FANNY. But you must. You must think more of yourselves, you know. You’re not looking well, aunt, at all. What you both want is a month—at the seaside.
MRS. BENNET. Your object is too painfully apparent for the subject to need discussion. True solicitude for us would express itself better in greater watchfulness upon your own behaviour.
FANNY. Why, what have I done?
Bennet enters, followed, unwillingly, by Ernest.
MRS. BENNET. Your uncle will explain.
BENNET. Shut that door. [Ernest does so. They group round Bennet—Ernest a little behind. Fanny remains near the desk.] Sit down. [Fanny, bewildered, speechless, sits.] Carry your mind back, please, to the moment when, with the Bradshaw in front of you, you were considering, with the help of your cousin Ernest, the possibility of your slipping out unobserved, to meet and commune with a person you had surreptitiously summoned to visit you during your husband’s absence.
FANNY. While I think of it, did he have anything to eat before he went? I told Ernest to—ask you to see that he had a glass of champagne and a—
BENNET [waves her back into silence]. Mr. Newte was given refreshment suitable to his station. [She goes to interrupt. Again he waves her back.] We are speaking of more important matters. Your cousin reminded you that you would have to pass the lodge, occupied by your Aunt Amelia. I state the case correctly?
FANNY. Beautifully!
BENNET. I said nothing at the time, doubting the evidence of my own ears. The boy, however—where is the boy?—[Ernest is pushed forward]—has admitted—reluctantly—that he also heard it. [A pause. The solemnity deepens.] You made use of an expression—