Barford Abbey Part 2

Who is Miss Warley?--What is Miss Warley?--you ask.--To your first question I can only answer, A visitor at Jenkings's.--To the second,--She is what has been so much sought after in every age, perfect harmony of mind and person.--Such a hand, George--

Already have I been here eight days:--was I to measure time, I should call them hours.--My affairs with Sir James will take up longer in settling than I apprehended.--Come therefore this week or the next, I charge you.--Come as you hope to see Miss Warley. What do you think Sir James said to me the other day?--Was Miss Warley a girl of fortune, I should think her born for you, Darcey.--As that is not the case,--take care of your heart, my Lord.--She will never attempt to drag you into sc.r.a.pes:--your little favourite robin, that us'd to peck from your hand, has not less guile.

No! he will never consent;--I must only think of _friendship_.

Lady Powis doats on this paragon of beauty: scarce within their walls,--when she was mention'd with such a just profusion of praises, as fill'd me with impatience.--Lady Powis is a heavenly woman.--You do not laugh;--many would, for supposing any of that s.e.x _heavenly_ after fifty.--The coach is this moment going for Miss Warley;--it waits only for me;--I am often her conductor.--Was _you_ first minister of state,--I the humble suitor whose bread depended on your favour,--not one line more, even to express my wants.

Twelve o'clock, at night.

Our fair visitor just gone;--just gone home with Edmund.--What an officious fool, to take him in the carriage, and prevent myself from a pleasure I envy him for.--I am not in spirits;--I can write no more;--perhaps the next post:--but I will promise nothing.

I am, _&c. &c._

DARCEY.

LETTER V.

The Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH to LORD DARCEY.

_Bath_.

Confound your friendships!--_Friendship_ indeed!--What! up head and ears in love, and not know it.--So it is necessary for every woman you think capable of friendship, to have fine eyes, fine hair, a bewitching smile, and a neck delicately turn'd.--Have not I the highest opinion of my cousin Dolly's sincerity?--Do I not think her very capable of _friendship?_--Yet, poor soul, her eyes are planted so deep, it requires good ones to discover she has any.--Such a hand, George!--Such a hand, Darcey!--Why, Lady Dorothy too has hands; I am often enough squeez'd by them:--though hard as a horse's hoof, and the colour of tanned leather, I hold her capable of _friendship_.--Neck she has none,--smile she has none! yet need I the determination of another, to tell me whether my regard for her proceeds from love or _friendship?_--Awake,--Awake, Darcey,--Awake:--Have you any value for your own peace?--have you any for that of Miss Warley's? If so, leave Barford Abbey.--Should you persist in loving her, for love her I know you do?--Should the quiet of such an amiable woman as you describe be at stake? To deal plainly, I will come down and propose the thing myself.--No sword,--no pistol. I mean not for _myself_, but one whose happiness is dear to me as my _own_.

Suppose your estate is but two thousand a-year, are you so fond of shew and equipage, to barter real felicity for baubles?--I am angry,--so angry, that it would not grieve me to see you leading to the altar an old hobbling dowager without a tooth.--Be more yourself,

And I am yours,

MOLESWORTH.

LETTER VI

Lord DARCEY to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH.

_Barford Abbey_,

Angry!--You are really angry!--Well, I too am angry with myself.--I do love Miss Warley;--but why this to you?--Your penetration has already discover'd it.--Yet, O Molesworth! such insurmountable obstacles:--no declaration can be made,--at least whilst I continue in this neighbourhood.

Sir James would rave at my imprudence.--Lady Powis, whatever are her sentiments, must give them up to his opinion.--Inevitably I lose the affection of persons I have sacredly--promised to obey,--sacredly.--Was not my promise given to a dying father?--Miss Warley has no tye; yet, by the duty she observes to Sir James and Lady Powis, you would think her bound by the strongest cords of nature.

Scarce a moment from her:--at Jenkings's every morning;--on foot if good weather,--else in the coach for the convenience of bringing her with me.--I am under no constraint:--Sir James and her Ladyship seem not the least suspicious: this I much wonder at, in the former particularly.

