V I C I S S I T U D E S
I N
G E N T E E L L I F E.
V I C I S S I T U D E S
I N
IN FOUR VOLUMES.
VOL. IV.
The Shafts of Envy dart at strongest Forts.
But what can Envy
have to do with me? Pass by, perhaps, and
smile. Envy
gives Honor. Envy acknowledges Superiority in
wishing to be like the one she hates, and
holds
in feigned Contempt.
SMITH.
STAFFORD:
PRINTED BY ARTHUR MORGAN.
AND SOLD BY
T.N. LONGMAN,
PATER-NOSTER-ROW, LONDON.
M.DCC. XCIV.
VICISSITUDES
IN
GENTEEL LIFE.
LETTER, I.
MISS LAWSON, TO MISS MARIA LEWIS.
Oakley Hill, April 10th.
I Now, Maria,
write from the seat of Mr. Slayton, at which we arrived yesterday to dinner. It
was our plan to have proceeded this morning upon the intended tour, but the
master of the mansion would not permit our departure.
Shall I venture to say that I never remember
to have lived a happier time than the present? Or shall I forbear, from an
apprehension of a critical investigation into the cause?
Conscious then, you will say, that it will
not bear examining. Indeed, Maria, I am not. I only threw out that line to
alarm you. The cause of my present pleasantness may easily be accounted for.
Every body is pleasant round me; and I must be a misanthrope not to be pleasant
too at this juncture. Sir Edward and Lady Stanley look about, and then upon
each other, with the lively rapture of seventeen, rationalized by the
tranquility of sober sixty; so greatly do they enjoy the returning prospect of
a union between Sir Charles and their Emma; while she, dear girl, has regained
all her former bloom and liveliness; which, it must be confessed, the late unhappy period considerably diminished. She
is now, as formerly, the life of the party she helps to compose; every heart is
hers; and when she leaves the company, we are all sensible of a deprivation till her return. The very
fine edge of her vivacity is, I think, rendered rather less keen; or if its
sharpness is retained, it appears not; she seeming to have acquired additional
softness by her late painful exercises; which renders her a completely charming
character.
As to Sir Charles Conway—his felicity appears
to be beyond description. The natural liveliness of his disposition is so
sweetly blended with dignity and gentleness, that, as I suspect I have before
more than once observed, it is next to impossible to see—to hear him, and not
be charmed. His ardent affection for Miss Stanley is evident in his every look
and action; not from such a manner as presses upon the
observation of the nicest sensibility; nor would a third person ever
feel himself in the way; as is too often the case when in company with a pair
so circumstanced. Her affection may be seen as well
as his; but it wears a different appearance. A sweet, modest, withdrawing acknowledgment—if I may be allowed to coin a
phrase—answers candidly, though with delicacy, his more tender and open avowal.
I never saw love assume so beautiful—shall I, Maria, say so inviting—an aspect?
Mr. Stanley—of whom more in a few
lines—exhibits a meridian sky with quick passing clouds. His countenance, all
lively and glowing as it naturally is, shines upon every beholder, till a
sudden thought seems to steal upon his features, and the glow is abated; but
upon being spoken to, he starts, and is instantly re-animated.
What am I to say, Maria, about Mr. Evelyn?
Why this—that the philanthropy of his heart enjoys the happiness of all around
him; and that his goodness and good sense partake of, and encrease the general
felicity.
Can I, my dear friends, be insensible to
pleasure in such a society? Impossible: my heart is dilated, and I seem all
expansion.
You must allow me some peculiar expressions,
because the sentiments which lead my pen are of a peculiar nature.
Come Maria—come soon into Derbyshire. Your
company is warmly requested by every individual of our party. Emma says she
will write to you by the post which goes this evening, to entreat the
performance of your given promise. I know no one’s consent is wanting but your own; so we will not
admit of any excuses, as we hope
Mrs. Stanhope’s amendment continues.
Mr. Slayton—whom, though a principal person
in the groupe, I had absolutely forgotten—is a character I know not how to
delineate.
