31 Plays in 31 Days: #12 - "One Can Hide Anything"

Today's piece isn't an independent play, but rather a scene for Mrs. Hawking. I am counting scenes for larger plays as complete pieces for this challenge as long as they have an arc. This scene is where Mary first begins convincing Mrs. Hawking can't always go it alone-- and that perhaps she can be that help.

Day #12 - "One Can Hide Anything" - from Mrs. Hawking

(MRS. HAWKING winces and tenses her left side.)

MARY: Mrs. Hawking, your arm.

MRS HAWKING: I'd quite forgotten.

MRS. FAIRMONT: Oh, my goodness, you’re still hurt! We should send for someone.

MRS. HAWKING: No doctors, Celeste.

MRS. FAIRMONT: But Victoria—

MRS. HAWKING: Certainly not!

MARY: Please— allow me.

(She moves close to MRS. HAWKING, who instinctively withdraws.)

MARY: I have some knowledge of this, madam.

(MRS. HAWKING regards her a moment, and then undresses to her shift. MARY pushes it down off her shoulders and she pulls out her bare arm to reveal a bleeding rawness.)

MARY: Oh, my. This requires some attention. Madam, if you'll bring me the dipper.

(MRS. FAIRMONT brings over the basin of water. MARY draws a white cloth from her apron pocket.)

MARY: Mrs. Fairmont, have you any clean linen about? This will want wrapping.

MRS. FAIRMONT: Oh, yes, of course.

MARY: And some alcohol to clean it.

MRS. FAIRMONT: I'll go and fetch it.

(MRS. FAIRMONT exits. MARY wets her cloth and begins dabbing at MRS. HAWKING's wound.)

MARY: This is serious.

MRS. HAWKING: I have seen worse.

(MARY examines up her arm.)

MARY: You have... so many scars.

MRS. HAWKING: As I said.

MARY: Does this happen... often? In this work that you do?

MRS. HAWKING: On occasion. You may count how often.

(MARY works in silence a moment.)

MARY: And... what do you do?

MRS. HAWKING: Beg your pardon?

MARY: When this happens. If you will not see a doctor.

MRS. HAWKING: I manage well enough on my own.

MARY: I see. If I may ask… what if it were more serious than this? Something that you could not manage on your own?

MRS. HAWKING: Seeking medical attention is out of the question, Miss Stone. Any outside attention risks exposure of my… enterprise.

MARY: I understand. But… you’ve no other assistance? Is there no one trustworthy?

MRS. HAWKING: I cannot chance it. Discovery by the wrong person could mean the end of everything.

MARY: I think you make a great mistake in that.

MRS. HAWKING: I did not ask your opinion, Miss Stone.

MARY: Everyone has need of help sometime.

MRS. HAWKING: You are out of turn, Miss Stone.

MARY: Forgive me, madam… but if there is never anyone to help when you need it, it could mean the end of everything.

MRS. HAWKING: It is an easy thing to say when you need not live in fear of your well-meaning fool of a husband putting a stop to you for what he thinks is your own good.

MARY: He never knew?

MRS. HAWKING: I could not permit it.

MARY: In twenty years of marriage?

MRS. HAWKING: One can hide anything from anyone if one so chooses.

MARY: You couldn't hide it from me.

(MRS. HAWKING’s eyes widen in surprise, and she turns her head to regard MARY very seriously. MRS. FAIRMONT returns with the linen and alcohol. She hands it over to MARY.)

MARY: Thank you.

(She soaks the linen in the alcohol.)

MARY: There will be pain, madam.

MRS. HAWKING: I have no fear of that.

(Her face is stern as MARY wraps her wounds in it.)

Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #17: an extreme scene for Mrs. Hawking

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.

Intimate Apparel, by Lynn Nottage



I read a play tonight that was recommended by my teacher tonight called Intimate Apparel, by Lynn Nottage. She suggested it because she thought it might help me write my play for the semester, Mrs. Hawking. I enjoyed the piece a great deal. It's about a black seamstress in 1905 New York trying to figure out what to do with her life now that she's thirty-five and has been alone for so long. It's sad and lovely, particularly a moment involving Esther the seamstress and the Orthodox Jewish man she buys fabric from. They are developing feelings for each other but of course nothing can ever come of it, and when she starts weeping because of a generous gift he gives her, he wants to comfort her but cannot touch her because he is shomar negiyah. I think my teacher recommended it because of the theme of a woman wanting to take control of her own life, resisting the circumstances society places her in, and do something meaningful with herself, as well as the strong female relationships, the way people can live for each other. I am still trying to parse out what to draw from the piece, how to quantify what I should take away and apply to my own work, but I thought the play was extremely effective. I also loved the sewing and garment descriptions-- the tactile luxury of the materials, the loving outpouring of the self into the craft. That sort of thing just... sucks me up. There's something holy in handmade things, and this play captured that very well.

