I was so horribly low after you went, stayed an hour in my own room which, as that pinafore’d housemaid had forgotten to do it out, is I suppose the strongest proof of friendship I could have given. Then the day cleared up, and my headache cleared up, and Lady Glengall[262] took me to see the platting school. I am quite vexed you did not see that; it is such a gratifying sight, and curious besides. While we were there, a policeman came up to Lady Glengall: “Me lady, where will we put Connell?” “Who’s Connell?” “Why, the stiff, me lady. Where will we put him convanient for the coroner?” So she went off to make poor Connell convanient, and I to sketch the castle, and while I was there Connell’s procession came over the bridge. Such a howling!
Lord Arthur Hill and Mr. Carnegie dined there that day. The next day we went to the review, after sundry demurs on the part of her Ladyship; but I think she has at last made up her mind to make up her quarrel with the regiment, and in proof thereof, Carnegie and Ford again graced the festive board at Cahir with their presence. The sight of all those grey horses and red men at full gallop, and that beautiful band which played to us afterwards, increased my military ardour into perfect heroism. Sir Charles[263] was more Sir Charlesey than ever! I quite agree with old Lord Donoughmore,[264] who is a Penruddock jewel of a man, a sort of bourreau bienfaisant, and who observed, when we told him Sir Charles could not come to Knocklofty till the following day, “Well then, you must do without a Tom-fool for one day—eh?” Make Lord Arthur show you Lord Donoughmore—I mean act him. Before we went to Knocklofty on Wednesday, Lady Glengall drove me to Ardfinan, and there did we discuss Brooke[265] and his intentions, and she declares he is desperately in love with Miss Acton, and is only by way of moping at Cahir. Think of being Brooke’s moping house!
You do not know me, Pam, you do not value me. Lady Glengall knows me better—she is after all the friend of my heart. I never was so praised alive as I was that day. I may have “Richard”[266] only for the asking. In fact there is nothing wanting but just his consent and mine—absolute trifles. I observe those ladies who have been addicted to flirting never believe that any woman under 60 can be without some little interest of that sort; and I cannot help thinking that I am suspected at Cahir of being engaged to Lord Henry Thynne. It was that Brooke’s innuendos led me to the suspicion, and something Lady Glengall said might have meant it. However, I do not know. Only, if you hear me accused of that crime—and she means to see a great deal of you—will you have the kindness to mention that I am neither engaged nor attracted to poor dear Lord Henry, or any other individual? I do not mind their saying so, if it amuses them, but only Brooke must not go trumpeting about fancying I am pining, or ought to be pining, for dear Lord Henry, who is an excellent child, and if he came in my way I think his education might be finished about the time your Pam[267] would be coming out, but in the meantime I have never aspired to any other post than being his confidante. Perhaps I mistook Lady Glengall’s hints, for the fact is she seems to know so much more about me than I do about myself, that I am quite puzzled and diffident about my own historical facts. But I think this is a point on which I am best informed of the two. If I am engaged to anybody it would be fair to tell me, that I might act the character better. However, I must say I like Lady Glengall much better than is convenient, and the girls[268] are perfect, and I liked our Cahir visit—and she appreciates you properly.
Oh, Pam! how horrid it is to think that we parted there, because you are such a treasure to me, and we are going to lead the rest of our lives apart. I feel exactly as if this were my last Will and Testament. Mind you consider it as such!
I am as low as a cat this morning. I wonder whether we shall come over again either next year or the year after. Knocklofty was pleasant enough; old Donoughmore is such a duck, and there were two pretty nieces and a sub-nephew, and Tom-fool and Lord Arthur [Hill]. We stayed two nights instead of one, as there were no post horses to be had. Lady Duncannon[269] got home quite safe and is looking very well again—more like Mary [Drummond] than ever amongst her nine present children, and talking of her three absent ones, and nursing up her thirteenth. I have quite recovered my intimacy with her, and tell her as usual of all things. She says she was so ill at Cahir she hardly knew how to sit up.
I must go and see after that eternal packing. George says that even if it is the Meteor, a packet which, as far as I understand, is in every respect unsafe and uncomfortable, we must sail to-night. So I look upon myself as food for fishes, and as he must be lost with me, I shall not have the fun of gliding about as a grisly ghost and standing at his feet.... Your own affectionate
E. EDEN.
God bless you, my darling! My love to Sir Guy—his picture has travelled hitherto with the greatest success.
Miss Eden to Miss Villiers.
Stackpole, Pembrokeshire,
Saturday, November 3, 1827.
MY DEAREST THERESA, I never should wonder if you had thought me idle about writing. It would have been a terrible proof of the fallibility of your judgment if you had. I might as well have attempted to build a house as to keep up a correspondence during the active life I have been leading. I was once in hopes of tiring you out, and that you would write again without waiting for me, but we know each other too well. I was thinking the other day that it is unpleasant to reflect how well you know me, and how thoroughly I know you. No means of taking each other in, no little scenes, no explanations, no nothings.