Voysey Inheritance

One Library of the Voysey estate. edward, in evening dress, enters the room, followed by alice, two young people perhaps in their thirties. alice: You didn't say a word at dinner. edward: Did I not? alice: A more engagee response might be, "My dear cousin, forgive me . . . business matters," and so on. edward: I beg your pardon. alice: . . . Yes, or, perhaps, "My dear. You've found me out again. The press of work, so on . . . banishes e'en the thought of you from my mercantile soul." edward: Forgive me. alice: Why? edward: Father's still at the table. alice: And you were late. edward: I beg your pardon, Alice. alice: Thank you, from which must one not conclude that you are working much too hard; or, if observant, that you have lost all interest in me? (Enter mrs. voysey, a woman of a certain age.) mrs. voysey: He has what, my dear? alice: I say, your son has lost all interest in me. mrs. voysey: We have lost interest? What is she saying, Edward? Why are you speaking of business; haven't we spoken enough of business? edward: She isn't speaking of business, Mother. mrs. voysey: If not, then she will be unique among our family. Edward. I take my oath. Have you seen my "work"? alice: I believe I saw it in the blue room. mrs. voysey: What? alice: I believe, I saw it in the . . . mrs. voysey: In the blue room. (george booth, an older gentleman, enters.) mrs. voysey: (Exiting) What is this interest that they say we've lost? george booth: On my word, I've no idea. Edward: is there something I should know? alice: I said he's lost interest in me . . . george booth: Oh, good. Then we needn't tighten our belts, eh. alice: That's right. george booth: Lost interest in Alice, Edward. alice: Yes, and the shame of it all, after these long years of protestations. george booth: You staying up this weekend, Alice, or you going back to town? alice: No, Mr. Booth, I am to stay here, pining, pining . . . george booth: Over what? Our, our universal understanding is that it's you have been the long-sought quarry . . . Hugh coming up, Edward? edward: I beg your pardon. george booth: I say: Is Hugh coming up? edward: I believe he is. george booth: I wanted to tell him something. What did I want to tell him? (mr. voysey, the paterfamilias, enters.) george booth: Ah, ah, may we, now the cloth is drawn, proceed to business? mr. voysey: At dinner, George, at dinner? george booth: Uh, no, we're on to the port-we're on to the port, eh? (Enter peacey, a middle-aged man in business attire, carrying his overcoat and hat.) george booth: (Of peacey) And what is this, then? peacey: Evening, Mr. Booth. george booth: Good evening, Peacey, what news? peacey: No news, such as is news, Mr. Booth, just these indents to sign . . . (He passes papers to mr. voysey, from the briefcase which he carries.) And I beg your pardon, to disturb your evening. george booth: What of our Australian bonds, Mr. Peacey? peacey: The bonds? Sound as a nut, sir. george booth: There's no worry, then? No need for drastic measure, fear of want, and so on. (Pause) mr. voysey: He's joking with you, Peacey. peacey: Well, I know it, sir. (Noticing edward) Ah. Mr. Edward. Evening, sir . . . And Miss Alice. alice: Good evening, Peacey . . . mr. voysey: How's my boy doing, Peacey? peacey: Like his father and his grandfather before him, sir, all business, through and through. mr. voysey: High praise indeed. (He finishes with the forms.) peacey:Granville-Barker, Harley is the author of 'Voysey Inheritance ', published 2005 under ISBN 9780307275196 and ISBN 0307275191.