_Lady Susan to Mrs. Johnson._
Churchhill.
This is insufferable! My dearest friend, I was never so enraged before,
and must relieve myself by writing to you, who I know will enter into
all my feelings. Who should come on Tuesday but Sir James Martin! Guess
my astonishment, and vexation—for, as you well know, I never wished him
to be seen at Churchhill. What a pity that you should not have known
his intentions! Not content with coming, he actually invited himself to
remain here a few days. I could have poisoned him! I made the best of
it, however, and told my story with great success to Mrs. Vernon, who,
whatever might be her real sentiments, said nothing in opposition to
mine. I made a point also of Frederica’s behaving civilly to Sir James,
and gave her to understand that I was absolutely determined on her
marrying him. She said something of her misery, but that was all. I
have for some time been more particularly resolved on the match from
seeing the rapid increase of her affection for Reginald, and from not
feeling secure that a knowledge of such affection might not in the end
awaken a return. Contemptible as a regard founded only on compassion
must make them both in my eyes, I felt by no means assured that such
might not be the consequence. It is true that Reginald had not in any
degree grown cool towards me; but yet he has lately mentioned Frederica
spontaneously and unnecessarily, and once said something in praise of
her person. _He_ was all astonishment at the appearance of my visitor,
and at first observed Sir James with an attention which I was pleased
to see not unmixed with jealousy; but unluckily it was impossible for
me really to torment him, as Sir James, though extremely gallant to me,
very soon made the whole party understand that his heart was devoted to
my daughter. I had no great difficulty in convincing De Courcy, when we
were alone, that I was perfectly justified, all things considered, in
desiring the match; and the whole business seemed most comfortably
arranged. They could none of them help perceiving that Sir James was no
Solomon; but I had positively forbidden Frederica complaining to
Charles Vernon or his wife, and they had therefore no pretence for
interference; though my impertinent sister, I believe, wanted only
opportunity for doing so. Everything, however, was going on calmly and
quietly; and, though I counted the hours of Sir James’s stay, my mind
was entirely satisfied with the posture of affairs. Guess, then, what I
must feel at the sudden disturbance of all my schemes; and that, too,
from a quarter where I had least reason to expect it. Reginald came
this morning into my dressing-room with a very unusual solemnity of
countenance, and after some preface informed me in so many words that
he wished to reason with me on the impropriety and unkindness of
allowing Sir James Martin to address my daughter contrary to her
inclinations. I was all amazement. When I found that he was not to be
laughed out of his design, I calmly begged an explanation, and desired
to know by what he was impelled, and by whom commissioned, to reprimand
me. He then told me, mixing in his speech a few insolent compliments
and ill-timed expressions of tenderness, to which I listened with
perfect indifference, that my daughter had acquainted him with some
circumstances concerning herself, Sir James, and me which had given him
great uneasiness. In short, I found that she had in the first place
actually written to him to request his interference, and that, on
receiving her letter, he had conversed with her on the subject of it,
in order to understand the particulars, and to assure himself of her
real wishes. I have not a doubt but that the girl took this opportunity
of making downright love to him. I am convinced of it by the manner in
which he spoke of her. Much good may such love do him! I shall ever
despise the man who can be gratified by the passion which he never
wished to inspire, nor solicited the avowal of. I shall always detest
them both. He can have no true regard for me, or he would not have
listened to her; and _she_, with her little rebellious heart and
indelicate feelings, to throw herself into the protection of a young
man with whom she has scarcely ever exchanged two words before! I am
equally confounded at _her_ impudence and _his_ credulity. How dared he
believe what she told him in my disfavour! Ought he not to have felt
assured that I must have unanswerable motives for all that I had done?
Where was his reliance on my sense and goodness then? Where the
resentment which true love would have dictated against the person
defaming me—that person, too, a chit, a child, without talent or
education, whom he had been always taught to despise? I was calm for
some time; but the greatest degree of forbearance may be overcome, and
I hope I was afterwards sufficiently keen. He endeavoured, long
endeavoured, to soften my resentment; but that woman is a fool indeed
who, while insulted by accusation, can be worked on by compliments. At
length he left me, as deeply provoked as myself; and he showed his
anger more. I was quite cool, but he gave way to the most violent
indignation; I may therefore expect it will the sooner subside, and
perhaps his may be vanished for ever, while mine will be found still
fresh and implacable. He is now shut up in his apartment, whither I
heard him go on leaving mine. How unpleasant, one would think, must be
his reflections! but some people’s feelings are incomprehensible. I
have not yet tranquillised myself enough to see Frederica. _She_ shall
not soon forget the occurrences of this day; she shall find that she
has poured forth her tender tale of love in vain, and exposed herself
for ever to the contempt of the whole world, and the severest
resentment of her injured mother.
Your affectionate
S. VERNON.