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The Fortunate Mistress (Parts 1 and 2)

These words of my lord's struck such a damp upon my spirits, as made me unable to speak in my turn. But at last, I spoke as follows: "My lord, I have most patiently stood to hear all it was possible for you to allege against me, which has no other proof than imagination. That I was the wife of a brewer, I have no reason now to deny, neither had I any occasion before to acknowledge it. I brought him a handsome fortune, which, joined to his, made us appear in a light far superior to our neighbours. I had also five children by him, two sons and three daughters, and had my husband been as wise as rich, we might have lived happily together now. But it was not so, for he minded nothing but sporting, in almost every branch; and closely following of it soon run out all his substance, and then left me in an unhappy, helpless condition. I did not send my children to my relations till the greatest necessity drove me, and after that, hearing my husband was dead, I married the jeweller, who was afterwards murdered. If I had owned how many children I had, the jeweller would not have married me, and the way of life I was in would not keep my family, so I was forced to deny them in order to get them bread. Neither can I say that I have either heard or known anything of my children since, excepting that I heard they were all taken care of; and this was the very reason I would not marry you, when you offered it some years since, for these children lay seriously at my heart, and as I did not want money, my inclination was to come to England, and not entail five children upon you the day of marriage."

"Pray, madam," said my lord, interrupting me, "I do not find that you kept up to your resolutions when you got there; you were so far from doing your duty as a parent, that you even neglected the civility of acquaintances, for they would have asked after them, but your whole scheme has been to conceal yourself as much as possible, and even when you were found out, denied yourself, as witness the case of your daughter here. As to the character of Lady Roxana, which you so nicely managed," said he, "did that become a woman that had five children, whose necessity had obliged you to leave them, to live in a continual scene of pageantry and riot, I could almost say debauchery? Look into your conduct, and see if you deserve to have the title or the estate you now so happily enjoy."

After this speech, he walked about the room in a confused manner for some minutes, and then addressed himself to Amy. "Pray, Mrs. Amy," says he, "give me your judgment in this case, for although I know you are as much as possible in your lady's interest, yet I cannot think you have so little charity as to think she acted like a woman of worth and discretion. Do you really think, as you knew all of them from infants, that this young woman is your lady's daughter?"

Amy, who always had spirits enough about her, said at once she believed the girl was my daughter. "And truly," says she, "I think your man Thomas is her eldest son, for the tale he tells of his birth and education suits exactly with our then circumstances."

"Why, indeed," said my lord, "I believe so too, for I now recollect that when we first took him into our service at Dover, he told me he was the son of a brewer in London; that his father had run away from his mother, and left her in a distressed condition with five children, of which he was second child, or eldest son."

Thomas was then called into the parlour, and asked what he knew of his family; he repeated all as above, concerning his father's running away and leaving me; but said that he had often asked and inquired after them, but without any success, and concluded, that he believed his brothers and sisters were distributed in several places, and that his mother died in the greatest distress, and was buried by the parish.

"Indeed," said my lord, "it is my opinion that Thomas is one of your sons; do not you think the same?" addressing himself to me.

"From the circumstances that have been related, my lord," said I, "I now believe that these are both my children; but you would have thought me a mad woman to have countenanced and taken this young woman in as my child, without a thorough assurance of it; for that would have been running myself to a certain expense and trouble, without the least glimpse of real satisfaction."

"Pray," said my lord to my daughter, "let me know what is become of your brothers and sisters; give me the best account of them that you can."

"My lord," replied she, "agreeably to your commands, I will inform you to the best of my knowledge; and to begin with myself, who am the eldest of the five. I was put to a sister of my father's with my youngest brother, who, by mere dint of industry, gave us maintenance and education, suitable to her circumstances; and she, with my uncle's consent, let me go to service when I was advanced in years; and among the variety of places I lived at, Lady Roxana's was one."

