Chapter I: Lady Patricia

No! No! I don’t believe you’re capable of such infamy.

MRS. O’FARREL.

Oh, yes I am.

LADY PATRICIA.

I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it! It would be too cruel and wicked! Aunt Eileen, for pity’s sake——

MRS. O’FARREL.

You won’t get any pity out of me, my dear—not an ounce! Either you or I tell Michael the story from start to finish—and if _I_ tell him, there won’t be much left of your character when I’ve finished.

LADY PATRICIA.

(_Wildly._) What am I to do? What am I to do? Dean—Dean—will you allow my aunt to wreak her horrible vengeance on me by murdering my husband?

DEAN.

Oh, but really, I don’t think it will be quite so bad as that.

LADY PATRICIA.

But I know it—I know it!

DEAN.

Besides, how am I to prevent her—even if I wished to?

LADY PATRICIA.

As the mouthpiece of spiritual authority....

MRS. O’FARREL.

I don’t care a rap for his spiritual authority.

DEAN.

You see.

(_A pause. LADY PATRICIA stands rigid, with clenched
hands. Finally she speaks in a low, dull voice._)

LADY PATRICIA.

Then—you—really—mean—to—do—this?

MRS. O’FARREL.

Certainly.

LADY PATRICIA.

I—am—ruined.

MRS. O’FARREL.

Nonsense! I’ve a strong idea this may be the saving of you both.

LADY PATRICIA.

Ruined.... I should like to sit down.

DEAN.

My dear lady——

(_Brings her a chair._)

LADY PATRICIA.

(_Sits, and points blindly to the breakfast table._) Is that ... milk?

DEAN.

Yes. Would you——

LADY PATRICIA.

I should like a little milk. (_The DEAN gives it to her._) Thank you.... I—I will tell Michael all.

MRS. O’FARREL.

Bravo! We shall make a woman of you yet!

LADY PATRICIA.

You are very hard and cruel and vindictive.... But I forgive you.

(_JOHN enters._)

JOHN.

Mr. Cosway has called, sir.

LADY PATRICIA.

(_In a whisper._) Michael!

DEAN.

Where is he?

JOHN.

In the study, sir.

DEAN.

Lady Patricia——

LADY PATRICIA.

No—no—no.

DEAN.

Just a minute, John.

JOHN.

Yes, sir.

(_Retires to the back._)

LADY PATRICIA.

What does it mean? Why is he here?

DEAN.

He said he might call this morning on the way to church. Lady Patricia, go to him now. Tell him everything now.

LADY PATRICIA.

I can’t—I can’t——

MRS. O’FARREL.

Get it over, Patricia.

DEAN.

Come, dear lady——

(_He offers her his arm. LADY PATRICIA rises unsteadily,
stares for a moment wildly before her, then sits down
again._)

LADY PATRICIA.

I haven’t the strength—I haven’t the strength to go to him.... My knees tremble. Bring him here and leave us together....

DEAN.

(_Calling._) John.

(_JOHN re-enters._)

JOHN.

Yes sir?

DEAN.

Ask Mr. Cosway to come here.

JOHN.

Yes sir.

(_JOHN goes out._)

MRS. O’FARREL.

Cheer up, Patricia!

LADY PATRICIA.

_A little since and I was glad, but now_
_I never shall be glad or sad again...._

DEAN.

I—er—beg your pardon?

LADY PATRICIA.

Swinburne.... For the last time—for the last time, Aunt Eileen, I ask you to spare me.

DEAN.

Perhaps, after all, we had better——

MRS. O’FARREL.

No! Don’t be a fool, Dean! No, Patricia, you’ve got to go through with this. Believe me, the result will astonish you.

LADY PATRICIA.

What do you mean?

(_MICHAEL enters from the house._)

DEAN.

Ah, good morning, Cosway.

MICHAEL.

(_Standing still at the back and looking at LADY PATRICIA with startled eyes; whispers._) Patricia!... Have you told her?