God, I need to sew. And write. Both together.

Adviser meetings went well, projects set

Met with both my advisers this morning to nail down my projects for the semester, and I feel good about them. My playwrighting adviser is going to be Jami Brandli, who I've admired because of both how cool she seems and how young she is to have become a successful writer; she's got to be less than forty, and yet she's one of my teachers. And I've read some of her work, she's really good. I decided to be very frank about the stuff residency makes me struggle with, and she was very understanding, which I appreciated. I will in fact be working on Mrs. Hawking, which excites me. Jami is interested in plays that focus on women's narratives, so I think she will appreciate what I'm trying to do. I also have to write an eight to ten page essay on an aspect of the playwrighting craft that I struggle with. Not sure what that subject will be, but I think the focus on a weakness will teach and improve me a lot.

The other project I am going to do is some kind of comic. My adviser here is a really nice graphic novelist named John Rozum who is giving me a ton of freedom to experiment with the form, which is cool. I don't know what my plot is going to be yet, but I have decided I want niobien* to model for my main character, and I want blendedchaitea* to feature prominently as well. First of all, I think they are lovely girls who I would enjoy taking pictures of. Secondly, and perhaps more significantly, I have seen that they are remarkably good at conveying information with just their expression and body language. I knew that about Carolyn from her awesome performance as the pantomime character in Merely Players, as well as when she modeled as Daphne the tree ballerina/wood nymph. But Rachel first struck me when she was a dancer in Charlotte's Nennivia movement piece. Though she never spoke, I was impressed by how she always got across just what she was thinking from her physical expression alone. So I think they will make excellent physical actors to represent characters in a medium where the visual is so important. I'm sure I'll need more people to play other characters, but I know I want to prominently feature those two.

Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #14.2 - Mrs. Hawking 1.3

Had to submit my workshop manuscripts for the upcoming residency period of my grad school today. I included pieces of my Tailor screenplay, and the first four scenes of Mrs. Hawking. Here is scene three, which I just wrote, to complete that first chunk of the text. Scenes one, two, and four are also posted here.

As I've mentioned, I very much conceived of Mary and Mrs. Hawking as a sort of female Watson and Holmes. This has been helped enormously by being in Sherlock Holmes: The Final Adventure right now. But it occurs to me, amusingly, that there's also going to be something of a Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth thing going on here-- a brilliant, damaged heroic figure and the more well-adjusted person who takes care of that hero, once the hero lets their friend in enough to allow them to love them. That makes me smile. That will come out more and more as the story goes along.

SCENE iii

(MARY sits with an appointment book open on the parlor table. She springs up when MRS. HAWKING enters from the study followed by two well-dressed young women.)

MRS. HAWKING: Mary, please show these ladies out.

MARY: This way, misses. Did you have a pleasant visit?

FIRST LADY: Oh, very helpful indeed.

MARY: Oh… how lovely. Have a good day now. And do come again!

SECOND LADY: (Laughing) Not with any luck, we won’t!

(They exit and MARY closes the door behind them, a bemused look on her face. MRS. HAWKING starts digging through a bag on the table.)

MARY: So many visitors today!

MRS. HAWKING: Yes, I am unusually occupied. Do take care to keep the appointments from running into one another. It will not do to run off schedule.

(She pulls out a notebook and begins looking through it.)

MARY: Of course, Mrs. Hawking. It can be quite the undertaking to entertain so many friends.

MRS. HAWKING: Friends? Goodness, no. I am not a sociable creature. Strictly business, Miss Stone.

MARY: I see. And are all these ladies come… seeking the same thing?

MRS. HAWKING: Each in their own way.

(The front bell rings. MARY rushes to answer it and opens the door to an older middle-class woman.)

MARY: Good morning. How may I help you?

MRS. KELLEY: Good morning to you. I’m here to see the lady of the house. Mrs. Colonel.

MARY: Yes, right this way. Madam, your guest has arrived.

MRS. HAWKING: Ah, yes. Mrs. Kelley, is it?

MRS. KELLEY: I simply must speak with you. It’s become quite urgent, you see.

