‘I am very sorry, Madam,’ said Sir Clement, in a tone of surprise, ‘if I have been so unfortunate as to offend you; but I believe you will not regret the honour I now have of attending Miss Anville, when you hear that I have been so happy as to do her some service.’
Just as Madame Duval, with her usual Ma foi, was beginning to reply, the attention of Sir Clement was wholly drawn from her, by the appearance of Mr Smith, who coming suddenly behind me, and freely putting his hands on my shoulders, cried, ‘O ho, my little runaway, have I found you at last? I have been scampering all over the gardens for you, for I was determined to find you, if you were above ground. – But how could you be so cruel as to leave us?’
I turned round to him, and looked with a degree of contempt that I hoped would have quieted him; but he had not the sense to understand me; and, attempting to take my hand, he added, ‘Such a demure looking lady as you are, who’d have thought of your leading one such a dance? – Come, now, don’t be so coy, – only think what a trouble I have had in running after you!’
‘The trouble, Sir,’ said I, ‘was of your own choice, – not mine.’ And I walked round to the other side of Madame Duval.
Perhaps I was too proud, – but I could not endure that Sir Clement, whose eyes followed him with looks of the most surprised curiosity, should witness his unwelcome familiarity.
Upon my removal, he came up to me, and, in a low voice, said, ‘You are not, then, with the Mirvans?’
‘No, Sir.’
‘And pray – may I ask, – have you left them long?’
‘No, Sir.’
‘How unfortunate I am! – but yesterday I sent to acquaint the Captain I should reach the Grove by to-morrow noon! However, I shall get away as fast as possible. Shall you be long in town?’
‘I believe not, Sir.’
‘And then, when you leave it, – which way – will you allow me to ask, which way you shall travel?’
‘Indeed, – I don’t know.’
‘Not know! – But do you return to the Mirvans any more?’
‘I – I can’t tell, Sir.’
And then, I addressed myself to Madame Duval, with such a pretended earnestness, that he was obliged to be silent.
As he cannot but observe the great change in my situation, which he knows not how to account for, there is something in all these questions, and this unrestrained curiosity, that I did not expect from a man, who when he pleases can be so well-bred, as Sir Clement Willoughby. He seems disposed to think that the alteration in my companions authorizes an alteration in his manners. It is true, he has always treated me with uncommon freedom, but never before with so disrespectful an abruptness. This observation, which he has given me cause to make, of his changing with the tide, has sunk him more in my opinion, than any other part of his conduct.
Yet I could almost have laughed, when I looked at Mr Smith, who no sooner saw me addressed by Sir Clement, than, retreating aloof from the company, he seemed to lose at once all his happy self-sufficiency and conceit; looking now at the baronet, now at himself, surveying, with sorrowful eyes, his dress, struck with his air, his gestures, his easy gaiety; he gazed at him with envious admiration, and seemed himself, with conscious inferiority, to shrink into nothing.
Soon after, Mr Brown, running up to us, called out, ‘La, what, i’n’t Miss Polly come yet?’
‘Come!’ said Mr Branghton, ‘why, I thought you went to fetch her yourself, did n’t you?’
‘Yes, but I could n’t find her; – yet I dare say I’ve been over half the garden.’
‘Half! but why did not you go over it all?’
‘Why, so I will: but only I thought I’d just come and see if she was here first?’
‘But where’s Tom?’
‘Why, I don’t know; for he would not stay with me, all as ever I could say; for we met some young gentlemen of his acquaintance, and so he bid me go and look by myself, for he said, says he, I can divert myself better another way, says he.’
This account being given, away again went this silly young man! and Mr Branghton, extremely incensed, said he would go and see after them himself.
‘So now,’ cried Madame Duval, ‘he’s gone too! why, at this rate we shall have to wait for one or other of them all night!’
Observing that Sir Clement seemed disposed to renew his enquiries, I turned towards one of the paintings, and, pretending to be very much occupied in looking at it, asked M. Du Bois some questions concerning the figures.
‘O, Mon Dieu!’ cried Madame Duval, ‘don’t ask him; your best way is to ask Mr Smith, for he’s been here the oftenest. Come, Mr Smith, I dare say you can tell us all about them.’
