When the princesses left us, we were again at a loss what to do with
ourselves; we saw several passing servants, maids as well as men, and
Miss Planta applied to them all to shew me my room, which I was anxious
to inhabit in peace and solitude: however, they all promised to send,
some one else, but no one came. Miss Planta, in the midst of the
diversion she received from my unavailing earnestness to get into some
retreat, had the good-nature to say, “I knew how this would turn out,
and wished the visit over before it began; but it must really be very
new to you, unused as you are to it, and accustomed to so much attention
in other places.”
At length she seized upon a woman servant, who undertook to conduct me
to this wished-for room. Miss Planta accompanied me, and off we set.
In descending the stairs, a door opened which led to one of the state
rooms, in which were the royal family. We glided softly past; but the
princess royal, attended by the Duchess of Ancaster, came out to us. We
soon found her royal highness had told our tale. “Miss Vernons,” said
the duchess, “will come to take care of you; you must both go and take
possession of the eating-parlour, where you will sup; and the equerries
will be of your party.”
I said not a word, but of general thanks, still longing only to go to my
own room. I whispered this to Miss Planta, who obligingly, though rather
reluctantly, consented to pursue our first scheme. But when the duchess
observed that we were turning off, she called out, “I see you do not
know your way, so I'll come and show you to the eating-parlour.” The
princess royal said she would come with us also; and, according to
direction, we were therefore necessitated to proceed.
When we got to the hall leading to this parlour, we were suddenly
stopped by the appearance of the king, who just then came out of that
very room. Lord Harcourt attended with a candle in his hand, and a
group of gentlemen followed. We were advanced too far to retreat, and
therefore only stood still. The king stopped, and spoke to the Duchess
of Ancaster; and then spoke very graciously to Miss Planta and me,
inquiring when we set out, and what sort of journey we had had. He then
ascended the stairs, the princess royal accompanying him, and all
the rest following; the duchess first pointing to the door of the
eating-parlour, and bidding us go there and expect Miss Vernons.
Lord Harcourt, during this meeting, had contrived to slip behind the
king, to make me a very civil bow; and when his majesty moved on, he
slid nearer me, and whispered a welcome to his house in very civil
terms. This was all he could do, so situated.
We now entered the eating-room. We sat down,--but no Miss Vernons!
Presently the door opened,--I hoped they were coming,--but a clergyman,
a stranger to us both, appeared. This gentleman, I afterwards found,
was Mr. Hagget, chaplain to Lord Harcourt, and rector of a living in
his lordship's gift and neighbourhood; a young man, sensible, easy,
and remarkably handsome, in very high favour with all the family. With
nobody to introduce us to each other, we could but rise and bow, and
curtsey, and sit down again.
In a few minutes, again the door gave hopes to me of Miss Vernons;--but
there only appeared a party of gentlemen. Major Price came foremost, and
immediately introduced me to General Harcourt. The general is a very shy
man, with an air of much haughtiness; he bowed and retreated, and sat
down, and was wholly silent. Colonel Fairly followed him, and taking
a chair next mine, began some of the civilest speeches imaginable,
concerning this opportunity of making acquaintance with me.
Just then came in a housemaid, and said she would show me my room.
I rose hastily. Miss Planta, who knew everybody present except the
clergyman, was now willing to have sat still and chatted; but nothing
short of compulsion could have kept me in such a situation, and
therefore I instantly accompanied the maid; and poor Miss Planta could
not stay behind. The truth is the non-appearance of any of the ladies
of the house struck me as being so extremely uncivil, that I desired
nothing but to retire from all the party.
I felt quite relieved when I once took possession of a room that, for
the time, I might call my own; and I could not possibly listen to Miss
Planta's desire of returning to the company. I told her frankly that
it was a situation so utterly disagreeable to me, that I must beg to
decline placing myself in it again. She was afraid, she said, that, as
the Duchess of Ancaster had taken the trouble to show us the room, and
to tell us what to do, in the presence of the princess royal, the queen
might hear of our absconding, and not be pleased with it.
“I must risk that,” I answered--“I shall openly tell my reasons, If
questioned, and I firmly believe they will be satisfactory. If not
questioned, I shall say nothing; and indeed I very much wish you would
do the same.”
She agreed,--consented, rather--and I was the more obliged to her from
seeing it was contrary to her inclination. I was sorry, but I could not
compliment at the expense of putting myself again into a situation I
had been so earnest to change. Miss Planta bore it very well, and only
wished the maid farther for never finding us out till we began to be
comfortable without her.
“THE EQUERRIES WANT THE LADIES.”
Here we remained about two hours, unsummoned, unnoticed,
unoccupied,--except in forcing open a box which Mrs. Thielky had lent
me for my wardrobe, and of which I had left the key, ingeniously, at
Windsor. At ten o'clock a maid came to the door, and said supper was
ready.
“Who sent you?” I called out.
“Who do you come from?” cried Miss Planta.
She was gone;--we could get no answer. About a quarter of an hour
after, one of those gentlemen footmen, for whom you must already have
discovered my partiality, called out, from the stairs, without troubling
himself to come to the door, “The supper waits.”
He was already gone; but Miss Planta darted after him, calling out, “Who
sent you?--who did you come to?”
She was not heard by this gentleman, but what she said was echoed
after him by some other, and the answer that reached our ears was, “The
equerries want the ladies.”
This was enough; Miss Planta returned quite indignant, after hastily
replying, “We don't choose any supper.”
We were now precisely of an opinion. Miss Planta, indeed, was much more
angry than myself; for I was very sure the equerries had sent a very
different message, and therefore thought nothing of the words used
by the servant, but confined all my dissatisfaction to its first
origin,--the incivility of the ladies of the house, that they came not
themselves, or some one from them, to invite us in a manner that might
be accepted. From this time, however, we became more comfortable, as
absconding was our mutual desire; and we were flung, by this means, into
a style of sociability we might else never have arrived at.
We continued together till Miss Planta thought it right to go and see if
Mhaughendorf had prepared every thing for the princesses; and then I
was left to myself--the very companion I just at that time most wished a
tete-a-tete with--till I was summoned to the queen. In this tete-a-tete,
I determined very concisely upon my plan of procedure: which was to
quietly keep my own counsel, unless I found my conduct disapproved--and,
in that case, to run all risks in openly declaring that I must always
prefer solitude to society upon terms to which I was unaccustomed.