Well, but now my plots thicken; and my employment of writing to thee on
this subject will soon come to a conclusion. For now, having got the
license; and Mrs. Townsend with her tars, being to come to Hampstead
next Wednesday or Thursday; and another letter possibly, or message
from Miss Howe, to inquire how Miss Harlowe does, upon the rustic’s
report of her ill health, and to express her wonder that she has not
heard from her in answer to her’s on her escape; I must soon blow up
the lady, or be blown up myself. And so I am preparing, with Lady Betty
and my cousin Montague, to wait upon my beloved with a coach-and-four,
or a sett; for Lady Betty will not stir out with a pair for the world;
though but for two or three miles. And this is a well-known part of her
character.
But as to the arms and crest upon the coach and trappings?
Dost thou not know that a Blunt’s must supply her, while her own is new
lining and repairing? An opportunity she is willing to take now she is
in town. Nothing of this kind can be done to her mind in the country.
Liveries nearly Lady Betty’s.
Thou hast seen Lady Betty Lawrance several times—hast thou not,
Belford?
No, never in my life.
But thou hast—and lain with her too; or fame does thee more credit than
thou deservest—Why, Jack, knowest thou not Lady Betty’s other name?
Other name!—Has she two?
She has. And what thinkest thou of Lady Bab. Wallis?
O the devil!
Now thou hast it. Lady Barbara thou knowest, lifted up in
circumstances, and by pride, never appears or produces herself, but on
occasions special—to pass to men of quality or price, for a duchess, or
countess, at least. She has always been admired for a grandeur in her
air, that few women of quality can come up to; and never was supposed
to be other than what she passed for; though often and often a paramour
for lords.
And who, thinkest thou, is my cousin Montague?
Nay, how should I know?
How indeed! Why, my little Johanetta Golding, a lively, yet
modest-looking girl, is my cousin Montague.
There, Belford, is an aunt!—There’s a cousin!—Both have wit at will.
Both are accustomed to ape quality.—Both are genteelly descended.
Mistresses of themselves, and well educated—yet past pity.—True Spartan
dames; ashamed of nothing but detection—always, therefore, upon their
guard against that. And in their own conceit, when assuming top parts,
the very quality they ape.
And how dost think I dress them out?—I’ll tell thee.
Lady Betty in a rich gold tissue, adorned with jewels of high price.
My cousin Montague in a pale pink, standing on end with silver flowers
of her own working. Charlotte as well as my beloved is admirable at her
needle. Not quite so richly jewell’d out as Lady Betty; but ear-rings
and solitaire very valuable, and infinitely becoming.
Johanetta, thou knowest, has a good complexion, a fine neck, and ears
remarkably fine—so has Charlotte. She is nearly of Charlotte’s stature
too.
Laces both, the richest that could be procured.
Thou canst not imagine what a sum the loan of the jewels cost me,
though but for three days.
This sweet girl will half ruin me. But seest thou not, by this time,
that her reign is short!—It must be so. And Mrs. Sinclair has already
prepared every thing for her reception once more.
Here come the ladies—attended by Susan Morrison, a tenant-farmer’s
daughter, as Lady Betty’s woman; with her hands before her, and
thoroughly instructed.
How dress advantages women!—especially those who have naturally a
genteel air and turn, and have had education.
Hadst thou seen how they paraded it—Cousin, and Cousin, and Nephew, at
every word; Lady Betty bridling and looking
haughtily-condescending.—Charlotte galanting her fan, and swimming over
the floor without touching it.
How I long to see my niece-elect! cries one—for they are told that we
are not married; and are pleased that I have not put the slight upon
them that they had apprehended from me.
How I long to see my dear cousin that is to be, the other!
Your La’ship, and your La’ship, and an awkward courtesy at every
address—prim Susan Morrison.
Top your parts, ye villains!—You know how nicely I distinguish. There
will be no passion in this case to blind the judgment, and to help on
meditated delusion, as when you engage with titled sinners. My charmer
is as cool and as distinguishing, though not quite so learned in her
own sex, as I am. Your commonly-assumed dignity won’t do for me now.
Airs of superiority, as if born to rank.—But no over-do!—Doubting
nothing. Let not your faces arraign your hearts.
Easy and unaffected!—Your very dresses will give you pride enough.
A little graver, Lady Betty.—More significance, less bridling in your
dignity.
That’s the air! Charmingly hit——Again——You have it.
Devil take you!—Less arrogance. You are got into airs of young quality.
Be less sensible of your new condition. People born to dignity command
respect without needing to require it.