No sooner did I find that my coadjutrix ceased to speak of returning to
Windsor,[222] and that I became, by that means, the presidentess of the
dinner and tea-table, than I formed a grand design--no other than to
obtain to my own use the disposal of my evenings.
From the time of my entrance into this Court, to that of which I am
writing, I had never been informed that it was incumbent upon me to
receive the king's equerries at the teatable; yet I observed that
they always came to Mrs. Schwellenberg, and that she expected them so
entirely as never to make tea till their arrival. Nevertheless, nothing
of that sort had ever been intimated to me, and I saw no necessity of
falling into all her ways, without commands to that purpose: nor could I
conclude that the king's gentlemen would expect from me either the same
confinement, or readiness of reception, as had belonged to two invalid
old ladies, glad of company, and without a single connection to draw
them from home....
I could not, however, but be struck with a circumstance that shewed me,
in a rather singular manner, my tea-making seemed at once to be regarded
as indispensable: this was no other than a constant summons, which John
regularly brought me every evening, from these gentlemen, to acquaint me
they were come upstairs to the tea-room, and waiting for me.
I determined not to notice this: and consequently, the first time Mrs.
Delany was not well enough to give me her valuable society at the Lodge,
I went to her house, and spent the evening there; without sending any
message to the equerries, as any apology must imply a right on their
part that must involve me in future confinement.
This I did three or four times, always with so much success as to gain
my point for the moment, but never with such happy consequences as to
ensure it me for the time to come; since every next meeting shewed an
air of pique, and since every evening had still, unremittingly, the same
message for John.
I concluded this would wear away by use, and therefore resolved to give
it that chance. One evening, however, when, being quite alone, I was
going to my loved resource, John, ere I could get out, hurried to me,
“Ma'am, the gentlemen are come up, and they send their compliments, and
they wait tea for you.”
“Very well,” was my answer to this rather cavalier summons, which I did
not wholly admire; and I put on my hat and cloak, when I was called to
the queen. She asked me whether I thought Mrs. Delany could come to her,
as she wished to see her? I offered to go instantly, and inquire.
“But don't tell her I sent you,” cried the most considerate queen, “lest
that should make her come when it may hurt her: find out how she is,
before you mention me.”
As I now knew I must return myself, at any rate, I slipped into the
tea-room before I set off. I found there Colonel Goldsworthy, looking
quite glum, General Bude, Mr. Fisher, Mr.-- Fisher, his brother, and Mr.
Blomberg, chaplain to the Prince of Wales.
The moment I opened the door, General Bude presented Mr. Blomberg to
me, and Mr. Fisher his brother; I told them, hastily, that I was running
away to Mrs. Delany, but meant to return in a quarter of an hour, when
I should be happy to have their company, if they could wait so long; but
if they were hurried, my man should bring their tea.
They all turned to Colonel Goldsworthy, who, as equerry in waiting, was
considered as head of the party; but he seemed so choked with surprise
and displeasure, that he could only mutter something too indistinct to
be heard, and bowed low and distantly.
“If Colonel Goldsworthy can command his time, ma'am,” cried Mr. Fisher,
“we shall be most happy to wait yours.”
General Bude said the same: the colonel again silently and solemnly
bowed, and I curtsied in the same manner, and hurried away.
Mrs. Delany was not well; and I would not vex her with the queen's
kind wish for her. I returned, and sent in, by the page in waiting, my
account: for the queen was in the concert-room, and I could not go to
her. Neither would I seduce away Miss Port from her duty; I came back,
therefore, alone, and was fain to make my part as good as I was able
among my beaus.
I found them all waiting. Colonel Goldsworthy received me with the
same stately bow, and a look so glum and disconcerted, that I instantly
turned from him to meet the soft countenance of the good Mr. Fisher,
who took a chair next mine, and entered into conversation with his usual
intelligence and mildness. General Bude was chatty and well bred, and
the two strangers wholly silent.
