I am not about singing mad songs

Docket informs me that she has arrang’d for me to go visit Mamzelle Bridgette, for here we are, well on into the Season, and there you are, Your Ladyship, still in last year’s gowns. Sure, she and Sophy have been about making some of them over so that they do not shame me with their outmod’d style, but indeed, 'tis high time I went about seeing to my wardrobe.

Docket, says I, I apprehend that I am failing to do you the credit you deserve and that you suppose yourself gossipt upon among the other ladies’ maids in Town for letting me get into such a state. Sure I have become a sad dowdy creature, and 'tis high time to squash any rumours that Lady B- is become such a bluestocking that she cares naught for dress anymore.

Docket sniffs and says she would not go that far, but indeed My Ladyship has not been giving that attention to matters of fashion that she was wont.

Dear Docket, says I, sometimes there will be matters that take precedence over the adornment of the body and sure there have been some several of those of late.

That, says Docket, is as maybe, but today all you will do is sit and fret, or perchance pace up and down, because you hold a soirée this e’en. 'Tis a kindness to have you out of the house, otherwise you will go be under everybody’s feet.

Sure, says I, I am not mistress in my own household.

Sophy is standing staring upon us with her mouth open. She gives herself a little shake, closes her mouth, and goes on about folding away my launder’d undergarments with perfum’d sachets.

And, says I, I will do as you bid and go visit Mamzelle Bridgette, that I am sure you have told how she should be dressing me.

Docket gives a small smile.

So I take myself to Mamzelle Bridgette’s, where I am most warmly welcom’d by the quondam Biddy Smith, who asks after dear Thomasina &C, and shows me into the waiting chamber, where I see Miss R- is also waiting. Biddy says she will go summon some tea.

Miss R- jumps up, runs to me, clasps both my hands in hers and says her gratitude is quite infinite, for she cannot imagine how I could contrive it and yet here is her dear uncle at liberty, no stain upon his character, went on-stage yestere’en as if naught had happen’d. So far they have manag’d to conceal the entire matter from Mr J-, but for her part she is like to suppose that Miss A- will quite inadvertent let something drop to Mrs N-, and then there will be fireworks.

I squeeze her hands and say that I had a favour ow’d, 'twas most exceeding fortunate.

I wish he would not – she begins, and then comes in one of the assistants with tea.

I say that I hope she is making sure her dear little pug does not run about the streets but is always kept safe, for I hear there are gangs that will go steal dogs and hold them to ransom.

O, the brutes, she says. And sure I must tell Danvers so that he may warn his mother concerning hers.

I ask how Danvers is, but as she is about to reply at what I fear may be considerable length, in comes Biddy Smith with a very handsome young man, that has some look of Seraphine and Jerome’s family. This, she says, is Maurice, comes to learn something of the business with me.

I nod to Maurice and remark that I believe he has connexions in my household.

He says indeed, and that he is most honour’d to have the chance of dressing Lady B-.

Biddy waves us into one dressing room and takes Miss R- into the other.

(Sure I am very tempt’d to say that 'tis a great change to have a fellow that thinks dressing me, rather than undressing me, is an honour.)

But indeed, Maurice has the matter in him, drapes me with various stuffs, and I concur that tho’ there are some shades and styles I had not previous thought of, the effect will be most pleasing. I end up by commissioning rather more gowns for different occasions than I had intend’d.

When I emerge, Miss R-, who has finished her own convoking with Biddy, invites me to go have tea with her at her charming apartment.

Sure I should like to see it, and whether she has yet train’d her puppy to observe the social conventions.

Danvers D- has set her up exceeding fine: there is a very neat maid opens the door for us with a pleasing bob, and another that goes fetch us tea. The pug comes up and makes very loving towards her.

We go into her parlour, where Mr W- sits gazing sadly at the fire.

O, Uncle! she cries, pray do not sit and brood. Look who I have here!

