Hugo in London

by Marina J. Neary

Scene 8

Rev. Barclay’s study at St. Magdalen’s Church. Barclay is sitting at his desk, fist under his chin; Jocelyn, looking bored and apathetic, is trying to conduct a choir of children who are singing out of tune:

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small.
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God—

JOCELYN (abruptly): Enough!

A few children shudder and become silent; others continue singing.

BARCLAY (shakes up): Children, you’ve heard Miss Stuart. The rehearsal is over.

JOCELYN (claps her hands): I shall see you at St. Gabriel’s school.

The children depart, whispering to each other. Jocelyn leans against the edge of the desk, shaking her head.

BARCLAY: What’s the matter, Duchess?

JOCELYN: You heard the children! Their voices could peel the paint off the walls.

BARCLAY: Come, Duchess, it wasn’t too atrocious. A bit of patience on your part...

JOCELYN (indignantly): Patience, with this? You must be joking, Reverend! Besides, you know that patience isn’t my strongest virtue.

BARCLAY: Then, perhaps, it’s time to end this game.

JOCELYN: I beg your pardon? What game?

BARCLAY (points to her clothes): This dress. You were meant to wear red velvet, not black cloth. It’s time to admit that charity isn’t your vocation. Go back to Westminster. Ballrooms and dining halls are calling your name! Be dazzling, my duchess. And leave charity to ugly spinsters.

JOCELYN: I don’t believe this — coming from a minister!

BARCLAY: I speak to you not as a minister but as a friend.

JOCELYN: Let me show you something. (She opens a locket around her neck). See the portrait of this boy? He’s my first fiancé. My father had arranged the match.

BARCLAY (leans towards her): Why, he’s quite an angel!

JOCELYN: Ah, drop this ecclesiastic jargon, Reverend. Be serious, for once in your life. This boy is a lord. In addition to his charming face he had a charming estate.

BARCLAY: Why do you speak of him in the past tense? What happened?

JOCELYN: He died — so I’m told. Now he truly is an angel. He didn’t have the time to turn into a monster, as it often happens with handsome rich men. He died and took his title to his grave.

BARCLAY: My, how fragile is aristocratic lineage!

JOCELYN: I’ve never met the little lord, but I keep his portrait close to my heart, as a reminder of what I do not want in life. Our social system makes my blood boil.

BARCLAY: You aren’t the only one whose blood is boiling, I assure you.

JOCELYN: I hate the royal family and monarchy as a whole. (With hands over her heart) I’ll die a staunch Republican.

BARCLAY: A Republican, eh? Is that your latest fantasy, Duchess? I hope it lasts more than three minutes.

JOCELYN: Mock me if you will. You can’t persuade me to return to Westminster.

BARCLAY: I’m not trying to persuade you, Duchess. It was merely a suggestion. Feel free to dismiss it, as you dismiss every other suggestion that comes from me.

(Enter Hugo, twirling his cane)

HUGO: Did someone say “Republic”? Why, it happens to be my favorite topic!

BARCLAY: Mr. Hugo, you have the ears of an owl.

HUGO: I hope I’m not intruding.

BARCLAY: Not at all. You missed a delightful performance by Jocelyn’s pupils. One must admire her way with children. She’s bursting with maternal sentiments.

JOCELYN: What a relief to see you alive, Victor. We’ve been worried about you. We hope you don’t resent us for abandoning you in that boxing ring.

HUGO: Resent you? On the contrary! Last night I found exactly what I was searching for. The Grants are a handful of drunken angels fallen from the sky. The boy who cracked my ribs is the English version of Hernani. I can picture him on the deck of a schooner or on top of a barricade.

JOCELYN: Have you started writing?

HUGO: I haven’t decided on the title of the novel yet, but I’m leaning towards: Les Misérables de la mer— Wretches of the Sea. And I owe it all to you, Duchess — and you too, Reverend. I’ll be sure to include you both in my novel. There’s always room for a pouting ingénue and a bookish villain.

JOCELYN: An ingénue! I thought I was your mythical ocean goddess. How do you explain this demotion?

HUGO: I’m sorry, but I’ve already found a goddess — Dr. Grant’s servant girl.

JOCELYN: That filthy urchin with knobby knees?

HUGO: She has a cosmic quality about her.

JOCELYN: Victor, you can’t be serious. Have you heard that creature speak? Some of her words would make a sailor blush. You take away my crown and give it to her?

HUGO: Please, don’t take this as betrayal. Your place is on an earthly throne. Hers is on Olympus. You both are queens, only in different worlds.

JOCELYN: It wounds me deeply that you consider me unworthy of Olympus. First Reverend Barclay tells me that I don’t belong in the slums, and now you tell me that I don’t belong on Olympus. So where do I belong?

(Enter Kip, dressed in a fine suit)

KIP: In my arms! Are these gentlemen upsetting you?

JOCELYN (on the brink of tears): Reverend Barclay thinks I am selfish and childish, and Mr. Hugo thinks I am superficial and one-dimensional.

KIP (tosses his head back and laughs): I knew that sooner or later they’ll see your true face! But there is no shame in being a hollow plaster angel. Who should care about your moral and intellectual detriments? You’re rich and beautiful!

JOCELYN (struggles out of his arms): Down with it, Edmund.

KIP: I’m glad I still have the power to make you laugh. I’m taking you to the opera tonight. We’ll sit in the balcony and ridicule everyone else.

BARCLAY: It’s the best idea I’ve heard all day. Jocelyn, you go with your fiancé.

(Kip draws a velvet box from under his coat and displays the content to Jocelyn)

JOCELYN (fakes excitement): Another necklace, for me?

KIP: I did buy it for one of the circus girls, but then I thought it would look better around your neck. Hold it against the light.

JOCELYN (squints suspiciously): Sapphires?

KIP: No, blue diamonds. Wear them once and throw them on the bottom of your jewelry box, as you do with the rest of my presents.

JOCELYN (with a gracious sigh): Well, I suppose it would make Lady Ellenborough a bit envious. (She unbuttons her collar and pulls her hair up.) Edmund, do your duty.

KIP (buckles the necklace): Don’t waste another minute on these bookish old madmen.

JOCELYN: How right you are.

BARCLAY: Enjoy the opera.

Kip leads Jocelyn away. Barclay and Hugo wave at them.

To be continued...