"Yes," said Thomas, "I knew her there, when I was a valet at my Lord D – 's, the next door; it was there I became acquainted with her; and she, by the consent of the gentlewoman," pointing to Amy, "let me see the Lady Roxana's fine vestment, which she danced in at the grand ball."

"Well," continued my daughter, "after I left this place, I was at several others before I became acquainted with Mrs. Amy a second time (I knew her before as Roxana's woman), who told me one day some things relating to my mother, and from thence I concluded if she was not my mother herself (as I at first thought she was), she must be employed by her; for no stranger could profess so much friendship, where there was no likelihood of any return, after being so many years asunder.

"After this, I made it my business to find your lady out if possible, and was twice in her company, once on board the ship you were to have come to Holland in, and once at the Quaker's house in the Minories, London; but as I gave her broad hints of whom I took her for, and my lady did not think proper to own me, I began to think I was mistaken, till your voyage to Holland was put off. Soon after, I was flung into Whitechapel jail for a false debt, but, through the recommendation of the jailer's wife to the annual charity of the good Lady Roberts, of Mile End, I was discharged. Whereupon I posted away, seeking my mother all down the Kent Road as far as Dover and Deal, at which last place not finding her, I came in a coaster to London, and landing in Southwark, was immediately arrested, and confined in the Marshalsea prison, where I remained some time, deprived of every means to let any person without the prison know my deplorable state and condition, till my chum, a young woman, my bedfellow, who was also confined for debt, was, by a gentleman, discharged. This young woman of her own free will, went, my lord, to your lodgings in the Minories, and acquainted your landlady, the Quaker, where I was, and for what sum I was confined, who immediately sent and paid the pretended debt, and so I was a second time discharged. Upon which, going to the Quaker's to return her my thanks soon after a letter from your lady to her, with a direction in it where to find you, falling into my hands, I set out the next morning for the Hague; and I humbly hope your pardon, my lord, for the liberty I have taken; and you may be assured, that whatever circumstances of life I happen to be in, I will be no disgrace to your lordship or family."

"Well," said my husband, "what can you say of your mother's second child, who, I hear, was a son?"

"My lord," said I, "it is in my power to tell you, that Thomas there is the son you mention; their circumstances are the same, with this difference, that she was brought up under the care of a good aunt, and the boy forced to run away from a bad one, and shift for his bread ever since; so if she is my daughter, he is my son, and to oblige you, my lord, I own her, and to please myself I will own him, and they two are brother and sister." I had no sooner done speaking, than Thomas fell down before me, and asked my blessing, after which, he addressed himself to my lord as follows:

"My lord," said he, "out of your abundant goodness you took me into your service at Dover. I told you then the circumstances I was in, which will save your lordship much time by preventing a repetition; but, if your lordship pleases, it shall be carefully penned down, for such a variety of incidents has happened to me in England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, Holland, France, and the Isle of Man, in which I have travelled for about eighteen years past, as may prove an agreeable amusement to you, when you are cloyed with better company; for as I have never been anything above a common servant, so my stories shall only consist of facts, and such as are seldom to be met with, as they are all in low life."

"Well, Thomas," said my lord, "take your own time to do it, and I will reward you for your trouble."

"Now, madam," said my lord to my daughter, "if you please to proceed." "My lord," continued she, "my mother's third child, which was a daughter, lived with the relation I did, and got a place to wait upon a young lady whose father and mother were going to settle at Boulogne, in France; she went with them, and having stayed at this gentleman's (who was a French merchant) two years, was married to a man with the consent of the family she lived in; and her master, by way of fortune, got him to be master of a French and Holland coaster, and this was the very person whose ship you hired to come to Holland in; the captain's wife was my own sister, consequently my lady's second daughter; as to my youngest sister, she lived with the uncle and aunt Thomas ran away from, and died of the smallpox soon after. My youngest brother was put out apprentice to a carpenter, where he improved in his business, till a gentlewoman came to his master and mistress (which I take by the description they gave me, to be Mrs. Amy), who had him put out to an education fit for a merchant, and then sent him to the Indies, where he is now settled, and in a fair way to get a large estate. This, my lord, is the whole account I can at present give of them, and although it may seem very strange, I assure you, it is all the just truth."

