his decease left her some thousand pounds in ready money. When he died
she was about twenty-five years old, with a good person and infinite
vivacity. An unbridled imagination, ungovernable spirits, with a lively
arch countenance and a certain quaintness of expression gained her the
reputation of being possessed of a great deal of wit. Her lord, in the
decline of life, had been captivated by her youthful charms, when she
was but sixteen years old. His extreme fondness for her led him to
indulge her vivacity in all its follies; and frequently while he was
laid up at home in the gout her ladyship was the finest and gayest woman
at every place of public resort. Often, when the acuteness of his pains
obliged him to seek relief from the soporific influence of opium, she
collected half the town, and though his rest was disturbed every moment
by a succession of impetuous raps at the door, he was never offended; on
the contrary, he thought himself obliged to her for staying at home,
which she had assured him was because she could not bear to go abroad
when he was so ill. This, as the greatest mark of her tenderness he ever
received, he failed not to acknowledge with gratitude. She scarcely took
more pleasure in having a train of admirers than his lordship felt from
it; his vanity was flattered in seeing his wife the object of admiration
and he fancied himself much envied for so valuable a possession. Her
coquetry charmed him, as the follies of that vivacity of which he was so
fond. He had no tincture of jealousy in his whole composition; and
acknowledged as favours conferred on himself the attentions paid to his
wife.
Though Lord Sheerness's conduct may appear rather uncommon, yet it
seemed the result of some discernment, or at least his lady's
disposition was such as justifies this opinion; she had received a
genteel education; no external accomplishments had been neglected; but
her understanding and principles were left to the imperfection of nature
corrupted by custom. Religion was thought too serious a thing for so
young a person. The opinion of the world was always represented to her
as the true criterion by which to judge of everything, and fashion
supplied the place of every more material consideration. With a mind
thus formed, she entered the world at sixteen, surrounded with pomp and
splendour, with every gratification at her command that an affluent
fortune and an indulgent husband could bestow: by nature inclined to no
vice, free from all dangerous passions, the charm of innocence
accompanied her vivacity; undesigning and artless, her follies were
originally the consequences of her situation, not constitutional, though
habit engrafted them so strongly that at length they appeared natural to
her. Surrounded with every snare that can entrap a youthful mind, she
became a victim to dissipation and the love of fashionable pleasures;
destitute of any stable principles, she was carried full sail down the
stream of folly. In the love of coquetry and gaming few equalled her; no
one could exceed her in the pursuit of every trifling amusement; she had
neither leisure nor inclination to think, her life passed in an
uninterrupted succession of engagements, without reflection on the past
or consideration on the future consequences.
The lightness of her conduct exposed her to the addresses of many gay
men during the life of her lord; but an attachment was too serious a
thing for her; and while her giddiness and perpetual dissipation exposed
her to suspicion, they preserved her from the vice of which she was
suspected: she daily passed through the ordeal trial; every step she
took was dangerous, but she came off unhurt. Her reputation was indeed
doubtful, but her rank and fortune, and the continual amusements which
her house yielded to her acquaintance, rendered her generally caressed.
Her lord's death made no alteration in her way of life; and as her mind
was never fixed an hour on any subject, she thought not long enough of
marriage to prepare for that state and therefore continued a widow. She
was upwards of forty years old, unchanged in anything but her person,
when she took Lady Mary Jones, I will not say into her care, for that
word never entered into her vocabulary, but into her house. Lady Mary
had naturally a very good understanding, and much vivacity; the latter
met with everything that could assist in its increase in the company of
Lady Sheerness, the other was never thought of: she was initiated into
every diversion at an age when other girls are confined to their
nursery. Her aunt was fond of her and therefore inclined to indulgence,
besides she thought the knowledge of the world, which in her opinion
was the most essential qualification for a woman of fashion, was no way
to be learnt but by an early acquaintance with it.
