Work Text:
I (a)
Cornelia Robson-Bessner and dr. Bessner got off the cab, Bessner gently holding Cornelia’s hand and then he gestured towards his house and garden.
“Cornelia, welcome to our house,” Bessner said. “I hope you’ll like it here and maybe you’ll be able to make it a bit warmer and more welcoming here.”
“I will do my best,” Cornelia said with a smile.
“Aren’t you a bit sad that everything has happened in such a hurry? Returning to London, the wedding…”
“Not at all. I called my mother from Shellah and she agreed to our wedding.”
“And as a sort of a reverse wedding gift we will buy her a boat ticket to Great Britain very soon,” Bessner assured her and Cornelia – after she had cautiously looked round the street – placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.
“I’m sure I’ll love it here. And I know my mother will like it here too.”
“Don’t forget though, my dear, that we will travel a lot. I am also working in Czechoslovakia and am involved in some research in Germany.”
“That’s so exciting,” Cornelia exclaimed and even clapped with her hands.
“Let’s get inside,” Bessner suggested, hold the door open and Cornelia followed him.
I (b)
Lady Dalgliesh knocked on the door of Lady Bracknell’s villa – as she did every Sunday afternoon – and waited for the chief butler to open the door. Both ladies had grown-up sons and daughters who had already married and moved out of the house and they sometimes felt a bit lonely. Their neighbours and the happenings in "their" street and the neighbourhood were a welcome distraction and also a topic for a discussion.
“Lady Bracknell, I have – I’m not afraid to say – ‘utterly shocking’ news for you!”
“No!” lady Bracknell put a hand on her heart.
“Oh, yes. Doctor Bessner has – apparently – married.”
“Oh, so he does have a wife. We have always assumed but never got the confirmation. Maybe she’s living in Germany.”
“Nonono, you have not understood me. Doctor Bessner has just married. Last week! My maid spoke with their maid… you can imagine. And he met this young girl on a ship voyage in the Middle East. It was that scandalous murderous voyage the newspapers have reported about. They returned to London, spent a few nights in a hotel – not in the same room, fortunately – it was before the wedding, and apparently then they got married and came here.”
“What a highly interesting notice.”
“And that’s not all,” lady Dalgliesh whispered. “I saw how she kissed him. In the street! On the cheek!”
“Well, it could have been worse,” lady Bracknell concluded.
II (a)
“What a surprise!” Cornelia exclaimed when their butler brought lord Dawlish into their salon. “Welcome, Mr. Ferg-, Sir,” she said with a slight smile.
“What’s brought you to us, Sir?” Bessner showed up and shook hands with Dawlish.
“Boredom. Mild curiosity. Maybe a broken heart but that’s not a suitable topic to talk about. My need to have an attentive public when I’m preaching about the sins of capitalism and gushing over socialism. Pick whichever reason satisfies you.”
“We may not agree with everything, but we can promise that we’ll be listening very attentively,” Bessner said and sat down next to Cornelia on a sofa.
II (b)
“Do you know the gentleman who comes so often to the Bessners?” lady Bracknell asked.
“Gentleman? Do you mean the man in weird clothes? A purple suit! And crumpled on top of that,” lady Dalgliesh pursed her lips.
“The one,” lady Bracknell confirmed.
“I have to admit that I still have not found out. My maid has asked their maid but so far only something about a Mr. Ferguson,” lady Dalgliesh reported.
Lady Bracknell swelled with pride. “I venture you have not caught him the one time when he arrived in the luxurious carriage."
Lady Dalgliesh shook her head, defeated.
“There was a coat of arms. It’s lord Dawlish!” lady Bracknell triumphed. “And of course, it’s him. I remember him when he was seven- or eight-years-old. But since then, he has disappeared from our circles a bit. His rebellious phase has been taking exceptionally long, that explains the purple suit, the dishevelled appearance...”
III (a)
Bessner poured a chocolate liqueur into three tumblers.
“Philip,” he cleared his throat. “You come here so often and we like your visits so much…”
“And now comes the but,” Dawlish chuckled.
“Not at all,” Cornelia said quickly and put her hand on Dawlish’s arm.
“We feel so free when you are around. And uhm… you make it no secret that you still admire Cornelia.”
“I promise I’ll stop saying it if it means that it’s in a way of our friendship,” Dawlish exclaimed.
“No need for that. I, as a doctor, am confronted with many situations and arrangements more traditional people wouldn’t understand. Wouldn’t want to. To my surprise, Cornelia shares this open-mindedness with me,” Bessner said, gesturing wildly around. "Though I shouldn't be surprised; I knew she was unique the moment I met her on the Karnak steamer."
Dawlish observed Cornelia and Bessner carefully, trying to read their body language and thoughts.
Cornelia smiled. “We are always meeting here in the salon, and we have been thinking that we might extend this invitation also to the-“ she said.
“Bedroom,” Dawlish blurted out.
III (b)
“Isn’t it such an odd thing, the visits in strangest hours of the day, or rather, of the night,” lady Bracknell said another Sunday when she visited lady Dalgliesh and they had just finished the sponge cake. She gestured towards the Bessners' house.
“Don’t even tell me about it, the carriage has woken me up two times already. Of course, it was lord Dawlish, coming to the Bessners at eleven p.m. Such a late visit may be justifiable when a robber takes everything to your last penny and even your clothes… but otherwise?”
“And he’s not even bringing the usual flowers for the hostess and a bottle of wine for the host!” lady Bracknell remarked. “O tempora, o mores,” she shook her head.
“I have been thinking, maybe he’s a distant relative of Mrs. Bessner. But she’s from America…”
“I think, my dear lady Dalgliesh,” lady Bracknell lowered her voice but then interrupted her speech.
“You can say anything to me.”
“I think that they have a ménage à trois there,” lady Bracknell whispered.
“No!” lady Dalgliesh shrieked out.
“Uhm… and could you… maybe explain what that … thing is?” she asked after a moment.
“You don’t even want to know,” lady Bracknell concluded resolutely.