When she had finished her discourse, my lord turned to me, and said, that since I that was her mother had neglected doing my duty, though sought so much after, he would take it upon himself to see both the girl and Thomas provided for, without any advising or letting me know anything about them; and added, with a malicious sneer, "I must take care of the child I have had by you too, or it will have but an indifferent parent to trust to in case of my decease."

This finished the discourse, and my lord withdrew into his study, in a humour that I am unable to describe, and left me, Amy, Thomas, and my daughter Susanna, as I must now call her, in the parlour together. We sat staring at each other some time, till at last Amy said, "I suppose, my lady, you have no farther business with your new daughter; she has told her story, and may now dispose of herself to the best advantage she can." "No," said I, "I have nothing to say to her, only that she shall never be admitted into my presence again." The poor girl burst out into tears, and said, "Pray, my lady, excuse me, for I am certain that were you in my circumstances, you would have done the very action I have, and would expect a pardon for committing the offence."

After this, I said to Thomas, "Keep what has been said to yourself, and I shall speak to you by-and-by;" and then I withdrew, and went upstairs to my closet, leaving Amy with Susanna, who soon dismissed her, and followed me.

When Amy came to me, "Now, my lady," says she, "what do you think of this morning's work? I believe my lord is not so angry as we were fearful of." "You are mistaken in your lord, Amy," said I, "and are not so well acquainted with the deep and premeditated revenge of Dutchmen as I am, and although it may not be my husband's temper, yet I dread it as much, but shall see more at dinner time."

Soon after this, my husband called Thomas, and bid him order the cloth for his dinner to be laid in his study, and bid him tell his mother that he would dine by himself. When I heard this, I was more shocked than I had been yet. "Now his anger begins to work, Amy," said I, "how must I act?" "I do not know," answered she, "but I will go into the study, and try what can be done, and, as a faithful mediator, will try to bring you together." She was not long before she returned, and bursting into tears, "I know not what to do," says she, "for your husband is in a deep study, and when I told him you desired him to dine with you in the parlour as usual, he only said, 'Mrs. Amy, go to your lady, tell her to dine when and where she pleases, and pray obey her as your lady; but let her know from me that she has lost the tenderness I had for her as a wife, by the little thought she had of her children.'"

Nothing could have shocked me more than the delivery of this message by Amy. I, almost bathed in tears, went to him myself; found him in a melancholy posture reading in Milton's "Paradise Regained." He looked at me very sternly when I entered his study, told me he had nothing to say to me at that time, and if I had a mind not to disturb him, I must leave him for the present. "My lord," said I, "supposing all that has been said by this girl was truth, what reason have you to be in this unforgiving humour? What have I done to you to deserve this usage? Have you found any fault with me since I had the happiness of being married to you? Did you ever find me in any company that you did not approve of? Have you any reason to think that I have wasted any of your substance? If you have none of these things to allege against me, for heaven's sake do not let us now make our lives unhappy, for my having had legitimate children by a lawful husband, at a time that you think it no crime to have had a natural son by me, which I had the most reason to repent of."