In his person, he is neither stout, nor thin,
nor ungenteel. His features are strong and rough, but not unpleasant. In his
disposition he is whimsical and positive, but not unpersuadable; and his
understanding is naturally good. At an early age he was deeply in love with a lady
who died in a consumption; since which time he has never attempted matrimony.
His godson is his darling; though he often jars with him. Their quarrels
generally begin about Mr. Stanley’s not being willing to put on the hymeneal fetters at present. A short time back, he made a
proposal to the family that if George would marry within a twelve-month, to his
approbation, he would immediately put him into possession of fifty thousand
pounds and secure to him the like sum to be paid upon his death; but if he refused
the conditions, he would present ten thousand to Miss Stanley, and find an heir
from a distant and different branch of his family. The reason he gives for this
preceeding, is, that he thinks if Mr. Stanley’s senior friends leave him in a single state he never—such an opinion
has he of all the young men of the present generation—will enter any other; and he professes so mortally
to hate lady-keeping—I use his own words—that sooner than leave one
shilling of his fortune to a batchelor he declares he will give it all to the Magdalene College. Sir Edward abets his
proposal; being likewise very desirous to see his son married. However I cannot
think Mr. Slayton will leave his estate from the Stanley family, do George what
he will; as he has no other relations but some very distant ones from a half
brother of his mother’s.
And now, Maria, for some news about your
amiable new favourite, Lady Caroline Pemberton. We were yesterday, at our
arrival at Mr. Slayton’s, introduced to Mr. Maynard, nephew to Lord Danvers;
who was upon his return from his journey into the North, to investigate and
settle Lady Caroline’s reversionary right to the whole of the Pemberton estate;
there not being, it seems, any apprehension of his lordship’s marrying again;
as he never could be prevailed upon to do that, even when it was supposed his
nephew’s son, if he had none of his own, would inherit the estate and title.
But it now appears that this presumptive heir has been dead some time, and by
the most complicated villany of that wretch, Lord Crumpford, aided by the
child’s mother, kept a secret from the world; while a little usurper—supposed
to be an illegitimate son of either the vile Lord’s or his brother’s—has been
dressed up and put to Eton as the deceased heir of the earldom.
The story is very long and very wicked. I
cannot now give you any particulars. Suffice it, that every thing has been
proved incontestably.
Mr. Maynard is extremely genteel in his
person, and one of the most complete fine gentlemen I ever beheld. I had not,
when he was here, received your Wednesday’s packet, or I should, at my introduction to him,
have expressed my concern at having been absent from Woodstock when Lady
Caroline Pemberton made her first visit there; which circumstance, to my great
surprise, he, after some time had elapsed, informed us of; politely saying,
that a letter he had just then received from Mrs. Maynard, mentioned his cousin’s disappointment at finding I was from home;
adding, that he supposed she would return with the Earl to London the latter
end of this week, as he had sent his lordship a summons to meet him there upon
business of consequence. So Maria you have probably, by this time, lost your new friend; of whom I think I should have
been jealous, had she staid amongst you much longer.
Mr. Maynard left us after dinner. He seemed
impatient to get home; having been out longer than he expected. Till that
morning he had, he said, been very uneasy at not having received any letter
from Mrs. Maynard since he left her, and spoke with so much affection upon the
occasion, that I was quite charmed with him.
I am called away; therefore lest I should not
find an opportunity to write again before the post goes out, will here
subscribe the name of
CHARLOTTE LAWSON.
Tell my aunt that I thank her for the
addition she made to your packet, (which greatly pleased me) and that I mean to
obey her injunctions.
LETTER, II.
MISS LAWSON, TO MISS MARIA LEWIS.
Oakley Hill, Friday night.
Another
opportunity offers for a little writing, which I with the more pleasure make
use of, as you tell me my relation of our goings-on affords amusement to my dear friends at
Woodstock.
After Mr. Maynard left us yesterday, we
walked round the grounds of this pleasant little habitation, and were very
agreeably entertained the whole evening. This morning we had a fishing party,
and when we returned, found a messenger with letters conveyed by the morning’s post to Alverston; amongst the number of which,
was my dear Maria’s.
