Containing nothing either new or extraordinary.
Miss Courteney, after having traversed her chamber several times in great restlessness of mind, at length resolved to take a hackney coach and drive to Mr. Damer’s, supposing she should know from his clerks or servants the exact time when he was expected home; at least they could give her a direction where to write to him, and it would be some comfort to acquaint him with her situation, and have his advice.
She had no sooner formed this design than she hastened to put it in execution; and having made a slight alteration in her dress, she went down to Mrs. Eccles, and desired her to send her maid for a coach, telling her she was obliged to go into the city upon business, and desired her not to wait for her at dinner. Mrs. Eccles insisted upon waiting till four o’clock at least, and attended her to the door, less out of complaisance than to hear where she ordered the coachman to drive; for the enquietude, irresolution, and pensiveness, which she discovered in her fair lodger, extremely heightened her curiosity to know her affairs.
Henrietta, though she did not suspect the motive of her officiousness, yet not thinking it proper to let her know where she was going, only bid the coachman drive to St. Paul’s church-yard, and when there, she gave him a fuller direction. Alas! sighed she, when the coach stopped before the great gates of her guardian’s house, were the hospitable master of this mansion at home, here should I find a secure asylum.
As soon as a servant appeared, she asked if Mr. Damer was at home, that she might with greater propriety introduce her farther enquiries; but was most agreeably surprised to hear him answer her in the affirmative, while he opened the coach-door: however, she ordered the coachman to wait, and then followed the servant, who introduced her into a large parlour, and retired to acquaint his master with her being there.
Immediately a young gentleman, of an engaging appearance, entered the room, and desired to know her commands. Henrietta seeing, instead of her guardian, a young man whom she was quite a stranger to, blushed at first, but a more painful sense of her disappointment soon spread a paleness over her fair face.
“Is not Mr. Damer at home, sir!” said she, in an accent that shewed her concern, “my business was with him?”
“My father, madam,” said the young gentleman “is in Holland, from whence I came myself but lately; he has affairs to settle there which will detain him three or four weeks. But cannot I serve you, madam,” added he; his voice becoming insensibly softer while he gazed on a form which it was not possible to behold without some sensibility. “Pray let me know, it will give me great pleasure if I can be in the least degree useful to you.”
“I shall be obliged to you, sir,” replied miss Courteney, “if you will forward a letter from me to Mr. Damer. It is a great unhappiness to me that he is abroad at this time: he is my guardian, and at present I have need of his advice and assistance.”
“Pardon me, madam,” said young Mr. Damer, “is not your name Courteney.” “It is, sir,” replied she.
“Dear miss,” said he, looking on her with a tender sympathy; “I wish my father was at home, since you wish so—And yet, perhaps—all parents are alike,” added he, after a pause and sighing, “they are too apt to imagine that happiness consists in riches. But are you in a place of safety, miss—Are you sure you are in no danger of being discovered? I wish it was in my power to offer you an asylum—but—”
“Bless me, sir!” interrupted Henrietta, in great astonishment, “you seem to be perfectly well acquainted with my situation.”
“Yes, madam,” said Mr. Damer, “I know something of your affairs, and from my soul I approve of your courage and resolution. A gentleman, named Danvers, was here yesterday to enquire for you; your aunt’s chaplain, is he not?”
“Yes, sir,” replied miss Courteney, “and my persecutor—but what did he say? I suppose he represented me in strange colours.”
“You need only be seen, madam,” said Mr. Damer, “to undeceive the most prejudiced: yet what he said was not disadvantageous to you, unless,” added he, with a soft smile, “you think it a fault to have a tender heart.”
“Ah! the wretch,” interrupted miss Courteney, not able to contain her indignation; “I see he has been propagating falshoods injurious to my reputation; after having poisoned the mind of my aunt with suspicions that were the cause of my losing her affection, he is endeavouring to deprive me of every friend I have in the world—But this, sir, is the plain truth: he suggested, as I have no reason to doubt, a preposterous match for me to my aunt; I rejected it; he found means to persuade my aunt, that I listened privately to the addresses of some man who was an improper husband for me. My aunt, in order to prevent my ruin, as she supposed, insisted upon my accepting the person she had chosen for me; and, upon my obstinate refusal, was prevailed upon by her chaplain to resolve to confine me in a nunnery abroad. I had intelligence of this design, and I secretly left my aunt’s house, to prevent her executing it; but I am so far from having any secret engagement, that if I could be sure my aunt would not pursue her scheme of entrapping me in a convent, I would instantly return and bind myself by the most solemn oaths never to marry any one whom she does not approve.