I could not, however, but see that Colonel Goldsworthy grew less and
less pleased. Yet what had I done?--I had never been commanded to devote
my evenings to him, and, if excused officially, surely there could be
no private claim from either his situation or mine. His displeasure
therefore appeared to me so unjust, that I resolved to take not the
smallest notice of it. He never once opened his mouth, neither to me nor
to any one else. In this strange manner we drank our tea. When it was
over, he still sat dumb--and still I conversed with Mr. Fisher and
General Bude.
At length a prodigious hemming showed a preparation in the colonel for
a speech: it came forth with great difficulty, and most considerable
hesitation.
“I am afraid, ma'am,--I am afraid you--you--that is--that we are
intruders upon you.”
“N-o,” answered I, faintly, “why so?”
“I am sure, ma'am, if we are--if you think--if we take too much
liberty--I am sure I would not for the world!--I only--your
commands--nothing else--”
“Sir!” cried I, not understanding a word.
“I see, ma'am, we only intrude upon you: however, you must excuse my
just saying we would not for the world have taken such a liberty, though
very sensible of the happiness of being allowed to come in for half an
hour,--which is the best half-hour of the whole day; but yet, if it was
not for your own commands--”
“What commands, sir?”
He grew still more perplexed, and made at least a dozen speeches to the
same no purpose, before I could draw from him anything explicit; all of
them listening silently the whole time, and myself invariably staring.
At last, a few words escaped him more intelligible.
“Your messages, ma'am, were what encouraged us to come.”
“And pray, sir, do tell me what messages?--I am very happy to see you,
but I never sent any messages at all?”
“Indeed, ma'am!” cried he, staring in his turn; “why your servant,
little John there, came rapping at our door, at the equerry room, before
we had well swallowed our dinner, and said, 'My lady is waiting tea,
sir.'”
I was quite confounded. I assured him it was an entire fabrication of my
servant's, as I had never sent, nor even thought of sending him, for I
was going out.
“Why to own the truth, ma'am,” cried he, brightening up, “I did really
think it a little odd to send for us in that hurry, for we got up
directly from table, and said, if the lady is waiting, to be sure we
must not keep her; and then--when we came--to just peep in, and say you
were going out!”
How intolerable an impertinence in John!--it was really no wonder the
poor colonel was so glum.
Again I repeated my ignorance of this step; and he then said “Why,
ma'am, he comes to us regularly every afternoon, and says his lady is
waiting; and we are very glad to come, poor souls that we are, with
no rest all the livelong day but what we get in this good room!--but
then--to come, and see ourselves only intruders--and to find you going
out, after sending for us!”
I could scarce find words to express my amazement at this communication.
I cleared myself instantly from having any the smallest knowledge of
John's proceedings, and Colonel Goldsworthy soon recovered all his
spirits and good humour, when he was satisfied he had not designedly
been treated with such strange and unmeaning inconsistency. He rejoiced
exceedingly that he had spoke out, and I thanked him for his frankness,
and the evening concluded very amicably....
The evening after, I invited Miss Port, determined to spend it entirely
with my beaus, in order to wholly explain away this impertinence.
Colonel Goldsworthy now made me a thousand apologies for having named
the matter to me at all. I assured him I was extremely glad he had
afforded me an opportunity of clearing it. In the course of the
discussion, I mentioned the constant summons brought me by John every
afternoon. He lifted up his hands and eyes, and protested most solemnly
he had never sent a single one.
“I vow, ma'am,” cried the colonel, “I would not have taken such a
liberty on any account; though all the comfort of my life in this house,
is one half-hour in a day spent in this room. After all one's labours,
riding, and walking, and standing, and bowing--what a life it is! Well!
it's honour! that's one comfort; it's all honour! royal honour!--one has
the honour to stand till one has not a foot left; and to ride till one's
stiff, and to walk till one's ready to drop,--and then one makes one's
lowest bow, d'ye see, and blesses one's self with joy for the honour!”