Lady Mary's age and vivacity rendered this doctrine extremely agreeable,
she was pretty and very lively and entertaining in her conversation,
therefore at fifteen years of age she became the most caressed person in
every company. She entered into all the fashionable tastes, was
coquettish and extravagant; for Lady Sheerness very liberally furnished
her with money and felt a sort of pride in having a niece distinguished
by the fineness of her dress and her profusion in every expense, as it
was well known to have no other source but in her ladyship's generosity.
Though Lady Mary received much adulation, and was the object of general
courtship, yet she had no serious love made to her till she was between
sixteen and seventeen, when she accompanied her aunt to Scarborough: she
was there very assiduously followed by a gentleman reputed of a large
fortune in Wales. He was gay and well-bred, his person moderately
agreeable, his understanding specious and his manner insinuating. There
was nothing very engaging in the man, except the appearance of a very
tender attachment. She had before found great pleasure in being admired;
but her vanity was still more flattered in being loved: she knew herself
capable of amusing; but till now had never been able to give either
pleasure or pain, according to her sovereign decree. She grew partial to
Mr Lenman (that was the name of her lover) because he raised her
consequence in her own eyes: she played off a thousand airs of coquetry
which she had never yet had an opportunity to exercise for want of a
real lover. Sometimes she would elate him by encouragement; at others,
freeze him into despair by her affected coldness: she was never two
hours the same, because she delighted in seeing the variety of passions
she could excite.
Mr Lenman was certainly sufficiently tormented; but so great a
proficiency in coquetry at so early an age was no discouragement to his
hopes. There are no people so often the dupe of their own arts as
coquettes; especially when they become so very early in life;
therefore, instead of being damped in his pursuit, he adapted his
behaviour to her foible, vanity, and by assuming an air of indifference,
could, when he pleased, put an end to her affected reserve; though he
was not so impolite a lover as quite to deny her the gratification she
expected from her little arts. He found means, however, to command her
attention by the very serious proposal of matrimony. She had no great
inclination for the state, but the novelty pleased her. The pleasure she
received from his addresses she mistook for love, and imagined herself
deeply enamoured, when she was in reality only extremely flattered; the
common error of her age. In the company she had kept matrimony appeared
in no very formidable light; she did not see that it abridged a woman of
any of the liberties she already enjoyed; it only afforded her an
opportunity of choosing her own diversions; whereas her taste in those
points sometimes differed from her aunt's, to whom, however, she was
obliged to submit. Thus prepossessed, both in favour of her lover and
his proposal, she listened to him with more attention than she chose he
should perceive; but he was too well acquainted with the pretty arts of
coquetry not to see through them. He therefore took courage to insinuate
his desire of a private marriage, and ventured to persuade her to take a
trip with him to the northern side of Berwick upon Tweed.
Lady Mary could not see, as Mr Lenman's fortune was considerable and
hers entirely precarious, why he was so apprehensive of not being
accepted by her aunt, but there was something spirited in those northern
journeys that had always been the objects of her envy. An adventure was
the supreme pleasure of life and these pretty flights gave marriage all
the charms of romance. To be forced to fly into another kingdom to be
married gave her an air of consequence; vulgar people might tie the knot
at every parish church, but people of distinction should do everything
with an eclat. She imagined it very probable that her aunt would consent
to her union with Mr Lenman; for though he was not equal to her in
birth, yet he was her superior in fortune; but yet she looked upon his
fears of a refusal as meritorious, since he assured her they arose from
his extreme affection, which filled him with terrors on the least
prospect of losing her. Should Lady Sheerness, he urged, reject his
proposal, she might then be extremely offended with their marrying,
after they knew her disapprobation; but if they did it without her
knowledge, she would not have room to complain of downright
disobedience, and if it was displeasing to her, yet being done, and past
remedy, she would be inclined to make the best of what was unavoidable,
and forgive what she could not prevent.
