While Godfrey has set up housekeeping in Venice with his mistress Lydia and his secretary, Edith has temporarily entrusted their son to his grandmother, taken a flat in London, and launched a play-writing career as "Janet Reed." Godfrey may have described Edith to Lydia as "a good wife, a good mother, a painfully good woman, sensible, cultivated. . . . with a college education--only not the smallest, faintest touch of charm or glamour," but he returns to London to find his cast-off wife dashing to opening night parties, flirting with actors, and wearing the latest fashions (136-7). Instantly aware of his wife's new desirability, Godfrey becomes jealous and suspects her of having taken a lover. He concludes that Edith's failure to divorce him as she promised must result from her preoccupation with a new male love-interest.
Much to his surprise, Godfrey learns that Edith's delay in divorcing him results not from her having been caught up in a whirlwind romance but from having launched a whirlwind career. "Three days after you went off," she tells him, "I got a wire from the management saying they'd take the play. . . . and rushed up to Town and put in a strenuous month getting the contract signed, and then there was casting--you've seen what's that like--and rehearsals--" (168, 170). When he rages, "Great heavens, Edith, have you no sense of proportion? Surely our married life is of more importance than a few rehearsals!", she replies, "But it wasn't our married life. It was your unmarried life. And when my life got all exciting and interesting, everything else seemed to get so far off and unreal" (170).
Edith's life as the playwright Janet Reed is interesting, and she credits her new-found satisfaction to work. Eventually, she ends up collaborating with Lydia, her former romantic rival, on a new play. Godfrey finds himself out in the cold. While some readers may object to her having made Godfrey such an unappealing character, Sayers offers funny and smart depictions of Edith and Lydia. The dialogue is sharp--Sayers at her best. This play is too well-kept a secret--and the play version of BUSMAN'S HONEYMOON is worth reading, too.
This can be a difficult read, as you would expect. Some of the legal and real estate squabbles are obscure. On the other hand they involve people like John Dudley, father of Robin, who also turns out to be Plantagenet-Lisle's stepson, and Edward Seymour, brother of Queen Jane. (Both these men, incidentally, become Lord Protector during Edward VI's reign.) And it's fascinating to read genuine letters written by the administrative power, Thomas Cromwell, who is probably the best writer of the lot, though clearly very calculating and political. We also watch as two of Arthur's stepdaughters, through his second marriage to Honor Basset, are forced to vie for positions as ladies-in-waiting to Queen Anne Boleyn, his stepson James Bassett vies to get into the college of Navarre so that he'll be hobnobbing with Princes, future Kings and Cardinals, and a perfectly ordinary courtship between his sister Mary and the son of a French business partner goes sour because of the Reformation. Meanwhile the daily routine of ordinary life shows through with everyone throwing gloves and lace and coats and animals, some as pets, some to eat, at each other, and describing the various states of lands--that they're fighting over, live on, or are absent from. Different readers will get different things out of the wealth of material here. Though everyone will learn a little bit more about why Cardinal Reginald Pole was so important to the machinations of Tudor times. There's even a nice picture of him.