In my _tete-a-tetes_ with Miss Warley, what think you are our subjects?--Chiefly divinity, history, and geography.--Of these studies she knows more than half the great men who have wrote for ages past.--On a taste for the two latter I once prided myself.--An eager pursuit for the former springs up in my mind, whilst conversing with her, like a plant long hid in the earth, and called out by the appearance of a summer's sun.--This sun must shine at Faulcon Park;--without it all will be dreary:--_yet_ how can I draw it thither?--_Edmund_--but why should I fear _Edmund?_

Will you, or will you not, meet your old friend Finch here next Wednesday?--Be determined in your answer.--I have suspence enough on my hands to be excused from any on your account.--Sir James thinks it unkind you have not called on him since I left England;--hasten therefore to make up matters with the baronet,--Need I say the pleasure I shall have in shaking you by the hand?

DARCEY.

LETTER VII.

The Hon. GEORGE MOLESWORTH to Lord DARCEY.

_Bath_.

Wednesday next you shall see me,--positively you shall.--Bridgman will be of the party.

I propose an immensity of satisfaction from this visit.--Forbid it, heaven! Miss Warley's opposite should again give me a meeting at the Abbey.--After the conversation I am made to expect, how should I be mortified to have my ears eternally dinn'd with catgut work,--painting gauze,--weaving fringes,--and finding out enigmas?--Setting a fine face, Miss Winter is out-done by Fletcher's Nancy.--A-propos, I yesterday saw that very wise girl step into a chaise and wheel off for Scotland, begging and praying we would make the best of it to her mamma.--Not the least hand had I in this affair; but, willing to help out people in distress, at the entreaties of Lord Mich.e.l.l, I waited on the old Lady at her lodging.

I found her in a furious plight,--raving at her servants,--packing up her cloaths, and reflecting on her relations who had persuaded her to come to Bath.--When I entered she was kneeling by a huge travelling trunk, stuffing in a green purse at one corner, which I supposed to be full of gold.

Where is Nancy?--riling from the ground, and accosting me with looks of fury;--Where is Nancy, Mr. Molesworth?

Really, _Madam_, that is a question I cannot positively answer;--but, to be sincere, I believe she is on the road to Scotland.

_Believe!_--So you would have me think you are not one of Fletcher's clan.--But, tell him from me, running to the trunk after her purse, and shaking it just at my ear,--_tell him_, he shall never be a penny the better for this.

I took my hat, and looked towards the door, as if going.

Stop, Mr. Molesworth, (her voice somewhat lowered) why in so great a hurry?--I once thought you my friend. Pray inform me if Nancy was forced away;--or, if me went willingly.

You have no right, Madam, after the treatment I have received, to expect an answer; but justice bids me declare her going off seemed a matter of choice.

Poor child!--You was certainly trapann'd (and she put a handkerchief to her eyes).

I solemnly protest, Madam, I have seen your daughter but twice since she came to Bath.--Last night, when coming from the Rooms, I saw her step into a chaise, followed by Mr. Fletcher.--They beckoned me towards them, whispered the expedition they were going upon, and requested me to break the matter to you, and intercede for their pardon.--My visit has not answered its salutary purpose--I perceive it _has not_. So saying I turned from her,--knowing, by old acquaintance, how I was to play my cards, me being one of those kind of spirits which are never quell'd but by opposition.

After fetching me from the door, she promised to hear calmly what I had to say;--and, tho' no orator, I succeeded so well as to gain an a.s.surance, she would see them at their return from Scotland.

I left the old Lady in tolerable good humour, and was smiling to myself, recollecting the bout I had pa.s.sed, when, who should come towards me but Lord Mich.e.l.l,--his countenance full-fraught with curiosity.

Well, George!--dear George!--what success in your emba.s.sy?--I long to know the fate of honest Fletcher.--Is he to loll in a coach and six?--or, is the coroner's inquest to bring in their verdict Lunacy?

A sweet alternative!--_As_ your Lordship's a.s.siduity has shewn the former is the highest pinnacle to which you would wish to lift a friend, I believe your most sanguine hopes are here answered.

Is it _so!_--Well, if ever Fletcher offers up a prayer, it ought to be for you, Molesworth.