I spoke the latter part of these words with a small air of authority, that he might think me the less guilty; but, I believe, he only looked on what I had said as a piece of heroism; for he soon after delivered himself in the following speech: "Madam, do you not think that you have used me in a very deceitful manner? If you think that I have not had that usage, I will, in a few words, prove the contrary. When first I knew you, soon after the jeweller's death at Paris, you never mentioned, in all that intricate affair I was engaged in for you, so much as your having any children; that, as your circumstances then were, could have done you no harm, but, on the contrary, it would have moved the compassion of your bitter enemy the Jew, if he had any. Afterwards, when I first saw you in London, and began to treat with you about marriage, your children, which, to all prudent women, are the first things provided for, were so far neglected as not to be spoken of, though mine were mentioned to you; and as our fortunes were very considerable, yours might very well have been put into the opposite scale with them. Another great piece of your injustice was when I offered to settle your own fortune upon yourself, you would not consent to it; I do not look on that piece of condescension out of love to me, but a thorough hatred you had to your own flesh and blood; and lastly, your not owning your daughter, though she strongly hinted who she was to you when she was twice in your company, and even followed you from place to place while you were in England. Now, if you can reconcile this piece of inhumanity with yourself, pray try what you can say to me about your never telling me the life you led in Pall Mall, in the character of Roxana? You scrupled to be happily married to me, and soon after came to England, and was a reputed whore to any nobleman that would come up to your price, and lived with one a considerable time, and was taken by several people to be his lawful wife. If any gentleman should ask me what I have taken to my bed, what must I answer? I must say an inhuman false-hearted whore, one that had not tenderness enough to own her own children, and has too little virtue, in my mind, to make a good wife.

"I own I would," says he, "have settled your own estate upon you with great satisfaction, but I will not do it now; you may retire to your chamber, and when I have any occasion to speak with you, I will send a messenger to you; so, my undeserving lady countess, you may walk out of the room."

I was going to reply to all this, but instead of hearing me, he began to speak against the Quaker, who, he supposed, knew all the intrigues of my life; but I cleared her innocence, by solemnly declaring it was a thorough reformation of my past life that carried me to live at the Quaker's house, who knew nothing of me before I went to live with her, and that she was, I believed, a virtuous woman.

I went away prodigiously chagrined. I knew not what course to take; I found expostulation signified nothing, and all my hopes depended on what I might say to him after we were gone to bed at night. I sent in for Amy, and having told her our discourse, she said she knew not what to think of him, but hoped it would, by great submission, wear off by degrees. I could eat but little dinner, and Amy was more sorrowful than hungry, and after we had dined, we walked by ourselves in the garden, to know what we had best pursue. As we were walking about, Thomas came to us, and told us that the young woman who had caused all the words, had been at the door, and delivered a letter to my lord's footman, who had carried it upstairs, and that she was ordered to go to his lordship in his study, which struck me with a fresh and sensible grief. I told Thomas, as he was to be her brother, to learn what my lord had said to her, if he could, as she came down; on which he went into the house to obey his order.

He was not gone in above a quarter of an hour before he came to me again, and told me she was gone, and that my lord had given her a purse of twenty guineas, with orders to live retired, let nobody know who or what she was, and come to him again in about a month's time. I was very much satisfied to hear this, and was in hopes of its proving a happy omen; and I was better pleased about two hours after, when Thomas came to me to let me know that my lord had given him thirty guineas, and bid him take off his livery, and new clothe himself, for he intended to make him his first clerk, and put him in the way of making his fortune. I now thought it was impossible for me to be poor, and was inwardly rejoiced that my children (meaning Thomas and Susanna) were in the high road to grow rich.

As Amy and I had dined by ourselves, my lord kept his study all the day, and at night, after supper, Isabel came and told me that my lord's man had received orders to make his bed in the crimson room, which name it received from the colour of the bed and furniture, and was reserved against the coming of strangers, or sickness. When she had delivered her message she withdrew, and I told Amy it would be to no purpose to go to him again, but I would have her lie in a small bed, which I ordered immediately to be carried into my chamber. Before we went to bed, I went to his lordship to know why he would make us both look so little among our own servants, as to part, bed and board, so suddenly. He only said, "My Lady Roxana knows the airs of quality too well to be informed that a scandal among nobility does not consist in parting of beds; if you cannot lie by yourself, you may send a letter to my Lord – , whom you lived with as a mistress in London; perhaps he may want a bedfellow as well as you, and come to you at once; you are too well acquainted with him to stand upon ceremony."

I left him, with my heart full of malice, grief, shame, and revenge. I did not want a good will to do any mischief; but I wanted an unlimited power to put all my wicked thoughts in execution.