He rises. Why, Lady B-, he says, sure I am most exceeding indebt’d to you. 'Twas entire the worst night of my life.

Oh, poo, says I, I would not see an artist such as yourself suffer from the nasty meddlings of the Vice Society. Would that I could have set all free.

He clasps my hands and I perceive that there are tears in his eyes. She is a good girl, he says, with a nod towards his niece, I am sure there are young women that would have felt reliev’d of an embarrassment.

O, Uncle, she says, as if this is an old accustom’d story. Come, sit down and take some tea and talk of happier matters.

But conversation is uneasy, and does not go any more easy for the pug doing somewhat unfit for polite company. I stay long enough not to look as if I am rushing off pell-mell, but indeed I cannot linger, for I am in the frets over my soirée.

Docket mutters a little that I have cut matters very fine to dress as I should to demonstrate her credit. I am sufficiently in a fuss not to laugh or teaze.

I go into the reception room, where the musicians are cluster’d about the piano, Mrs O’C- is setting out packs of cards and piles of counters, and listening to Mrs N-, and Mr P- is stood talking to Mr N- in front of the fireplace, in such a fashion that they block the heat.

All look at me as tho’ they anticipat’d that I should be singing mad songs or handing about rosemary and rue. I smile and greet them all very warm, ask after Mrs O’C-'s son – somewhat of a winter cold, she says, the poor thing wheezes something terrible – go speak to the musicians about what they intend playing, and generally act as tho’ I had not lately been shot at while riding in the Park. For sure it seems as if some entire different demeanour is expect’d in such a circumstance.

Enters Mr de C- with Phoebe and Sandy, that I apprehend from their conversation is being paint’d by Mr de C-, who alludes to Titian. I clasp Phoebe’s hands and ask how she does: excellent well, she says, and is no longer forc’d from the studio by nausea. But when, she says, is brother Hector going to tye the knot? Sure she hopes he purposes to be about it while she is still able to go about.

I say that I confide that Euphemia is about bringing it to that happy conclusion, and we laugh a little.

Next come the S-s, along with the V-s and Sebastian K-. Martha and Phoebe quite immediate have their heads together over their condition. Mr S- and the V-s show some inclination to praise my horsemanship, but I turn the compliment upon Jezebel, that was greatly affright’d and ran but did not make any offer to throw me.

I say are we not shockt that the fellow had not been put into a strait-waistcoat, or not until 'twas indeed somewhat too late to be to the purpose.

(One day I purpose to have a little talk with Sebastian K-, for it seems most unusual coincidental that he should be visiting the Embassy and just perchance see Herr F- there.)

Comes the R- House party, that I confide think I may be going about with straws in my hair - sure even had I run lunatick, Docket would permit no such thing. They squeeze my hands and look into my face until I am like to say that I would give 'em violets, but they wither’d all.

Mrs P-, Miss W- and several others of the philanthropick set arrive, then Sir Z- R- with Mr H-, that tell me the latter has been about a dissection, which Sir Z- R- drew, and Mr B-, followed by Sir B- W- and Susannah, and several of the politickal set. At last comes the Contessa.

Sure matters begin to go and there is a deal of conversation that is not in low tones with sideways glances as to my state of mind. There is much regret over the departure of the T-s. There is excellent fine musick, a much-prais’d supper, and come rather late after the play has done, Miss A- with Lady J-, that receives many compliments upon her marriage, praise of the Admiral, &C.

We are come to that part of the evening when I am oft besought to read Shakspeare, but I have made a plan with the Contessa, that says she has heard that one cannot truly understand the poetry of Burns without it is read by one that truly understands the language, and she hears that Mr MacD- does so very excellent.

Sandy comes forward less reluctant than I suppos’d, and delights us with his rendering of several works by the Ayrshire Bard. I find myself standing next to Milord and am oblig’d to kick him in the ankle to warn him not to look quite so doatingly.