MRS. HAWKING: I very much understand. Please go into the study, I shall be with you shortly.

(MRS. KELLEY nods and walks past her to EXIT. Mrs. Hawking begins writing in her notebook.)

MRS. HAWKING: Mary, what name is marked down for one o’clock?

MARY: A Mrs. Henry Walter Northbrook, ma’am.

MRS. HAWKING: Indeed.

MARY: Will you and Mrs. Northbrook be taking luncheon together?

MRS. HAWKING: Luncheon?

MARY: It will be the luncheon hour.

MRS. HAWKING: Ah, no. Just tea will suffice.

MARY: Of course. Tea it is. I am happy to be of help in whatever what I can!

MRS. HAWKING: Most excellent.

(MRS. HAWKING goes to exit, with MARY on her heels. She stops in her tracks, presses her lips together, and looks over her shoulder at the girl.)

MRS. HAWKING: Thank you, Mary.

MARY: Oh! Oh, yes, of course, madam.

(MARY busies herself with some small chores in the parlor. Mrs. Hawking exits into the other room. MARY looks after her as if lost. Then the bell rings again. MARY rushes to answer it and this time it is a working-class girl.)

GRACE: Please, miss, I’ve just got to see the lady.

MARY: Of course. Do you have an appointment?

GRACE: Sure do, miss. Grace Monroe at eleven-thirty.

MARY: Ah, yes, I see you. You’re rather early yet, Miss Monroe, Mrs. Hawking is still with a prior engagement.

GRACE: No trouble, I’ll wait as long as I need.

MARY: Very well, then. Please sit and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be putting on the tea soon.

GRACE: Thanks very much, miss.

(GRACE settles into a chair, stiff and anxious. Again MARY attempts to busy herself, but after a moment sidles back over.)

MARY: Please, miss… might I ask… what brings you here?

GRACE: Begging your pardon?

MARY: Ah… on what business have you come to see Mrs. Hawking?

GRACE: Why, same as everyone, I should expect!

MARY: And… what business is that?

GRACE: Don’t you know?

MARY: I’m afraid I don’t.

GRACE: Miss, she’s known far and wide for it. She tells women what they ought to do.

Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #14 - Mrs. Hawking 1.2

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.)

What I'm working on right now

In an effort to refocus myself on the projects that are important to me, I thought I'd give a rundown of, if not ALL the projects I have in the works, the ones that currently in the forefront of my mind.

The Tailor of Riddling Way, in two forms. There is of course the original audio drama form, but lately I have been working more on the film version that I am making for my Screenwriting grad school class. The story is translating pretty nicely, even working better in some ways because I can show in a visual medium rather than tell everything, and my teacher has given me both positive feedback and very useful constructive criticism. I haven't been posting my film script pieces here because they're not completely different from the audio drama stuff I've already showed you, but when I finish it I think I will post it here in its entirety. It's kind of cool to think that by the end of the next month I will have finished an entire screenplay, even if only the first draft.

I'm also working on my fantasy novel idea, Fallen. I've had this idea since senior year of high school to tell the story of a demon found and raised by a Catholic organization to fight on their side against the forces of hell while struggling to cope with what seems to be the inherent evil in his nature. I've been working on scenes here and there to submit to my Science Fiction and Fantasy study. What I've done has been posted here if you'd care to read it.

Those are the major ones I need to focus on. But there's some other stuff that I've been thinking about lately too.

I would like the first full-length play I write to be Mrs. Hawking. This piece is set in the Victorian era and about a sort of female Sherlock Holmes whose withdrawal from the world and growing distrust for humanity seems to be getting in the way of her good work until she is forced by her well-meaning nephew to take on a young lady housekeeper, Mary Stone, who turns out to be the companion she's been lacking. I love mysteries, I love that period setting, and I love the dynamic between the embittered middle-aged lady and the young woman whose perseverance through her hard luck begins to draw Mrs. Hawking out of her shell. And perhaps it's naughty of me to cast already, but it helps that I am totally imagining crearespero* as Mrs. Hawking and nennivian* as Mary. <3 There are a couple of scenes from this piece posted here.

