A HOLIDAY AT LAST.
Nov 4.—This morning, when I attended the queen, she asked me if I should like to go and see my father at Chesington? and then gave orders immediately for a chaise to be ready without delay—“And there is no need you should hurry yourself,” she added, “for it will do perfectly well if you are back to dinner; when I dress, I will send for Miss Planta.”
I thanked her very much, and she seemed quite delighted to give me this gratification. “The first thing I thought of this morning, when I woke,” said she, “and when I saw the sun shining in upon the bed, was that this would be a fine morning for Miss Burney to go and see her father.”
And soon after, to make me yet more comfortable she found a deputy for my man as well as for myself, condescending to give orders herself that another person might lay the cloth, lest I should be hurried home on that account.
I need not tell my two dear readers how sensibly I felt her goodness, when I acquaint them of its effect upon me; which was no less than to induce, to impel me to trust her with my performance of her request. just as she was quitting her dressing-room, I got behind her, and suddenly blurted out—
“Your majesty's goodness to me, ma'am, makes me venture to own that there is a command which I received some time ago, and which I have made some attempt to execute.”
She turned round with great quickness,—“The great coat?” she cried, “is it that?”
I was glad to be so soon understood, and took it from my pocket book—but holding it a little back, as she offered to take it.
“For your majesty alone,” I cried; “I must entreat that it may meet no other eyes, and I hope it will not be looked at when any one else is even in sight!”
She gave me a ready promise, and took it with an alacrity and walked off with a vivacity that assured me she would not be very long before she examined it; though, when I added another little request, almost a condition, that it might not be read till I was far away, she put it into her pocket unopened, and, wishing me a pleasant ride, and that I might find my father well, she proceeded towards the breakfast parlour.
My dear friends will, I know, wish to see it,—and so they shall; though not this moment, as I have it not about me, and do not remember it completely.[224]
My breakfast was short, the chaise was soon ready, and forth I sallied for dear—once how dear!—old Chesington! Every step of the road brought back to my mind the first and most loved and honoured friend of my earliest years, and I felt a melancholy almost like my first regret for him, when I considered what joy, what happiness I lost, in missing his congratulations on a situation so much what he would have chosen for me—congratulations which, flowing from a mind such as his, so wise, so zealous, so sincere, might almost have reconciled me to it myself—I mean even then—for now the struggle is over, and I am content enough.
John rode on, to open the gates; the gardener met him and I believe surprise was never greater than he carried into the house with my name. Out ran dear Kitty Cooke, whose honestly affectionate reception touched me very much,—“O,” cried she, “had our best friend lived to see this day when you came to poor old Chesington from Court!”
Her grief, ever fresh, then overflowed in a torrent and I could hardly either comfort her, or keep down the sad regretful recollections rising in my own memory. O my dear Susan, with what unmixed satisfaction, till that fatal period when I paid him my last visit, had I ever entered those gates-where passed the scenes of the greatest ease, gaiety, and native mirth that have fallen to my lot!
Mrs. James Burney next, all astonishment, and our dear James himself, all incredulity, at the report carried before me, came out.[225] Their hearty welcome and more pleasant surprise recovered me from the species of consternation with which I had approached their dwelling, and the visit, from that time, turned out perfectly gay and happy.
My dearest father was already gone to town; but I had had much reason to expect I should miss him, and therefore I could not be surprised....
I left them all with great reluctance: I had no time to walk in the garden,—no heart to ascend the little mount, and see how Norbury hills and woods looked from it!
I set out a little the sooner, to enable me to make another visit, which I had also much at heart,—it was to our aunts at Kingston. I can never tell you their astonishment at sight of me; they took me for my own ghost, I believe, at first, but they soon put my substance to the proof, and nothing could better answer my motives than my welcome, which I need not paint to my Susan, who never sees them without experiencing it. To my great satisfaction, also, my nieces Fanny and Sophy happened to be there at that time.
My return was just in time for my company, which I found increased by the arrival of two more gentlemen, Mr. Fisher and Mr. Turbulent. Mr. Fisher had been ordered to come, that he might read prayers the next day, Sunday. Mr. Turbulent[226] was summoned, I suppose, for his usual occupations; reading with the princesses, or to the queen. Shall I introduce to you this gentleman such as I now think him at once? or wait to let his character open itself to you by degrees, and in the same manner that it did to me? So capital a part as you will find him destined to play, hereafter, in my concerns, I mean, sooner or later, to the best of my power, to make you fully acquainted with him....
He took his seat next mine at the table, and assisted me, while Mr. Fisher sat as chaplain at the bottom. The dinner went off extremely well, though from no help of mine.... The three men and the three females were all intimately acquainted with one another, and the conversation, altogether, was equal, open, and agreeable.
You may a little judge of this, when I tell you a short speech that escaped Miss Planta. Mr. Turbulent said he must go early to town the next morning, and added, he should call to see Mrs. Schwellenberg, by order of the queen, “Now for heaven's sake, Mr. Turbulent,” she cried, eagerly, “don't you begin talking to her of how comfortable we are here!—it will bring her back directly!”
This was said in a half whisper; and I hope no one else heard it. I leave you, my dear friends, to your own comments.