Okay, the whole "biweekly" thing fell by the wayside when I was occupied by turning Tailor into a screenplay because I didn't want to repost scenes that were too similar to what you'd already read. But I did generate some pieces of prose fiction for Fallen, and hey, I have a whole screenplay now. But it's time to go back to regular drama. Finally, after picking at it every day for a week, I have finished what I believe will be scene two of my play-in-progress Mrs. Hawking, the scene that immediately follows this one. It's supposed to demonstrate the challenges that Mary is going to face getting along in Mrs. Hawking's employ-- the fact that Mrs. Hawking doesn't want her there, and insists she doesn't have any use for her, preferring that she stay quiet and out of the way. And Mary's got it tough enough as it is, with her parents' death and her life turned upside down, without Mrs. Hawking making it any harder on her.
Scene 2
(MARY enters to meet MRS. HAWKING in the parlor.)
MARY: I believe that’s everything settled in.
MRS. HAWKING: And you find your accommodations adequate, then?
MARY: Oh, very much so, madam. I’m quite ready now.
(MRS. HAWKING stares at her.)
MARY: To learn my duties. If you’ll tell me what they are.
(MRS. HAWKING stares a bit longer, then clears her throat.)
MRS. HAWKING: I shall be frank. I’ve no idea what to do with you.
MARY: I… I see.
MRS. HAWKING: Oh, don’t fret, I am not about to dismiss you and bring my nephew down on my head again. And do not think I am ignorant of your predicament.
MARY: My predicament, madam?
MRS. HAWKING: It is clear that you are here because you have nowhere else to go.
MARY: I… I suppose that’s the truth.
MRS. HAWKING: At first I thought you were perhaps a camp nurse, but with so reliably required a position, what could draw you back to a country in which you had nothing? No, clearly you were one whose hold to your home had been broken, and you found yourself obliged to make a new start. And what more likely girl to turn up seeking a housekeeper job than a girl who had lost those for whom she’d always kept house? Your mother and your father at once, then?
MARY: Yes, within a few weeks of one another. Scarlet fever.
MRS. HAWKING: Hmm. You have my condolences. It certainly leaves you in a difficult position, which places us in the predicament in which we currently find ourselves. Well, I am not unsympathetic. I am sure we can remain sufficiently out of one another’s way to manage.
MARY: I… I am grateful, madam. Still, I should very much like to make myself useful.
(MARY thinks for a moment.)
MARY: At what time do you prefer to rise in the mornings?
MRS. HAWKING: I’ve no use for such a routine. I never know when I may find it necessary to keep nocturnal hours.
MARY: Oh. Shall I then… help you dress for the day? I know corset laces can be difficult to manage on one’s own—
MRS. HAWKING: This room is the one damned place in the world I’m free of that nonsense, by God, I’ll not play to it here. I’ll do what I like in my own home.
MARY: Of course. Are there things you rather like or dislike for supper?
MRS. HAWKING: I have very little appetite these days. Best not to bother so.
MARY: I… I see, madam. Do you at least take tea at some time?
MRS. HAWKING: Tea? Ah, yes, I suppose. I will have an afternoon tea.
MARY: Very well, then! That is something to begin with, now, isn’t it?
(MARY pulls out a rag from her pocket and begins dusting and straightening up.)
MARY: I make a very good cup of tea. I’m a fair cook as well, if I may say so, so perhaps I can tempt you anyway. And I’ve spent years learning to keep house. I shall be of help to you somehow, I am sure of it.
(As MARY goes to dust the mantle, she notices the portrait of the distinguished gentleman hanging over the fireplace.)
MARY: Is that your late husband?
MRS. HAWKING: The Colonel Reginald Prescott Hawking, yes.
MARY: Nathaniel speaks very highly of him. He must have been a great man.
MRS. HAWKING: Oh, indeed.
(MARY waits expectantly for a moment for her to go on. She does not.)
MARY: I know very little about him, I suppose. Just what Nathaniel had mentioned.
MRS. HAWKING: You must ask him sometime. He does love to talk about his uncle.
(MRS. HAWKING pointedly looks away. MARY scrambles awkwardly.)
MARY: I am sorry, madam. How thoughtless of me, it must be painful to speak of him.
(MRS. HAWKING sighs.)
MRS. HAWKING: Think nothing of it. You are clearly an earnest and diligent young woman, Miss Stone. I’ll thank you to keep my appointments straight and brew some tea of an afternoon. That will serve quite admirably.
MARY: As you say, Mrs. Hawking.
MRS. HAWKING: Very good. That is all, Miss Stone.
(Exit MRS. HAWKING. MARY is left alone and adrift onstage.)
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