“I agree entirely in your opinion,” said Cecilia, “but still Mrs Harrel”—
“I know your argument, ma’am,” interrupted Mr Hobson; “Mrs Harrel i’n’t the worse for her husband’s being shot through the head, because she was no accessory to the same, and for that reason, it’s a hardship she should lose all her substance; this, ma’am, is what I say, speaking to your side of the argument. But now, ma’am, please to take notice what I argue upon the reply; what have we creditors to do with a man’s family? Suppose I am a cabinet-maker? When I send in my chairs, do I ask who is to sit upon them? No; it’s all one to me whether it’s the gentleman’s progeny or his friends, I must be paid for the chairs the same, use them who may. That’s the law, ma’am, and no man need be ashamed to abide by it.”
The truth of this speech palliating its sententious absurdity, made Cecilia give up her faint attempt to soften him; and her chair being ready, she arose to take leave.
“Lack-a-day, ma’am,” cried Mrs Belfield, “I hope you won’t go yet, for I expect my son home soon, and I’ve a heap of things to talk to you about besides, only Mr Hobson having so much to say stopt my mouth. But I should take it as a great favour, ma’am, if you would come some afternoon and drink a dish of tea with me, for then we should have time to say all our say. And I’m sure, ma’am, if you would only let one of your footmen just take a run to let me know when you’d come, my son would be very proud to give you the meeting; and the servants can’t have much else to do at your house, for where there’s such a heap of ’em, they commonly think of nothing all day long but standing and gaping at one another.”
“I am going out of town tomorrow,” said Cecilia, “and therefore cannot have the pleasure of calling upon Miss Belfield again.”
She then slightly courtsied, and left the room.
The gentle Henrietta, her eyes swimming in tears, followed her to her chair; but she followed her not alone, Mrs Belfield also attended, repining very loudly at the unlucky absence of her son: and the cringing Mr Simkins, creeping after her and bowing, said in a low voice, “I humbly crave pardon, ma’am, for the liberty, but I hope you won’t think as I have any share in Mr Hobson’s behaving so rude, for I must needs say, I don’t think it over genteel in no shape.” And Mr Hobson himself, bent upon having one more sentence heard, called out, even after she was seated in her chair, “All I say, ma’am, is this: let every man be honest; that’s what I argue, and that’s my notion of things.”
Cecilia still reached home before Mrs Delvile; but most uneasy were her sensations, and most unquiet was her heart: the letter she had seen in the hands of Henrietta seemed to corroborate all her former suspicions, since if it came not from one infinitely dear to her she would not have shewn such fondness for it, and if that one was not dear to her in secret, she would not have concealed it.
Where then was the hope that any but Delvile could have written it? in secret she could not cherish two, and that Delvile was cherished most fondly, the artlessness of her character unfitted her for disguising.
And why should he write to her? what was his pretence? That he loved her she could now less than ever believe, since his late conduct to herself, though perplexing and inconsistent, evinced at least a partiality incompatible with a passion for another. What then, could she infer, but that he had seduced her affections, and ruined her peace, for the idle and cruel gratification of temporary vanity?
“And if such,” cried she, “is the depravity of this accomplished hypocrite, if such is the littleness of soul that a manner so noble disguises, shall he next, urged, perhaps, rather by prudence than preference, make me the object of his pursuit, and the food of his vain-glory? And shall I, warned and instructed as I am, be as easy a prey and as wretched a dupe? No, I will be better satisfied with his conduct, before I venture to trust him, and since I am richer than Henrietta and less likely to be deserted, when won, I will be more on my guard to know why I am addressed, and vindicate the rights of innocence, if I find she has been thus deluded, by forgetting his talents in his treachery, and renouncing him for ever!”
Such were the reflections and surmises that dampt all the long-sought pleasure of her change of residence, and made her habitation in St James’s-square no happier than it had been at Mr Harrel’s!
She dined again with only Mr and Mrs Delvile, and did not see their son all day; which, in her present uncertainty what to think of him, was an absence she scarcely regretted.
When the servants retired, Mr Delvile told her that he had that morning received two visits upon her account, both from admirers, who each pretended to having had leave to wait upon her from Mr Harrel.
He then named Sir Robert Floyer and Mr Marriot.
“I believe, indeed,” said Cecilia, “that neither of them were treated perfectly well; to me, however, their own behaviour has by no means been strictly honourable. I have always, when referred to, been very explicit; and what other methods they were pleased to take, I cannot wonder should fail.”
“I told them,” said Mr Delvile, “that, since you were now under my roof, I could not refuse to receive their proposals, especially as there would be no impropriety in your alliance with either of them but I told them, at the same time, that I could by no means think of pressing their suit, as that was an office which, however well it might do for Mr Harrel, would be totally improper and unbecoming for me.”
“Certainly;” said Cecilia, “and permit me, Sir, to entreat that, should they again apply to you, they may be wholly discouraged from repeating their visits, and assured that far from having trifled with them hitherto, the resolutions. I have declared will never be varied.”
“I am happy,” said Mrs Delvile, “to see so much spirit and discernment where arts of all sorts will be practised to ensnare and delude. Fortune and independence were never so securely lodged as in Miss Beverley, and I doubt not but her choice, whenever it is decided, will reflect as much honour upon her heart, as her difficulty in making it does upon her understanding.”
Mr Delvile then enquired whether she had fixed upon any person to choose as a guardian in the place of Mr Harrel. No, she said, nor should she, unless it were absolutely necessary.
“I believe, indeed,” said Mrs Delvile, “your affairs will not much miss him! Since I have heard of the excess of his extravagance, I have extremely rejoiced in the uncommon prudence and sagacity of his fair ward, who, in such dangerous hands, with less penetration and sound sense, might have been drawn into a thousand difficulties, and perhaps defrauded of half her fortune.”
Cecilia received but little joy from this most unseasonable compliment, which, with many of the same sort that were frequently, though accidentally made, intimidated her from the confession she had planned and finding nothing but censure was likely to follow the discovery, she at length determined to give it up wholly, unless any connection should take place which might render necessary its avowal. Yet something she could not but murmur, that an action so detrimental to her own interest, and which, at the time, appeared indispensable to her benevolence, should now be considered as a mark of such folly and imprudence that she did not dare own it.
CHAPTER 2
A RAILING
The next morning the family purposed setting off as soon as breakfast was over: young Delvile, however, waited not so long; the fineness of the weather tempted him, he said, to travel on horse-back, and therefore he had risen very early, and was already gone. Cecilia could not but wonder, yet did not repine.
Just as breakfast was over, and Mr and Mrs Delvile and Cecilia were preparing to depart, to their no little surprise, the door was opened, and, out of breath with haste and with heat, in stumpt Mr Briggs! “So,” cried he to Cecilia, “what’s all this? hay? — where are you going? — a coach at the door! horses to every wheel! Servants fine as lords!