And, indeed, could I be as easy and happy here as I used to be, I would defy that man, and all his sex, and never repent that I have given the power of my fortune into my papa’s hands.

•   •   •

Just now, my mamma has rejoiced me with the news that my requested permission is granted. Everyone thinks it best that I should go to you, except my brother. But he was told that he must not expect to rule in everything. I am to be sent for into the great parlour, where are my two uncles and my aunt Hervey, and to be acquainted with this concession in form.

•   •   •

I will acquaint you with what passed at the general leave given me to be your guest. And yet I know that you will not love my brother the better for my communication. But I am angry with him myself, and cannot help it. And, besides, it is proper to let you know the terms I go upon, and their motives for permitting me to go.

Clary, said my mamma, as soon as I entered the great parlour, your request, to go to Miss Howe’s for a few days has been taken into consideration and granted.

Much against my liking, I assure you, said my brother, rudely interrupting her.

Son James! said my father, and knit his brows.

He was not daunted. His arm is in a sling. He often has the mean art to look upon that, when anything is hinted that may be supposed to lead towards the least favour to, or reconciliation with, Mr Lovelace. Let the girl then (I am often the girl with him!) be prohibited seeing that vile libertine.

Nobody spoke.

Do you hear, sister Clary? taking their silence for approbation of what he had dictated; you are not to receive visits from Lord M.’s nephew.

Everyone still remained silent.

Do you so understand the licence you have, miss? interrogated he.

I would be glad, sir, said I, to understand that you are my brother—and that you would understand, that you are only my brother.

Oh the fond, fond heart! with a sneer of insult, lifting up his hands.

Sir, said I to my papa, to your justice I appeal. If I have deserved reflection, let me not be spared. But if I am to be answerable for the rashness—

No more! No more, of either side, said my papa. You are not to receive the visits of that Lovelace, though.

I will not, sir, in any way of encouragement, I do assure you; nor at all, if I can decently avoid it.

Thus ended this conference.

Will you engage, my dear, that the hated man shall not come near your house? but what an inconsistence is this, when they consent to my going, thinking his visits here no otherwise to be avoided! But if he does come I charge you never leave us alone together.

As I have no reason to doubt a welcome from your mamma, I will put everything in order here and be with you in two or three days.

Meantime, I am

Your most affectionate and obliged

CLARISSA HARLOWE

Letter 7: MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE

Harlowe Place, Feb. 20

I beg your excuse for not writing sooner. Alas, my dear, I have sad prospects before me! My brother and sister have succeeded in all their views. They have found out another lover for me; a hideous one! yet he is encouraged by everybody. No wonder that I was ordered home so suddenly! at an hour’s warning! No other notice, you know, than what was brought with the chariot that was to carry me back. It was for fear, as I have been informed (an unworthy fear!), that I should have entered into any concert with Mr Lovelace had I known their motive for commanding me home; apprehending, ‘tis evident, that I should dislike the man.

And well might they apprehend so. For who do you think he is? No other than that Solmes! Could you have believed it? And they are all determined too; my mamma with the rest! Dear, dear excellence! how could she be thus brought over! when I am assured that, on his first being proposed, she was pleased to say that had Mr Solmes the Indies in possession, and would endow me with them, she should not think him deserving of her Clarissa Harlowe.

The reception I met with at my return, so different from what I used to meet with on every little absence (and now I had been from them three weeks), convinced me that I was to suffer for the happiness I had had in your company and conversation for that most agreeable period. I will give you an account of it.

My brother met me at the door, and gave me his hand when I stepped out of the chariot. He bowed very low. ‘Pray, miss, favour me.’ I thought it in good humour, but found it afterwards mock respect; and so he led me in great form, I prattling all the way, inquiring of everybody’s health (although I was so soon to see them, and there was hardly time for answers), into the great parlour, where were my father, mother, my two uncles and my sister.

I was struck all of a heap as soon as I entered to see a solemnity which I had been so little used to on the like occasions in the countenance of every dear relation. They all kept their seats. I ran to my papa, and kneeled; then to my mamma; and met from both a cold salute; from my papa a blessing but half-pronounced; my mamma, indeed, called me, child, but embraced me not with her usual indulgent ardour.

After I had paid my duty to my uncles and my compliments to my sister, which she received with solemn and stiff form, I was bid to sit down. But my heart was full: and I said it became me to stand, if I could stand a reception so awful and unusual. I was forced to turn my face from them and pull out my handkerchief.

My unbrotherly accuser hereupon stood forth and charged me with having received no less than five or six visits at Miss Howe’s from the man they had all so much reason to hate (that was the expression) notwithstanding the commands I had received to the contrary. And he bid me deny it if I could.

I had never been used, I said, to deny the truth; nor would I now. I owned I had, in the past three weeks, seen the person I presumed he meant oftener than five or six times. (Pray hear me out, brother, said I; for he was going to flame.) But he always came and asked for Mrs or Miss Howe.

I proceeded that I had reason to believe that both Mrs Howe and Miss, as matters stood, would much rather have excused his visits; but they had more than once apologized that, having not the same reason my papa had to forbid him their house, his rank and fortune entitled him to civility.

You see, my dear, I made not the pleas I might have made.

My brother seemed ready to give a loose to his passion; my papa put on the countenance which always portends a gathering storm; my uncles mutteringly whispered; and my sister aggravatingly held up her hands. While I begged to be heard out—and my mamma said, let the child, that was her kind word, be heard.

I hoped, I said, there was no harm done; that it became not me to prescribe to Mrs or Miss Howe who should be their visitors; that Mrs Howe was always diverted with the raillery that passed between Miss and him; that I had no reason to challenge her guest for my visitor, as I should seem to have done had I refused to go into their company when he was with them; that I had never seen him out of the presence of one or both of those ladies, and had signified to him once, on his urging for a few moments’ private conversation with me, that unless a reconciliation were effected between my family and his he must not expect that I would countenance his visits, much less give him an opportunity of that sort.

I told them further that Miss Howe so well understood my mind that she never left me a moment while he was there; that when he came, if I was not below in the parlour, I would not suffer myself to be called to him; although I thought it would be an affectation which would give him advantage rather than the contrary if I had left company when he came in, or refused to enter into it when I found he would stay any time.

My brother heard me out with such a kind of impatience as showed he was resolved to be dissatisfied with me, say what I would.