Fanny monologue — Fanny and the Servant Problem

You never tried the door for yourself, dear. [_She pretends to rearrange something on the mantelpiece—any excuse to turn away her face for a moment_. _She turns to him again_, _smiling_.] It was a mistake, the whole thing. You were partly to blame. You were such a nice boy. I “fancied” you—to use George’s words. [_She laughs_.] And when a woman wants a thing, she is apt to be a bit unscrupulous about how she gets it. [_She moves about the room_, _touching the flowers_, _rearranging a cushion_, _a vase_.] I didn’t invent the bishop; that was George’s embroidery. [_Another laugh_.] But, of course, I ought to have told you everything myself. I ought not to have wanted a man to whom it would have made one atom of difference whether my cousins were scullery-maids or not. Somehow, I felt that to you it might. [_Vernon winces_.] It’s natural enough. You have a big position to maintain. I didn’t know you were a lord—that was your doing. George did find it out, but he never told me; least of all, that you were Lord Bantock—or you may be pretty sure I should have come out with the truth, if only for my own sake. It hasn’t been any joke for me, coming back here.