There's also my short humorous larp idea, Break a Leg. My fourth (FOURTH!) metatheatrical piece to date, this humorous two-hour larp will have eight players as members of a dysfunctional theater troupe whose leading lady has been found suddenly dead two hours before the curtain is supposed to go up. I have already bid it for SLAW in November and Intercon in March, but I am planning on finishing it way before then. It's small enough that I could probably get several runs in beforehand. It will involve an interactive environment and sides for in-game performance opportunities... which I will have to write. :-)

Those are the majors ones. There's other things I plan on working on eventually, and though they are not currently at my mind's forefront, sometimes I noodle on them as well. Imperium, my Ancient Roman larp. Sundan, my Shakespearean-style epic tragedy about a man who destroys himself and everyone around him when the woman he loves marries another man. And a possible project for the next semester of school that is percolating in the dark recesses of my mind...

But these are the ones you can expect to see more of in the near future.

Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #12 - A brief scene from Mrs. Hawking

Yay for me for posting much more than biweekly. I know I should be focusing on The Tailor of Riddling Way, with its due date coming up, but I felt inspired to whip up this short scene for another play, a full-length piece, that I would someday like to finished called Mrs. Hawking. You can read the first scene of Mrs. Hawking here. I'm not sure where this falls in the sequence of the story, but this is an early scene showing the bonding between the eccentric, prickly Mrs. Hawking and her newly hired house girl, the bright young woman Mary Stone. 

(Open to the sitting room. MARY is seated at the table writing a letter.)

MARY: My dear Catherine, I am at last settling into my new position here in the home of Mrs. Victoria Hawking. I must say, however, though I know it is quite gauche to gossip about one’s employer, to work for Mrs. Hawking is nothing as I expected it to be. I have told you something of her extraordinary talents and her unusual profession for a gentlewoman, but not her remarkable habits. I had been made to understand her to be a retiring lady, but even so I was surprised to find that chief among my duties is to see that she must deal with as few outside people as possible. Tradesmen, prominent citizens, and would-be social callers alike I am to ward off in deference to her privacy and solitude. And yet, for one who goes to such lengths to avoid the society of others, at the same time society very often comes to the door seeking her. She sees only those ladies who have engagements marked down in her appointment-book to call on her, presumably those students she instructs in etiquette, and not only gentlewomen like herself but women of all walks. Her teaching takes no pattern that ever I've seen, for she seldom sees the same one twice, and they come at all hours of the day or night. I am to put on a pot of tea, show them into the parlor, and then make myself scarce. I am not at all sure what to make of it. Indeed this Mrs. Hawking is a strange one, Catherine, and perhaps more so even than at first I thought.

(Enter MRS. HAWKING. She wears a shift and a shawl. She looks for a book on a shelf before noticing MARY.)

MRS. HAWKING: Oh, hello, Mary.

MARY: Good afternoon, Mrs. Hawking. Is there something you need?

MRS. HAWKING: No, thank you, I find myself disappearing into my own thoughts today. Do not stir yourself from your writing, you seem most absorbed.

MARY: It's a letter to my sister.

MRS. HAWKING: (Sharply) Your sister?

MARY: Yes, Catherine. She lives in Durham.

MRS. HAWKING: You've family living? Surely not!

MARY: In fact I do, Mrs. Hawking.

MRS. HAWKING: How irregular! Then why is it that upon your return this sister did not take you in?

MARY: I beg your pardon, ma'am?

MRS. HAWKING: It was my understanding that such was the done thing when it came to unmarried women thrust suddenly into your predicament.

MARY: Ah... yes, I suppose it is.

MRS. HAWKING: Then what kept you? You’d not write so long a letter if you were not close. To turn away a dear sister otherwise alone in the world must mean they are in dire financial straits. Or do you simply get on ill with her boorish husband?

MARY: Goodness, no! It’s nothing like that. They are quite comfortable, and Jacob is a lovely man. They are a lovely family.

MRS. HAWKING: Then what, then?

MARY: In truth… I didn’t fancy growing old as just Maiden Aunt Mary in some north country town. So when Catherine offered, I turned her down and said I wanted to make my own way of it.

MRS. HAWKING: I see.

MARY: I’m sure you must think me dreadfully silly.

MRS. HAWKING: Not at all. I do believe that’s the most sensible thing I’ve heard from a young woman in ages.

MARY: You do?

MRS. HAWKING: Very much so. It’s appalling, the choices young women are offered by this world. Sell yourself like a bushel of turnips into a marriage, or else everyone looks askance at you for failing to find a buyer.

MARY: The town spinster on the charity of her family.

MRS. HAWKING: An unfortunate to be gawked at.

MARY: People do often chide a girl of my age for it. Or worse, pity.

