Complete Works of Frances Burney

by Frances Burney

  Was ever anything so ridiculous? I could not help laughing, in spite of my vexation.

  At this instant, Mrs. Mirvan, followed by Lord Orville, walked up to us. You will easily believe it was not difficult for me to recover my gravity; but what was my consternation, when this strange man, destined to be the scourge of my artifice, exclaimed, “Ha! My Lord Orville!-I protest I did not know your Lordship. What can I say for my usurpation?-Yet, faith, my Lord, such a prize was not to be neglected.”

  My shame and confusion were unspeakable. Who could have supposed or foreseen that this man knew Lord Orville? But falsehood is not more unjustifiable than unsafe.

  Lord Orville-well he might-looked all amazement.

  “The philosophic coldness of your Lordship,” continued this odious creature, “every man is not endowed with. I have used my utmost endeavours to entertain this lady, though I fear without success; and your lordship will not be a little flattered, if acquainted with the difficulty which attended my procuring the honour of only one dance.” Then, turning to me, who was sinking with shame, while Lord Orville stood motionless, and Mrs. Mirvan astonished,-he suddenly seized my hand, saying, “Think, my Lord, what must be my reluctance to resign this fair hand to your Lordship!”

  In the same instant, Lord Orville took it of him; I coloured violently, and made an effort to recover it. “You do me too much honour, Sir,” cried he, (with an air of gallantry, pressing it to his lips before he let it go;) “however, I shall be happy to profit by it, if this lady,” turning to Mrs. Mirvan, “will permit me to seek for her party.”

  To compel him thus to dance, I could not endure; and eagerly called out, “By no means-not for the world!-I must beg-”

  “Will you honour me, Madam, with your commands,” cried my tormentor; “may I seek the lady’s party?”

  “No, Sir,” answered I, turning from him.

  “What shall be done, my dear?” said Mrs. Mirvan.

  “Nothing, Ma’am;-anything, I mean-”

  “But do you dance, or not? you see his Lordship waits.”

  “I hope not-I beg that-I would not for the world-I am sure I ought to-to-”

  I could not speak; but that confident man, determining to discover whether or not I had deceived him, said to Lord Orville, who stood suspended, “My Lord, this affair, which at present seems perplexed, I will briefly explain:-this lady proposed to me another dance,-nothing could have made me more happy,-I only wished for your Lordship’s permission; which, if now granted, will, I am persuaded, set everything right.”

  I glowed with indignation. “No, Sir-it is your absence, and that alone, can set everything right.”

  “For Heaven’s sake, my dear,” cried Mrs. Mirvan, who could no longer contain her surprise, “what does all this mean?-were you pre-engaged?-had Lord Orville-”

  “No, Madam,” cried I, “only-only I did not know that gentleman,-and so-and so I thought-I intended-I-”

  Overpowered by all that had passed, I had not strength to make my mortifying explanation;-my spirits quite failed me, and I burst into tears.

  They all seemed shocked and amazed.

  “What is the matter, my dearest love?” cried Mrs. Mirvan, with kindest concern.

  “What have I done!” exclaimed my evil genius, and ran officiously for a glass of water.

  However, a hint was sufficient for Lord Orville, who comprehended all I would have explained. He immediately led me to a seat, and said in a low voice, “Be not distressed, I beseech you: I shall ever think my name honoured by your making use of it.”

  This politeness relieved me. A general murmur had alarmed Miss Mirvan, who flew instantly to me; while Lord Orville the moment Mrs. Mirvan had taken the water, led my tormentor away.

  “For Heaven’s sake, dear Madam,” cried I, “let me go home;-indeed I cannot stay here any longer.”

  “Let us all go,” cried my kind Maria.

  “But the Captain, what will he say-I had better go home in a chair.”

  Mrs. Mirvan consented, and I rose to depart. Lord Orville and that man both came to me. The first, with an attention I but ill-merited from him, led me to a chair; while the other followed, pestering me with apologies. I wished to have made mine to Lord Orville, but was too much ashamed.

  It was about one o’clock. Mrs. Mirvan’s servants saw me home.