‘Why, yes, Ma’am, yes,’ said Mr Smith, who, brightening up at this application, advanced towards us, with an air of assumed importance, which, however, sat very uneasily upon him, and begged to know what he should explain first; ‘For I have attended,’ said he, ‘to all these paintings, and know every thing in them perfectly well; for I am rather fond of pictures, Ma’am; and, really, I must say, I think a pretty picture is a – a very – is really a very – is something very pretty. – ’
‘So do I too,’ said Madame Duval, ‘but pray now, Sir, tell us who that is meant for,’ pointing to a figure of Neptune.
‘That! – why that, Ma’am, is, – Lord bless me, I can’t think how I come to be so stupid, but really I have forgot his name, – and yet, I know it as well as my own, too, – however, he’s a General, Ma’am, they are all Generals.’
I saw Sir Clement bite his lips; and, indeed, so did I mine.
‘Well,’ said Madame Duval, ‘it’s the oddest dress for a General ever I see!’
‘He seems so capital a figure,’ said Sir Clement to Mr Smith, ‘that I imagine he must be Generalissimo of the whole army.’
‘Yes, Sir, yes,’ answered Mr Smith, respectfully bowing, and highly delighted at being thus referred to, ‘you are perfectly right, – but I cannot for my life think of his name; – perhaps, Sir, you may remember it?’
‘No, really,’ replied Sir Clement, ‘my acquaintance among the Generals is not so extensive.’
The ironical tone of voice in which Sir Clement spoke, entirely disconcerted Mr Smith; who, again retiring to an humble distance, seemed sensibly mortified at the failure of his attempt to recover his consequence.
Soon after, Mr Branghton returned, with his youngest daughter, whom he had rescued from a party of insolent young men; but he had not yet been able to find the eldest. Miss Polly was really frightened, and declared she would never go into the dark walks again. Her father, leaving her with us, went in quest of her sister.
While she was relating her adventures, to which nobody listened more attentively than Sir Clement, we saw Mr Brown enter the room. ‘O la!’ cried Miss Polly, ‘let me hide myself, and don’t tell him I’m come.’
She then placed herself behind Madame Duval, in such a manner that she could not be seen.
‘So Miss Polly is not come yet!’ said the simple swain; ‘well, I can’t think where she can be! I’ve been a-looking, and looking, and looking all about, and I can’t find her, all I can do.’
‘Well but, Mr Brown,’ said Mr Smith, ‘sha’n’t you go and look for the lady again?’
‘Yes, Sir,’ said he, sitting down, ‘but I must rest me a little bit first. You can’t think how tired I am.’
‘O fie, Mr Brown, fie,’ cried Mr Smith, winking at us, ‘tired of looking for a lady! Go, go, for shame!’
‘So I will, Sir, presently; but you’d be tired too, if you’d walked so far: besides, I think she’s gone out of the garden, or else I must have seen something or other of her.’
A he, he, he! of the tittering Polly, now betrayed her, and so ended this ingenious little artifice.
At last appeared Mr Branghton and Miss Biddy, who, with a face of mixed anger and confusion, addressing herself to me, said, ‘So Miss, so you ran away from me! Well, see if I don’t do as much by you, some day or other! But I th
ought how it would be, you’d no mind to leave the gentlemen, though you’d run away from me.’
I was so much surprised at this attack, that I could not answer her for very amazement; and she proceeded to tell us how ill she had been used, and that two young men had been making her walk up and down the dark walks by absolute force, and as fast as ever they could tear her along; and many other particulars, which I will not tire you with relating. In conclusion, looking at Mr Smith, she said, ‘But, to be sure, thought I, at least all the company will be looking for me; so I little expected to find you all here, talking as comfortably as ever you can. However, I know I may thank my cousin for it!’
‘If you mean me, Madam,’ said I, very much shocked, ‘I am quite ignorant in what manner I can have been accessary to your distress.’
‘Why, by running away so. If you’d stayed with us, I’ll answer for it, Mr Smith, and M. Du Bois would have come to look for us; but I suppose they could not leave your ladyship.’
