Chapter 7

Adderbury, Sunday night, July 1, 1770. (page 32

You will be enough surprised to receive a letter from me dated from your own house, and may judge of my mortification at not finding you here; exactly as it happened two years ago. In short, here I am, and will tell you how I came here; in truth, not a little against my will. I have been at Park-place with Princess Amelia, and she insisted on my meeting her at Stowe to-morrow. She had mentioned it before, and as I have no delight in a royal progress, and as little in the Seigneur Temple, I waived the honour and pleasure, and thought I should hear no more of it. However, the proposal was turned into a command, and every body told me I could not refuse. Well, I could not come so near, and not call upon you; besides, it is extremely convenient to my Lord Castlecomer, for it would have been horrid to set out at seven o'clock in the morning, full- dressed, in my weepers, and to step out of my chaise into a drawing-room. I wrote to you on Friday, the soonest I could after this was settle(], to notify myself to you, but find I am arrived before my letter. Mrs. White is all goodness; and being the first of July, and consequently the middle of winter, has given me a good fire and some excellent coffee and bread and butter, and I am as comfortable as possible, except in having missed you. She insists on acquainting you, which makes me write this to prevent your coming; for as I must depart at twelve o'clock to-morrow, it would be dragging you home before your time for only half an hour, and I have too much regard for Lord Guildford to deprive him of your company. Don't therefore think of making this unnecessary compliment. I have treated your house like an inn, and it will not be friendly, if you do not make as free with me. I had much rather that you would take it for a visit that you ought to repay. Make my best compliments to your brother and Lord Guildford, and pity me for the six dreadful days that I am going to pass. Rosette is fast asleep in your chair, or I am sure she would write a postscript. I cannot say she is either commanded or invited to be of this royal party; but have me, have my dog.

I must not forget to thank you for mentioning Mrs. Wetenhall, on whom I should certainly wait with great pleasure, but have no manner of intention of going into Cheshire. There is not a chair or stool in Cholmondeley, and my nephew, I believe, will pull it down. He has not a fortune to furnish or inhabit it; and, if his uncle should leave him one, he would choose a pleasanter country. Adieu! Don't be formal with me, and don't trouble your hand about yours ever.