  And now,-what again shall ever tempt me to an assembly? I dread to hear what you will think of me, my most dear and honoured Sir: you will need your utmost partiality to receive me without displeasure.

  This morning Lord Orville has sent to inquire after our health; and Sir Clement Willoughby, for that, I find, is the name of my persecutor, has called; but I would not go down stairs till he was gone.

  And now, my dear Sir, I can somewhat account for the strange, provoking, and ridiculous conduct of this Sir Clement last night; for Miss Mirvan says he is the very man with whom she heard Lord Orville conversing at Mrs. Stanley’s, when I was spoken of in so mortifying a manner. He was pleased to say he was glad to hear I was a fool; and therefore, I suppose, he concluded he might talk as much nonsense as he pleased to me: however, I am very indifferent as to his opinion;-but for Lord Orville,-if then he thought me an idiot, now, I am sure, he must suppose me both bold and presuming. Make use of his name!-what impertinence-he can never know how it happened,-he can only imagine it was from an excess of vanity;-well, however, I shall leave this bad city to-morrow, and never again will I enter it.

  The Captain intends to take us to-night to the Fantoccini. I cannot bear that Captain; I can give you no idea how gross he is. I heartily rejoice that he was not present at the disagreeable conclusion of yesterday’s adventure, for I am sure he would have contributed to my confusion; which might, perhaps, have diverted him, as he seldom or never smiles but at some other person’s expense.

  And here I conclude my London letters,-and without any regret; for I am too inexperienced and ignorant to conduct myself with propriety in this town, where everything is new to me, and many things are unaccountable and perplexing.

  Adieu, my dear Sir; Heaven restore me safely to you! I wish I was to go immediately to Berry Hill; yet the wish is ungrateful to Mrs. Mirvan, and therefore I will repress it. I shall write an account of the Fantoccini from Howard Grove. We have not been to half the public places that are now open, though I dare say you will think we have been to all. But they are almost as innumerable as the persons who fill them.

  LETTER XIV.

  EVELINA IN CONTINUATION.

  Queen Ann Street, April 13.

  HOW much will you be surprised, my dearest Sir, at receiving another letter, from London, of your Evelina’s writing! But, believe me, it was not my fault, neither is it my happiness, that I am still here: our journey has been postponed by an accident equally unexpected and disagreeable.

  We went last night to see the Fantoccini, where we had infinite entertainment from the performance of a little comedy in French and Italian, by puppets, so admirably managed, that they both astonished and diverted us all, except the Captain, who has a fixed and most prejudiced hatred of whatever is not English.

  When it was over, while we waited for the coach, a tall elderly woman brushed quickly past us, calling out, “My God, what shall I do?”

  “Why, what would you do?” cried the Captain.

  “Ma foi, Monsieur,” answered she, “I have lost my company, and in this place I don’t know nobody.”

  There was something foreign in her accent, though it was difficult to discover whether she was an English or a French woman. She was very well dressed; and seemed so entirely at a loss what to do, that Mrs. Mirvan proposed to the Captain to assist her.

  “Assist her!” cried he, “ay, with all my heart;-let a link-boy call her a coach.”

  There was not one to be had, and it rained very fast.

  “Mon Dieu!” exclaimed the stranger, “what shall become of me? Je suis au desespoir!”

  “Dear Sir,” cried Miss Mirvan, “pray let us
take the poor lady into our coach. She is quite alone, and a foreigner-”

  “She’s never the better for that,” answered he: “she may be a woman of the town, for anything you know.”

  “She does not appear such,” said Mrs. Mirvan; “and indeed she seems so much distressed, that we shall but follow the golden rule, if we carry her to her lodgings.”

  “You are mighty fond of new acquaintance,” returned he; “but first let us know if she be going our way.”

  Upon inquiry, we found that she lived in Oxford Road; and, after some disputing, the Captain surlily, and, with a very bad grace, consented to admit her into his coach; though he soon convinced us, that he was determined she should not be too much obliged to him, for he seemed absolutely bent upon quarrelling with her: for which strange inhospitality I can assign no other reason, than that she appeared to be a foreigner.

