I know not whether I do well or ill in acquainting you with a matter so
delicate, as there is none other but my Lord Hervey to whom I dare confide
it, and 'tis but to you and to him I would be obliged for assistance. But
friendship, if an illusion, is the last left me, and I won't dismiss it
until I am compelled. 'Tis certainly absurd that one human being should
depend upon any other for anything, for alone we are born and die, and it
may be thought the Great Author of our being intended us to walk the way
alone that conducts from the one to the other, else had he made our minds
more accessible. For my part, if truth be a merit, I can say I never had
an affection, but what I regretted it sooner or later, or made a
confidence, but what I wished it recalled. Excepting in one case, which I
leave to your discernment. And such is my vexation at this minute that,
was I to be born in another incarnation as Pythagoras pretends, I would be
a foundling, indebted to none who could exact repayment of the gift of
life forced upon an unwilling victim to please the humour of others.
If I write a little bitter I know your kind cpncern will excuse me in view
of what I relate. I am extreme annoyed and fluttered, yet would not be a
vain lamenter neither. Life is still endurable when met with an easy
common sense, and this I call to my aid on this occasion.
I had a mind to return to London about a month since, when word came that
my young rake of a son would come hither for a few days, with his friend
Carew. I knew not the young man, but remember his father in the Thoresby
days, and the old man now being dead, the youth is well to pass in the
world in a small way and hath inherited the old Devon grange.
However, I took this as a sign of grace in my prodigal, and desired Anne
to see the rooms prepared and that she should not attend me with my
tent-stitch after dinner, as wishing to keep flint and steel apart, which
your Ladyship will admit was a prudence to be desired. And so went down to
receive the young men.
You are not now to learn that Edward, with all his follies, hath a very
pleasant humour when he chooses, and a tongue not unworthy of his family;
and young Carew being very conversable and well-featured and full of odd
stories of the authorities at Oxford and the liberties they allow
themselves under the mask of gravity, the evening past extreme agreeably,
and it was late when I left them to their bottle.
Pratt and Anne Wentworth attended me to bed, and I desired the last to put
my pearl necklace into my dressing-box with the dressing-plate, with which
she complied in her obliging manner and took the key as customary. This
done, I dismist them and writ a few lines to my Lord Hervey, and so to
sleep.
The next day we past on the river in a water party and sillabubs at
Richmond and what not; and evening come I asked for my necklace and--Lord
bless me!--'twas not to be found. Anne, pale as her smock, was looking in
all corners,--and Pratt, also, but with purst lips as who should say,
"Your Ladyship now sees what copies of whimsies and foundlings,"--till I
was vexed to the blood with them both, and knew not what to say next; the
more so, since I had seen Mrs Anne gathering flowers for the bowpots after
sunrise, and young Carew staring after her like a zany. I don't doubt but
what there had been a thousand sweet nothings before I opened my window.
The house was hunted in vain, and all the comfort Edward could give me was
the assurance of his father's anger at my folly in taking a stranger into
the house; which is most abominably true, Mr Wortley loving to find fault
and invent it where not found.
By this time Pratt was weeping like a crocodile, and the Bow Street
runners sent for to come and take particulars lest the pearls be sold in
Drury Lane. Indeed, my dear Madam, I could not close an eye for vexation,
and to complete it could not but remark that young Carew kept casting
sheep's eyes at Mrs Anne that looked as lovely as a weeping angel, could
such be supposed. How different are tears in one woman and another! Pratt,
her nose inflamed, her eyes scarce visible in swelled lids, might have
been exposed to the Duke of Wharton and his "Schemers" without an ounce of
virtue lost on either side; whereas Anne, with the liquid pearls hung on
her lashes as if to replace the lost ones, was a dish for the Gods. 'Tis
no manner of use to scold the Fates for what they give or withhold; but I
swear 'tis easy known they are women, such favourites do they make without
reason.
We returned to London without loss of time, and the young men remained on
in my family for awhile--a course I took because the investigators are
such filthy drunken beasts as I would not bring myself to endure their
presence, and thought it more fitting that Edward should direct them.
'Twas more than a week ere they returned, with the news that pearls
answerable to the description were sold at a receiving "ken" about Drury
Lane. My blessed offspring, who (by the way) is grown extreme handsome,
endeavoured to learn more certainly, but was told with surprising
impudence that they were likely out of the kingdom by this time. The
wretch that kept the place was took in custody and closely questioned; but
naught could be got from him but that a young madam whom he supposed a
nymph of Drury Lane had sold it, saying she had it from her young cully of
a lover, and she would not have the sale known for worlds, but had
occasion for the money. Asked to describe her, he said so many were his
dealings as he took no particular heed beyond that she was handsome, and a
way with her, says he, that would whistle a bird off a bough.
God forgive me--'twas not wonderful I looked at Mrs Anne, and the thought
came in my mind how little I knew but her own story, and my own folly that
took up with a stranger on what I might call a mere spasm of liking. She
saw it, for she hath a gift of reading faces, and says she:--
"Your Ladyship, I am sensible that suspicion is like to rest on me, for
Mrs Pratt is some time in your family and I but new come. This is a
hanging matter, Madam, and I beseech you have so much pity for a poor girl
as permit me a few days more before I am handed over to these cruel men.
'Tis the bare truth that, so far from stealing, I would give my life to
repay the debt I owe your goodness. And sure I that restored a jewel
unasked am scarce to be now held guilty. Have pity upon your poor girl,
Madam! and delay but till Mrs Lamb and her family return from the Wells to
speak for me."
