAG. And trying to keep them all in your memory confused you. MRS. W. That’s it. Boiled pork and greens, and peas-pudding, for No. 1; stewed beef and carrots, and gooseberry-tart, for No. 2; cut of mutton, and quick about it, well done, and plenty of fat, for No. 3; cod-fish and parsnips, two chops to follow, hot and hot, or I’ll be the death of you, for No. 4; carrots and gooseberry-tart, peas-pudding and plenty of fat, pork and beef and mutton, and cut ‘em all, and quick about it; stout for one, and ale for t’other; stale bread here, and new bread there; cheese for you, sir? and none for you, sir? Matilda — Tilda, Tilda, Tilda, fifty times over and over — oh, Lor’, oh, Lor’! all buzzing in my poor head together like fifty thousand million bees.

MAG. Poor creature, I can understand your complaint now.

MRS. W. What nice white hands you’ve got, miss; I try to be a lady, I always keeps my gloves on, but I can’t get my hands like yours. What a nice dress, too; I had one like it once, only mine was white instead of black; I had it when I married the captain.

MAG. And where did you meet with him?

MRS. W. Oh! at the dining-rooms. He used to come there, and was the hungriest and the loudest of the lot of them. I made more mistakes with him than with all the rest put together. He used to swear; oh! didn’t he used to swear at me; when he left off swearing, he married me. There was others wanted me beside, bless you! I had my pick. When you have a trifle of money left you that you didn’t expect, if that don’t make a lady of you, what does, I want to know?

MAG. What, indeed!

MRS. W. Isn’t a lady to have her pick; I had my trifle of money, and I had my pick, and I picked the captain. He was the smartest and shortest of ‘em all. He took care of me and my money. I’m here, the money’s gone, and now I’m waiting on him agin, mum. I shave and dress him every day; I do his hair, and cut his nails; he’s awful particular about his nails, so he is about his trousers and his shoes, and his newspaper in the morning, and his breakfasts, and his lunches, and his dinners, and his teas.

Enter
WRAGGE, D.
in
F.,
with basket.

CAPT. W. (
shouts
). Mrs. Wragge, down at heel again, and not gone up to the room.

MAG. That’s my fault; pray don’t blame her. Come, Mrs. Wragge, you’ll show me.

MRS. W. Yes, dear. Oh, what a pretty hand you’ve got!

[
Exit with
MAGDALEN, D.
in
F.

CAPT. W. (
puts down basket, taking out cake, etc.
). Under my roof, a good first step. What must be my second, clearly to ascertain whether this girl has got any money. If she hasn’t she’ll go to ruin, and it is mere humanity in me to take the reward that’s offered, and send her back to her friends. (
takes seat at table
) If she has money, she may have genius which only requires to be developed, and which of all men, I am most qualified to put to its right use. If she has a talent for the stage, and means to pay for her education, I have acted; I can train her, and my agreement shall be liberal. When her education is finished, half her salary for the first year, a third of her salary for the second, and half the sum she cleared by her first benefit in a London theatre.

MRS. WRAGGE
enters,
D.
in
F.,
with tea things, which she puts on the table.

MRS. WRAGGE Tea, dear, as you ordered. I’ve showed her to her room.

CAPT. W. Stand straight, then.

MRS. W. And Mrs. Juke’s kettle was boiling, and she has given us some hot water.

CAPT. W. I’ll empty the kettle over you if you don’t pull up your shoe! Here’s some seed cake, cut it up; the crumpets we’ll defer till we see whether the outlay’s justified, and cut some bread and butter; get an egg for her; that’s right. Now do you sit at the back, and sit straight, do you hear? and as soon as my niece descends —
 
— (
they set table for tea, and take seats.
)

MAGDALEN
enters,
D.
in
F.,
without mantle or bonnet.

MAGDALEN. l hope I’ve not detained you?

CAPT. W. Not an instant, my dear child; take that chair, I beg. (MAGDALEN
sits at table.
MRS. WRAGGE
helps her to tea, etc.
CAPT. WRAGGE
to cake
) How do you like your room? I hope Mrs. Wragge’s been useful. You take milk and sugar — try local cake — honour the Yorkshire butter — test the freshness in addition of a new and neighbouring egg. I offer my little all — a pauper’s meal, my child, seasoned with a gentleman’s welcome.