  The conversation began, by her telling us, that she had been in England only two days; that the gentlemen belonging to her were Parisians, and had left her to see for a hackney-coach, as her own carriage was abroad; and that she had waited for them till she was quite frightened, and concluded that they had lost themselves.

  “And pray,” said the Captain, “why did you go to a public place without an Englishman?”

  “Ma foi, Sir,” answered she, “because none of my acquaintance is in town.”

  “Why then,” said he, “I’ll tell you what, your best way is to go out of it yourself.”

  “Pardi, Monsieur,” returned she, “and so I shall; for, I promise you, I think the English a parcel of brutes; and I’ll go back to France as fast as I can, for I would not live among none of you.”

  “Who wants you?” cried the Captain: “do you suppose, Madam French, we have not enough of other nations to pick our pockets already? I’ll warrant you, there’s no need for you for to put in your oar.”

  “Pick your pockets, Sir! I wish nobody wanted to pick your pockets no more than I do; and I’ll promise you you’d be safe enough. But there’s no nation under the sun can beat the English for ill-politeness: for my part, I hate the very sight of them; and so I shall only just visit a person of quality or two of my particular acquaintance, and then I shall go back again to France.”

  “Ay, do,” cried he; “and then go to the devil together, for that’s the fittest voyage for the French and the quality.”

  “We’ll take care, however,” cried the stranger with great vehemence, “not to admit none of your vulgar unmannered English among us.”

  “O never fear,” returned he, coolly, “we shan’t dispute the point with you; you and the quality may have the devil all to yourselves.”

  Desirous of changing the subject of a conversation which now became very alarming, Miss Mirvan called out, “Lord, how slow the man drives!”

  “Never mind, Moll,” said her father, “I’ll warrant you he’ll drive fast enough to-morrow, when you are going to Howard Grove.”

  “To Howard Grove!” exclaimed the stranger, “why, mon Dieu, do you know Lady Howard?”

  “Why, what if we do?” answered he; “that’s nothing to you; she’s none of your quality, I’ll promise you.”

  “Who told you that?” cried she; “you don’t know nothing about the matter! besides, you’re the ill-bredest person ever I see: and as to your knowing Lady Howard, I don’t believe no such a thing; unless, indeed, you are her steward.”

  The Captain, swearing terribly, said, with great fury, “You would much sooner be taken for her wash-woman.”

  “Her wash-woman, indeed?-Ha, ha, ha, why you han’t no eyes; did you ever see a wash-woman in such a gown as this?-Besides, I’m no such mean person, for I’m as good as Lady Howard, and as rich too; and besides, I’m now come to England to visit her.”

  “You may spare yourself that there trouble,” said the Captain, “she has paupers enough about her already.”

  “Paupers, Mister!-no more a pauper than yourself, nor so much neither;-but you are a low, dirty fellow, and I shan’t stoop to take no more notice of you.”

  “Dirty fellow!” exclaimed the Captain, seizing both her wrists, “hark you, Mrs. Frog, you’d best hold your tongue; for I must make bold to tell you, if you don’t, that I shall make no ceremony of tripping you out of the window, and there you may lie in the mud till some of your Monseers come to help you out of it.”

  Their increasing passion quite terrified us; and Mrs. Mirvan was beginning to remonstrate with the Captain, when we were all silenced by what follows.

  “Let me go, villain that you are, let me go, or I’ll promise you I’ll get you put to prison for this usage. I’m no common person, I assure you; and, ma foi, I’ll go to Justice Fielding about you; for I’m a person of fashion, and I’ll make you know it, or my name a’n’t Duval.”

  I heard no more: amazed, frightened, and unspeakably shocked, an involuntary exclamation of Gracious Heaven! escaped me, and, more dead than alive, I sunk into Mrs. Mirvan’s arms. But let me draw a veil over a scene too cruel for a heart so compassionately tender as your’s; it is sufficient that you know this supposed foreigner proved to be Madame Duval,-the grandmother of your Evelina!

  O, Sir, to discover so near a relation in a woman, who had thus introduced herself!-what would become of me, were it not for you, my protector, my friend, and my refuge?

