Kind Hearts And Coronets Page #7

it should be otherwise.

You want this house to be a shrine.

You're wrong.

Shrines are not meant to house the living.

I have always respected you -

your principles, your courage -

above any woman I've ever met.

It is your duty

to yourself and to others -

to Henry even -

to live again

in the present, in the future.

What future is there for me?

I am now going to say

something presumptuous.

You must order me

from your house if you wish.

It is this:

If you should ever feel that

the constant support of a devoted admirer...

would be of assistance to you...

I should be most honored

if you would permit me to...

offer you my hand in marriage.

Mr. Mazzini.

This is a shock.

I'm most touched.

Most grateful, but...

I could not consider

even the possibility of remarrying.

I have spoken too boldly

and too soon.

Please regard what I have said merely

as something to draw upon...

should you ever feel so inclined.

Sibella was waiting for me when I got back.

I was pleased to see her,

for while I never admired Edith...

as much as when

I was with Sibella...

I never longed for Sibella

as much as when I was with Edith.

I'm afraid I'm late.

Have you been bored?

No.

I've been looking into the fire

and thinking.

- What about?

- Oh.

How we used to roast chestnuts

round the other fire...

and what a lot has happened since.

Such as?

How you told me not to marry Lionel

because you might be a duke one day...

and how I laughed at you.

And how I married Lionel.

And now you really nearly are a duke.

We're much better off

as we are, you and I.

It's all very well for you to say that.

You're not married to Lionel.

We see each other

when we want to.

We're not obliged to see each other

when we don't want to.

We don't see each other

as often as I'd like to.

- You've been away the whole weekend.

- I had to go.

- Where?

- To see Mrs. D'Ascoyne...

the widow of that cousin

of mine who was killed.

All your cousins seem to get killed.

I really wouldn't be in the least surprised

if you'd murdered them all.

- Oh.

- How clumsy of me.

- Whatever made you say that?

- Just silliness.

Well, if you promise not to tell anyone,

I'll let you in to my guilty secret.

I did murder them all.

I've suspected it

for a long time.

- What's she like?

- Who?

- Mrs. D'Ascoyne.

- Oh, she's, uh, tall, slender-

- Beautiful?

- Yes, I suppose some people would call her beautiful.

- Would you?

- I suppose so. I never really thought about that.

What would you say

if she asked you about me?

I'd say that you were

a perfect combination of imperfections.

I'd say that your nose

was just a little too short...

your mouth just a little too wide...

but that yours was a face

that a man could see in his dreams...

for the whole of his life.

I'd say that you were vain, selfish...

cruel, deceitful.

I'd say that you were adorable.

I'd say that you were... Sibella.

What a pretty speech.

I mean it.

Come and say it to me again.

I'd say your nose

was just a little too short...

and your mouth -yes, your mouth -

just a little too wide.

Shortly afterwards, my employer had a stroke.

There was little

that could be done...

and the doctor gave him a month,

at the most, to live.

I was glad,

after all his kindness to me...

that I should not

have to kill the old man.

Soon the only obstacle

between me and my inheritance...

would be the duke himself.

I could lay no plan

for disposing ofhim...

as the life he led within those great

stone walls was a closed book to me.

I was gloomily examining

the problem for the hundredth time...

as I awaited one day the expected arrival

of Sibella at my apartments.

- Good afternoon, Mr. Mazzini.

- Mrs. D'Ascoyne.!

I was passing

through St. James's...

and thought I would take

the opportunity to call on you.

Was that wise?

Discreet, I mean?

There are some conventions which must be

governed by individual circumstance.

Surely it is safe for a woman

to visit a man of your reputation.

It is of your reputation

that I'm thinking.

Without being inhospitable, I would be

happier if your visit were not a long one.

I appreciate the scrupulousness

of your motives.

- I have, anyhow, only one important matter to speak of.

- That is?

I have thought a great deal about

what you said at our last meeting...

and I have tried to think

what Henry's wishes would be.

I remember he said to me once...

"You have too much good in you, Edith,

for one man.

I sometimes wish that others

could have a share of it. "

I have reconsidered

the offer you made to me...

thank you again for it,

and accept it glady.

You rob me of words.

I think, however, we should make

no announcement for three months, at least.

As you think best.

In these, uh, new circumstances...

I think it more than ever desirable

that your unconventional...

though in its purpose delightful,

visit should be cut short.

If your attention as a husband is equal

of your consideration as a friend...

I shall have made

a most fortunate decision.

Do you not think, though, that perhaps

Uncle Ethelred, as head of the family...

should be told at once?

Perhaps so.

Yes, I'll write to him.

Good-bye, Louis.

Good-bye, Edith.

You leave behind you

the happiest man in London.

This was not a piece of news...

which I was looking forward

to breaking to Sibella.

She had no rights in the matter...

but women have a disconcerting ability

to make scenes out of nothing...

and to prove themselves injured

when they themselves are at fault.

Anyhow, I had three months'grace

before I need face that storm.

Have you taken to using

attar of roses?

- No. Why?

- Thought I could smell it.

I met such a beautiful woman

on the stairs just now.

I expect that would be

Mrs. D'Ascoyne.

- What was she doing here?

- She called in to see me.

- What about?

- Business. Family business.

Let me get you a glass of sherry.

A day or so later, I received a letter from Lionel.

He requested an interview with me

at his house on a matter of some delicacy.

I was somewhat perturbed,

for nine times out of 10...

what is referred to

as a matter of some delicacy...

is, in point of fact,

one of extreme indelicacy.

Two days later

I made the tedious journey to Bayswater.

It was typical of Lionel that he should

live on the wrong side of the park.

Hello, old boy. Have a drink.

No, thank you.

Never during the day.

You don't mind if I do?

Keep out the cold.

I was about to remark

on the warmth of the day.

- Just a joke, old boy.

- Ah, yes.

- Sit down, old boy.

- No, thank you. I would rather stand.

A warm day, isn't it?

For the time of the year, I mean.

Distinctly.

It's also a very busy day.

May we proceed to the matter

about which you wished to see me?

Right. A matter of some delicacy,

actually, old boy.

But I said to myself,

"Louis's a sport and a man of the world.

- Always been a sport. "

- Thank you.

Always admired the sporting way in which

you took to Sibella marrying me and not you.

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