Trivially Yours

An exercise in writing like a famous playwright

(Andrew sits in a 19th century British parlor on a sofa, sipping tea and dining on biscuits. Piano music from off stage left. The music stops, and Thomas steps on stage, joining Andrew with the tea and biscuits.)

Andrew: Lovely tune this time.

Thomas: Thank you, just something I picked up.

Andrew: From the opera last night, if I remember correctly?

Thomas: Yes, it just stuck in my head.

Andrew: You played it perfectly, if I recall correctly.

Thomas: Yes, though I fear it might have been in the wrong chord. What do you think about that?

Andrew: It sounded fine to me. Spot on. Would I lie to you?

Thomas: No, I dare say you wouldn’t. Any special plans for today?

Andrew: Miss Williams will be arriving shortly with her governess.

Thomas: Would you like me to play that piece on the piano for you two when she arrives?

Andrew: That would be good of you. Music does soothe the savage beast, so they say!

Thomas: Miss Williams seems rather sweet to me.

Andrew: I won’t deny that, but I was talking about her governess, Madame Black.

Thomas: I should have known. I thought you were in her good graces, however?

Andrew: The only person in her good graces, besides Miss Williams, is Madame Black herself, and even those two positions are often on rocky ground.

Thomas: She does seem a bit disagreeable.

Andrew: Disagreeable? That’s an understatement, the woman’s an entire argument all by herself.

Mary: (From offstage) Andrew? Are you here, Andrew?

Andrew: In the parlor, Mary!

Thomas: To the piano?

Andrew: You’re such a good friend, Tom! I’ll make sure to return the favor when the mood strikes.

Thomas: (Exiting stage left) As always.

Mary: (Entering from upstage center) Good day, Andrew.

Andrew: Mary, you’re looking lovely today! (They kiss)

Mary: Must we sit in the parlor? The drawing room is much sunnier.

Andrew: I agree on that point, but if we sit in the drawing room then how will we be able to hear Thomas play the piano?

Mary: Oh, he’s going through all that trouble for us? Well, it’s only polite to stay for a song, then.

(Piano music from offstage, the same melody as before)

Andrew: It’s a piece he picked up at the opera last night.

Mary: Oh, I adore the opera, what I’ve heard about it anyway. Not that I intend to disgrace him, but Andrew, why is it that every time I come to visit, he’s already here?

Andrew: Because he lives with me.

Mary: (Perplexed) But why?

Andrew: Because he has no place else to go.

Mary: All the answers you’re giving me are like doing charitable work for the poor; you’re telling me nothing. I want the whole story. Why does he live with you?

Andrew: Because he has no money, at least not right now. His parents both died when we were very young playmates, the measles or tuberculosis or a boating accident, who can really keep the dead straight anymore? Anyway, they had left it in their will that in case of any misfortune, Thomas was to receive their entire fortune when he turned twenty-one, and as luck would have it, misfortune struck. So now Thomas lives with me, until his twenty first birthday, in which case he legally inherits his own wealth and I’ll have to find another best friend to play piano for me.

Mary: Oh. Funny how these things work out, isn’t it?

Andrew:Quite, yes.

Mary: (Reaching towards the empty tray on the coffee table) Andrew, were there biscuits here earlier?

Andrew: Yes, and tea, but it seems that in my previous ennui I must have consumed them all. Small matter, I’ll ring for the butler. Except that I can’t, as it’s his day off. . .

Mary: Your butler has a day off?

Andrew: Medical reasons; I work him hard enough on the other six days as is. Well then, this will be an enormous discomfort.

Mary: Getting up for more tea and biscuits?

Andrew: No, asking Thomas to. I imagine that he can’t play the piano very well while preparing us some more snacks.

Mary: Andrew, I do hate to trouble you, but I rather like this piece. Would you be so kind as to run down to the pantry yourself?

Andrew: The pantry? I don’t even know where that is!

Mary: Then it should be rather simple to find; just get yourself lost.

Andrew: Lost in my own home. . . Well, if you do desire more tea. . .

