In which Henrietta has an interview with the countess.
The countess, like a discreet matron, was resolved to see the young woman, of whom miss Cordwain entertained a jealousy, that she might by wholesome counsels fortify her against seduction; for she supposed that this suspicion took its rise from the girl’s being pretty, and perhaps some little unmeaning gallantry of her son’s, who, like all other young men, admired beauty wherever he found it.
She was willing also to know certainly whether miss Cordwain’s fears were only imaginary, that she might the better effect a reconciliation between the lovers; for she passionately desired the completion of a match that would put her son into possession of forty thousand pounds.
When Mrs. Smith appeared, in consequence of her summons, and told her that Mrs.12 Henrietta waited her ladyship’s commands, the countess asked her what sort of a young woman she was?
Mrs. Smith replied, that she was an aukward sort of a body, mightily conceited of her beauty she believed; and Heaven knows, added she, she has not much to boast of.
“Well; tell her to come in,” said the countess, beginning to believe, from this account of her, that miss Cordwain’s fears were not without foundation; for vanity, she well knew, was the great underminer of chastity, from the duchess down to the chamber-maid.
When Henrietta entered the room, the countess, who expected to see a very different person, was so struck with her beauty and the dignity of her air, that she rose from her seat, and returned the graceful courtesy she made her with a complaisance that surprised her own woman, who, being ordered by her lady to leave the room, instantly obeyed, but went no farther than the door, where she stood listening, and heard all that passed.
“You appear to me,” said the countess to Henrietta, with an engaging smile, “to deserve so little the suspicions that are entertained of you, that I really know not how to mention them to you, though it was for that purpose I sent for you hither.”
Henrietta was a little surprised at this beginning; but conscious of the integrity of all her actions, she was wholly free from any apprehensions that could discompose her.
“I know not, madam (said she) the nature of those suspicions which I have incurred, but I am very sure I have no guilt to reproach myself with, which should make me fear to stand the strictest scrutiny.”
“Upon my word I believe you,” said the countess, charmed with the noble confidence of her answer, and the graceful manner in which it was delivered; “and it must be my son’s imprudence that has given occasion for Mr. Cordwain’s suspicions.”
The countess was too delicate to make use of miss Cordwain’s name upon this occasion; but Henrietta in an instant comprehended the whole mystery, and was now able to account for the injurious language she had given her.
“Own freely to me,” pursued the countess, smiling, “has not my son been a little troublesome to you, and talked to you of love and such idle stuff?”
“It is some mortification to me, madam,” replied Henrietta, blushing, “to own that I have been affronted in the manner your ladyship mentions: however it is certainly true, lord B—— has thought me weak enough to be dazzled with his professions.”
“Then you have seen my son often,” said the countess.
Henrietta, who thought it behoved her to be very explicit on this occasion, related to the countess the manner of her becoming acquainted with lord B——, his concealing himself in her chamber, and his behaviour afterwards.
“I did not know his lordship’s name,” pursued she; “and though I often heard him mentioned at Mr. Cordwain’s, yet as I had no reason to suspect that he was the same young nobleman, whom I had such reason to avoid, I made no scruple to attend miss Cordwain hither.”
“I am very much concerned,” said the countess, “to hear this account of my son; it was a very shocking attempt. So you have acquainted your mistress with what happened?”
“No, madam,” answered Henrietta, “that was not necessary; but when I discovered that lord B—— was the person who had treated me so freely, I desired miss Cordwain to dismiss me, because I did not chuse to throw myself in his way.”
“That was very prudently resolved,” said the countess; “and when are you to leave miss Cordwain?”
“Immediately, madam,” replied Henrietta; “I have provided myself with a post-chaise to return to London, and I believe it is now waiting for me.”
“Certainly!” said the countess (after a little pause) “this sudden resolution of yours must surprise miss Cordwain. What did she say when you acquainted her with it?”
“She was extremely angry, madam,” replied Henrietta, “and said many severe things to me, at which I was then astonished; but if miss Cordwain entertained any unfavourable suspicions of me, her behaviour may be accounted for.”
“Since you have not acquainted her,” said the countess, “with my son’s rude attempt upon you, what reason could she have to suspect you?”
“I know of none, madam,” answered Henrietta, “except his lordship’s speaking to me in the garden a little time ago, may have come to her knowledge.”
“You have shewn so much candor in your answers to my questions,” resumed the countess, “that I am persuaded you will tell me frankly the subject of my son’s discourse to you in the garden.”
“I was born to suffer indignities, madam,” said Henrietta, her checks glowing with indignation: “My lord B——, though he must know that I was not ignorant of his honourable passion for miss Cordwain, yet dared to affront me with the mention of his love.”
The countess was a little surprised at this sally, which escaped Henrietta in the warmth of her resentment, when she called to her remembrance a declaration, which she looked on as the highest insult, since lord B—— was acquainted with her birth. Had the countess known that it was the grand-daughter of the earl of ——, who expressed herself in such lofty terms, she would have admired that becoming pride, which suggested them; but in the waiting-maid of miss Cordwain, it appeared absurd and ridiculous, and she was ready to suspect her of artifice and dissimulation.
But when she cast her eyes upon Henrietta, and saw the emotion with which she was agitated, the deep blush that glowed on her cheeks, and the tears that trembled in her eyes, she reproached herself with the injustice she was guilty of, in so soon admitting doubts of her innocence.
Henrietta, supposing from the silence of the countess, that she had no more to say to her, courtesied to her respectfully, and was about to withdraw.
“You must not go,” said that lady in an obliging accent, “till I know whether it is in my power to serve you. You have thrown up miss Cordwain’s service upon my son’s account, it is but just therefore that I should procure you another; if you are not provided for, I will recommend you to my sister, she will either take you herself, or settle you with another lady.”
The countess, in making this offer, had another view besides serving Henrietta. She was not willing to lose sight of her, for she rightly judged that with so many charms in her person, and an understanding far above what was generally found in persons of her rank, this young woman was very likely to inspire a solid passion; and she dreaded lest her son should be so far captivated by her as to neglect the advantageous match that was now offered him.
If she placed her with her sister, or with any of her friends, it would not be easy, she thought, for her son to get access to her; or if he resolved to continue his pursuit, his designs, whatever they were, would be known soon enough to be prevented.
Henrietta penetrated no further into the countess’s sentiments, than what served to give her a high idea of her benevolence. She accepted her offer with expressions of the deepest gratitude; and this the lady considering as a proof of her sincerity and right intentions, she, in the billet which she gave her for her sister, recommended her in very obliging terms to her favour.
Henrietta again politely thanked her, and, receiving the billet, upon which there was a full direction, she went out of the countess’s chamber, with an intention to depart immediately.
Mrs. Smith, whom she found in the anti-chamber, informed her, that her chaise was waiting for her at the gate; upon which Henrietta took leave of her, and descended the backstairs, but was suddenly stopped by Mr. Cordwain, who had followed her, and, seizing her rudely by the arm, charged her with having robbed his daughter.