[Library at the Manor House. Cecily is slumped on a sofa with a tablet balanced on her lap.]
Cecily. 'Not unattractive eighteen-year-old, currently choosing from a possible list of future rewarding careers, seeks a man named Ernest for serious long-term relationship'... No... 'Not unsophisticated twenty-two-year-old fashion designer… no... fashion entrepreneur seeks...' [Cecily slowly stretches her fingers.]
This has to be perfect. 'Single, up-and-coming writer seeks husband named Ernest.' That's a bit harsh. How about 'looking for an Ernest boyfriend.'
Miss Prism. Cecily! Where are you? [Miss Prism walks into the room] Cecily, my dear; I thought your Uncle Jack was quite clear you're not to fritter your life away on the world wide web.
Cecily. Miss Prism, for the last time he is not my Uncle and I am eighteen and I will do as I please... [Cecily pauses, rethinking her approach.]
Actually I really could use your help. I am creating my profile page for
Miss Prism. Is that some ghastly Internet dating site? You don't need to sign up to something like that.
Cecily. Quite but I'm never going to meet anyone stuck out here in the middle of nowhere. I've been homeschooled all my life, I am still not allowed on Facebook, and I never get to go to the city. Of course I'll meet my perfect match, I am a firm believer in serendipity. I try to arrange for it whenever I can.
Miss Prism. Well for goodness sake if you do sign up make sure you use an alias, you don't want to put the family name to shame. Honor?
Verity. I don't know about Honor but I've always felt like a Verity.