The Collected Works of Frances Burney (Illustrated Edition). Frances Burney
ay,” cried he, “always gadding, no getting sight of you. Live a fine life! A pretty guardian, Master Harrel! and where’s t’other? where’s old Don Puffabout?”
“If you mean Mr Delvile, sir, I have not yet seen him.”
“Thought so. No matter, as well not. Only tell you he’s a German Duke, or a Spanish Don Ferdinand. Well, you’ve me! poorly off else. A couple of ignoramuses! don’t know when to buy nor when to sell. No doing business with either of them. We met once or twice; all to no purpose; only heard Don Vampus count his old Grandees; how will that get interest for money? Then comes Master Harrel — twenty bows to a word — looks at a watch — about as big as a sixpence — poor raw ninny! — a couple of rare guardians! Well, you’ve me, I say; mind that!”
Cecilia was wholly unable to devise any answer to these effusions of contempt and anger; and therefore his harangue lasted without interruption, till he had exhausted all his subjects of complaint, and emptied his mind of ill-will; and then, settling his wig, he drew a chair near her, and twinkling his little black eyes in her face, his rage subsided into the most perfect good humour; and, after peering at her some time with a look of much approbation, he said, with an arch nod, “Well, my duck, got ever a sweetheart yet?”
Cecilia laughed, and said “No.”
“Ah, little rogue, don’t believe you! all a fib! better speak out: come, fit I should know; a’n’t you my own ward? to be sure, almost of age, but not quite, so what’s that to me?”
She then, more seriously, assured him she had no intelligence of that sort to communicate.
“Well, when you have, tell, that’s all. Warrant sparks enough hankering. I’ll give you some advice Take care of sharpers; don’t trust shoe-buckles, nothing but Bristol stones! tricks in all things. A fine gentleman sharp as another man. Never give your heart to a gold-topped cane, nothing but brass gilt over. Cheats everywhere: fleece you in a year; won’t leave you a groat. But one way to be safe — bring ’em all to me.”
Cecilia thanked him for his caution, and promised not to forget his advice.
“That’s the way,” he continued, “bring ’em to me. Won’t be bamboozled. Know their tricks. Shew ’em the odds on’t. Ask for the rent-roll — see how they look! stare like stuck pigs! got no such thing.”
“Certainly, sir, that will be an excellent method of trial.”
“Ay, ay, know the way! soon find if they are above par. Be sure don’t mind gold waistcoats; nothing but tinsel, all shew and no substance; better leave the matter to me; take care of you myself; know where to find one will do.”
She again thanked him; and, being fully satisfied with this specimen of his conversation, and unambitious of any further counsel from him, she arose to depart.
“Well,” repeated he, nodding at her, with a look of much kindness, “leave it to me, I say; I’ll get you a careful husband, so take no thought about the matter.”
Cecilia, half-laughing, begged he would not give himself much trouble, and assured him she was not in any haste.
“All the better,” said he, “good girl; no fear for you: look out myself; warrant I’ll find one. Not very easy, neither! hard times! men scarce; wars and tumults! stocks low! women chargeable! — but don’t fear; do our best; get you off soon.”
She then returned to her carriage: full of reflection upon the scene in which she had just been engaged, and upon the strangeness of hastening from one house to avoid a vice the very want of which seemed to render another insupportable! but she now found that though luxury was more baneful in its consequences, it was less disgustful in its progress than avarice; yet, insuperably averse to both, and almost equally desirous to fly from the unjust extravagance of Mr Harrel, as from the comfortless and unnecessary parsimony of Mr Briggs, she proceeded instantly to St James’s Square, convinced that her third guardian, unless exactly resembling one of the others, must inevitably be preferable to both.
CHAPTER 2
A MAN OF FAMILY
The house of Mr Delvile was grand and spacious, fitted up not with modern taste, but with the magnificence of former times; the servants were all veterans, gorgeous in their liveries, and profoundly respectful in their manners; every thing had an air of state, but of a state so gloomy, that while it inspired awe, it repressed pleasure.
Cecilia sent in her name and was admitted without difficulty, and was then ushered with great pomp through sundry apartments, and rows of servants, before she came into the presence of Mr Delvile.
He received her with an air of haughty affability which, to a spirit open and liberal as that of Cecilia, could not fail being extremely offensive; but too much occupied with the care of his own importance to penetrate into the feelings of another, he attributed the uneasiness which his reception occasioned to the overawing predominance of superior rank and consequence.
He ordered a servant to bring her a chair, while he only half rose from his own upon her entering into the room; then, waving his hand and bowing, with a motion that desired her to be seated, he said, “I am very happy, Miss Beverley, that you have found me alone; you would rarely have had the same good fortune. At this time of day I am generally in a crowd. People of large connections have not much leisure in London, especially if they see a little after their own affairs, and if their estates, like mine, are dispersed in various parts of the kingdom. However, I am glad it happened so. And I am glad, too, that you have done me the favour of calling without waiting till I sent, which I really would have done as soon as I heard of your arrival, but that the multiplicity of my engagements allowed me no respite.”
A display of importance so ostentatious made Cecilia already half repent her visit, satisfied that the hope in which she had planned it would be fruitless.
Mr Delvile, still imputing to embarrassment, an inquietude of countenance that proceeded merely from disappointment, imagined her veneration was every moment increasing; and therefore, pitying a timidity which both gratified and softened him, and equally pleased with himself for inspiring, and with her for feeling it, he abated more and more of his greatness, till he became, at length, so infinitely condescending, with intention to give her courage, that he totally depressed her with mortification and chagrin.
After some general inquiries concerning her way of life, he told her that he hoped she was contented with her situation at the Harrels, adding, “If you have any thing to complain of, remember to whom you may appeal.” He then asked if she had seen Mr Briggs?
“Yes, sir, I am this moment come from his house.”
“I am sorry for it; his house cannot be a proper one for the reception of a young lady. When the Dean made application that I would be one of your guardians, I instantly sent him a refusal, as is my custom upon all such occasions, which indeed occur to me with a frequency extremely importunate: but the Dean was a man for whom I had really a regard, and, therefore, when I found my refusal had affected him, I suffered myself to be prevailed upon to indulge him, contrary not only to my general rule, but to my inclination.”
Here he stopt, as if to receive some compliment, but Cecilia, very little disposed to pay him any, went no farther than an inclination of the head.
“I knew not, however,” he continued, “at the time I was induced to give my consent, with whom I was to be associated; nor could I have imagined the Dean so little conversant with the distinctions of the world, as to disgrace me with inferior coadjutors: but the moment I learnt the state of the affair, I insisted upon withdrawing both my name and countenance.”
Here again he paused; not in expectation of an answer from Cecilia, but merely to give her time to marvel in what manner he had at last been melted.
“The Dean,” he resumed, “was then very ill; my displeasure, I believe, hurt him. I was sorry