MISS SUSAN. She is still very poorly, Mary.
MISS WILLOUGHBY. I am so unhappy of that. I conceive it to be a nervous disorder?
MISS SUSAN (almost too glibly). Accompanied by trembling, flutterings, and spasms.
MISS WILLOUGHBY. The excitements of the ball. You have summoned the apothecary at last, I trust, Phoebe?
(MISS PHOEBE, once so ready of defence, can say nothing.)
MISS SUSAN (to the rescue). It is Livvy's own wish that he should not be consulted.
Miss WILLOUGHBY (looking longingly at the door). May I go in to see her?
MISS SUSAN. I fear not, Mary. She is almost asleep, and it is best not to disturb her. (Peeping into the bedroom.) Lie quite still, Livvy, my love, quite still.
(Somehow this makes PATTY smile so broadly that she finds it advisable to retire. MISS WILLOUGHBY sighs, and produces a small bowl from the folds of her cloak.)
Miss WILLOUGHBY. This is a little arrowroot, of which I hope Miss Livvy will be so obliging as to partake.
MISS SUSAN (taking the bowl). I thank you, Mary.
PHOEBE (ashamed). Susan, we ought not —
MISS SUSAN (shameless). I will take it to her while it is still warm.
(She goes into the bedroom. MISS WILLOUGHBY gazes at MISS PHOEBE, who certainly shrinks. It has not escaped the notice of the visitor that MISS PHOEBE has become the more timid of the sisters, and she has evolved an explanation.)
MISS WILLOUGHBY. Phoebe, has Captain Brown been apprised of Miss Livvy's illness?
PHOEBE (uncomfortably). I think not, Miss Willoughby.
MISS WILLOUGHBY (sorry for PHOEBE, and speaking very kindly). Is this right, Phoebe? You informed Fanny and Henrietta at the ball of his partiality for Livvy. My dear, it is hard for you, but have you any right to keep them apart?
PHOEBE (discovering only now what are the suspicions of her friends). Is that what you think I am doing, Miss Willoughby?
MISS WILLOUGHBY. Such a mysterious illness. (Sweetly) Long ago, Phoebe, I once caused much unhappiness through foolish jealousy. That is why I venture to hope that you will not be as I was, my dear.
PHOEBE. I jealous of Livvy!
MISS WILLOUGHBY (with a sigh). I thought as little of the lady I refer to, but he thought otherwise.
PHOEBE. Indeed, Miss Willoughby, you wrong me.
(But MISS WILLOUGHBY does not entirely believe her, and there is a pause, so long a pause that unfortunately MISS SUSAN thinks she has left the house.)
MISS SUSAN (peeping in). Is she gone?
MISS WILLOUGHBY (hurt). No, Susan, but I am going.
MISS SUSAN (distressed). Mary!
(She follows her out, but MISS WILLOUGHBY will not be comforted, and there is a coldness between them for the rest of the day. MISS SUSAN is not so abashed as she ought to be. She returns, and partakes with avidity of the arrowroot.)
MISS SUSAN. Phoebe, I am well aware that this is wrong of me, but Mary's arrowroot is so delicious. The ladies'-fingers and petticoat-tails those officers sent to Livvy, I ate them also! (Once on a time this would have amused MISS PHOEBE, but her sense of humour has gone. She is crying.) Phoebe, if you have such remorse you will weep yourself to death.
PHOEBE. Oh, sister, were it not for you, how gladly would I go into a decline.
MISS SUSAN (after she has soothed PHOEBE a little). My dear, what is to be done about her? We cannot have her supposed to be here for ever.
PHOEBE. We had to pretend that she was ill to keep her out of sight; and now we cannot say she has gone away, for the Miss Willoughby's windows command our door, and they are always watching.
MISS SUSAN (peeping from the window). I see Fanny watching now. I feel, Phoebe, as if Livvy really existed.
PHOEBE (mournfully). We shall never be able to esteem ourselves again.
MISS SUSAN (who has in her the makings of a desperate criminal). Phoebe, why not marry him? If only we could make him think that Livvy had gone home. Then he need never know.
PHOEBE. Susan, you pain me. She who marries without telling all – hers must ever be a false face. They are his own words.
(PATTY enters importantly.)
PATTY. Captain Brown.
PHOEBE (starting up). I wrote to him, begging him not to come.
MISS SUSAN (quickly). Patty, I am sorry we are out.
(But VALENTINE has entered in time to hear her words.)
VALENTINE (not unmindful that this is the room in which he is esteemed a wit). I regret that they are out, Patty, but I will await their return. (The astonishing man sits on the ottoman beside MISS SUSAN, but politely ignores her presence.) It is not my wish to detain you, Patty.
(PATTY goes reluctantly, and the sisters think how like him, and how delightful it would be if they were still the patterns of propriety he considers them.)
PHOEBE (bravely). Captain Brown.
VALENTINE (rising). You, Miss Phoebe. I hear Miss Livvy is indisposed?
PHOEBE. She is – very poorly.
VALENTINE. But it is not that unpleasant girl I have come to see, it is you.
MISS SUSAN (meekly). How do you do?
VALENTINE (ignoring her). And I am happy, Miss Phoebe, to find you alone.
MISS SUSAN (appealingly). How do you do, sir?
PHOEBE. You know quite well, sir, that Susan is here.
VALENTINE. Nay, ma'am, excuse me. I heard Miss Susan say she was gone out. Miss Susan is incapable of prevarication.
MISS SUSAN (rising – helpless). What am I to do?
PHOEBE. Don't go, Susan – 'tis what he wants.
VALENTINE. I have her word that she is not present.
MISS SUSAN. Oh dear.
VALENTINE. My faith in Miss Susan is absolute. (At this she retires into the bedroom, and immediately his manner changes. He takes MISS PHOEBE'S hands into his own kind ones.) You coward, Miss Phoebe, to be afraid of Valentine Brown.
PHOEBE. I wrote and begged you not to come.
VALENTINE. You implied as a lover, Miss Phoebe, but surely always as a friend.
PHOEBE. Oh yes, yes.
VALENTINE. You told Miss Livvy that you loved me once. How carefully you hid it from me!
PHOEBE (more firmly). A woman must never tell. You went away to the great battles. I was left to fight in a little one. Women have a flag to fly, Mr. Brown, as well as men, and old maids have a flag as well as women. I tried to keep mine flying.
VALENTINE. But you ceased to care for me. (Tenderly.) I dare ask your love no more, but I still ask you to put yourself into my keeping. Miss Phoebe, let me take care of you.
PHOEBE. It cannot be.
VALENTINE. This weary teaching! Let me close your school.
PHOEBE. Please, sir.
VALENTINE. If not for your own sake, I ask you, Miss Phoebe, to do it for mine. In memory of the thoughtless recruit who went off laughing to the wars. They say ladies cannot quite forget the man who has used them ill; Miss Phoebe, do it for me because I used you ill.