The Life and Legacy of Harriette Wilson. Harriette Wilson
Cellar in Piccadilly, whence he sallied forth on foot to No. 2 or 3 in Berkeley Street, and rapped hastily at the door, which was immediately opened by the tawdry, well-rouged housekeeper of Mrs. Porter, who, with a significant nod of recognition, led him into her mistress's boudoir and then hurried away, simpering, to acquaint the good Mrs. Porter with the arrival of one of her oldest customers.
Mrs. Porter, on entering her boudoir, bowed low; but she had bowed lower still to his grace, who had paid but shabbily for the last bonne fortune she had contrived to procure him.
"Is it not charming weather?" said Mrs. Porter, by way of managing business with something like decency.
"There is a beautiful girl just come out," said his grace, without answering her question, "a very fine creature; they call her Harriette, and——"
"My lord," exclaimed Mrs. Porter, interrupting him; "I have had three applications this very month for the girl they call Harriette, and I have already introduced myself to her."
This was a fact, which happened while I was in Somers-town, and which I have forgotten to relate.
"It was," continued Mrs. Porter, "at the very earnest request of General Walpole. She is the wildest creature I ever saw. She did not affect modesty, nor appear in the least offended at my intrusion. Her first question was 'Is your man handsome?' I answered, frankly, that the general was more than sixty years of age; at which account she laughed heartily; and then, seeming to recollect herself, she said she really was over head and ears in debt; and therefore must muster up courage to receive one visit from her antiquated admirer at my house."
"Well?" interrupted Wellington, half jealous, half disgusted.
"Well, my lord," continued Mrs. Porter, "the appointment was made for eight o'clock on the following evening, at which hour the old general was punctual and fidgeted about the room over this, my lord, for more than three-quarters of an hour. At last he rung the bell violently. I answered it; and he told me in a fury he would not thus be trifled with. I was beginning very earnest protestations when we heard a loud rap at the street door, and immediately afterwards my housekeeper entered, to inform me that a lady whose face was covered with a thick black veil, had just arrived in a hackney-coach, and she had shown her into the best room."
"She came then?" inquired Wellington, impatiently, and blowing his nose.
"You shall hear, my lord," continued Mrs. Porter. "The old general, in a state of perfect ecstasy, took me by the hand, and begged me to pardon his testy humour, assuring me that he had been for more than a year following Harriette, and therefore that this disappointment had been too much for his stock of patience.
"I led the way to the room, where we expected to find Harriette. The black veil did not surprise us. She was too young to be expected to enter my house void of shame. Judge our astonishment, my lord, when the incognita, throwing back her veil with much affectation, discovered a wrinkled face, which had weathered at least sixty summers, aye and winters, too!"
"'The Lord defend me!' said I.
"'Who the devil are you?' said the general.
"'A charming creature,' replied the hag, 'if you did but know me. A widow, too, dear general, very much at your disposal; for my dear good man has been dead these thirty years.'
"'You are a set of——'
"The general was interrupted by his fair incognita, with—'Here is gallantry! here is treatment of the soft sex! No, Mr. General, not the worst of your insinuations shall ever make me think the less of myself!'
"The general, at this moment, beginning to feel a little ashamed, and completely furious, contrived to gain the street, declaring that he would never enter my vile house again. His fair one insisted on following him; and all I could say or do would not prevent her. I know not what became of them both."
"My good woman," said Wellington, without making any remarks on her story, "my time is precious. One hundred guineas are yours, and as much Harriette's, if you can induce her to give me the meeting."
"My dear lord," said Mrs. Porter, quite subdued, "what would I not do to serve you! I will pay Harriette a visit early to-morrow morning; although my lord, to tell you the truth, I was never half so afraid of any woman in my life. She is so wild, and appears so perfectly independent, and so careless of her own interests and welfare, that I really do not know what is likely to move her."
"Nonsense!" said Wellington, "it is very well known that the Marquis of Lorne is her lover."
"Lord Lorne may have gained Harriette's heart," said Mrs. Porter, just as if she understood the game of hearts! "However," added she, "I will not give up the business till I have had an interview with Harriette."
"And make haste about it," said Wellington taking up his hat, "I shall call for your answer in two days. In the meantime, if you have anything like good news to communicate, address a line to Thomas's Hotel, Berkeley-square."
These two respectable friends now took leave of each other, as we will of the subject, pour le moment, au moins.
I rather think it must have been on the very day the above scene took place that Fanny, Julia, and myself dined together at my house, and Amy unasked joined us after dinner; because she had nothing better to do.
"You are welcome," said I to Amy, "so that you bring me no men; but men I will not admit."
"Why not?" Amy inquired.
"Why? because I am not a coquette like you, and it fatigues me to death to be eternally making the agreeable to a set of men who might be all buried and nobody would miss them. Besides, I have seen such a man!"
"What manner of man have you seen?" asked Fanny.
"A very god!" retorted I.
"Who is he?" inquired Amy.
"I do not know," was my answer.
"What is his name?"
"I cannot tell."
"Where did you see him?"
"In Sloane Street, riding on horseback, and followed by a large dog."
"What a simpleton you are," observed Amy.
"I never made myself so ridiculous about any man yet," I observed, "as you have done about that frightful, pale, William Ponsonby."
"Oh, he is indeed a most adorable heavenly creature," rejoined Amy, turning up her eyes in a fit of heroics.
"Good gracious! how can people be so blind," exclaimed I. "Why he has not a single point of beauty about him."
"And what," I continued, "have you done with Palmella?"
"Oh!" replied Amy, in some little confusion, "I have never seen him since."
"Did you send the letter I wrote for you?"
"Yes," answered Amy.
"And did he send you the two hundred pounds?"
"Directly," rejoined Amy, "with a letter full of professions of the deepest gratitude."
"And where is that poor dear little man now?" inquired I.
"God knows!" replied Amy. "I have been denied to him ever since. Sydenham has been telling me that I am too beautiful, and it would really be too great a sacrifice for me to throw myself away on Palmella."
"Did Sydenham say your returning the two hundred pounds would be too great a sacrifice also?"
"No! but I have spent it."
It was now growing late, and we separated.
CHAPTER IV
The next morning my servant informed me that a lady desired to speak a word to me. Her name was Porter.
"You