The Mousetrap

ROYDE. Well . . .

TREVES. You’ll have to be a little more explicit, Camilla.

LADYTRESSILIAN. I intend to be. When I was a girl such things did not happen. Men had their affairs, naturally, but they did not allow them to break up their married life.

TREVES. Regrettable though the modern point of view may be, one has to accept it, Camilla. (Mary moves to the easy chair downL. and sits on the upstage arm of it.)

LADYTRESSILIAN. That’s not the point. We were all delighted when Nevile married Audrey. Such a sweet gentle girl. (To Royde.) You were all in love with her—you, Adrian and Nevile. Nevile won.

ROYDE. Naturally. He always wins.

LADYTRESSILIAN. Of all the defeatist . . .

ROYDE. I don’t blame her, Nevile had everything—good looks, first-class athlete—even had a shot at swimming the channel.

TREVES. And all the kudos of that early Everest attempt—never stuck up about it.

ROYDE. Mens sana in corpore sana.

LADYTRESSILIAN. Sometimes I think that’s the only bit of Latin you men ever learn in your expensive education.

TREVES. My dear Camilla, you must allow for its being invariably quoted by one’s housemaster whenever he is slightly embarrassed.

LADYTRESSILIAN. Mary, I wish you wouldn’t sit on the arms of chairs—you know how much I dislike it.

MARY. (Rising.) Sorry, Camilla. (She sits in the easy chair downL. Treves rises guiltily and quickly, then sits above Royde on the chaise.)

LADYTRESSILIAN. Now where was I?

MARY. You were saying that Audrey married Nevile.

LADYTRESSILIAN. Oh, yes. Well, Audrey married Nevile and we were all delighted. Mortimer was particularly pleased, wasn’t he, Mathew?

TREVES. Yes, yes.

LADYTRESSILIAN. And they were very happy together until this creature Kay came along; how Nevile could leave Audrey for a girl like Kay I simply cannot imagine.

TREVES. I can—I’ve seen it happen so often.

LADYTRESSILIAN. Kay is quite the wrong wife for Nevile, no background.

TREVES. But a singularly attractive young woman.

LADYTRESSILIAN. Bad stock, her mother was notorious all over the Riviera.

ROYDE. What for?

LADYTRESSILIAN. Never you mind. What an upbringing for a girl. Kay made a dead set at Nevile from the moment they met, and never rested until she got him to leave Audrey and go off with her. I blame Kay entirely for the whole thing.

TREVES. (Rising and moving above the coffee table, fairly amused.) I’m sure you do. You’re very fond of Nevile.

LADYTRESSILIAN. Nevile’s a fool. Breaking up his marriage for a silly infatuation. It nearly broke poor Audrey’s heart. (To Royde.) She went to your mother at the Vicarage and practically had a nervous breakdown.

ROYDE. Er—yes—I know.

TREVES. When the divorce went through, Nevile married Kay.

LADYTRESSILIAN. If I had been true to my principles I should have refused to receive them here.

TREVES. If one sticks too rigidly to one’s principles one would hardly see anybody.

LADYTRESSILIAN. You’re very cynical, Mathew—but it’s quite true. I’ve accepted Kay as Nevile’s wife—though I shall never really like her. But I must say I was dumbfounded and very much upset, wasn’t I, Mary?

MARY. Yes, you were, Camilla.

LADYTRESSILIAN. When Nevile wrote asking if he could come home with Kay, under the pretext, if you please, that it would be nice if Audrey and Kay could be friends—(Scornfully.) friends—I said I couldn’t entertain such a suggestion for a moment and that it would be very painful for Audrey.

TREVES. (Putting his glass on the coffee table.) And what did he say to that?

LADYTRESSILIAN. He replied that he had already consulted Audrey and she thought it a good idea.

TREVES. And did Audrey think it a good idea?

LADYTRESSILIAN. Apparently, yes. (She tosses a knot of silk to Mary.) Unravel that.

MARY. Well, she said she did, quite firmly.

LADYTRESSILIAN. But Audrey is obviously embarrassed and unhappy. If you ask me, it’s just Nevile being like Henry the Eighth.

ROYDE. (Puzzled.) Henry the Eighth?