I took a walk in St. James’s Park, congratulating myself all the way on
my rare inventions: then, impatient, I took coach, with one of the
windows quite up, the other almost up, playing at bo-peep in every
chariot I saw pass in my way to Lincoln’s-inn-fields: and when arrived
there I sent the coachman to desire any one of Mother H.’s family to
come to me to the coach-side, not doubting but I should have
intelligence of my fair fugitive there; it being then half an hour
after ten.
A servant came, who gave me to understand that the matronly lady was
just returned by herself in the chariot.
Frighted out of my wits, I alighted, and heard from the mother’s own
mouth, that Dorcas had engaged her to protect the lady; but came to
tell her afterwards, that she had changed her mind, and would not quit
the house.
Quite astonished, not knowing what might have happened, I ordered the
coachman to lash away to our mother’s.
Arriving here in an instant, the first word I asked, was, If the lady
was safe?
[Mr. Lovelace here gives a very circumstantial relation of all that
passed between the Lady and Dorcas. But as he could only guess at her
motives for refusing to go off, when Dorcas told her that she had
engaged for her the protection of the dowager-lady, it is thought
proper to omit this relation, and to supply it by some memoranda of the
Lady’s. But it is first necessary to account for the occasion on which
those memoranda were made.
The reader may remember, that in the letter written to Miss Howe, on
her escape to Hampstead,* she promises to give her the particulars of
her flight at leisure. She had indeed thoughts of continuing her
account of every thing that had passed between her and Mr. Lovelace
since her last narrative letter. But the uncertainty she was in from
that time, with the execrable treatment she met with on her being
deluded back again, followed by a week’s delirium, had hitherto
hindered her from prosecuting her intention. But, nevertheless, having
it still in her view to perform her promise as soon as she had
opportunity, she made minutes of every thing as it passed, in order to
help her memory:—‘Which,’ as she observes in one place, ‘she could less
trust to since her late disorders than before.’ In these minutes, or
book of memoranda, she observes, ‘That having apprehensions that Dorcas
might be a traitress, she would have got away while she was gone out to
see for a coach; and actually slid down stairs with that intent. But
that, seeing Mrs. Sinclair in the entry, (whom Dorcas had planted there
while she went out,) she speeded up again unseen.’
* See Vol. V. Letter XXI.
She then went up to the dining-room, and saw the letter of Captain
Tomlinson: on which she observes in her memorandum-book as follows:]
‘How am I puzzled now!—He might leave this letter on purpose: none of
the other papers left with it being of any consequence: What is the
alternative?—To stay, and be the wife of the vilest of men—how my heart
resists that!—To attempt to get off, and fail, ruin inevitable!—Dorcas
may betray me!—I doubt she is still his implement!—At his going out, he
whispered her, as I saw, unobserved—in a very familiar manner too—Never
fear, Sir, with a courtesy.
‘In her agreeing to connive at my escape, she provided not for her own
safety, if I got away: yet had reason, in that case, to expect his
vengeance. And wants not forethought.—To have taken her with me, was to
be in the power of her intelligence, if a faithless creature.—Let me,
however, though I part not with my caution, keep my charity!—Can there
be any woman so vile to a woman?—O yes!—Mrs. Sinclair: her aunt.—The
Lord deliver me!—But, alas!—I have put myself out of the course of his
protection by the natural means—and am already ruined! A father’s curse
likewise against me! Having made vain all my friends’ cautions and
solicitudes, I must not hope for miracles in my favour!
‘If I do escape, what may become of me, a poor, helpless, deserted
creature!—Helpless from sex!—from circumstances!—Exposed to every
danger!—Lord protect me!
‘His vile man not gone with him!—Lurking hereabouts, no doubt, to watch
my steps!—I will not go away by the chariot, however.——
‘That the chariot should come so opportunely! So like his many
opportunities!—That Dorcas should have the sudden thought!—Should have
the courage with the thought, to address a lady in behalf of an
absolute stranger to that lady! That the lady should so readily
consent! Yet the transaction between them to take up so much time,
their distance in degree considered: for, arduous as the case was, and
precious as the time, Dorcas was gone above half an hour! Yet the
chariot was said to be ready at a grocer’s not many doors off!
‘Indeed some elderly ladies are talkative: and there are, no doubt,
some good people in the world.——
‘But that it should chance to be a widow lady, who could do what she
pleased! That Dorcas should know her to be so by the lozenge! Persons
in her station are not usually so knowing, I believe, in heraldry.
‘Yet some may! for servants are fond of deriving collateral honours and
distinctions, as I may call them, from the quality, or people of rank,
whom they serve. But this sly servant not gone with him! Then this
letter of Tomlinson!——
‘Although I am resolved never to have this wretch, yet, may I not throw
myself into my uncle’s protection at Kentish-town, or Highgate, if I
cannot escape before: and so get clear of him? May not the evil I know
be less than what I may fall into, if I can avoid farther villany?
Farther villany he has not yet threatened; freely and justly as I have
treated him!—I will not go, I think. At least, unless I can send this
fellow away.*——
* She tried to do this; but was prevented by the fellow’s pretending to
put his ankle out, by a slip down stairs—A trick, says his contriving
master, in his omitted relation, I had taught him, on a like occasion,
at Amiens.
‘The fellow a villain! The wench, I doubt, a vile wench. At last
concerned for her own safety. Plays off and on about a coach.
‘All my hopes of getting off at present over!—Unhappy creature! to what
farther evils art thou reserved! Oh! how my heart rises at the
necessity I must still be under to see and converse with so very vile a
man!’