I am sorry to tell you, that happy as I am in
this part of the country, I find a grumbling in my heart at Lady Caroline’s visiting Woodstock during the time of my being
absent from it. Of this, however, I am most truly ashamed; though I find a
little excuse for it from the extreme amiableness of the lovely creature’s character. I think I never heard a woman more
celebrated. Mr. Maynard spoke of her in the warmest terms of affectionate
admiration; saying she was the joy and pride of all her relations.
Having perused your packet before dinner, I,
after that was over, read the part which related to Lady Caroline (and indeed
some other parts) to my friends here, by way of a desert; and this occasioned
an argument between Mr. Slayton and his godson.
“ I think,” said the old gentleman, “that Lady Caroline Pemberton must make any man in the
world very happy. George, are not you of my opinion?"
Mr. Stanley. Fancy, my good sir, in these matters, is some times apt to overrule
the judgment.
Mr. Slayton. But what a fanciful fancy must it be that could not fancy such a
charming creature.
Mr. Stanley. Good changes upon the word fancy, sir; but to carry them a little
farther—I fancy that if at a fanciful time of life your fancy had been fixed
upon any other woman, you would not have fancied this, or any second; however
justly celebrated for beauty and goodness.
Mr. Slayton. And is that the case, George? Is your
fancy fixed, boy? This comes [angrily he spoke it] of handsome waiting-maids.
The crimson deepened upon Mr. Stanley’s cheek; but he seemed to be upon his guard. Emma
looked surprised; Lady Stanley concerned; while George with apparent
carelessness (passing over his innuendo) replied—"My
fancy, sir! I am not talking of myself. Your question was a general one, and I
gave it a general answer.”
Mr. Slayton. Well, well: perhaps I spoke without much thinking. But to end the
matter—Will you make this fine lady your wife?
Mr. Stanley. Upon my word, sir, you must think me very presumptuous if you suppose
I can have an idea of looking up to a young lady who, with respect to family;
fortune, and endowments, both personal and mental, stands in one of the most
elevated situations in the kingdom; and that, without ever having been the
least acquainted with her.
Mr. Slayton. Well, but suppose she would consent to have you, godson! What would
you say then?
Mr. Stanley. You suppose a very improbable matter, sir. Lady Caroline Pemberton
has just pretensions to look up to a ducal coronet. Can you then fancy—to repeat the battered word—that she would condescend
to think of an alliance with the family of a private gentleman?
Mr. Slayton. Well, but let us talk for talking’s sake; and let me repeat my question. If this fine young lady were to
notify that she would accept you, would you promise to make her your wife.
Mr. Stanley. If you must be answered categorically—I would not; except I found,
upon an acquaintance, that I could give her the first place in my heart as well as in my esteem and admiration.
Mr. Slayton. Foolish boy. But suppose, upon seeing her, you found you could love her above all other women, would you then consent to marry her?
Mr. Stanley. You now, sir, ask a question that requires no
answer. If I loved Lady Caroline Pemberton above all other women, and if she
would condescend to accept me, you must suppose me to be either a fool or a
madman to have any doubt of my ready—my grateful
compliance.
Mr. Slayton. Very well, young man; very well. This now is as it should be. Well,
and will you then go with me to London? Will you consent to see this fine young
creature with a princely fortune?
Mr. Stanley. Consent to see her, sir! In what light? Not I hope—But go with you to London! Yes; when you please. I am ready to attend you
at a moment’s warning. But it must
be upon this condition—that you promise me I shall not be mentioned to Lady
Caroline Pemberton as one who is so ridiculous as to have the least idea of
soliciting her particular distinction.
Mr. Slayton. I will promise: I do
promise that she shall not have any occasion from me to look upon you in any
other light than as one who accompanies me upon a visit I have promised Mr.
Maynard to make at his house, (where Lady
Caroline, doubtless, frequently resides) the next time I go to London.
Mr. Stanley. Well, sir, we then mutually promise. I—to
attend you to town. You—that I
shall not be made to look like a fool when I arrive there.
