HONORIA [she draws herself up]. I should have made it quite plain from the first, that I was mistress, and that they were my servants.
FANNY. You would, you think—
HONORIA [checking her outburst]. But then, dear—you will excuse my speaking plainly—there is a slight difference between the two cases. [She seats herself on the settee. Fanny is standing near the desk.] You see, what we all feel about you, dear, is—that you are—well, hardly a fit wife for his lordship. [Fanny’s hands are itching to box the girl’s ears. To save herself, she grinds out through her teeth the word “Tack!”] Of course, dear, it isn’t altogether your fault.
FANNY. Thanks.
HONORIA. Your mother’s marriage was most unfortunate.
FANNY [her efforts to suppress her feelings are just—but only just—successful.] Need we discuss that?
HONORIA. Well, he was an Irishman, dear, there’s no denying it. [Fanny takes a cushion from a chair—with her back to Honoria, she strangles it. Jane has entered and is listening.] Still, perhaps it is a painful subject. And we hope—all of us—that, with time and patience, we may succeed in eradicating the natural results of your bringing-up.
JANE. Some families, finding themselves in our position, would seek to turn it to their own advantage. We think only of your good.
FANNY. Yes, that’s what I feel—that you are worrying yourselves too much about me. You’re too conscientious, all of you. You, in particular, Jane, because you know you’re not strong. You’ll end up with a nervous breakdown. [Mrs. Bennet has entered. Honoria slips out. Fanny turns to her aunt.] I was just saying how anxious I’m getting about Jane. I don’t like the look of her at all. What she wants is a holiday. Don’t you agree with me?
MRS. BENNET. There will be no holiday, I fear, for any of us, for many a long day.