These arguments were sufficiently solid for a girl of sixteen who never
thought before and could scarcely be said to do so then. Lady Mary
complied with his plan, and the day was fixed when they were to take
this lively step; their several stages settled, and many more arts and
contrivances to avoid discovery concerted, than they were likely to have
any occasion for; but in that variety of little schemes and romantic
expedients her chief pleasure in this intended marriage consisted.
The day before that on which Lady Mary and her lover were to set out for
Scotland, she was airing with Lady Sheerness when one of the horses
taking fright, they were overturned down a very steep declivity. Lady
Sheerness was but very little hurt, but Lady Mary was extremely bruised;
one side of her face received a blow which swelled it so violently that
her eye was quite closed, and her body was all over contusions. She was
taken up senseless, entirely stunned by the shock. As soon as she was
carried home, she was put to bed; a fever ensued, and she lay a
fortnight in a deplorable condition, though her life was not thought to
be in danger. Her pain, for the greatest part of that time, was too
acute to suffer her to reflect much on the different manner in which she
had intended to employ that period; and when her mind became more at
liberty, her disappointment did not sit too heavy on her spirits; for as
her heart was not really touched, she considered the delay which this
ill-timed accident had occasioned without any great concern, and rather
pleased herself with thinking that she should give an uncommon proof of
spirit, in undertaking a long journey, so soon after she was recovered
from a very evident proof that travelling is not free from danger. As
she had during this confinement more time to think than all her life had
yet afforded her, a doubt would sometimes occur, whether she did right
in entering into such an engagement without the consent of her aunt, to
whom she was much obliged. But these scruples soon vanished, and she
wondered how such odd notions came into her head, never having heard the
word duty used, but to ridicule somebody who made it the rule of their
conduct. By all she had been able to observe, pleasure was the only aim
of persons of genius, whose thoughts never wandered but from one
amusement to another, and, 'why should not she be guided by inclination
as well as other people?' That one question decided the point, and all
doubts were banished.
Before the blackness which succeeded the swelling was worn off her face,
and consequently before she could appear abroad, a young lady of her
acquaintance, who, out of charity, relinquished the diversions of the
place to sit an afternoon with Lady Mary, told her as a whimsical piece
of news she had just heard (and to tell which was the real motive for
her kind visit, having long felt a secret envy of Lady Mary) that, her
lover, Mr Lenman, had been married some years, to a young lady of small
fortune, whom he treated on that account with so little ceremony that
for a considerable time he did not own his marriage, and since he
acknowledged it had kept her constantly at his house in Wales.
This was indeed news of consequence to Lady Mary, but she was little
inclined to believe it and enquired what proof there was of this fact.
The young lady replied that she had it from a relation of hers lately
arrived at Scarborough who having been often in Mr Lenman's
neighbourhood, was well acquainted both with him and his wife, and had
in a pretty large company where she was present asked him after Mrs
Lenman's health, to which he made as short an answer as he could, but
such as shewed there was such a person, and his confusion on this
question made her relation enquire what could be the meaning of it,
which all the company could easily explain.
Lady Mary was prodigiously disconcerted with this intelligence; her
informer imagined the visible agitation of her spirits proceeded from
her attachment to Mr Lenman, but in reality it was the effect of terror.
She was frighted to think how near she was becoming the object of
general ridicule and disgrace, wedded to a married man and duped by his
cunning; for she immediately perceived why her aunt was not to be let
into the secret. How contemptible a figure must she afterwards have made
in the world! There was something in this action of Mr Lenman's very
uncommon, fashionable vices and follies had in her opinion received a
sanction from custom, but this was of a different and a deeper dye; and
little as she had been used to reflect on good and evil in any other
light than as pleasant and unpleasant, she conceived a horror at this
action.
After her visitor departed, she began to reflect on the luckiness of the
overturn which had obstructed her rash design, and admiring her good
fortune, would certainly have offered rich sacrifices on the shrine of
Chance had there been a temple there erected to that deity.