It was then agreed that the gentlemen should
set out for London at our return, and that we should proceed on our tour to-morrow morning. As we do not mean to make a stay
at any place, you must not, Maria, expect to hear from me till I again see
Alverston: but do not let me be disappointed in my hope of finding there, at
that time, a letter from Woodstock.
After tea we had a pleasant walk to a little
village about a mile from Oakley Hill, to look at some curious pieces of old
coin lately found there in a little meadow. As we were coming back, I missed my
pocket-book, in which I had
made some memorandums respecting some of the pieces, and wishing to return in
hopes of finding it, Mr. Stanley offered to accompany me; insisting, in his
rattling way, that the rest of the party should go forward. Back, therefore, we
went, and found the lost book in the little cottage where we saw the coin; the
mistress of which had just called in one of her daughters to bring it after us.
As we returned, Mr. Stanley and I had a great
deal of serious conversation respecting his sister and Sir Charles Conway, and
after that, on a variety of other subjects. At length his going to London was
mentioned, and I bid
him take care of his heart, or the celebrated young lady whom he would probably
see at Mr. Maynard’s, would release
him of it. When, with a very serious air he replied—“Indeed, madam, it is far—too far—out of the reach of
even Lady Caroline Pemberton’s
attracting influence: but I go to London in hope of finding its mistress.”
Charlotte. You surprise me, sir, by speaking on this subject with an air of
gravity unfamiliar to your features. Is it possible you can in earnest have
parted with your heart?
Mr. Stanley. Miss Lawson, I have.
You are, I know, too good to let any re-communication of this kind distress
either my mother or my sister; therefore I dare to speak to you upon this
pressing subject without any apprehension; without any reserve.
Charlotte. Your opinion of me, sir, obliges me. Permit me to say my heart
witnesses your sentiments upon this particular. I would not give either of them
pain on any consideration.
Mr. Stanley. I am convinced of it, or I would not tell you that my affections are
rivetted to a young woman who has neither fortune; friends, nor I believe
descent to boast of. She is only, Miss Lawson, one of the most beautiful
creatures upon earth, with a head and heart contending for superiority in
goodness, and both excelling her outward form.
Charlotte. Let me spare you a farther communication, by mentioning the name of
Maria Birtles.
Mr. Stanley. My dear Charlotte! I am delighted with you. And do you then think
Maria Birtles answers the description I have given?
Charlotte. Of that, you know, I cannot be a competent judge. My ideas are
gathered from what I have heard you and the rest of the family express.
Mr. Stanley. Well, madam, my description goes not one syllable beyond the truth;
and I confess to you my every wish is centered in that one of calling her my
own.
Charlotte. May I ask where she now is, Mr. Stanley?
Mr. Stanley. That I unhappily cannot tell you. Her letter to my mother gave not
the least insight into the place of her present abode; and it is that which
distracts my very soul.
I cannot, Maria, give you all the particulars
of our long conversation on this subject; though there are many parts of it you
would be pleased with: but this is a matter which seems to threaten an
overthrow to the happiness of this, at present, very happy family; as Mr.
Stanley protests most solemnly he never will speak to any woman upon matrimony
till he has seen or heard something of Maria Birtles. Knowing his temper
thoroughly, I am greatly concerned for the strong partiality he has imbibed for
this young woman; which, upon my word, I do not wonder at, when I recollect
what every one who has seen her says of her. Since our return, he has shown me
the letter she wrote to Lady Stanley after her leaving Alverston, which is
truly expressive of her given character. The sentiments and language are
admirable; and it is written with the greatest accuracy. As to the
hand-writing—it is one of the most elegant I ever saw: but what surprised me
more than any thing Mr. Stanley told me, was, her being the delineator of the
little portrait which I told you was found at the ball at Hazle-wood Lodge;
which, he says, has given him hours of disquietude; as he could not, for a
considerable time, form the least conjecture of the person who had so
distinguished him. But when he saw the above-mentioned letter it appeared,
beyond doubt, to be Maria Birtles, as the hand-writing was the very same as
that on the back of the picture.
