‘You have been, as you always are,’ said he, twisting his whip with his fingers, ‘all sweetness.’
‘O fie, my Lord,’ cried she, ‘I know you don’t think so; I know you think me very ill-natured; – don’t you, my Lord?’
‘No, upon my honour; – how can your Ladyship ask such a question? Pray how goes time? my watch stands.’
‘It is almost three,’ answered Mrs Beaumont.
‘Lord, Ma’am, you frighten me!’ cried Lady Louisa; and then turning to Lord Merton, ‘why now, you wicked creature, you, did not you tell me it was but one?’
Mrs Selwyn then rose to take leave; but Mrs Beaumont asked if she would look at the shrubbery. ‘I should like it much,’ answered she, ‘but that I fear to fatigue Miss Anville.’
Lady Louisa then, raising her head from her hand, on which it had leaned, turned round to look at me, and, having fully satisfied her curiosity, without any regard to the confusion it gave me, turned about, and, again leaning on her hand, took no further notice of me.
I declared myself very able to walk, and begged that I might accompany them. ‘What say you, Lady Louisa,’ cried Mrs Beaumont, ‘to a strole in the garden?’
‘Me, Ma’am! – I declare I can’t stir a step; the heat is so excessive, it would kill me. I’m half dead with it already; besides, I shall have no time to dress. Will any body be here to-day, Ma’am?’
‘I believe not, unless Lord Merton will favour us with his company.’
‘With great pleasure, Madam.’
‘Well, I declare you don’t deserve to be asked,’ cried Lady Louisa, ‘you wicked creature, you! – I must tell you one thing, Ma’am, – you can’t think how abominable he was! do you know we met Mr Lovel in his new phaeton, and my Lord was so cruel as to drive against it? – we really flew. I declare I could not breathe. Upon my word, my Lord, I’ll never trust myself with you again, – I won’t indeed!’
We then went into the garden, leaving them to discuss the point at their leisure.
Do you remember a pretty but affected young lady I mention to have seen, in Lord Orville’s party, at the Pantheon? How little did I then imagine her to be his sister! yet Lady Louisa Larpent is the very person. I can now account for the piqued manner of her speaking to Lord Merton that evening, and I can now account for the air of displeasure with which Lord Orville marked the undue attention of his future brother-in-law to me.
We had not walked long, ere, at a distance, I perceived Lord Orville, who seemed just dismounted from his horse, enter the garden. All my perturbation returned at the sight of him! – yet I endeavoured to repress every feeling but resentment. As he approached us, he bowed to the whole party; but I turned away my head, to avoid taking any share in his civility. Addressing himself immediately to Mrs Beaumont, he was beginning to enquire after his sister, but upon seeing my face, he suddenly exclaimed ‘Miss Anville! – ’ and then he advanced, and made his compliments to me, – not with an air of vanity or impertinence, nor yet with a look of consciousness or shame, – but with a countenance open, manly, and charming! – with a smile that indicated pleasure, and eyes that sparkled with delight! on my side was all the consciousness, for by him, I really believe, the letter was, at that moment, entirely forgotten.
With what politeness did he address me! with what sweetness did he look at me! the very tone of his voice seemed flattering! he congratulated himself upon his good fortune in meeting with me, – hoped I should spend some time at Bristol, and enquired, even with anxiety enquired, if my health was the cause of my journey, in which case his satisfaction would be converted into apprehension.
Yet, struck as I was with his manner, and charmed to find him such as he was wont to be, imagine not, my dear Sir, that I forgot the resentment I owe him, or the cause he has given me of displeasure; no, my behaviour was such as, I hope, had you seen, you would not have disapproved: I was grave and distant, I scarce looked at him when he spoke, or answered him when he was silent.
As he must certainly observe this alteration in my conduct, I think it could not fail making him both recollect and repent the provocation he had so causelessly given me: for surely he was not so wholly lost to reason, as to be now ignorant he had ever offended me.
The moment that, without absolute rudeness, I was able, I turned entirely from him, and asked Mrs Selwyn if we should not be late home? How Lord Orville looked I know not, for I avoided meeting his eyes, but he did not speak another word as we proceeded to the garden-gate. Indeed I believe my abruptness surprised him, for he did not seem to expect I had so much spirit. And, to own the truth, convinced as I was of the propriety, nay, necessity of shewing my displeasure, I yet almost hated myself for receiving his politeness so ungraciously.