Amy and I lay in our chamber, and the next morning at breakfast we were talking of what the servants (for there were thirteen of them in all, viz., two coachmen, four footmen, a groom, and postillion, two women cooks, two housemaids, and a laundry-maid, besides Isabel, who was my waiting-maid, and Amy, who acted as housekeeper) could say of the disturbance that was in the family. "Pho!" said Amy, "never trouble your head about that, for family quarrels are so common in noblemen's houses, both here and in England, that there are more families parted, both in bed and board, than live lovingly together. It can be no surprise to the servants, and if your neighbours should hear it, they will only think you are imitating the air of nobility, and have more of that blood in you than you appeared to have when you and your lord lived happily together."

The time, I own, went very sluggishly on. I had no company but Amy and Isabel, and it was given out among the servants of noblemen and gentry that I was very much indisposed, for I thought it a very improper time either to receive or pay visits.

In this manner I lived till the month was up that my daughter was to come again to my lord, for although I went morning, noon, and night, into his apartment to see him, I seldom had a quarter of an hour's discourse with him, and oftentimes one of his valets would be sent to tell me his lord was busy, a little before the time I usually went, which I found was to prevent my going in to him, but this was only when he was in an ill humour, as his man called it.

Whether my lord used to make himself uneasy for want of mine or other company, I cannot tell, but the servants complained every day, as I heard by Amy, that his lordship ate little or nothing, and would sometimes shed tears when he sat down by himself to breakfast, dinner, or supper; and, indeed, I began to think that he looked very thin, his countenance grew pale, and that he had every other sign of a grieved or broken heart.

My daughter came to him one Monday morning, and stayed with him in his study near two hours. I wondered at the reason of it, but could guess at nothing certain; and at last she went away, but I fixed myself so as to see her as she passed by me, and she appeared to have a countenance full of satisfaction.

In the evening, when I went in as usual, he spoke to me in a freer style than he had done since our breach. "Well, madam" (for he had not used the words "my lady" at any time after my daughter's coming to our house), said he, "I think I have provided for your daughter." "As how, my lord, pray will you let me know?" said I. "Yes," replied he, "as I have reason to think you will be sorry to hear of her welfare in any shape, I will tell you. A gentleman who is going factor for the Dutch East India Company, on the coast of Malabar, I have recommended her to; and he, on my character and promise of a good fortune, will marry her very soon, for the Company's ships sail in about twelve days; so, in a fortnight, like a great many mothers as there are nowadays, you may rejoice at having got rid of one of your children, though you neither know where, how, or to whom."

Although I was very glad my lord spoke to me at all, and more especially so at my daughter's going to be married, and settling in the Indies, yet his words left so sharp a sting behind them as was exceeding troublesome to me to wear off. I did not dare venture to make any further inquiries, but was very glad of what I heard, and soon bidding my lord goodnight, went and found Amy, who was reading a play in the chamber.

I waited with the greatest impatience for this marriage; and when I found the day was fixed, I made bold to ask my lord if I should not be present in his chamber when the ceremony was performed. This favor was also denied me. I then asked my lord's chaplain to speak to him on that head, but he was deaf to his importunities, and bade him tell me that I very well knew his mind. The wedding was performed on a Wednesday evening, in my lord's presence, and he permitted nobody to be there but a sister of the bridegroom's, and Thomas (now my lord's secretary or chief clerk), who was brother to the bride, and who gave her away. They all supped together after the ceremony was over in the great dining-room, where the fortune was paid, which was £2000 (as I heard from Thomas afterwards), and the bonds for the performance of the marriage were redelivered.

Next morning my lord asked me if I was willing to see my daughter before she sailed to the Indies. "My lord," said I, "as the seeing of her was the occasion of this great breach that has happened between us, so if your lordship will let me have a sight of her and a reconciliation with you at the same time, there is nothing can be more desirable to me, or would more contribute to my happiness during the rest of my life."

