Belinda: An April Folly in Three Acts Part 17

(_Pathetically_.) You see, they're so used to going about together.

DELIA. Claude is quite enough.

BELINDA. I think I must see Mr. Baxter and get it over. Do you mind if I have Mr. Devenish too? I feel more at home with both of them. I'll give you him back. Oh dear, I feel so happy to-night! (_She jumps up and goes to_ DELIA.) And is my little girl going to be happy too? That's what mothers always say on the stage. I think it's so sweet.

(_They move together to below table_.)

DELIA (_smiling at her_). Yes, I think so, mummy. Of course, I'm not romantic like you. I expect I'm more like father, really.

BELINDA (_dreamily_). Jack can be romantic now. He was telling me this morning all about the people he has proposed to. I mean, I was telling him. Anyhow, he wasn't a bit like a father. Of course, he doesn't know he is a father yet. Darling, I think you might take him into the garden; only don't let him know who he is. You see, he ought to propose to me first, oughtn't he?

(_The men come in from_ R. TREMAYNE _goes to the foot of the settee R., DEVENISH to the back of the table up_ R., _while_ BAXTER _stands at the back of the settee_. BELINDA _moves to the front of the settee and DELIA sits on the table_.)

Here you all are! I do hope you haven't been throwing away your cigars, because smoking is allowed all over the house.

TREMAYNE (_as he comes to the foot of the settee_). Oh, we've finished, thank you.

BELINDA (_going up to the swing doors and opening them_). Isn't it a wonderful night?--and so warm for April. Delia, you must show Mr.

Robinson the garden by moonlight--it's the only light he hasn't seen it by.

DEVENISH (_quickly coming to_ R. _back of table_ C.). I don't think I've ever seen it by moonlight, Miss Delia.

BELINDA (_coming down a little_). I thought poets were always seeing things by moonlight.

BAXTER (_moving toward_ BELINDA). I was hoping, Mrs. Tremayne, that--er--perhaps-----

DELIA (_moving quickly to above_ TREMAYNE _and taking his_ L.

_hand, and pulling him up stage to swing doors_). Come along, Mr.

Robinson.

(TREMAYNE _looks at_ BELINDA, _who gives him a nod_. BELINDA _then moves down_ R.)

TREMAYNE (L. _of_ DELIA). It's very kind of you, Miss Robinson. I suppose there is no chance of a nightingale?

BELINDA. There ought to be. I ordered one specially for Mr. Devenish.

(DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE _go out together_. BELINDA, _with a sigh, moves over to the Chesterfield and settles herself comfortably into it_. DEVENISH, _annoyed by_ TREMAYNE'S _attentions to_ DELIA, _crosses up angrily and looks off through the window up_ L. _above fireplace, then comes down_ L. _of the Chesterfield to the front of the fireplace_. BAXTER _moves up to the swing doors angrily watching_ DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE, _then moves to the window_ R. _and looks off_.

BETTY _then enters with a salver from_ R. _She moves by the back of the settee to the back of the table_ C., _picks up the coffee-cups and goes out_ R. BAXTER _then moves over to the window facing the audience, up_ L. _He looks off, then comes down to the_ R. _of_ BELINDA.)

Now we're together again. Well, Mr. Devenish?

DEVENISH. Er--I--

BELINDA. No; I think I'll let Mr. Baxter speak first. I know he's longing to.

BAXTER (_leaning on the back of the chair_ L. _of table--he clears his throat_). H'r'm! Mrs. Tremayne, I beg formally to claim your hand.

BELINDA (_sweetly_). On what grounds, Mr. Baxter?

DEVENISH (_spiritedly_). Yes, sir, on what grounds?

BAXTER (_coming to_ R. _of Chesterfield, close to_ BELINDA).

On the grounds that, as I told you this morning, I had succeeded in the quest.

DEVENISH (_appearing to be greatly surprised_). Succeeded?

BAXTER. Yes, Mr. Devenish, young fellow, you have lost. (_He moves a few paces_ R. _to below the chair_ L. _of the table_.) I have discovered the missing Mr. Robinson.

DEVENISH (_wiping hit brow and coming to_ BAXTER). Who--where--

BAXTER (_dramatically_). Miss Robinson has at this moment gone out with her father.

DEVENISH (_placing his hands heavily on_ BAXTER'S _shoulders, who staggers_). Good heavens! It was he!

(_BAXTER pats_ DEVENISH _sympathetically and moves to the back of the Chesterfield and is about to speak to_ BELINDA. _She, however, silences him and he drops down to the front of the fireplace_.)

BELINDA (_sympathetically_). Poor Mr. Devenish!

DEVENISH (_pointing tragically to the table_). And to think that I actually sat on that table--no, that seat (_he points to the settee_ R., _then he moves up stage between it and the table_)-- that I sat there with him this morning, and never guessed! Why, ten minutes ago I was asking him for the nuts!

BAXTER. Aha, Devenish, you're not so clever as you thought you were.

DEVENISH (_coming quickly to the back of the chair_ L. _of the table_). Why, I must have given you the clue myself! He told me he had a scar on his arm, and I never thought any more of it. And then I went away innocently and left you two talking about it.

BELINDA (_alarmed_). A scar on his arm?

DEVENISH. Where a lion mauled him.

(BELINDA _gives a little cry and shudder_.)

BAXTER. It's quite healed up now, Mrs. Tremayne.

BELINDA (_looking at him admiringly_). A lion! What you two have adventured for my sake!

BAXTER. I suppose you will admit, Devenish, that I may fairly claim to have won?

(_Looking the picture of despair,_ DEVENISH _drops down_ L.

_of the chair, droops his head, raises his arms and lets them fall hopelessly to his sides_.)

BELINDA. Mr. Devenish, I have never admired you so much as I do at this moment. (_She extends her_ R. _hand to_ DEVENISH, _who gropes for it with his_ L. _hand and eventually manages to seize it_.)

BAXTER (_noticing he is holding her hand, moving to them and looking at them quizzically--indignantly to_ DEVENISH). I say, you know, that's not fair. It's all very well to take your defeat like a man, but you mustn't overdo it. (_They release their hands_.) Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the reward which I have earned.

BELINDA (_after a pause and rising_). Mr. Baxter--Mr. Devenish, I have something to tell you.

(DEVENISH _moves to her_ R.)

(BELINDA _kneels upon the Chesterfield facing them. Penitently_.) I have not been quite frank with you. I think you both ought to know that-- I--I made a mistake. Delia is not my niece; she is my daughter. (_She buries her face in her hands_.)