When we were taking leave, my eyes accidentally meeting his, I could not but observe that his gravity equalled my own, for it had entirely taken place of the smiles and good-humour with which he had met me.
‘I am afraid this young Lady,’ said Mrs Beaumont, ‘is too weak for another long walk till she is again rested.’
‘If the Ladies will trust to my driving,’ said Lord Orville, ‘and are not afraid of a phaeton, mine shall be ready in a moment.’
‘You are very good, my Lord,’ said Mrs Selwyn, ‘but my will is yet unsigned, and I don’t chuse to venture in a phaeton with a young man while that is the case.’
‘O,’ cried Mrs Beaumont, ‘you need not be afraid of my Lord Orville, for he is remarkably careful.’
‘Well, Miss Anville,’ answered she, ‘what say you?’
‘Indeed,’ cried I, ‘I had much rather walk. – ’ But then, looking at Lord Orville, I perceived in his face a surprise so serious at my abrupt refusal, that I could not forbear adding, ‘for I should be sorry to occasion so much trouble.’
Lord Orville brightening at these words, came forward, and pressed his offer in a manner not to be denied; – so the phaeton was ordered! And indeed, my dear Sir, – I know not how it was, – but, from that moment, my coldness and reserve insensibly wore away! You must not be angry, – it was my intention, nay, my endeavour, to support them with firmness; but when I formed the plan, I thought only of the letter, – not of Lord Orville! – and how is it possible for resentment to subsist without provocation? yet, believe me, my dearest Sir, had he sustained the part he began to act when he wrote the ever-to-be-regretted letter, your Evelina would not have forfeited her title to your esteem, by contentedly submitting to be treated with indignity.
We continued in the garden till the phaeton was ready. When we parted from Mrs Beaumont, she repeated her invitation to Mrs Selwyn to accept an apartment in her house, but the reason I have already mentioned made it be again declined.
Lord Orville drove very slow, and so cautiously, that, notwithstanding the height of the phaeton, fear would have been ridiculous. I supported no part in the conversation, but Mrs Selwyn extremely well supplied the place of two. Lord Orville himself did not speak much, but the excellent sense and refined good-breeding which accompany every word he utters, give value and weight to whatever he says.
‘I suppose, my Lord,’ said Mrs Selwyn, when we stopped at our lodgings, ‘you would have been extremely confused had we met any gentlemen who have the honour of knowing you.’
‘If I had,’ answered he, gallantly, ‘it would have been from mere compassion at their envy.’
‘No, my Lord,’ answered she, ‘it would have been from mere shame, that, in an age so daring you alone should be such a coward as to forbear to frighten women.’
‘O,’ cried he laughing, ‘when a man is in a fright for himself, the ladies cannot but be in security; for you have not had half the apprehension for the safety of your persons, that I have for that of my heart.’ He then alighted, handed us out, took leave, and again mounting the phaeton, was out of sight in a minute.
‘Certainly,’ said Mrs Selwyn, when he was gone, ‘there must have been some mistake in the birth of that young man; he was, undoubtedly, designed for the last
age; for he is really polite!’
And now, my dear Sir, do not you think, according to the present situation of affairs, I may give up my resentment, without imprudence or impropriety? I hope you will not blame me. Indeed, had you, like me, seen his respectful behaviour, you would have been convinced of the impracticability of supporting any further indignation.
Letter Three
Evelina in continuation
Bristol Hotwells, Sept. 19th
Yesterday morning, Mrs Selwyn received a card from Mrs Beaumont, to ask her to dine with her to-day; and another, to the same purpose, came to me. The invitation was accepted, and we are but just arrived from Clifton Hill.