"No, madam," says he, "I would have you see your daughter, to be reconciled to her, and give her your blessing (if a blessing can proceed from you) at parting; but our reconciliation will never be completed till one of us comes near the verge of life, if then; for I am a man that am never reconciled without ample amends, which is a thing that is not in your power to give, without you can alter the course of nature and recall time."

On hearing him declare himself so open, I told him that my curse instead of my blessing would pursue my daughter for being the author of all the mischiefs that had happened between us. "No, madam," said he, "if you had looked upon her as a daughter heretofore, I should have had no occasion to have had any breach with you. The whole fault lies at your own door; for whatever your griefs may inwardly be, I would have you recollect they were of your own choosing."

I found I was going to give way to a very violent passion, which would perhaps be the worse for me, so I left the room and went up to my own chamber, not without venting bitter reproaches both against my daughter and her unknown husband.

However, the day she was to go on shipboard, she breakfasted with my lord, and as soon as it was over, and my lord was gone into his study to fetch something out, I followed him there, and asked him if he would give me leave to present a gold repeating watch to my daughter before she went away. I thought he seemed somewhat pleased with this piece of condescension in me, though it was done more to gain his goodwill than to express any value I had for her. He told me that he did not know who I could better make such a present to, and I might give it to her if I pleased. Accordingly I went and got it out of my cabinet in a moment, and bringing it to my lord, desired he would give it her from me. He asked me if I would not give it her myself. I told him no; I wished her very well, but had nothing to say to her till I was restored to his lordship's bed and board.

About two hours after all this, the coach was ordered to the door, and my daughter and her new husband, the husband's sister, and my son Thomas, all went into it, in order to go to the house of a rich uncle of the bridegroom's, where they were to dine before they went on board, and my lord went there in a sedan about an hour after. And having eaten their dinner, which on this occasion was the most elegant, they all went on board the Indiaman, where my lord and my son Thomas stayed till the ship's crew was hauling in their anchors to sail, and then came home together in the coach, and it being late in the evening, he told Thomas he should sup with him that night, after which they went to bed in their several apartments.

Next morning when I went to see my lord as usual, he told me that as he had handsomely provided for my daughter, and sent her to the Indies with a man of merit and fortune, he sincerely wished her great prosperity. "And," he added, "to let you see, madam, that I should never have parted from my first engagements of love to you, had you not laid yourself so open to censure for your misconduct, my next care shall be to provide for your son Thomas in a handsome manner, before I concern myself with my son by you."

This was the subject of our discourse, with which I was very well pleased. I only wished my daughter had been married and sent to the Indies before I had married myself; but I began to hope that the worst would be over when Thomas was provided for too, and the son my lord had by me, who was now at the university, was at home; which I would have brought to pass could my will be obeyed, but I was not to enjoy that happiness.

My lord and I lived with a secret discontent of each other for near a twelvemonth before I saw any provision made for my son Thomas, and then I found my lord bought him a very large plantation in Virginia, and was furnishing him to go there in a handsome manner; he also gave him four quarter parts in four large trading West India vessels, in which he boarded a great quantity of merchandise to traffic with when he came to the end of his journey, so that he was a very rich man before he (what we call) came into the world.

The last article that was to be managed, was to engage my son to a wife before he left Holland; and it happened that the gentleman who was the seller of the plantation my husband bought, had been a Virginia planter in that colony a great many years; but his life growing on the decline, and his health very dubious, he had come to Holland with an intent to sell his plantation, and then had resolved to send for his wife, son, and daughter, to come to him with the return of the next ships. This gentleman had brought over with him the pictures of all his family, which he was showing to my lord at the same time he was paying for the effects; and on seeing the daughter's picture, which appeared to him very beautiful, my lord inquired if she was married. "No, my lord," says the planter, "but I believe I shall dispose of her soon after she comes to me." "How old is your daughter?" said my lord. "Why, my lord," replied the planter, "she is twenty-two years of age." Then my lord asked my son if he should like that young lady for a wife. "Nothing, my lord," said Thomas, "could lay a greater obligation upon me than your lordship's providing me with a wife."