“You see, sir,” proceeded miss Courteney, “what need I have of your father’s assistance; he is my only friend and protector; through his mediation I might expect to be restored to the good opinion of my aunt.”
“Well, madam,” said Mr. Damer, “if you will write to him, I will take care of your letter; and if it be ready to-morrow, I will attend you myself for it; I hope you have no objection to my knowing where you are: in my father’s absence I shall be proud to act as your guardian; though he has had the happiness of knowing you longer, yet his concern for your interest cannot be greater than mine. Shall I wait on you to-morrow morning, miss?” added he. Henrietta, by his manner of urging this request, and his frequently casting his eye towards the door, as if afraid of some interruption, concluding that she detained him from business of more importance, rose up immediately, and, giving him a direction to her lodgings by the name of Benson, told him, she would have her letter ready; but asked if it would not come safe inclosed to him by the penny-post, being unwilling, she said, to give him the trouble of coming for it.
“I beg, madam,” said he, as he took her hand to lead her to the coach, “that you will believe I can have no greater pleasure than that of serving you. It is necessary that I should have an opportunity of talking to you at leisure, that I may know how I can be farther useful to you.”
Having helped her into the coach, he bowed low, and retired hastily, with such an expression of tender concern on his countenance as any woman, less free from vanity than miss Courteney, would not have failed to observe; but she making no other reflections on his behaviour, than that he was more polite than persons usually are who are bred up to business, congratulated herself on having found a friend, through whom she could securely correspond with her guardian, and receive his advice, so that she might now consider herself as being under his immediate care and direction, though absent; a circumstance that greatly alleviated her uneasiness.
Mrs. Eccles, who had waited dinner for her longer than had been agreed on, expressed great pleasure at seeing her look so chearful. “To be sure (said she) you have heard some unexpected good news, I am heartily glad of it—Well, now I hope you will have more spirits.” Henrietta smiled, but made no answer; for an ingenuous mind can only evade indiscreet curiosity by silence.
The cloth was scarce removed, when the young lord, who had now taken possession of his apartment in Mrs. Eccles’s house, came into the parlour. Henrietta immediately rose up to retire to her own chamber, when he starting back, and standing at the door as if to obstruct her passage, “I came, (said he) Mrs. Eccles, to beg you would make me a dish of coffee; but since my presence drives this young lady away, I will go up stairs again.”
“Oh, by no means, my lord,” said Mrs. Eccles, “I am sure miss Benson will not let you think so. You are not going, miss, are you?” added she, turning to Henrietta.
“I have letters to write,” said the young lady, “that will take me up the whole afternoon.”
“Well,” said my lord, “I will drink no coffee then; for unless you stay, miss, I shall be persuaded that my coming has driven you away. Let me intreat you,” pursued he, entering and leading her to a chair, “to allow me the pleasure of drinking a dish of coffee with you; you will have time enough afterwards to write your letters.”
Miss Courteney, who was willing to avoid the appearance of singularity, sat down again, tho’ with some reluctance, telling his lordship, that she would not be the means of disappointing him of his coffee; but that she must insist upon being permitted to withdraw in half an hour, having business of consequence upon her hands.
The young nobleman gave little attention to what she said, but gazed on her with an earnestness that threw her into some confusion. The millener going out of the room to give orders about the coffee, he began in most vehement language to declare a passion for her, and called in the assistance of poetry, to express his admiration of her charms.
Henrietta, who in her own character would have treated this manner of address with ridicule and contempt, thought it became her, in her present circumstances, to resent it seriously; therefore rising, with some signs of indignation, she told him, that since his lordship thought proper to entertain her with such kind of discourse, she would immediately retire. My lord, who saw she was angry in good earnest, was excessively afraid of her leaving him; therefore taking her hand, which he forcibly held, till he had sealed a vow upon it with his lips, that he would not say another word to offend her, he brought her back to her seat, which, upon seeing Mrs. Eccles enter, she resumed.
The conversation then took another turn; but Henrietta was too much chagrined to mix in it with any degree of chearfulness: besides, the party seemed to her to be but ill assorted, a nobleman, a millener, and a young woman in obscure circumstances. Her delicacy was shocked, and all the politeness she was mistress of was scarce sufficient to hinder her from shewing how much she was displeased with herself and her company.