We found Mrs Beaumont alone in the parlour. I will write you the character of that lady, in the words of our satirical friend Mrs Selwyn. ‘She is an absolute Court Calendar bigot; for, chancing herself to be born of a noble and ancient family, she thinks proper to be of opinion, that birth and virtue are one and the same thing. She has some good qualities, but they rather originate from pride than principle, as she piques herself upon being too high born to be capable of an unworthy action, and thinks it incumbent upon her to support the dignity of her ancestry. Fortunately for the world in general, she has taken it into her head, that condescension is the most distinguishing virtue of high life; so that the same pride of family which renders others imperious, is with her the motive of affability. But her civility is too formal to be comfortable, and too mechanical to be flattering. That she does me the honour of so much notice, is merely owing to an accident which, I am sure, is very painful to her remembrance; for it so happened that I once did her some service, in regard to an apartment, at Southampton; and I have since been informed, that, at the time she accepted my assistance she thought I was a woman of quality; and I make no doubt but she was miserable when she discovered me to be a mere country gentlewoman: however, her nice notions of decorum have made her load me with favours ever since. But I am not much flattered by her civilities, as I am convinced I owe them neither to attachment nor gratitude, but solely to a desire of cancelling an obligation which she cannot brook being under, to one whose name is no where to be found in the Court Calendar.’
You well know, my dear Sir, the delight this lady takes in giving way to her satirical humour.
Mrs Beaumont received us very graciously, though she some-what distressed me by the questions she asked concerning my family, – such as, Whether I was related to the Anvilles in the North? – Whether some of my name did not live in Lincolnshire? and many other enquiries, which much embarrassed me.
The conversation, next, turned upon the intended marriage in her family. She treated the subject with reserve, but it was evident she disapproved Lady Louisa’s choice. She spoke in terms of the highest esteem of Lord Orville, calling him, in Marmontel’s words, Un jeune homme comme il y en a peu.
I did not think this conversation very agreeably interrupted by the entrance of Mr Lovel. Indeed I am heartily sorry he is now at the Hotwells. He made his compliments with the most obsequious respect to Mrs Beaumont, but took no sort of notice of any other person.
In a few minutes Lady Louisa Larpent made her appearance. The same manners prevailed; for courtsying, with, ‘I hope you are well, Ma’am,’ to Mrs Beaumont, she passed straight forward to her seat on the sofa, where, leaning her head on her hand, she cast her languishing eyes round the room, with a vacant stare, as if determined, though she looked, not to see who was in it.
Mr Lovel, presently approaching her, with reverence the most profound, hoped her Ladyship was not indisposed.
‘Mr Lovel!’ cried she, raising her head, ‘I declare I did not see you: Have you been here long?’
‘By my watch, Madam,’ said he, ‘only five minutes, – but by your Ladyship’s absence, as many hours.’
‘O! now I think of it,’ cried she, ‘I am very angry with you, – so go along, do, for I sha’n’t speak to you all day.’
‘Heaven forbid your La’ship’s displeasure should last so long! in such cruel circumstances, a day would seem an age. But in what have I been so unfortunate as to offend?’
‘O, you half killed me, the other morning, with terror! I have not yet recovered from my fright. How could you be so cruel as to drive your phaeton against my Lord Merton’s?’
‘’Pon honour, Ma’am, your La’ship does me wrong; it was all owing to the horses, – there was no curbing them. I protest I suffered more than your Ladyship from the terror of alarming you.’
Just then entered Lord Merton; stalking up to Mrs Beaumont, to whom alone he bowed, he hoped he had not made her wait; and then advancing to Lady Louisa, said, in a careless manner, ‘How is your Ladyship this morning?’
‘Not well at all,’ answered she; ‘I have been dying with the head-ach ever since I got up.’
‘Indeed!’ cried he, with a countenance wholly unmoved, ‘I am very unhappy to hear it. But should not your Ladyship have some advice?’
‘I am quite sick of advice,’ answered she; ‘Mr Ridgeway has but just left me, – but he has done me no good. Nobody here knows what is the matter with me, yet they all see how indifferent I am.’
‘Your Ladyship’s constitution,’ said Mr Lovel, ‘is infinitely delicate.’
‘Indeed it is,’ cried she, in a low voice, ‘I am nerve all over!’
‘I am glad, however,’ said Lord Merton, ‘that you did not take the air this morning, for Coverley has been driving against me as if he was mad: he has got two of the finest spirited horses I ever saw.’