This discovery, as you may suppose, from his
character, almost drove him to madness. His anxiety; admiration; gratitude, and affection, were now all centered in this
lovely maid, who, beyond a dispute, was sympathetically sensible of his
attachment, though her delicacy and discretion kept back any acknowledgment;
but the lines at the back of the picture discovered her sentiments.
I asked Mr. Stanley to permit my taking a
copy of them. He hesitated; but, at length, complied. I will enclose them for
your perusal. I do not, Maria, pretend to be a great judge of poetry, but they please me
extremely, and my approbation of them delighted Mr. Stanley, who is, in good
truth, most deplorably in love with your namesake.
What the event will be I cannot conjecture. I
am quite concerned about it indeed, but dare not give the least hint of it to
either Lady Stanley or Emma; for what end would that answer? Distress them, and
perhaps drive him to extremities. He is soon going to London with Mr. Slayton;
for no other intent, he confessed to me, but to endeavour to find out his
enslaver, which made him so ready to accompany the old gentleman; being
previously determined to make use of the first pretence that offered for going
thither. He would have set out the moment he had read the letter to Lady Stanley,
had he not been fearful of awakening her apprehensions; and then she would
probably have laid him under a promise opposite to his wishes.
Sir Charles Conway is acquainted with all the
circumstances of this affair, and labours to persuade Mr. Stanley to relinquish
his purpose; but his labours are unavailing.
Mr. Evelyn, Maria!
It is, I think, some time since I mentioned his name. My not more frequently
talking about him may probably appear like affectation; or perhaps forbearance. I do not know how it is, but I really do feel a
little awkward upon the subject; yet I know not for what reason; for though I
must confess that he treats me with a most pleasing attention, it does not, I think, indicate any particular meaning. Emma indeed says—But
what signifies her opinion in such a case? She can only conjecture;
and that I can do myself. I wonder, Maria, what (if his complaisance should
encrease) my mother and aunt would wish me to say to him! It is but scribbling
for scribbling sake you know; and as I have pretty nearly exhausted all my
subjects, I may as well fill up this little remnant of paper with suppositions.
Mr. Evelyn talks of going to Oxford in a few days after our return to
Alverston. At the time he mentioned it, he looked at me; bowed, and said he
hoped, when he went, to be honored with some commands of mine to Woodstock.
Like a very simpleton I made no other answer
than by a return of his bow; which a foolish blush officiously accompanied. I
was quite ashamed of myself. Why did I blush? And why did I not speak? It
looked as if I thought—as if I fancied—I cannot tell what
it looked like. Emma says I appeared conscious. Conscious of what? Why, she
adds—of having formed an idea that I myself am the subject of his errand into
Oxfordshire. She rallies me most abominably, and would persuade me that I am
going to be in love. But she only speaks her wishes, that she may have one to
keep her in countenance. Soon after Mr. Stanley’s return, she will, I believe, be Lady Conway; as
Mr. Slayton, who has a great knowledge of law-business, has authority to direct the settlements. The old
gentleman this evening told me he should present her with five thousand guineas
on the day of her marriage. After all, he is an honest, generous, veteran. His
peculiarities are, to be sure, rather striking; but I have a kind of sneaking
regard for him; perhaps, because he professes that I am one of his very great
favorites.
Emma has now brought me her letter to enclose. What can she have written! She has
sealed it, and refuses to tell me its contents. I will venture a wager she has
been prating about—I declare I am half afraid of her. Do not believe, Maria,
that I—But perhaps I am too suspicious. Conscience, you
will say, awakens my alarms. You are mistaken. This girl is now all roguery,
and will make great from small; therefore it is
that I fear her.
But adieu. I will finish, and subscribe to
the incontestible truth of my being yours, in the
height of
friendship,
the name of
CHARLOTTE LAWSON.
We think of returning to Alverston tomorrow
fe'nnight.
LETTER, III.
MR. SLAYTON, TO AUGUSTUS MAYNARD, ESQ.
Oakley Hill, April 16th.
