Fanny Burney - Regency Romance Classics – Fanny Burney Collection

“Do, do;” cried he, “a deal nicer by and by. Only wants a little furbishing: soon put to rights. Never sweep a room out of use; only wears out brooms for nothing.”

“But, Sir, can I not have an apartment on the first floor?”

“No, no, something else to do with it; belongs to the club; secrets in all things! Make this do well enough. Come again next week; wear quite a new face. Nothing wanting but a table; pick you up one at a broker’s.”

“But I am obliged, Sir, to leave Mr Harrel’s house directly.”

“Well, well, make shift without a table at first; no great matter if you ha’n’t one at all, nothing particular to do with it. Want another blanket, though. Know where to get one; a very good broker hard by. Understand how to deal with him! A close dog, but warm.”

“I have also two servants, Sir,” said Cecilia.

“Won’t have ’em! Sha’n’t come! Eat me out of house and home.”

“Whatever they eat, Sir,” answered she, “will be wholly at my expence, as will everything else that belongs to them.”

“Better get rid of them: hate servants; all a pack of rogues: think of nothing but stuffing and guzzling.”

Then opening another door, “See here,” he cried, “my own room just by; snug as a church!”

Cecilia, following him into it, lost a great part of her surprise at the praise he had lavished upon that which he destined for herself, by perceiving that his own was yet more scantily furnished, having nothing in it but a miserable bed without any curtains, and a large chest, which, while it contained his clothes, sufficed both for table and chair.

“What are doing here?” cried he angrily, to a maid who was making the bed, “can’t you take more care? beat ‘out all the feathers, see! two on the ground; nothing but waste and extravagance! never mind how soon a man’s ruined. Come to want, you slut, see that, come to want!”

“I can never want more than I do here,” said the girl, “so that’s one comfort.”

Cecilia now began to repent she had made known the purport of her visit, for she found it would be utterly impossible to accommodate either her mind or her person to a residence such as was here to be obtained and she only wished Mr Monckton had been present, that he might himself be convinced of the impracticability of his scheme. Her whole business, therefore, now, was to retract her offer, and escape from the house.

“I see, Sir,” said she, when he turned from his servant, “that I cannot be received here without inconvenience, and therefore I will make some new arrangement in my plan.”

“No, no,” cried he, “like to have you, ’tis but fair, all in our turn; won’t be chorused; Master Harrel’s had his share. Sorry could not get you that sweetheart! would not bite; soon find out another; never fret.”

“But there are so many things with which I cannot possibly dispense,” said Cecilia, “that I am certain my removing hither would occasion you far more trouble than you at present foresee.”

“No, no; get all in order soon: go about myself; know how to bid; understand trap; always go shabby; no making a bargain in a good coat. Look sharp at the goods; say they won’t do; come away; send somebody else for ’em. Never go twice myself; nothing got cheap if one seems to have a hankering.”

“But I am sure it is not possible,” said Cecilia, hurrying down stairs, “that my room, and one for each of my servants, should be ready in time.”

“Yes, yes,” cried he, following her, “ready in a trice. Make a little shift at first; double the blanket till we get another; lie with the maid a night or two; never stand for a trifle.”

And, when she was seated in her chair, the whole time disclaiming her intention of returning, he only pinched her cheek with a facetious smirk, and said, “By, by, little duck; come again soon. Warrant I’ll have the room ready. Sha’n’t half know it again; make it as smart as a carrot.”

And then she left the house; fully satisfied that no one could blame her refusing to inhabit it, and much less chagrined than she was willing to suppose herself, in finding she had now no resource but in the Delviles.

Yet, in her serious reflections, she could not but think herself strangely unfortunate that the guardian with whom alone it seemed proper for her to reside, should by parsimony, vulgarity, and meanness, render riches contemptible, prosperity unavailing, and economy odious: and that the choice of her uncle should thus unhappily have fallen upon the lowest and most wretched of misers, in a city abounding with opulence, hospitality, and splendour, and of which the principal inhabitants, long eminent for their wealth and their probity, were now almost universally rising in elegance and liberality.

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Cecilia’s next progress, therefore, was to St James’s-square, whither she went in the utmost anxiety, from her uncertainty of the reception with which her proposal would meet.

The servants informed her that Mr and Mrs Delvile were at breakfast, and that the Duke of Derwent and his two daughters were with them.

Before such witnesses to relate the reasons of her leaving the Harmless was impossible; and from such a party to send for Mrs Delvile, would, by her stately guardian, be deemed an indecorum unpardonable. She was obliged, therefore, to return to Portman-square, in order to open her cause in a letter to Mrs Delvile.

Mr Arnott, flying instantly to meet her, called out O madam, what alarm has your absence occasioned! My sister believed she should see you no more, Mr Harrel feared a premature discovery of his purposed retreat, and we have all been under the cruellest apprehensions lest you meant not to come back.”

“I am sorry I spoke not with you before I went out,” said Cecilia, accompanying him to the library, “but I thought you were all too much occupied to miss me. I have been, indeed, preparing for a removal, but I meant not to leave your sister without bidding her adieu, nor, indeed, to quit any part of the family with so little ceremony. Is Mr Harrel still firm to his last plan?”

“I fear so! I have tried what is possible to dissuade him, and my poor sister has wept without ceasing. Indeed, if she will take no consolation, I believe I shall do what she pleases, for I cannot bear the sight of her in such distress.”

“You are too generous, and too good!” said Cecilia, “and I know not how, while flying from danger myself, to forbear counselling you to avoid it also.”

“Ah madam!” cried he, “the greatest danger for me is what I have now no power to run from!”

Cecilia, though she could not but understand him, felt not the less his friend for knowing him the humblest of her admirers; and as she saw the threatening ruin to which his too great tenderness exposed him, she kindly said “Mr Arnott, I will speak, to you without reserve. It is not difficult to see that the destruction which awaits Mr Harrel, is ready also to ensnare his brother-inlaw: but let not that blindness to the future which we have so often lamented for him, hereafter be lamented for yourself. Till his present connections are broken, and his way of living is changed, nothing can be done for him, and whatever you were to advance, would merely be sunk at the gaming table. Reserve, therefore, your liberality till it may indeed be of service to him, for believe me, at present, his mind is as much injured as his fortune.”

“And is it possible, madam,” said Mr Arnott, in an accent of surprize and delight, “that you can deign to be interested in what may become of me! and that my sharing or escaping the ruin of this house is not wholly indifferent to you?”

“Certainly not,” answered Cecilia; “as the brother of my earliest friend, I can never be insensible to your welfare.”