Mary: And biscuits.

Andrew: Yes, precisely.

(Andrew walks upstage center, meticulously choosing the direction of the house that he knows the least about. After he is gone, the piano stops and Thomas hurries onstage. He sits next to Mary on the sofa, takes her hand and kisses her)

Thomas: I’ve missed you so much.

Mary: Darling, it’s so low to talk like that. But, I suppose you only need to debase yourself for two more years.

Thomas: I heard you discussing my affairs earlier.

Mary: You never told me that you had a fortune!

Thomas: You never told me you loved me. I was going to tell you then.

Mary: Well, I love you.

Thomas: Well, I have a fortune. Now that we have that matter cleared away, I can marry you!

Mary: In two years’ time.

Thomas: Yes, two years. . .

Mary: And you’ll have to win me away from Andrew.

Thomas: Absolutely, steal you away from my best friend. . .

Mary: And earn the approval of my governess.

Thomas: Have you considered eloping?

Mary: Oh stop fooling around, she’s never met you!

Thomas: And therefore she naturally distrusts me.

Mary: You have an honest face.

Thomas: Which she hates, because you can always tell when they’re lying.

Mary: You have money. . .

Thomas: But not at this moment. I’m as good as nothing in her book

Mary: Really now, all you need is to be confident, yet humble. Caring, yet independent, but not aloof. Traditional, but not forceful. Deep, but not shifty.

Thomas: So I should be two different people at once.

Mary: If you could, that would be a great benefit to your part.

(Andrew walks in upstage center carrying a tray of biscuits and tea. Thomas and Mary split apart, Thomas standing up a respectful distance from the couch)

Andrew: Thomas, so nice to see you again.

Thomas: I finished my latest piece, and I thought it proper to say hello to Miss Williams.

Andrew: (Setting the tray down and sitting next to Mary) The last time you played that piece, it took fifteen minutes.

Thomas: I got bored and sped through it. A personal challenge.

Andrew: Ah, yes, personal challenges.

Thomas: I’ll just go see what else I can play for you two this afternoon. (He walks off stage left, the sound of a piano being played follows shortly afterwards)

Mary: I see you found the pantry.

Andrew: Yes, who knew it would be so close to the kitchen? Now then, where were we?

Mary: I can’t quite remember.

Andrew: Neither can I. Conversation can be such a hassle at times.

Mary: It can be, yes.

(From upstage center enters the imposing figure of Madame Black, arms crossed across her chest, glaring at Andrew)

Black: Mr. Branson?

Andrew: Madame Black, so pleased to see you again! How are. . .

Black: I would like a word with Miss Williams.

Andrew: Well by all means. . .

Black: Alone. If you please.

Andrew: Absolutely, I’ll just go and, uh, relearn how to get to the pantry. . . (He exits upstage center)

Black: Mary, you know I disapprove of this young man.

Mary: As do I, Madame.

Black: Oh do you? Then why persist in dragging me over to this. . . house?

Mary: Because there’s someone else here, someone else that I love. Thomas? Would you please join us?

(The piano stops and a very worried Thomas makes his way onstage)

Black: The butler?

Mary: No, he’s not the butler, he just lives here, temporarily!

Black: Temporarily? Then why have I seen him here every time I accompany you?

Mary: It’s a longer engagement than usual, he was having a house being built out in the country but the carpenters kept making a royal mess of things, and still are. He doesn’t know when his home will be complete, and so in the meantime he lives here with his friend Mr. Branson.

Black: Hmph, should have had better foresight than to pick a sloppy band of carpenters. I take it you have money?

Mary: Yes, he has quite a fortune!

Black: He’s a mute too, I see.

Thomas: A mute? No! I just haven’t found an opportunity to speak yet.

Black: He’s very rude.

Thomas: I’m terribly sorry if I seem rude, Madame Black, but. . .

Black: No buts, what’s done is done.

Thomas: Yes, ma’am. . .

Black: He acquiesces easily as well, too easily. Mary, have you an attraction for spineless men?