As soon as the tea-equipage was removed, she looked at her watch; and seeming apprehensive that she should not have time enough to write her letters, she withdrew with such precipitation, that they had no opportunity to solicit her longer stay.
“This is a strange girl,” said the young lord, throwing himself into his chair, from whence he had risen to return the hasty compliment she made at her departure, “but divinely handsome! who can she be? I vow to God I believe I shall be in love with her in earnest: have you made no discovery yet, Mrs. Eccles,” pursued he; “there is certainly some mystery in the case, and a love mystery it must be; for women are not even faithful to their own secrets, unless an amour is the business, and then they are impenetrable.”
“Your lordship may be sure,” said Mrs. Eccles, “that I have spared no pains to discover who she is; but she is excessively reserved, and talks so little, that there is no probability of intrapping her: yet I think there is one way by which your curiosity may be satisfied. Your lordship has seen a gay flighty lady with her, of whom she is very fond.”
“What, that ugly creature!” said my lord, “that fastened upon me in your shop; do you mean her? is miss Benson fond of that thing?”
“Oh! very fond,” replied Mrs. Eccles, “They were shut up together four hours this very morning.”
“Then depend upon it she is the confident,” said his lordship. “Oh! I guess your scheme; you would have me bribe her.”
“Bribe her, my lord,” repeated Mrs. Eccles; “she seems to be a woman of some fashion. I dare say you would affront her extremely, by offering her a bribe.”
“I am very sure,” interrupted his lordship, “that she will not be able to resist the bribe I shall offer her: I will flatter her, my dear Mrs. Eccles, till I not only become master of all her friend’s secrets, but even her own; but how shall I get an opportunity of talking to her alone?”
“I will engage,” said Mrs. Eccles, “that it will not be long before she is here again; and, if your lordship should happen to be below when she comes, I fancy you would not find it difficult to detain her a little while from her friend.”
“Well,” said my lord, “I leave it to you to manage this interview for me: when I know who this miss Benson is, I can make my approaches accordingly; but when do you expect her down stairs again?” “Not till supper-time,” said Mrs. Eccles; “she is never weary of being alone.” “Ah, that is a bad sign!” said he, “I doubt I have a rival—Well I will look in upon you at ten o’clock; perhaps I may find her with you.”
Mrs. Eccles assuring him she would engage her till that time, if possible, he went away humming an opera air, but with less vacuity of thought than usual, miss Benson being so much in his head, that, if he had been accustomed to reflection, he would have concluded she was in his heart also, and that he was in love with her in earnest.
Henrietta in the mean time was employed in writing her letter to Mr. Damer, to whom she gave a faithful account of all that had happened to her, and earnestly intreated his good offices towards effecting a reconciliation between her aunt and her. The inconveniencies she saw herself exposed to in her present situation made her so desirous of this happy event, that her letter was almost a continued repetition of solicitations for that purpose. She begged him, in case he did not return to England, to write to her aunt, and endeavour to soften her, assuring him that she pretended to no greater liberty than what an obedient daughter might expect from a parent; being resolved to obey her will in every thing, provided she might not be compelled to marry the old baronet, nor confined in a nunnery with a view to the change of her religion.
She expressed her satisfaction in the polite behaviour of his son to her, whom she would consider, she said, as her guardian in his absence, and would take no step without his advice and concurrence.
She had finished her letter long before the millener’s usual hour of supper; but being resolved to go down no more that evening, she spread letters and papers upon the table, as if she still continued extremely busy. Mrs. Eccles, upon entering her chamber to know if she was ready for supper, found her with the pen still in her hand; and was a good deal mortified to hear her say, That, having dined so late, she would not sup that night, but would finish her letters before she went to bed.
Mrs. Eccles did not think proper to press her; for her extreme reserve inspired her with a kind of awe, that made her cautious of giving her the least disgust; and Henrietta taking leave of her at her chamber-door for the night, she went away in great concern for the disappointment his lordship would meet with.
It was indeed a very mortifying disappointment to him; for his impatience to see miss Courteney had brought him back much sooner than he had intended, and Mrs. Eccles, when she came down stairs, found him already in her parlour. When he heard the young lady’s resolution, not to appear again that night, he took an unceremonious leave of his complaisant landlady, and joined his company again at White’s,28 wondering to find himself in so ill an humour, on so slight an occasion, and that dice and Burgundy were scarce sufficient to call off his thoughts from this coy unknown, whom yet he did not despair of gaining.