While her mind was filled with these impressions, the nurse, who had
attended her in her sickness, and was not yet dismissed, entered the
room crying with joy and told her, that she had just received the news
of the ship's being lost wherein her son was to have embarked, had he
not been seized with a fit of sickness two days before it set sail,
which made it impossible for him to go on board. The poor woman was
profuse in her acknowledgements for God's great mercy, who had by this
means prevented the destruction of her dear child. 'To be sure,' added
she, 'I shall never again repine at any thing that happens to me. How
vexed I was at this disappointment, and thought myself the most
unfortunate creature in the world because my son missed of such a good
post as he was to have had in this ship; I was continually fretting
about it and fancied that so bad a setting out was a sign the poor boy
would be unlucky all his life. How different things turn out from what
we expect! Had not this misfortune, as I thought it, happened, he would
now have been at the bottom of the sea, and my poor heart would have
been broken. Well, to be sure God is very kind! I hope my boy will
always be thankful for this providence and love the Lord who has thus
preserved him.'
This poor woman spoke a new language to Lady Mary. She knew, indeed,
that God had made the world, and had sent her into it, but she had never
thought of his taking any further care about her. She had heard that he
had forbidden murder and stealing and adultery and that, after death, he
would judge people for those crimes, and this she supposed was the
utmost extent of his attention. But the joy she felt for her own
deliverance from a misfortune into which she was so near involving
herself, and the resemblance there was in the means of her preservation
to that for which her nurse was so thankful, communicated to her some of
the same sensations, and she felt a gratitude to him who, she imagined,
might possibly be more careful over his creatures than she had ever yet
supposed.
These impressions, though pretty strong at the time, wore off after she
got abroad. A renewal of the same dissipation scattered them with every
other serious thought; and she again entered into the hurry of every
trifling amusement. Mr Lenman, as soon as he found that his marriage was
become public, despairing of the success of his scheme, left the place
before Lady Mary was out of her confinement, afraid of meeting the
reproachful glances of a woman whom he designed to injure; and whose
innocence, notwithstanding her levity, gave her dignity in the eyes of a
man who had really conceived an ardent passion for her.
Lady Sheerness and her niece stayed but a short time at Scarborough
after the latter was perfectly recovered, the season being over. They
returned to London and all the gaiety it affords; and though the town
was at that time not full, yet they had so general an acquaintance, and
Lady Sheerness rendered her house so agreeable, that she never wanted
company. Every season has its different amusements, and these ladies had
an equal taste for everything that bore the name of diversion. It is
true, they were not always entertained; but they always expected to be
so, and promised themselves amends the following day for the
disappointment of the present. If they failed of pleasure, they had
dissipation, and were in too continual a hurry to have time to ask
themselves whether they were amused; if they saw others were so, they
imagined themselves must be equally entertained; or if the dullness of
the place was too great to be overlooked, they charged it on their own
want of spirits, and complained of a languor which rendered them
incapable of receiving pleasure.
Lady Mary fortunately had had no confidante in her design of running
away with Mr Lenman, and the part he had acted was so dishonourable he
could not wish to publish it; her imprudence was therefore known only to
herself; and the fear of disobliging her aunt by letting her intended
disobedience reach her ears induced her to conceal it; otherwise, most
probably, in some unguarded hour, she would have amused her acquaintance
with the relation, embellished with whatever circumstances would have
rendered it amusing; for the love of being entertaining, and the vanity
of being listened to with eagerness, will lead people of ungoverned
vivacity to expose their greatest failings.
Lady Mary's levity encouraged her admirers to conceive hopes which her
real innocence should have repressed. Among this number was Lord Robert
St George. He was both in person and manner extremely pleasing; but what
was a stronger charm to a young woman of Lady Mary's turn of mind, he
was a very fashionable man, much caressed by the ladies, and supposed to
have been successful in his addresses to many. This is always a great
recommendation to the gay and giddy; and a circumstance which should
make a man shunned by every woman of virtue, secures him a favourable
reception from the most fashionable part of our sex.
