It was the first time I ever was in Sir George’s house, which is a very magnificent one, within a door or two of Mr Faulkland’s, in St James’s-Square, as lady Sarah did not approve of that which he had before. But, my dear, the ostentation of this woman made me sick; such a parade of grandeur, such an unnecessary display of state and splendor, I thought, looked like an insult upon me. I was carried into a most sumptuous drawing-room; but as this was a private day, as she called it, the furniture was all covered up with body-cloths; and the room, having been newly washed, felt extremely cold.
I was told her ladyship was dressing, though it was then, as I imagined, her dinner-time. After I had shivered here for about half an hour, lady Sarah’s woman came to desire me to walk up stairs. As the woman did not know me, and, from the little ceremony she saw me treated with, concluded I was some humble visitor, she took me up the back stairs to her lady’s dressing-room, where I found lady Sarah, who was not yet half dressed, in consultation with her millener. The woman was trying some head-dresses on her before the glass. She made me a very slight apology for having kept me waiting so long; and, to mend the matter, told me, as she was not near ready, if I chose looking at the house, I should have time enough to do it before dinner. I thanked her; but said, I had already sat so long in the cold, that I felt myself chilled; and, with her ladyship’s permission, would place myself at her fire-side till dinner was ready. She asked her woman, carelessly, why I had not been shewn into the dining-parlour. She then turned to her millener again, to whom she gave a particular charge to have a suit of very rich point, which she had fixed on, done up for her against the next night; by which I found my sister was going to throw off her mourning intirely; that which she had on being so slight, that it was scarcely to be distinguished for such.
My brother entered the room while she was thus employed; and having saluted me, looked at his watch, and asked lady Sarah, had she ordered dinner later than usual? She told him, she had ordered it half an hour later than ordinary, as she had a mind to make a long morning, having dedicated it to trades-people, with whom she had a hundred things to settle. My brother cast a side-glance at me: I thought he looked a little abashed at the impertinence and ill-breeding of his wife.
Lady Sarah had by this time huddled on her cloaths: a laced footman appeared at the door, who summoned us, by a silent bow, to dinner.
The millener gathered up her frippery, and put them into a band-box; telling her, she would wait on her ladyship again. Lady Sarah answered, You have got a monstrous way to go, Mrs—(I forget the name); and, as I have not half done with you yet, you may stay and dine here, as we are alone, and I will look over the rest of the things in the evening, as I shall not have another leisure day while I am in town.
This was going a little too far: Sir George felt it. I believe, lady Sarah, said he, this gentlewoman has a coach waiting for her at the door (he had seen it, for he was but just come in); perhaps it may be inconvenient to detain her: she may leave the things, and call another time. The woman took the hint, though she before seemed inclined to accept of the honour lady Sarah had done her. She made her curt’sey, and withdrew. As this, however, had brought on a variety of fresh instructions, it detained us so long, that the dinner was quite cold; nor was our repast, had it even been warm, by any means answerable to the elegance of the service, the superb sideboard, and the number of attendants. In short, the dinner was composed of a parcel of tossed-up dishes, that looked like the fragments of a feast. You know there is nobody more indifferent to the pleasures of the table than I am; yet I own that this, joined to the rest of this foolish woman’s behaviour, nettled me extremely. There was such a mixture of sordidness and vanity in the whole apparatus, as made it truly contemptible.
I made haste to put an end to my visit, as soon as I possibly could after dinner, with a resolution never to repeat it.
From these few sketches of lady Sarah, you may form some kind of an idea of what sort of creature it is. I should pity Sir George, but that I think her disposition is not extremely opposite to his own.
June 24
I am told that the widow Arnold is actually married to that vile attorney who was the contriver, and more than partner, in her iniquity. I am really glad she has lost the name of a family to which she was a disgrace. Every-body now believes that I and my children have been greatly injured; but how unavailing is compassion; it only mortifies, when it is expressed by the pitying words and looks of people, who have it neither in their power nor inclination to assist you. This Mrs Arnold, bad as she is, is visited and caressed. Favour always follows the fortunate.