footman, very impertinently, laughed and turned upon his heel. Madame Duval, extremely irritated, ran out in the rain, and beckoned the coachman, who instantly obeyed her summons. Shocked beyond all expression, I flew after her, and entreated her, with the utmost earnestness, to let us return in a hackney coach:— but, oh! — she is impenetrable to persuasion! She told the man she wanted him to carry her directly to town, and that she would answer for him to Lord Orville. The man, with a sneer, thanked her, but said he should answer for himself; and was driving off; when another footman came up to him, with information that his Lord was gone into Kensington Palace, and would not want him for an hour or two.
“Why, then, friend,” said Mr. Branghton (for we were followed by all the party), “where will be the great harm of your taking us to town?”
“Besides,” said the son, “I’ll promise you a pot of beer for my own share.”
These speeches had no other answer from the coachman than a loud laugh, which was echoed by the insolent footmen. I rejoiced at their resistance; though I was certain that, if their Lord had witnessed their impertinence, they would have been instantly dismissed his service.
“Pardi,” cried Madame Duval, “if I don’t think all the footmen are the most impudentest fellows in the kingdom! But I’ll promise you I’ll have your master told of your airs; so you’ll get no good by ’em.”
“Why, pray,” said the coachman, rather alarmed, “did my Lord give you leave to use the coach?”
“It’s no matter for that,” answered she; “I’m sure if he’s a gentleman, he’d let us have it sooner than we should be wet to the skin; but I’ll promise you he shall know how saucy you’ve been, for this young lady knows him very well.”
“Ay, that she does,” said Miss Polly; “and she’s danced with him too.”
Oh, how I repented my foolish mismanagement! The men bit their lips, and looked at one another in some confusion. This was perceived by our party; who, taking advantage of it, protested they would write Lord Orville word of their ill behaviour without delay. This quite startled them; and one of the footmen offered to run to the palace, and ask his Lord’s permission for our having the carriage.
This proposal really made me tremble, and the Branghtons all hung back upon it; but Madame Duval is never to be dissuaded from a scheme she has once formed. “Do so,” cried she; “and give this child’s compliments to your master; and tell him, as we ha’n’t no coach here, we should be glad to go just as far as Holborn in his.”
“No, no, no!” cried I; “don’t go — I know nothing of his Lordship — I send no message — I have nothing to say to him!”
The men, very much perplexed, could with difficulty restrain themselves from resuming their impertinent mirth. Madame Duval scolded me vary angrily, and then desired them to go directly. “Pray, then,” said the coachman, “what name is to be given to my Lord?”
“Anville,” answered Madame Duval; “tell him Miss Anville wants the coach; the young lady he danced with once.”
I was really in an agony; but the winds could not have been more deaf to me, than those to whom I pleaded! and therefore the footman, urged by the repeated threats of Madame Duval, and perhaps recollecting the name himself, actually went to the palace with this strange message!
He returned in a few minutes; and, bowing to me with the greatest respect, said, “My Lord desires his compliments, and his carriage will be always at Miss Anville’s service.”
I was so much affected by this politeness, and chagrined at the whole affair, that I could scarce refrain from tears. Madame Duval, and the Miss Branghtons eagerly jumped into the coach, and desired me to follow. I would rather have submitted to the severest punishment; but all resistance was vain.
During the whole ride I said not a word: however, the rest of the party were so talkative, that my silence was very immaterial. We stopped at our lodgings; but, when Madame Duval and I alighted, the Branghtons asked if they could not be carried on to Snow–Hill? The servants, now all civility, made no objection. Remonstrances from me would, I too well knew, be fruitless; and therefore, with a heavy heart, I retired to my room, and left them to their own direction.
Seldom have I passed a night in greater uneasiness. — So lately to have cleared myself in the good opinion of Lord Orville — so soon to forfeit it! — to give him reason to suppose I presumed to boast of his acquaintance! — to publish his having danced with me! — to take with him a liberty I should have blushed to have taken with the most intimate of my friends! — to treat with such impertinent freedom, one who has honoured me with such distinguished respect! — Indeed, Sir, I could have met with no accident that would so cruelly have tormented me!
If such were, then, my feelings, imagine — for I cannot describe, what I suffered during the scene I am now going to write.
This morning, while I was alone in the dining-room, young Branghton called. He entered with a most important air; and, strutting up to me, said, “Miss, Lord Orville sends his compliments to you.”
“Lord Orville!” repeated I, much amazed.
“Yes, Miss, Lord Orville; for I know his Lordship now, as well as you. — And a very civil gentleman he is, for all he’s a Lord.”
“For Heaven’s sake,” cried I, “explain yourself.”
“Why, you must know, Miss, after we left you, we met with a little misfortune; but I don’t mind it now, for it’s all turned out for the best: but, just as we were a-going up Snow–Hill, plump we comes against a cart, with such a jogg it almost pulled the coach-wheel off. However, that i’n’t the worst; for, as I went to open the door in a hurry, a-thinking the coach would be broke down, as ill-luck would have it, I never minded that the glass was up, and so I poked my head fairly through it. — Only see, Miss, how I’ve cut my forehead!”
A much worse accident to himself would not, I believe, at that moment have given me any concern for him: however, he proceeded with his account, for I was too much confounded to interrupt him.
“Goodness, Miss, we were in such a stew, us, and the servants, and all, as you can’t think; for, besides the glass being broke, the coachman said how the coach wouldn’t be safe to go back to Kensington. So we didn’t know what to do; however, the footmen said they’d go and tell his Lordship what had happened. So then father grew quite uneasy like, for fear of his Lordship’s taking offence, and prejudicing us in our business; so he said I should go this morning and ask his pardon, cause of having broke the glass. So then I asked the footmen the direction, and they told me he lived in Berkeley-square; so this morning I went — and I soon found out the house.”
“You did!” cried I, quite out of breath with apprehension.
“Yes, Miss, and a very fine house it is. — Did you ever see it?”
“No.”
“No! — why, then, Miss, I know more of his Lordship than you do, for all you knew him first. So, when I came to the door, I was in a peck of troubles, a-thinking what I should say to him: however, the servants had no mind I should see him; for they told me he was busy, but I might leave my message. So I was just a-coming away, when I bethought myself to say I came from you.”
“From me!”
“Yes, Miss, for you know, why should
