31 Plays in 31 Days, #25 - “Tweenies”
Aug. 25th, 2024 10:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakinglight11Here’s more from the next Mrs. Hawking play, specifically the part where Beatrice goes in undercover as an in-between maid to gather some information for the case. I want to show her learning curve, as she balances her training with her own particular idiom for approaching undercover work. I also like the idea of seeding a character who will become important later as someone Beatrice connects with on this mission. This scene is currently kind of non-specific (as my first drafts always are) and definitely too rushed, but I think there’s a lot of good character here.
Photo by Mark Edwards
Day #25 - “Tweenies”
From Mrs Hawking part 8
By Phoebe Roberts
London, 1892
BEATRICE HAWKING, Nathaniel and Clara’s precocious daughter, mid teens
JOANNA KERRIGAN, a maid in the Parkhill house, late teens
~~~
(BEATRICE walks about the room with a brush and bucket, trying not to be too obvious about searching. Another maid, JOANNA KERRIGAN, enters, causing BEATRICE to startle.)
JOANNA: Mrs. Leander will rap your knuckles with a spoon if she catches you dawdling.
BEATRICE: Sorry! It’s only— it’s quite a handsome room, isn’t it?
JOANNA: Don’t fret, it’ll lose its charm after you’ve turned it over a few hundred times. Here, I’ll give you a hand. That hearth could use some elbow grease.
(She and BEATRICE kneel beside the hearth to dunk their brushes in the bucket. BEATRICE draws back her hands in pain, then glances guiltily to JOANNA.)
BEATRICE: Ah! Sorry, the soap smarts.
JOANNA: Heh, suppose I’m used to it by now. You ain’t been in service long, have you?
BEATRICE: Ah, well, I— is it that obvious?
JOANNA: (Laughs)
BEATRICE: Well, I— I’m trying to pick it all up. There’s folk who are counting on me.
JOANNA: Don’t need to explain yourself to me. Can’t fault nobody who ain’t afraid of honest work. See here, I’ll scrub the fender if you’ll do the stones.
BEATRICE: Deal.
(They arrange places and begin to work.)
BEATRICE: So… have you been here long?
JOANNA: Few years now. I used to serve the Widow Granville over at Maunderly End, but when the old lady died I couldn’t get another place in a parlor, so I came on as housemaid here.
BEATRICE: Oh. And you don’t mind?
JOANNA: Couldn’t afford to mind— got a sick mum at home. But I’ve had worse bosses than Mrs. Leander, and sometimes they let me serve at tea since I know what I’m on about. They’ll put it on my character when I go.
BEATRICE: I see. Well… I’m sorry about— your mum. Is she all right?
JOANNA: She carries on, God bless her. What about you, what brings you here? I wager it was something much harder than you’re used to.
BEATRICE: Oh, yes! After our parents died, my sister and I, we lost our family farm, and after the debts were paid, we came to London with scarcely anything but the clothes on our backs— (off JOANNA’s look) Well, long story short, we needed jobs in a hurry. You surely know how it is.
JOANNA: Sure and I do. Though you’ll have to brace your back if you’re going to last as a tweenie.
BEATRICE: Are… are they kind here? Mrs. Leander, the family, the… gentleman of the house?
JOANNA: Heh. Mrs. Leander ain’t so bad. She makes a buffer for the staff, at least.
BEATRICE: Oh, no. Are they cruel to you— to us?
JOANNA: Wouldn’t call it cruel. But Mr. Parkhill is… particular, like. If he don’t like how his dressing room or his study is done up, he’ll make sure the whole house knows it.
BEATRICE: His dressing room and study? Oh, goodness— could you tell me which rooms they are? So I— make sure I learn how he likes them kept?
JOANNA: I’ll show you, if you’ll take a moment after dinner. They’re the ones just at the end of the hall, one beside the other.
BEATRICE: Thank you, miss. That’s very kind of you.
JOANNA: You are a well-bred country girl, ain’t you? With manners like those. What did you say your name was?
BEATRICE: (Excitedly) I’m Florinda Matilda Cavendish!