MRS. HAWKING: Because evidently the lack of a husband is a handicap akin to the lack of a right leg. So people seem to think. People like my sweet, well-meaning fool of a nephew. Never mind what you’ve got when you do have one.

(MARY looks at her curiously. MRS. HAWKING collects herself uncomfortably.)
 
MRS. HAWKING: But no more of that. I’ve kept you from your letter. My apologies. I am… unused to having someone about to talk to.

MARY: It’s never any trouble to talk, Mrs. Hawking.

MRS. HAWKING: Good of you to say. Carry on, Miss Stone.

(MRS. HAWKING selects her book and exits. MARY returns to writing.)

MARY: Indeed this Mrs. Hawking is a strange one, Catherine, and perhaps more so even than at first I thought. But… I shall be intrigued to know just what sort of person she is.

Stubborn inefficient piggy

Whenever I have a number of projects going at once-- which for me is most of the time --I always want to work most on the one that is the lowest priority at the given time, and usually have zero motivation to get going on the one that I should be focusing on. When I first conceived of my idea for Just So, the funny short play based on that episode of Frasier, I was raring to go on it, but I should have been devoting my energy to the verse piece that was due sooner. Then later, when Just So's deadline was looming, I could not think of anything I wanted to work on less. Right now I should be thinking about homework, but all I want to do is work on things I can't hand in. I want to brainstorm for Imperium, the idea I had for a larp set in Ancient Rome, even though I have promised myself that I am putting larp writing on hold for the moment in favor of dramatic writing. I want to work on Sundan, the grand, Shakespeare-style tragedy I have conceived of where, in the course of trying to destroy a man who has stolen away the woman he loves, our hero destroys himself. Or maybe Mrs. Hawking, a Holmes and Watson type story, where a working class girl finds a calling through an unlikely partnership with a frustrated-genius high-class lady who she teaches to be a little more human. But neither of those projects satisfy the assignments I've been given, so they can't be used for school. Thus, of course, is my piglike nature, that I never want to do anything that I should be doing, and indeed, even if I used to want to do it, as soon as it becomes priority one I'd rather be doing anything else.

Mrs. Hawking 1.1

A little late, but here is the product of my first "write apiece of theater every two weeks" cycle. It's a scene from a larger play rather than a ten-minute stand-alone. I don't know, I might go somewhere with it. 

            (NATHANIEL HAWKING, a well-dressed gentleman in his late twenties, is discovered onstage. He sits in a stylish Victorian parlor and appears to be waiting. A large portrait of a man hangs over the mantelpiece. Before long a bell rings, and he leaps up to answer the door. MARY STONE enters, a plainly dressed working-class young woman. She clasps a suitcase and is bundled against the rain.)

NATHANIEL: Ah, Miss Mary Stone, I presume?

MARY: Indeed I am, sir. And you are Mr. Hawking, then?

NATHANIEL: Call me Nathaniel, if you please. I am very pleased to meet you. I trust you have recovered from your voyage?

MARY: Well enough, though the London weather was quite the shock. I shall certainly miss the Indian climate.

NATHANIEL: I am sure. Oh, allow me.

            (He places her suitcase aside, then takes her coat and hangs it for her.)

NATHANIEL: I am certainly glad to find you here. Your turning up in London may be the solution to our problem.

MARY: I understand you advertised on behalf of a relative?

NATHANIEL: My aunt Victoria. She was the wife of my dear uncle, the late Colonel Reginald Hawking of the Afghan campaign. Remarkable woman, I’m terribly fond of her, but… she has queer ideas at times. After my uncle’s passing she dismissed all the staff, but I’ve convinced her that she’s in need of someone around the house. It isn’t right for a lady to go on alone in the world. Almost more than the help, I think she could do with the company.

            (Enter a lady in her late thirties to early forties, businesslike and stern, MRS. VICTORIA HAWKING. She regards them, then silently approaches until she is just behind NATHANIEL.)

NATHANIEL: But I must warn you, miss, she is not warm to the idea just yet. She’s stiff-necked, you see. Fiercely independent. You mustn’t take offense if she seems… brusque or standoffish to you, she only just hasn’t quite come round to the notion of needing help.

MARY: I quite understand. I know how difficult it can be to begin your life all over again.

MRS. HAWKING: Is that the girl?

            (Startled at the sound of her voice, NATHANIEL spins around and, in an effort to keep from running into her, stumbles backwards onto the ground.)

NATHANIEL: Aunt Victoria!

MRS. HAWKING: How you must suffer for me, Nathaniel.

