Today I did my first real reworking of Mrs. Hawking based on my teacher's early advice. One of the things I was told to try was to get into the meat of the story quicker. I was a little resentful of this, because in the pieces I was using as models, they certainly were not expected to tear into the action by the second scene. Coward's a perfect example. I've been rereading Blithe Spirit and I think it's great, but you cannot say this piece doesn't take its sweet old time meandering from point to point. But I've got to at least give it a try, so I pondered that today, and what I decided was to do something outlandish. Something slightly unbelievable, but intense, something that forced the characters to ACT rather than be restrained by their social mores and personal preferences. And you know, I kind of like it. At least the bones of it. Maybe I don't want it to replace the early scenes I've already got. But I'm at least glad that in trying to take my teacher's very early advice I may have generated something I feel good about for this piece.
(A well-dressed upper middle class woman, MRS. CELESTE FAIRMONT, sits in her fancy parlor, fretting. The bell rings and MRS. FAIRMONT leaps up to answer it. It is MARY in a walking hat. MRS. FAIRMONT starts exaggeratedly.)
MRS. FAIRMONT: Oh, my goodness!
MARY: Forgive me for this intrusion at this hour, but I must speak to Mrs. Celeste Fairmont.
MRS. FAIRMONT: I am she. Who are you?
MARY: I am Mary Stone, I’ve recently come into the employ of Mrs. Victoria Hawking.
MRS. FAIRMONT: Mrs. Hawking sent you?
MARY: Ah-- not as such. But madam didn’t come home last night, and according to her appointment book she was engaged to see you that evening. Begging your pardon, but I didn’t know what else to do but come and ask if you knew her whereabouts.
MRS. FAIRMONT: She was indeed here last night… but she hasn't returned. Not yet.
MARY: Did you expect her? Do you know where she went?
MRS. FAIRMONT: I, ah, I cannot precisely say--
(There is a crashing sound outside. The ladies' heads whip around.)
MRS. FAIRMONT: What was that?
(A commotion of running feet and raised voices from a gang of people outside. MARY runs to the window beside the door and looks out.)
MARY: There's a whole gang of ruffians!
MRS. FAIRMONT: Oh, God!
(The second window starts to scrape and grind open. A figure dressed in black begins to climb in. Again MRS. FAIRMONT panics and makes small sounds of terror, cowering behind a chair. MARY seizes the poker from the fireplace and places herself between the figure and MRS. FAIRMONT. The figure drops catlike to the floor, then stands, cradling one arm in pain. The masked face turns to look at the women.)
MARY: Stop! Stop right there!
MRS. HAWKING: Mary?
(MARY stops in shock, letting the poker drop a little. The figure pulls off the mask to reveal MRS. HAWKING.)
MARY: Mrs. Hawking!?
(Briefly MRS. HAWKING examines her injured arm. MARY lets the poker clatter to the ground.)
MRS. FAIRMONT: Is that blood?
MARY: Are you hurt?
(MRS. HAWKING runs to the door and peers through the peephole.)
MARY: What-- what's happened to you?
MRS. HAWKING: No matter now. Celeste, where are they?
MRS. FAIRMONT: I don’t know, I don’t know!
MARY: They’re nearby but they haven’t come here yet.
MRS. HAWKING: Thank God.
(She goes about securing the windows.)
MRS. FAIRMONT: Why are they here?
MRS. HAWKING: Because I was sloppy. Very sloppy.
MRS. FAIRMONT: What are we to--?
(There is a hard thumping at the door. MRS. FAIRMONT freezes. She and MARY both look to MRS. HAWKING.)
MRS. HAWKING: They cannot find me here.
(She ducks into a closet. There is another THUMP THUMP THUMP. MARY and MRS. FAIRMONT look at each other. MARY slowly goes to answer the door. MRS. FAIRMONT collapses stiffly into a chair. MARY opens the door to a large man, COLCHESTER, dressed in rough clothes.)
MARY: Fairmont residence. May I help you?
COLCHESTER: There’s been some commotion in the neighborhood.
MARY: Yes, we heard.
(He pushes past MARY into the room and takes a few steps around, looking.)
COLCHESTER: There’s a dangerous person about. We was after them just now but it seems they’ve disappeared. You haven’t seen nothing?
MARY: I’m sure we’ve no idea what you’re speaking of.
COLCHESTER: What are you all doing up and about at this hour?
MARY: We were disturbed by the noise! And by banging at the door in the wee hours of the morning!
(He moves very close to the closet where MRS. HAWKING is hiding.)
COLCHESTER: And you don’t have any notion of where this fellow went off to?
MARY: Of course we don’t! Now I must insist that you leave! You have frightened Mrs. Fairmont quite enough.
(MARY goes back to the door and holds it open for him. COLCHESTER looks around once more, then nods once and moves toward it.)
COLCHESTER: Right, then. Good evening to you ladies.
MARY: Good evening, sir.
(The man goes out the door. She closes it behind him and exhales heavily. MRS. FAIRMONT buries her face in her hands and gives a sob of relief. MRS. HAWKING emerges from the closet.)
MRS. HAWKING: That was quite splendid of you, Mary.
MARY: Mrs. Hawking, this is-- this is highly irregular!
(MRS. HAWKING goes to peer out the window.)
MRS. HAWKING: Good, they're clearing out now.
MRS. FAIRMONT: Thank God! Oh, how awful that was!
MRS. HAWKING: Entirely my fault, Mrs. Fairmont. I was spotted due ot an error in my calculations. I very much apologize for drawing them on to you.
MRS. FAIRMONT: Have they discovered us, then?
MRS. HAWKING: Fortunately, no. They never saw my face. The enterprise is still secure.
MARY: Mrs. Hawking!
MRS. HAWKING: Well, perhaps not entirely. Mary, whatever are you doing here?
MARY: Looking for you! When you didn't return last night-- Mrs. Hawking-- I beg your pardon, but I must insist that you tell me what all this is about.
MRS. HAWKING: Mary, please--
MARY: Mrs. Hawking! I must insist.
(MRS. HAWKING considers. Finally she nods.)
MRS. HAWKING: Very well. You've done a great deal this evening without being asked... you've the right to ask something of me.
(She looks to MRS. FAIRMONT.)
MRS. HAWKING: Celeste... perhaps we should begin at the beginning.
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