Lady Mary would have accused herself of want of taste had she not liked
a man whom so many others had loved. She saw his attachment to her in
the light of a triumph over several of her acquaintance; and when a man
raises a woman in her own esteem, it is seldom long before he gains a
considerable share of it for himself. Vanity represented Lord Robert as
a conquest of importance, and his qualifications rendered him a very
pleasing dangler. Lady Mary liked him as well as her little leisure to
attend to one person would permit. She felt that pleasure on his
approach, that pain at his departure, that solicitude for his presence,
and that jealousy at the civilities he paid any other woman, which girls
look upon as the symptoms of a violent passion, whereas if they were to
examine their hearts very nicely they would find that only a small part
of it proceeded from love.
Lord Robert was too well skilled in these matters to remain ignorant of
the impression he had made; and if he had been less quick-sighted, the
frequent intelligence he received of it would not have suffered him long
to remain in ignorance. Lady Mary, vain of her conquest and proud of
being in love, as is usual at her age, let every intimate into her
confidence, and by mutual communication they talked a moderate liking
into a passion. Each of these young ladies were as ready to tell their
friend's secrets as their own, till the circle of that confidence
included all their acquaintance. From many of these Lord Robert heard of
Lady Mary's great attachment to him, which served not a little to
flatter his hopes. He imagined he should meet with an easy conquest of a
giddy, thoughtless girl, entirely void of all fixed principles and
violently in love with him; for his vanity exaggerated her passion. In
this persuasion he supposed nothing was wanting to his success but
opportunity, for which he took care not to wait long.
He was intimately acquainted with an old lady, whom he often met at Lady
Sheerness's, whose disposition he knew well suited to his purpose, she
had before proved convenient to him and others; not indeed by unrewarded
assistance, for as her fortune was too small to supply the expenses of
the genteel way of life she aimed at, she was glad to have that
deficiency made up by presents which she was therefore very assiduous to
deserve. This lady, as she was a woman of fashion and lived in figure,
was politely received in all gay companies who were not disposed to take
the trouble of examining scrupulously into her character. She had one
material recommendation; she played high at cards, and omitted nothing
to make her house agreeable; and few were more crowded.
This lady had often been visited by Lady Sheerness and her niece, though
generally at the same time with the multitude; but one day, when she
knew the former was confined at home by indisposition, she invited Lady
Mary, whose aunt's complaisance would not suffer her to refuse the
invitation on her account.
Lord Robert was there, and as it was only a private party, there were no
card-tables but in the outward room. The mistress of the house drew Lady
Mary into the inner, on pretence of having something particular to say
to her, Lord Robert soon followed. The conversation grew lively between
him and Lady Mary; and when the convenient gentlewoman saw them
thoroughly engaged and animated in discourse, she quietly withdrew,
returning to the company, whose attention was too much fixed on the
cards to perceive that any one was missing; and to keep their thoughts
more entirely engrossed, she betted with great spirit at every table.
Lady Mary did not perceive she was left alone with Lord Robert, till the
growing freedom of his address made her observe it; but as prudence was
not one of her virtues, she was not at all disconcerted with this
tete-a-tete; nor did it lessen her vivacity. Lord Robert, encouraged by
her easiness on the occasion, declared himself so plainly that she was
no longer able to blind herself to his views and with surprise found
seduction was his aim, if that word maybe used for a man's designs
against the honour of a woman who seems so careless of it. Her heart was
entirely innocent of vice, and she could not imagine how his lordship
could conceive it possible to succeed with her in intentions of that
sort. She had always thought such imprudence in a woman a very great
folly, for in a graver light she had never beheld it, and shewed herself
offended at his supposing her capable of such a weakness; but without
that honest indignation which a woman would have felt who had acted on
better principles.