DEAN.

Hsh!

(_Without greeting MRS. O’FARREL he goes to PATRICIA, who
stares straight before her._)

MICHAEL.

Patricia, dearest.... I—I didn’t expect to find you here.

LADY PATRICIA.

Nor—I—you....

DEAN.

Lady Patricia wants to speak to you privately. We—er—will leave you together.

MICHAEL.

(_In a whisper._) Privately?

MRS. O’FARREL.

Good morning, Michael.

MICHAEL.

Er—good morning.

MRS. O’FARREL.

Delightful weather!

MICHAEL.

Yes—er—ver—very nice.

MRS. O’FARREL.

Come along, Dean. (_Takes his arm and leads him to the house._)

DEAN.

(_As they go in._) Poor woman!

MRS. O’FARREL.

Fiddlesticks!

(_They go into the house._)

MICHAEL.

You—you look so white and strange, dearest. Are you ill ... Patricia?

LADY PATRICIA.

I am thirsty.... My throat is parched.... Please give me some milk....

MICHAEL.

Milk?... Yes, dear. (_Moves towards the house._) I’ll be back in a moment.

LADY PATRICIA.

No—no. It is on the table.

MICHAEL.

The milk?... Oh, yes. I see.

(_Pours her out inadvertently some of the hot milk for the
coffee, and kneeling at her side, offers it to her._)

LADY PATRICIA.

(_Taking milk._) Don’t kneel to me—don’t kneel to me! (_She takes a sip of milk and hands it back to him with a wry face._) It is boiled.... (_He places it back on the table._)

MICHAEL.

(_Returning to her._) Patricia!

LADY PATRICIA.

No—no—no—no! Don’t look at me—don’t touch me—stand up—stand away from me....

MICHAEL.

Patricia!

LADY PATRICIA.

Do as I say.

MICHAEL.

(_Getting to his feet with a terrified face._) They—they have told you—they——

LADY PATRICIA.

Hush!... don’t speak. Give me time.... I—I am a broken woman.

MICHAEL.

No, no, no! I will cherish you—I will worship you—I will serve you on my knees——

LADY PATRICIA.

(_Genuinely puzzled._) Michael!

MICHAEL.

All the rest of my life—every hour—every moment—will be given to making up for my sin.

LADY PATRICIA.

(_Amazed._) _Your_ sin?

MICHAEL.

My crime then.

LADY PATRICIA.

_Your_——!

MICHAEL.

(_Pouring forth the words in a torrent of passionate entreaty. LADY PATRICIA stands staring at him first in bewilderment, then in amazement, then in dawning comprehension, finally in arctic realisation._) It was cruel of them—it was unfair to steal a march on me like this. For your sake—for mine—they should have left the confession to me. I would have withheld nothing. I would have told you all of my own free will. But they’ve spoken. And I see it—they’ve put the vilest construction on the few words they overheard last night. They have made you believe the worst of me. But it’s not true, Patricia. I swear it. It’s not true. (_LADY PATRICIA makes a gesture as though to speak._) No, no, let _me_ speak!... I have been faithful to the letter of our marriage vow—I have been unfaithful to the spirit. I am a man with a man’s passions, but for your sake I fought and kept my sinful love pure. Doubt all else—but believe that. You must believe it. You shall.... I am not trying to excuse myself. There is no excuse for what I have done. But O, Patricia, you know that to love and not to love isn’t in our control. And if I never loved you with all the passion I pretended ... I’m really deeply attached to you. It was for your sake I pretended. I felt it might kill you should you ever dream that your wonderful love was not returned in full ... that I loved ... elsewhere.

LADY PATRICIA.

(_In a cold, level voice._) What are you talking about?

MICHAEL.

(_Floored._) Eh ...?

LADY PATRICIA.

You appear to be under the impression that the Dean and Aunt Eileen have told me something unpleasant about you.

MICHAEL.