DEAR SIR,
I Take the
liberty to inform you that I have received a letter from my lawyer, to tell me
my presence in town will be necessary next week. I therefore think of setting
out on Monday or Tuesday, if my godson, who has promised to accompany me, will
by that time be ready. He is
still absent with the party upon a tour through the North of this county, but
they all purpose returning to Alverston next Saturday. I hope, sir, we shall
make a job of this business. Miss Lawson read us a letter received just after
you left us, from one of her friends at Woodstock, which more than confirmed
the account you gave of your
charming cousin. I then, as from myself, proposed the matter to my young man.
But I cannot say that he received the mention of it quite so tractably as I
could have wished; but, as you observe, sir, he has not yet seen the lady.
Youth is very headstrong. I wish this boy
would be ruled by me, and I think he would be one of the greatest men in the
kingdom: for, as you said when we parted, every thing is his own, both as to
person and mind.
With my respectful compliments to your lady, at present unknown,
I am, sir,
your most
obedient servant,
SAMUEL SLAYTON.
LETTER, IV.
MISS MARIA LEWIS, TO MISS LAWSON.
Woodstock, sixteenth day of fourth month.
IF this letter
goeth duly, and thy friends keep to their purposed time of return, thou wilt
receive it on seventh day next, and we shall hope, as soon after as the mail
can bring
it, to have information of the safety of thyself and party after your
excursion.
Thy journal from Chapel in Frith reached us
this morning. The account it gave of the Peak entertained us exceedingly. We
expect thou wilt give us in another letter the rest of thy adventures.
And now, Charlotte, I must give thee a little
friendly pain, by informing thee that my dear aunt’s health will not permit my thinking of leaving
her at present. Last second day she had a return of her disorder, which,
however, doth not alarm me so much as it at first did, because Doctor Allen
hath pronounced it to be the gout, which I am bid to hope will be of service to
her constitution. She is now confined to her chamber. Thy kind mother and aunt
are our constant visitants; and good Doctor Griffith, likewise, generally seeth
us once every day. My aunt’s spirits
are exceeding good, and she saith
she is extremely comfortable and happy now the pain is encreased in her foot
and ankle, as the disorder seemeth to have entirely left her head and stomach.
Tell Emma Stanley I am greatly sensible of her kindness. With singular pleasure should I
accept immediately her invitation could I leave my dear aunt Stanhope; and that
as soon as she is restored, I shall not hesitate to exchange, for a time, the
serene pleasures of Woodstock for the more lively ones of Alverston Park: and,
Charlotte, tell her, likewise, that I thank her for her intelligence respecting
a certain pair of lovers-elect, about whom I am greatly interested. From her
account, as well as from thy hints,
I think Herbert Evelyn’s chief
business in Oxfordshire will be confined to Woodstock.
Thou pretendest to wonder, Charlotte,
respecting the sentiments of thy mother and aunt, should the young preacher
make to thee an offer of his heart—for that, in simple English, is thy meaning
of the encrease of his complaisance. Why, my dear friend, dost thou hesitate to
conclude that thy choice will be theirs? They do not believe thou wilt chuse
amiss; therefore leave the election entirely to thyself: and if such a chit as
thy Maria may presume to give her opinion upon this occasion, the present
candidate need not much fear any opposition.
Excuse me, Charlotte. I will confess I have
waded beyond my depth. This
is a science in which I am so little versed, that I ought not to presume to
give one sentiment on the subject. Yet thy happiness so nearly concerneth me,
that I cannot prevent my ideas from wandering to the probability of Herbert Evelyn’s success; being pretty strongly persuaded that he
will gladly give thee his heart for thine.
Mayest thou, my dear Charlotte, be directed
by the Great Director in this and all other occasions throughout thy existence;
and with this expressed wish will I bid thee
farewel.
MARIA LEWIS.
LETTER, V.
MR. MAYNARD, TO SAMUEL SLAYTON, ESQ.
St. James's Square, April 17th.
DEAR SIR,
YOUR letter,
dated yesterday, is now put into my hands.