The folly and unreasonableness of this speech would admit of no answer. But what a scene was this for Sir Clement! his surprise was evident; and, I must acknowledge, my confusion was equally great.
We had now to wait for young Branghton, who did not appear for some time; and, during this interval, it was with difficulty that I avoided Sir Clement, who was on the rack of curiosity, and dying to speak to me.
When, at last, the hopeful youth returned, a long and frightful quarrel ensued between him and his father, in which his sisters occasionally joined, concerning his neglect; and he defended himself only by a brutal mirth, which he indulged at their expence.
Every one, now, seemed inclined to depart, – when, as usual, a dispute arose, upon the way of our going, whether in a coach or a boat. After much debating, it was determined that we should make two parties, one by the water and the other by land; for Madame Duval declared she would not, upon any account, go into a boat at night.
Sir Clement then said, that if she had no carriage in waiting, he should be happy to see her and me safe home, as his was in readiness.
Fury started into her eyes, and passion inflamed every feature, as she answered, ‘Pardi, no – you may take care of yourself, if you please; but as to me, I promise you I shan’t trust myself with no such person.’
He pretended not to comprehend her meaning, yet, to wave a discussion, acquiesced in her refusal. The coach party fixed upon consisted of Madame Duval, M. Du Bois, Miss Branghton, and myself.
I now began to rejoice, in private, that, at least, our lodgings would be neither seen nor known by Sir Clement. We soon met with a hackney-coach, into which he handed me, and then took leave.
Madame Duval, having already given the coachman her direction, he mounted the box, and we were just driving off, when Sir Clement exclaimed, ‘By Heaven, this is the very coach I had in waiting for myself!’
‘This coach, your honour!’ said the man, ‘no, that it i’n’t.’
Sir Clement, however, swore that it was, and, presently, the man, begging his pardon, said he had really forgotten that he was engaged.
I have no doubt but that this scheme occurred to him at the moment, and that he made some sign to the coachman, which induced him to support it: for there is not the least probability that the accident really happened, as it is most likely his own chariot was in waiting.
The man then opened the coach-door, and Sir Clement advancing to it, said, ‘I don’t believe there is another carriage to be had, or I would not incommode you; but, as it may be disagreeable to you to wait here any longer, I beg you will not get out, for you shall be set down before I am carried home, if you will be so good as to make a little room.’
And so saying, in he jumps, and seated himself between M. Du Bois and me, while our astonishment at the whole transaction was too great for speech. He then ordered the coachman to drive on, according to the directions he had already received.
For the first ten minutes, no one uttered a word; and then, Madame Duval, no longer able to contain herself, exclaimed, ‘Ma foi, if this is n’t one of the impudentest things ever I see!’
Sir Clement, regardless of this rebuke, attended only to me; however, I answered nothing he said, when I could possibly avoid so doing. Miss Branghton made several attempts to attract his notice, but in vain, for he would not take the trouble of paying her any regard.
Madame Duval, during the rest of the ride, addressed herself to M. Du Bois in French, and in that language exclaimed with great vehemence against boldness and assurance.
I was extremely glad when I thought our journey must be nearly at an end, for my situation was very uneasy to me, as Sir Clement perpetually endeavoured to take my hand. I looked out of the coach-window, to see if we were near home; Sir Clement, stooping over me did the same, and then, in a voice of infinite wonder, called out, ‘Where the D—l is the man driving to? – why we are in broad St Giles’s!’
‘O, he’s very right,’ cried Madame Duval, ‘so never trouble your head about that, for I sha’n’t go by no directions of yours, I promise you.’
When, at last, we stopped, at a Hosier’s in High Holborn – Sir Clement said nothing, but his eyes, I saw, were very busily employed in viewing the place, and the situation of the house. The coach, he said, belonged to him, and therefore he insisted upon paying for it; and then he took leave. M. Du Bois walked home with Miss Branghton, and Madame Duval and I retired to our apartments.
How disagreeable an evening’s adventure! not one of the party seemed satisfied, except Sir Clement, who was in high spirits: but Madame Duval, was enraged at meeting with him; Mr Branghton, angry with his children; the frolic of the Miss Branghtons had exceeded their plan, and ended in their own distress; their brother was provoked that there had been no riot; Mr Brown was tired; and Mr Smith mortified. As to myself, I must acknowledge, nothing could be more disagreeable to me, than being seen by Sir Clement Willoughby with a party at once so vulgar in themselves, and so familiar to me.