MARY: Oh, let me help, sir.

            (MARY helps him to his feet with practiced ease.)

NATHANIEL: Thank you, miss. Auntie, I am only too glad to be of service. Miss Mary Stone, may I introduce you to my dear lady aunt, Mrs. Victoria Hawking?

MARY: A pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam.

MRS. HAWKING: I’m a fair ways off from my dotage yet, Nathaniel. Do you think me so frail that I require a nursemaid?

NATHANIEL: What are you talking about, Aunt Victoria?

MRS. HAWKING: I consented to hiring a house girl, and you’ve brought me a nurse.

NATHANIEL: Aunt, I’ve done nothing of the kind. Miss Stone isn’t a nurse. You always think you know my meaning before I say it, but truly sometimes you decide in haste! 

MARY: I am, in fact, I suppose. In a manner of speaking. I nursed my parents through the last months of their illness.

NATHANIEL: Indeed? Ah, well, see, she is an even more capable lady I’d thought. 

MARY: May I ask, ma’am, how did you know?

MRS. HAWKING: The practical way you just now lifted my nephew. You’ve done a great deal of helping bodies in and out of bed.

MARY: Oh, my. That’s it precisely.

NATHANIEL: My dear aunt has quite the keen sense of people, you see. Please, sit here and let us get to know one another, shall we?

MRS. HAWKING: At least this one can string two words together. Unlike that last girl. Wherever did you find her, the lobotomy ward at Colney Hatch?

NATHANIEL: Aunt Victoria, please!  

MRS. HAWKING: But now you’ve brought me this girl. Your given plain meek unmarried young woman, new and friendless in London, I see. I would not have left India for this dreary place, but I suppose there are circumstances that can’t be helped.

MARY: That’s the truth of it, ma’am. I see you’ve been told something of my history.

MRS. HAWKING: Only by your dress. A lady who wears Indian linen beneath her greatcoat is one who has not long had need for warm clothes. Very well then, if I must have you then I shall see that I get some use out of you. I would hope a woman who’s lived abroad a time would not be a useless fainting flower. Tell me your accomplishments.  

MARY: Accomplishments may perhaps be too strong a word, madam. But I have many years’ time keeping house for my family, hold to a budget, cook well and sew capably. I have attended some school so that I can read and write in English and French—

MRS. HAWKING: Enough of that. You are educated, that is well. Can you keep an appointment-book?

MARY: Very well, Mrs. Hawking.

MRS. HAWKING: And have you the good sense God gave you?

MARY: I very much hope so!

MRS. HAWKING: So too I. I can’t abide a woman who forgets her own head on her shoulders. Well, it gives you a leg up on the other dull-witted chits he’s dragged in front of me. Provided you can hold your tongue and keep your own business, I supposed that you shall do for me.

NATHANIEL: So you’ll have her on?

MRS. HAWKING: I suppose I can stand to.

MARY: Thank you very much, madam! I will not disappoint you.

MRS. HAWKING: I may hope.

MARY: When shall I move in my things?

MRS. HAWKING: I beg your pardon?

MARY: I shan’t need much space. And I can wait for your convenience.

MRS. HAWKING: Nathaniel, I said did not want anyone in the house.

MARY: Oh, dear. I was told that this would be a billeted situation.

NATHANIEL: Aunt Victoria, I explained to you that this would be the way of it. Such is Mary’s situation. And may I point out that you have chased all your other options off?

MRS. HAWKING: Ah, very well. Your claims shall be tested straightaway, it seems. I warn you that I am not a sociable creature, Miss Stone. Heed me well and things shall get on. Well, I suppose that settles that. Can you arrive at ten-thirty sharp tomorrow?

MARY: I will not be late.

MRS: HAWKING: Good. It is another thing I cannot abide. Now you may go. Thank you for your assistance, Nathaniel. I have done.

NATHANIEL: Of course, dear aunt. The Colonel would have wanted me to take care of you.

MRS. HAWKING: Bless him for that.

            (Stand and exit MRS. HAWKING.)

NATHANIEL: I am very glad she’ll have you, Mary.

MARY: She seems very displeased with the whole matter.

NATHANIEL: Don’t you worry. Compared to what she thought of the others, she seems quite taken with you.

MARY: Oh, my.

NATHANIEL: She’ll come round in time. My aunt has always been of odd habits, but she’s become… withdrawn of late. I worry for her should she continue on this way. I think you may be precisely what she needs.