Mr. B. kindly accompanied me, apprehending that his presence would be necessary, if the recovery of them both, in which I thankfully rejoice, had not happened; especially as a circumstance I am, I think, always in, added more weight to his apprehensions.
I had hardly returned from Kent to Bedfordshire, and looked around, when I was obliged to set out to attend Lady Davers, who said she should die, if she saw me not, to comfort and recover, by my counsel and presence (so she was pleased to express herself) her sick lord who had just got out of an intermittent fever, which left him without any spirit, and was occasioned by fretting at the conduct of her stupid nephew (those also were her words).
For you must have heard (every body hears when a man of quality does a foolish thing!), and it has been in all the newspapers, that, "On Wednesday last the Right Honourable John" (Jackey they should have said), "Lord H., nephew to the Right Honourable William Lord Davers, was married to the Honourable Mrs. P., relict of J.P. of Twickenham, Esq., a lady of celebrated beauty and ample fortune."
Now, you must know, that this celebrated lady is, 'tis true, of the——family, whence her title of honourable; but is indeed so celebrated, that every fluttering coxcomb in town can give some account of her, even before she was in keeping of the Duke of——who had cast her on the town he had robbed of her.
In short, she is quite a common woman; has no fortune at all, as one may say, only a small jointure incumbered; and is much in debt. She is a shrew into the bargain, and the poor wretch is a father already; for he has already had a girl of three years old (her husband has been dead seven) brought him home, which he knew nothing of, nor even inquired, whether his widow had a child!—And he is now paying the mother's debts, and trying to make the best of his bargain.
This is the fruit of a London journey, so long desired by him, and his fluttering about there with his new title.
He was drawn in by a brother of his lady, and a friend of that brother's, two town sharpers, gamesters, and bullies. Poor Sir Joseph Wittol! This was his case, and his character, it seems, in London.
Shall I present you with a curiosity? "Tis a copy of his letter to his uncle, who had, as you may well think, lost all patience with him, on occasion of this abominable folly.
"MY LORD DAVERS,
"For iff you will not call me neffew, I have no reason to call you unkell; surely you forgett who it was you held up your kane to: I have as little reason to valew you displeassure, as you have me: for I am, God be thanked, a lord and a pere of the realme, as well as you; and as to youre nott owneing me, nor your brother B. not looking upon me, I care not a fardinge: and, bad as you think I have done, I have marry'd a woman of family. Take thatt among you!