‘Pray, my Lord,’ cried she, ‘why did not you bring Mr Coverley with you? he’s a droll creature; I like him monstrously.’
‘Why, he promised to be here as soon as me. I suppose he’ll come before dinner’s over.’
In the midst of this trifling conversation Lord Orville made his appearance. O how different was his address! how superior did he look and move, to all about him! Having paid his respects to Mrs Beaumont, and then to Mrs Selwyn, he came up to me, and said, ‘I hope Miss Anville has not suffered from the fatigue of Monday morning!’ Then, turning to Lady Louisa, who seemed rather surprised at his speaking to me, he added ‘Give me leave, Sister, to introduce Miss Anville to you.’
Lady Louisa, half-rising, said, very coldly, that she should be glad of the honour of knowing me; and then, abruptly turning to Lord Merton and Mr Lovel, continued, in a half-whisper, her conversation.
For my part, I had risen and courtsied, and now, feeling very foolish, I seated myself again; first I blushed at the unexpected politeness of Lord Orville, and immediately afterwards, at the contemptuous failure of it in his sister. How can that young lady see her brother so universally admired for his manners and deportment, and yet be so unamiably opposite to him in hers! But while his mind, enlarged and noble, rises superior to the little prejudices of rank, hers, feeble and unsteady, sinks beneath their influence.
Lord Orville, I am sure, was hurt and displeased: he bit his lips, and turning from her, addressed himself wholly to me, till we were summoned to dinner. Do you think I was not grateful for his attention? yes, indeed, and every angry idea I had entertained, was totally obliterated.
As we were seating ourselves at the table, Mr Coverley came into the room: he made a thousand apologies in a breath for being so late, but said he had been retarded by a little accident, for that he had overturned his phaeton, and broke it all to pieces. Lady Louisa screamed at this intelligence, and looking at Lord Merton, declared she would never go into a phaeton again.
‘O,’ cried he, ‘never mind Jack Coverley, for he does not know how to drive.’
‘My Lord,’ cried Mr Coverley, ‘I’ll drive against you for a thousand pounds.’
‘Done!’ returned the other; ‘Name your day, and we’ll each chuse a judge.’
‘The sooner the better,’ cried Mr Coverley; ‘to-morrow, if the carriage can be repaired.’
‘These enterprizes,’ said Mrs Selwyn, ‘are very proper for men of rank, since ’tis a
million to one but both parties will be incapacitated for any better employment.’
‘For Heaven’s sake,’ cried Lady Louisa, changing colour, ‘don’t talk so shockingly! Pray, my Lord, pray Mr Coverley, don’t alarm me in this manner.’
‘Compose yourself, Lady Louisa,’ said Mrs Beaumont, ‘the gentlemen will think better of the scheme, they are neither of them in earnest.’
‘The very mention of such a scheme,’ said Lady Louisa, taking out her salts, ‘makes me tremble all over! Indeed, my Lord, you have frightened me to death! I sha’n’t eat a morsel of dinner.’
‘Permit me,’ said Lord Orville, ‘to propose some other subject for the present, and we will discuss this matter another time.’
‘Pray, Brother, excuse me; my Lord must give me his word to drop this project, – for, I declare, it has made me sick as death.’
‘To compromise the matter,’ said Lord Orville, ‘suppose, if both parties are unwilling to give up the bet, that, to make the ladies easy, we change its object to something less dangerous?’
This proposal was so strongly seconded by all the party, that both Lord Merton and Mr Coverley were obliged to comply with it: and it was then agreed that the affair should be finally settled in the afternoon.
‘I shall now be entirely out of conceit with phaetons again,’ said Mrs Selwyn, ‘though Lord Orville had almost reconciled me to them.’
‘My Lord Orville!’ cried the witty Mr Coverley, ‘why, my Lord Orville is as careful, – egad, as careful as an old woman! Why, I’d drive a one-horse cart against my Lord’s phaeton for a hundred guineas!’
This sally occasioned much laughter; for Mr Coverley, I find, is regarded as a man of infinite humour.
‘Perhaps, Sir,’ said Mrs Selwyn, ‘you have not discovered the reason my Lord Orville is so careful?’
Evelina Page 33