  My extreme concern, and Mrs. Mirvan’s surprise, immediately betrayed me. But, I will not shock you with the manner of her acknowledging me, or the bitterness, the grossness -I cannot otherwise express myself,-with which she spoke of those unhappy past transactions you have so pathetically related to me. All the misery of a much injured parent, dear, though never seen, regretted, though never known, crowded so forcibly upon my memory, that they rendered this interview-one only excepted-the most afflicting I can ever know.

  When we stopt at her lodgings, she desired me to accompany her into the house, and said she could easily procure a room for me to sleep in. Alarmed and trembling, I turned to Mrs. Mirvan. “My daughter, Madam,” said that sweet woman, “cannot so abruptly part with her young friend; you must allow a little time to wean them from each other.”

  “Pardon me, Ma’am,” answered Madame Duval, (who, from the time of her being known, somewhat softened her manners) “Miss can’t possibly be so nearly connected to this child as I am.”

  “No matter for that,” cried the Captain, (who espoused my cause to satisfy his own pique, tho’ an awkward apology had passed between them) “she was sent to us; and so, dy’e see, we don’t choose for to part with her.”

  I promised to wait upon her at what time she pleased the next day; and, after a short debate, she desired me to breakfast with her, and we proceeded to Queen Ann Street.

  What an unfortunate adventure! I could not close my eyes the whole night. A thousand times I wished I had never left Berry Hill: however, my return thither shall be accelerated to the utmost of my power; and, once more in that abode of tranquil happiness, I will suffer no temptation to allure me elsewhere.

  Mrs. Mirvan was so kind as to accompany me to Madame Duval’s house this morning. The Captain, too, offered his service; which I declined, from a fear she should suppose I meant to insult her.

  She frowned most terribly upon Mrs. Mirvan; but she received me with as much tenderness as I believe she is capable of feeling. Indeed, our meeting seems really to have affected her; for when, overcome by the variety of emotions which the sight of her occasioned, I almost fainted in her arms, she burst into tears, and said, “let me not lose my poor daughter a second time!” This unexpected humanity softened me extremely; but she very soon excited my warmest indignation, by the ungrateful mention she made of the best of men, my dear and most generous benefactor. However, grief and anger mutually gave way to terror, upon her avowing the intention of her visiting England was to make me return with her to France. This, she said, was a plan she had formed from the instant she had heard of my birth; which, she protested, did not reach her ears till I must have been twelve y
ears of age; but Monsieur Duval, who she declared was the worst husband in the world, would not permit her to do any thing she wished: he had been dead but three months; which had been employed in arranging certain affairs, that were no sooner settled, than she set off for England. She was already out of mourning, for she said nobody here could tell how long she had been a widow.

  She must have been married very early in life: what her age is I do not know; but she really looks to be less than fifty. She dresses very gaily, paints very high, and the traces of former beauty are still very visible in her face.

  I know not when, or how, this visit would have ended, had not the Captain called for Mrs. Mirvan, and absolutely insisted upon my attending her. He is become, very suddenly, so warmly my friend, that I quite dread his officiousness. Mrs. Mirvan, however, whose principal study seems to be healing those wounds which her husband inflicts, appeased Madame Duval’s wrath, by a very polite invitation to drink tea and spend the evening here. Not without great difficulty was the Captain prevailed upon to defer his journey some time longer; but what could be done? It would have been indecent for me to have quitted town the very instant I discovered that Madame Duval was in it; and to have staid here solely under her protection-Mrs. Mirvan, thank Heaven, was too kind for such a thought. That she should follow us to Howard Grove, I almost equally dreaded. It is therefore determined, that we remain in London for some days, or a week: though the Captain has declared that the old French hag, as he is pleased to call her, shall fare never the better for it.

  My only hope is to get safe to Berry Hill; where, counselled and sheltered by you, I shall have nothing more to fear. Adieu, my ever dear and most honoured Sir! I shall have no happiness till I am again with you.

  LETTER XV

  MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA

  Berry Hill, April 16.

  IN the belief and hope that my Evelina would, ere now, have bid adieu to London, I had intended to have deferred writing, till I heard of her return to Howard Grove; but the letter I have this moment received, with intelligence of Madame Duval’s arrival in England, demands an immediate answer.