Mary: Spineless? Madame. . .

Black: No, he’s quite unacceptable, even Mr. Branson would be preferable.

Thomas:Now wait just a minute, Miss Black!

Black: Excuse me?

Thomas: I want to know how it is that you find fault in everything everybody else does!

(Andrew, who has been waiting just outside the doorway, reenters the room in an attempt to diffuse the situation)

Andrew: Excuse me, I’m terribly sorry for my ward’s insolence, Madame Black! I assure you, we will have a talk about this very, very soon.

Thomas: No, there will be no talks about me being your ward, this abusive old spinster needs to hear what I have to say!

Andrew: Oh no.

Black: What did you just say?

Thomas: I said that I’m not going to put up with your abuse, Miss Black! Day after day you sit on your high horse and judge every action of everybody around you as something unacceptable. No one can live up to your unprecedented expectations! You expect too much from people, more than even you yourself can provide. You’re a hypocrite!

(Stunned silence)

Black: I must say, your manners are extremely lacking. However, no one has ever stood up to me the way you did. It’s either extreme stupidity or courage.

Thomas: And did I forget to mention that the way you control everybody’s life is a symptom of agony over your own abysmal failures in the past?

Black: Now that was definitely stupidity.

Thomas: Stupidity though it may be, it was the smartest thing I could say.

Mary: Madame, what he’s saying is true! You control everyone else with an iron fist, and I won’t stand for it! (Rushing over to Thomas) This is the man that I love!

Andrew: Mary?

Mary: I’m sorry Andrew. I think of you fondly, but my true feelings lie for Thomas. Why do you think I could only find time to visit you on days when your butler wasn’t working?

Andrew: I understand. I do hope you two will be happy.

Thomas: Sorry, Andrew. I do hope there’s no hard feelings.

Andrew: Oh, it’s all fine, I wouldn’t dream stand in the way of true love. How long have you been hiding this from me, anyway?

Thomas: From the beginning.

Andrew: Not exactly what my ego needed to hear, but I do admire your stealth. Take care of her, Thomas.

Black: One last matter that needs to be cleared up before I can give my complete approval: How much money do you have?

Thomas: At the moment, none. I have a large fortune squirreled away, but I’m afraid I can’t touch it until my twenty-first birthday, which is two years away.

Black: Two years? Why, at your ages, that’s an eternity. I’m afraid that I can’t in good conscience sanction this courtship.

Thomas: But I’ll have the money, it will just take a matter of time!

Andrew: Exactly! The proof of his fortune lies in his parent’s own will, which lies in this drawer of this desk! (He crosses stage right and opens a drawer, pulling out a faded document) Right here, upon his eighteenth birthday, he is to receive the sum of. . . Eighteen?!

Thomas: Eighteen?

Mary: Eighteen? You told me twenty-one!

Thomas: I was told twenty-one so many years ago when I first had that document read to me by. . . Your butler, Andrew!

Andrew: I knew I was overworking the poor oaf, but I never thought he would have made a mistake on something so important!

Thomas: So you see, Miss Black, being nineteen, I can legally inherit the fortune of the Westby family this very minute!

Black: What did you say your name was, again?

Thomas: Thomas Westby. Why?

Black: Your parents, they died of tuberculosis when you were very little, correct?

Thomas: Well, yes. How did you know?

Black: Your mother’s maiden name was Black, she was my sister, making you my nephew!

Thomas: They told me I had an aunt somewhere, but they couldn’t locate her!

Black: I was never contacted about this! Rest assured, if I had gotten word, I would have brought you in and raised you as my own! But as it stands, I don’t very well see why I should deny my own family a marriage.

Mary: Oh, Miss Black, how wonderful you are, when you’re not being a spiteful, evil hag! (She gets off the sofa and hugs Madame Black)

Thomas: Quite true! (He also joins in this hug. Madame Black looks at Andrew, standing by himself forlornly)

Black: You know, Mr. Branson, I do believe I have another niece about your age.

Andrew: How could I deny my future family a marriage?

The End