(JOANNA is taken aback by that much name.)
BEATRICE: But— you can call me Flora.
JOANNA: All right. Pleased to meet you, Flora. I’m Joanna.
BEATRICE: The same, Joanna. Very pleased to meet you indeed.
Photo by Mark Edwards
Day #25 - “Tweenies”
From Mrs Hawking part 8
By Phoebe Roberts
London, 1892
BEATRICE HAWKING, Nathaniel and Clara’s precocious daughter, mid teens
JOANNA KERRIGAN, a maid in the Parkhill house, late teens
~~~
(BEATRICE walks about the room with a brush and bucket, trying not to be too obvious about searching. Another maid, JOANNA KERRIGAN, enters, causing BEATRICE to startle.)
JOANNA: Mrs. Leander will rap your knuckles with a spoon if she catches you dawdling.
BEATRICE: Sorry! It’s only— it’s quite a handsome room, isn’t it?
JOANNA: Don’t fret, it’ll lose its charm after you’ve turned it over a few hundred times. Here, I’ll give you a hand. That hearth could use some elbow grease.
(She and BEATRICE kneel beside the hearth to dunk their brushes in the bucket. BEATRICE draws back her hands in pain, then glances guiltily to JOANNA.)
BEATRICE: Ah! Sorry, the soap smarts.
JOANNA: Heh, suppose I’m used to it by now. You ain’t been in service long, have you?
BEATRICE: Ah, well, I— is it that obvious?
JOANNA: (Laughs)
BEATRICE: Well, I— I’m trying to pick it all up. There’s folk who are counting on me.
JOANNA: Don’t need to explain yourself to me. Can’t fault nobody who ain’t afraid of honest work. See here, I’ll scrub the fender if you’ll do the stones.
BEATRICE: Deal.
(They arrange places and begin to work.)
BEATRICE: So… have you been here long?
JOANNA: Few years now. I used to serve the Widow Granville over at Maunderly End, but when the old lady died I couldn’t get another place in a parlor, so I came on as housemaid here.
BEATRICE: Oh. And you don’t mind?
JOANNA: Couldn’t afford to mind— got a sick mum at home. But I’ve had worse bosses than Mrs. Leander, and sometimes they let me serve at tea since I know what I’m on about. They’ll put it on my character when I go.
BEATRICE: I see. Well… I’m sorry about— your mum. Is she all right?
JOANNA: She carries on, God bless her. What about you, what brings you here? I wager it was something much harder than you’re used to.
BEATRICE: Oh, yes! After our parents died, my sister and I, we lost our family farm, and after the debts were paid, we came to London with scarcely anything but the clothes on our backs— (off JOANNA’s look) Well, long story short, we needed jobs in a hurry. You surely know how it is.
JOANNA: Sure and I do. Though you’ll have to brace your back if you’re going to last as a tweenie.
BEATRICE: Are… are they kind here? Mrs. Leander, the family, the… gentleman of the house?
JOANNA: Heh. Mrs. Leander ain’t so bad. She makes a buffer for the staff, at least.
BEATRICE: Oh, no. Are they cruel to you— to us?
JOANNA: Wouldn’t call it cruel. But Mr. Parkhill is… particular, like. If he don’t like how his dressing room or his study is done up, he’ll make sure the whole house knows it.
BEATRICE: His dressing room and study? Oh, goodness— could you tell me which rooms they are? So I— make sure I learn how he likes them kept?
JOANNA: I’ll show you, if you’ll take a moment after dinner. They’re the ones just at the end of the hall, one beside the other.
BEATRICE: Thank you, miss. That’s very kind of you.
JOANNA: You are a well-bred country girl, ain’t you? With manners like those. What did you say your name was?
BEATRICE: (Excitedly) I’m Florinda Matilda Cavendish!
(JOANNA is taken aback by that much name.)
BEATRICE: But— you can call me Flora.
JOANNA: All right. Pleased to meet you, Flora. I’m Joanna.
BEATRICE: The same, Joanna. Very pleased to meet you indeed.
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