I am glad to know of your intended journey to
town, though at the time you think of beginning it, I shall probably have left
London, as I am necessitated to set off for the North, respecting the business
which carried me thither before, next Monday; but this cannot be of any
detriment to our meditated event, as Mrs. Maynard can assist you as
well—perhaps better than I could, were I to be present. She is perfectly
acquainted with all that passed between you and me, when I was so hospitably
entertained at Oakley Hill; and she has her cousin’s happiness so warmly at heart, that (being much
pleased with my account of Mr. Stanley and his connexions, and knowing he will
not find any prior preference to combat with) she particularly interests herself in the success of our negociation. The
earl is likewise extremely well satisfied with our treaty; but Lady Caroline
is, and must be kept, a stranger to our plan till after Mr. Stanley’s introduction.
Let me request you to oblige Mrs. Maynard
with a card of information as soon as you arrive in town, which I hope you will
not leave till my return from Cumberland, when I please myself with thinking I
shall find matters advancing to our wishes.
I am, my dear sir,
your obliged,
and
obedient servant,
AUGUSTUS MAYNARD.
LETTER, VI.
MISS LAWSON, TO MISS MARIA LEWIS.
Alverston, Saturday, April 18th.
JUST before
dinner we returned, my dear Maria, safe and happy to this charming spot, which
is much more beautiful in every respect than any of the fine places we have
seen in our late ramble; some of which have been admired for their simplicity; others for their
magnificence; the rest for a romantic appearance—for neatness—for a hospitable
air, &c. all which are united in this one habitation. Hazle-wood Lodge is a
sweet pretty retired situation, but neither the house nor park are of any great
extent when compared with Alverston; but it has some singular advantages. Like
this place it is partly encompassed by an elegant little village; to which Mr.
Mortimer, in imitation of Sir Edward Stanley, whose character he particularly
venerates, has drawn a set of very agreeable people, and the river which runs
beyond it, is well replenished with most excellent fish of various kinds. It is
situated mid-way between Alverston Park and Oakley Hill, and forms a triangle
with this place and Hawthorn Grove; which, it seems, is Mr. Slayton’s inducement to think of making it his residence;
though he is so fond of Oakley Hill that he cannot persuade himself to quit it
entirely. Hawthorn Grove, now the alterations are compleated, is said to excel
even Alverston Park, which I can hardly suppose. The last time of my being in
Derbyshire I did not see it, and the time before it was all pulling to pieces:
yet I then thought it a delightful spot, though not equal to Alverston. I have
before told you we are to make a visit there.
Soon after our alighting, your letter was put into my hands. I thank you for
it, Maria, but I am much concerned that you are prevented coming to us:
concerned for the cause as well as the effect. As soon
as Mrs. Stanhope’s greatly
wished-for recovery takes place, we hope to see you in Derbyshire.
With yours, I received a letter from my
sister. She tells me
she is going with Lady Blurton and the Honorable Miss Barbara
Tupps to Aldborough in Suffolk; Lady Blurton being advised by her
physicians to use sea-bathing for a violent eruption in her face; which Rachel
says, quite disfigures her. But of
this you have, I suppose, had an account at Woodstock.
On Monday we are to dine at Hawthorn Grove,
where we are to be joined by Mr. Slayton, who is to return with us and set off,
with Mr. Stanley, for London on Tuesday. Mr. Evelyn goes at the same time for—Oxford, Maria; not for Woodstock;
though he will probably call there. And this is all I will say upon that
subject, at this period. I am afraid of you. You are a little critic. I thought
when I was writing to you I might
with perfect unreserve; but find I was mistaken.
* * * * *
At the word mistaken I laid aside my pen and
went down stairs, when I was informed Sir Charles Conway had received a letter
from Miss Howard, who is at Harborough Hall, requesting to know if he can give
her any intelligence, about her sister; she having received a very alarming
letter from
her by one of the servants who attended her at Yarmouth, and from him, some
intimation respecting Sir Charles Conway, which puzzles her still more than
even the letter.
Miss Howard has written in so pathetic a style and her character is so exalted that Sir Charles has determined to go to Harborough—Mrs. Digby you are to understand, having quitted the kingdom—to acquaint Miss Howard with such of the circumstances relative to the infamous conduct of her sister, as are necessary for her to know; and this he chuses to do in person, rather than by letter