Well, haven’t they?

LADY PATRICIA.

They have told me nothing.

MICHAEL.

Oh.... I—I thought they had....

LADY PATRICIA.

And now perhaps you will kindly explain the meaning of all this.

MICHAEL.

I—I’ve told you everything.

LADY PATRICIA.

Who is the woman?

MICHAEL.

Clare Lesley.

LADY PATRICIA.

Clare—Lesley!... I don’t believe it—it’s impossible. I don’t believe it!... (_MICHAEL is silent._) Do you mean to tell me that you don’t adore me?

MICHAEL.

I’m—I’m very fond of you.

LADY PATRICIA.

Fond of me? Then all your passion has been a sham, and you’ve been making love to that—that—oh, what is the horrible word?...

MICHAEL.

(_Deferentially._) Er—impossible ...?

LADY PATRICIA.

No—no ... with two “p’s.” ...

MICHAEL.

Appalling ...?

LADY PATRICIA.

No.... Flapper.... Oh, how I’ve been fooled! And they know it—the Dean and Aunt Eileen. You’ve made me a figure of fun—something to point and jeer at.... Oh, I could kill myself and—you!

MICHAEL.

I am not worthy to live.

LADY PATRICIA.

And to think of all I have gone through for your sake—how I’ve forced myself to take your kisses and return them—how for months and months I fought and struggled to keep down the one great passion of my life. All for your sake—all because I thought you loved me! Oh, the bitter irony of it!

MICHAEL.

What do you mean by this?

LADY PATRICIA.

But now the one obstacle to my love has been removed. I will go to him now—I will put my arms around him. He shall love me and I will love him.

MICHAEL.

What are you saying, Patricia? Are you mad? Of whom are you speaking?

LADY PATRICIA.

Bill. Bill O’Farrel—Bill, whom I love and who loves me.

MICHAEL.

Bill O’Farrel!

LADY PATRICIA.

For two years he has been the passion of my soul. He will now become my heart’s delight. Yes, Michael, you have taken my wonderful and unrequited love for you too much for granted. You have played the infatuated husband so artistically that I believed in it to the extent of playing the infatuated wife in return.

MICHAEL.

You!

LADY PATRICIA.

Yes, I! I remained with you—I pretended to be absorbed in you, because I thought it would kill you if you realised that I wanted something more than you.

MICHAEL.

Bill O’Farrel....

LADY PATRICIA.

Yes—Bill O’Farrel!

MICHAEL.

Does any one know of this?

LADY PATRICIA.

They all know.

MICHAEL.

That you’ve tricked and fooled me and made a laughing-stock of me? Oh——

LADY PATRICIA.

What have you done with me?

MICHAEL.

When did they find it out?

LADY PATRICIA.

They overheard us last night.

MICHAEL.

You and O’Farrel?

LADY PATRICIA.

Yes.

MICHAEL.

In the tree—when they overheard us?

LADY PATRICIA.

You, too! Ah, I see it all now—I see it all. She said I must confess to you—that aunt—she said the result would astonish me. And now—now she’s hugging herself with vindictive joy at having humiliated me to the dust. But she has not finished with me yet. No! I can still strike back—and strike I will! You have no love for me. Very well. I know where to go for love.

MICHAEL.

What do you mean?

LADY PATRICIA.

Bill loves me—he loves me—he worships me. I shall go to him—I shall hold him to me—I shall love him.

MICHAEL.

I forbid it.

LADY PATRICIA.

Who are you to forbid me?

MICHAEL.

I am your husband.

LADY PATRICIA.

You! You are no husband of mine! He is my husband because he loves me!

MICHAEL.

If you go to him, I will return to Clare.

LADY PATRICIA.

To Clare!

MICHAEL.

To the girl who loves me with all the strength of her young heart and soul.

LADY PATRICIA.

You shall never do that!

MICHAEL.

And who’s to prevent me?

LADY PATRICIA.