31 Plays in 31 Days, #22 - "Wilde"

[breakinglight11]

I don't like this scene. It probably wouldn't happen; I don't think Clara would even know the information she has here. I couldn't figure out any real direction to give the scene, so it's very bad. But I've been thinking about how I missed Justin, and it's an interesting illustration of a challenge the Hawking series has— we don't just want to wade around in period-accurate grossness like misogyny and homophobia, but I don't want to lose the sense that they are not modern people.

But I'm super behind and I need to finish the challenge.



Day #22 - “Wilde”
From Mrs. Hawking
By Phoebe Roberts

NATHANIEL HAWKING, Mrs. Hawking’s nephew and assistant, mid thirties
CLARA HAWKING, his society lady wife, late thirties

London, England, 1890
~~~

(NATHANIEL comes across CLARA reading a magazine on a chaise.)

NATHANIEL: You look rather engrossed. What are you reading?

CLARA: A new novel by Mr. Oscar Wilde. The Picture of Dorian Gray.

NATHANIEL: Really! Everyone’s talking about that one. Is it good?

CLARA: Yes, but… I don’t think that’s why. It’s… rather racy.

NATHANIEL: Indeed, in what way? Oh, is it one of those books?

(He lays on the chaise next to her to look over her shoulder.)

CLARA: (Laughing) No. But you know what they say about Mr. Wilde.

NATHANIEL: Oh, my. Is that in the book?

CLARA: Not anymore! Annabel’s husband works for the editor. She told me the original was absolutely scandalous.

NATHANIEL: Saving it for the sequel, perhaps, to keep the chatter going.

CLARA: I must say, I thought you’d be a little more shocked.

NATHANIEL: Darling, I spent four years at Harrow. If I had fainted dead away any time some lads were messing about, I’d never have made it to a lesson.

CLARA: My. I’d no idea you were so cosmopolitan.

NATHANIEL: Trust me, dear, a dormitory full of young boys is about as vulgar as you can get. But I’m made of sterner stuff than I look.

CLARA: I suppose I shouldn’t have underestimated you. What with Justin, and all.

NATHANIEL: Beg pardon?

CLARA: What?

NATHANIEL: What about Justin?

CLARA: Just as you said. Boys messing about at Harrow.

NATHANIEL: My brother, Justin?

CLARA: Yes. Didn’t— didn’t you know?

NATHANIEL: Justin’s been with more girls than most other fellows I know put together. For goodness sake… you were one of them. Weren’t you?

CLARA: Yes… I never said he didn’t like girls. Quite the contrary.

NATHANIEL: How… however did you know?

CLARA: Do you recall his sudden falling out with Ciaran Harrower?

NATHANIEL: Yes…

CLARA: Well, that was when. Apparently I wasn’t the only one with whom things ended badly.

(Pause.)

CLARA: I do hope I haven’t upset you.

NATHANIEL: I— I don’t know what to say.

CLARA: Oh, goodness. I wouldn’t have brought it up if I’d thought— I’m sorry I said anything.

NATHANIEL: I only— I only— I had no idea.

CLARA: I suppose he’s quiet about it. As you can imagine. You— you don’t think less of him, do you?

NATHANIEL: Do you?

CLARA: No. It’s no one’s business but his own. And… I thought it made him a little more understanding. Of what it meant to… have a reputation at stake.

NATHANIEL: It’s very shocking. To say the least.

CLARA: I should hate if you held it against him. That this is the burden he’s got to carry.

NATHANIEL: But he’s my brother. I love him. And… I never thought of him having a burden before.

CLARA: Everybody’s got burdens, Nathaniel.

NATHANIEL: Do you think he didn’t tell me… because he thought I’d be unkind?

CLARA: I don’t know. But I imagine you know what sort of brother you’d care to be.