Lady Charlotte Finch called upon me two days ago, almost purposely, to inquire concerning the report of my young friend’s marriage; and she made me promise to acquaint her when I received any further news: at noon, therefore, I went to her apartment at the Prince of Wales’s, with this information. Mr. Fairly, I knew, was with the equerries in our lodge. Lady Charlotte had the Duchess of Beaufort and all the Fieldings with her, and therefore I only left a message, by no means, feeling spirits for encountering any stranger.
At noon, when I attended her majesty, she inquired if I had walked?—Yes.—Where?—In Richmond gardens.—And nowhere else?—No. She looked thoughtful,—and presently I recollected my intended visit to Lady Charlotte, and mentioned it. She cleared up, and said, “O!—you. went to Lady Charlotte?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered, thinking her very absent,—which I thought with sorrow, as that is so small a part of her character, that I know not I ever saw any symptom of it before. Nor, in fact, as I found afterwards, did I see it now. It was soon explained. Miss Gomme, Mlle. Montmoulin, and Miss Planta, all dined with Mrs. Schwellenberg to-day. The moment I joined them, Mrs. Schwellenberg called out,—“Pray, Miss Berner, for what visit you the gentlemen?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,—and for what, I say?" Amazed, I declared I did not know what she meant.
“O,” cried she, scoffingly, “that won’t not do!—we all saw you,—princess royal the same,—so don’t not say that.”
I stared,-and Miss Gomme burst out in laughter, and then Mrs. Schwellenberg added,—“For what go you over to the Prince of Wales his house?—nobody lives there but the gentlemen,—nobody others.”
I laughed too, now, and told her the fact.
“O,” cried she, “Lady Charlotte!—ver true. I had forgot Lady Charlotte!”
“O, very well, imagine,” cried I,—“so only the gentlemen were remembered!”