'Twas so well exprest and carried so much truth that, though I called
myself a thousand weak fools, I could not refuse her, and so set a week
and lamented my own weakness in regard of beauty, that might be a man for
the sensibility I have for it but that I detect their little cunning
tricks. I know not how I am so oddly made up, unless it be the merciless
good sense of which my poor sister Gower complained; but I am no more like
to believe a woman ill-behaved because she is handsome (as women do), than
to think her innocent (as a man would do) for the same excellent reason.
Some more days past, and I had other cause to regret my course; for
passing a door ajar, I looked through the crack, hearing voices, and found
Mrs Pratt conversing very much at her ease with my prodigal--a thing
which, though well enough in Congreve's comedies, is what I will not have
in my family. I am so ill-bred as to be quite insensible to the romantic
nights that are now the vogue and, walking into the room, spoke my mind,
desiring Mrs Pratt to be so good as pack her boxes and depart within the
hour, which was accordingly done, I having her boxes looked through ere
she went, so much assurance awaking my suspicion that perhaps she could
tell more of the pearls than anyone, if so disposed. However, nothing
found, and so off she went in a sulky silence, my son and heir talking
very high and railing upon me for injustice. He took himself off next
morning with young Carew (who however behaved very genteelly throughout),
saying as he flung away, that God only knew but they might next be
suspected, and they had better depart while their characters were safe.
You know the silly cant he is apt to talk as well as any.
I was fluttered and wearied when they departed, and had, what is rare with
me, a touch of the vapours; but there was Anne, hearing me come up, and
did all to support me that a feeling heart and good sense could dictate.
Will your Ladyship credit me when I tell you the poor girl had had good
reason all along to suspect Mrs Pratt might have a hand in the thievery,
but would not speak as knowing nothing for certain, and sparing to trouble
me with the understanding she surprised between Pratt and my young
gentleman. Her good sense and heart were a cordial, and I drew a little
consolation in considering that I would now retain her about my person and
enjoy a little peace in a worthy attendant. For, though I have known no
instances of honour and integrity but among those of high birth, still
there are exceptions, no doubt, to be found to any rule. So resolving, I
sat down to write to my rake that I had sufficient reason to think his
Dulcinea might know more of the pearls, and to request he would oblige me
by using his best endeavours to trace them.
What a bubble is hope! Two days later comes a letter from young Carew,
expressing himself with decency and respect, to tell me that with my
permission he had made up his mind to marry Mrs Anne Wentworth, who was
not unwilling to hear his suit, since he knew not where else he could find
so much beauty coupled with good sense and modesty. He doubted not but I
would approve his resolution.
'Twas somewhat of a blow. I had come to like the girl about me as a lap
dog or any other little fondling. Her every look was a caress, and her
voice as soft as violets. Also she hath mended my girl's manners of a
hundred little indelicacies gathered from Pratt's pertness. I had
willingly kept her, but 'twas not to be. What! shall a young beauty refuse
a comfortable home and other matrimonial delights for a lonely woman! Not
she!
I gave them what, by courtesy, may be called my blessing, and my suit of
blue lutestring to Mrs Bride, and she threw herself at my feet, and I
actually came near shedding a tear to see her overflowing gratitude. 'Twas
worthy such a set of verses as Pope writ when the rural lovers were killed
in each other's arms by a stroke of lightning.
No doubt Carew is a fool--yet I think a wise one. She will play him no
tricks and stratagems, and will be a fair Lady Bountiful in his moated
grange, and will care her children and the poor, and con possets and
caudles with the parson's wife--Pshaw! what sickly stuff do I write that
should know better. 'Tis liker she will play him false in a year, with
some booby squire that rides to hounds and swaggers in with his boots a
mass of mud to drink himself silly after a dinner of roast pig. And for
me, I have replaced her next day with a Mrs Susan--the Duchess of
Montagu's late woman, that hath all the pertnesses and the tricks of her
trade.
Well--'tis the way of the world. Set not your heart on anything. A hard
heart that values nothing is the only wear, and 'tis evident Scripture so
enjoins it. My glass tells me I am still a personable woman, and 'tis open
to me to find amusement in making a lover--and myself--happy if so I
choose--and if 'twere not so dull a pastime. And there is crimp and
quadrille for the asking, and the new game that is just come up.
Horace Walpole is crossing the Channel and will give this to your
Ladyship's hand. And the favour I would have of you (in all secrecy) is
this--that you would cause enquiry to be made with caution at Breguet's in
the Rue des Moineaux, whether he hath had lately any sale of pearls from
England. 'Twas a thing spoke of as not impossible, that they should find
their way there, for I hear from H. W. and others that the man is a
well-practised receiver of such goods from England. But with caution, I
entreat, and with no mention to H. W., for I begin to have an anxiety that
I have not as yet mentioned to any.
Pray be so good as send your reply by special hand. I await it uneasily.
It may be that I have the spleen, but though I have done with
knight-errantry for distrest beauty, I wonder sometimes whether my little
Anne Carew have not a happier fate than any woman of fashion. 'Tis but a
modest grange in Devon; but those two simple souls will taste of happiness
there and in each other, and the world will not trouble them. The seasons
will come and go, and when they lie in the churchyard 'twill not be with
tons of marble and scutcheons of lies above 'em, but with nature's
covering of snow in winter and leaves and flowers in summer. They'll sleep
the sweeter. I would willingly have her with me still. Present my
compliments to our Embassador. I may yet have to ask his good offices, but
am still in hopes to avoid this.
Your Ladyship's most affectionate, as ever.
* * * * *
_(A month later)_