And you, too, my dear Sir, will, I know, be sorry that I have met him; however, there is no apprehension of his visiting here, as Madame Duval is far too angry to admit him.
Letter Sixteen
Evelina in continuation
Holborn, June 18th
Madame Duval rose very late this morning, and, at one o’clock, we had but just breakfasted, when Miss Branghton, her brother, Mr Smith, and Monsieur Du Bois, called to enquire after our healths.
This civility in young Branghton, I much suspect, was merely the result of his father’s commands; but his sister and Mr Smith, I soon found, had motives of their own. Scarce had they spoken to Madame Duval, when, advancing eagerly to me, ‘Pray, Ma’am,’ said Mr Smith, ‘Who was that gentleman?’
‘Pray, Cousin,’ cried Miss Branghton, ‘was not he the same gentleman you ran away with that night at the opera?’
‘Goodness! that he was,’ said young Branghton; ‘and, I declare, as soon as ever I saw him, I thought I knew his face.’
‘I’m sure I’ll defy you to forget him,’ answered his sister, ‘if once you had seen him: he is the finest gentleman I ever saw in my life; don’t you think so, Mr Smith?’
‘Why, you won’t give the Lady time to speak,’ said Mr Smith.——‘Pray, Ma’am, what is the gentleman’s name?’
‘Willoughby, Sir.’
‘Willoughby! I think I have heard the name. Pray, Ma’am, is he married?’
‘Lord, no, that he is not,’ cried Miss Branghton; ‘he looks too smart, by a great deal, for a married man. Pray, Cousin, how did you get acquainted with him?’
‘Pray, Miss,’ said young Branghton, in the same breath, ‘what’s his business?’
‘Indeed I don’t know,’ answered I.
‘Something very genteel, I dare say,’ added Miss Branghton, ‘because he dresses so fine.’
‘It ought to be something that brings in a good income,’ said Mr Smith, ‘for I’m sure he did not get that suit of cloaths he had on, under thirty or forty pounds; f
or I know the price of cloaths pretty well; – pray, Ma’am, can you tell me what he has a year?’
‘Don’t talk no more about him,’ cried Madame Duval, ‘for I don’t like to hear his name; I believe he’s one of the worst persons in the world; for though I never did him no manner of harm, nor so much as hurt a hair of his head, I know he was an accomplice with that fellow, Captain Mirvan, to take away my life.’
Every body but myself, now crowding around her for an explanation, a violent rapping at the street-door was unheard; and, without any previous notice, in the midst of her narration, Sir Clement Willoughby entered the room. They all started, and, with looks of guilty confusion, as if they feared his resentment for having listened to Madame Duval, they scrambled for chairs, and, in a moment were all formally seated.
Sir Clement, after a general bow, singling out Madame Duval, said, with his usual easiness, ‘I have done myself the honour of waiting on you, Madam, to enquire if you have any commands to Howard Grove, whither I am going to-morrow morning.’
Then, seeing the storm that gathered in her eyes, before he allowed her time to answer, he addressed himself to me; – ‘And if you, Madam, have any with which you will honour me, I shall be happy to execute them.’
‘None at all, Sir.’
‘None! – not to Miss Mirvan! – no message! no letter! – ’
‘I wrote to Miss Mirvan yesterday by the post.’
‘My application should have been earlier, had I sooner known your address.’
‘Ma foi,’ cried Madame Duval, recovering from her surprise, ‘I believe never nobody saw the like of this!’
‘Of what! Madam!’ cried the undaunted Sir Clement, turning quick towards her. ‘I hope no one has offended you!’
‘You don’t hope no such a thing!’ cried she, half choaked with passion, and rising from her chair. This motion was followed by the rest, and, in a moment, every body stood up.
Still Sir Clement was not abashed; affecting to make a bow of acknowledgement to the company in general, he said, ‘Pray – I beg – Ladies, – Gentlemen, – pray don’t let me disturb you, pray keep your seats.’
Evelina Page 24
