Truffigny gave Briggs a shawl by way of winning over Becky's confidante, and asked her to take charge of a letter which the simple spinster handed over in public to the person to whom it was addressed, and the composition of which amused everybody who read it greatly.
Lord Steyne read it, everybody but honest Rawdon, to whom it was not necessary to tell everything that passed in the little house in May Fair.
Here, before long, Becky received not only "the best"foreigners (as the phrase is in our noble and admirable society slang), but some of the best English people too.
I don't mean the most virtuous, or indeed the least virtuous, or the cleverest, or the stupidest, or the richest, or the best born, but "the best,"--in a word, people about whom there is no question--such as the great Lady Fitz-Willis, that Patron Saint of Almack's, the great Lady Slowbore, the great Lady Grizzel Macbeth (she was Lady G.Glowry, daughter of Lord Grey of Glowry), and the like.When the Countess of Fitz-Willis (her Ladyship is of the Kingstreet family, see Debrett and Burke) takes up a person, he or she is safe.There is no question about them any more.Not that my Lady Fitz-Willis is any better than anybody else, being, on the contrary, a faded person, fifty-seven years of age, and neither handsome, nor wealthy, nor entertaining; but it is agreed on all sides that she is of the "best people."Those who go to her are of the best: and from an old grudge probably to Lady Steyne (for whose coronet her ladyship, then the youthful Georgina Frederica, daughter of the Prince of Wales's favourite, the Earl of Portansherry, had once tried), this great and famous leader of the fashion chose to acknowledge Mrs.Rawdon Crawley; made her a most marked curtsey at the assembly over which she presided; and not only encouraged her son, St.Kitts (his lordship got his place through Lord Steyne's interest), to frequent Mrs.Crawley's house, but asked her to her own mansion and spoke to her twice in the most public and condescending manner during dinner.The important fact was known all over London that night.People who had been crying fie about Mrs.
Crawley were silent.Wenham, the wit and lawyer, Lord Steyne's right-hand man, went about everywhere praising her: some who had hesitated, came forward at once and welcomed her; little Tom Toady, who had warned Southdown about visiting such an abandoned woman, now besought to be introduced to her.In a word, she was admitted to be among the "best" people.Ah, my beloved readers and brethren, do not envy poor Becky prematurely--glory like this is said to be fugitive.It is currently reported that even in the very inmost circles, they are no happier than the poor wanderers outside the zone; and Becky, who penetrated into the very centre of fashion and saw the great George IV face to face, has owned since that there too was Vanity.
We must be brief in descanting upon this part of her career.As I cannot describe the mysteries of freemasonry, although I have a shrewd idea that it is a humbug, so an uninitiated man cannot take upon himself to portray the great world accurately, and had best keep his opinions to himself, whatever they are.
Becky has often spoken in subsequent years of this season of her life, when she moved among the very greatest circles of the London fashion.Her success excited, elated, and then bored her.At first no occupation was more pleasant than to invent and procure (the latter a work of no small trouble and ingenuity, by the way, in a person of Mrs.Rawdon Crawley's very narrow means)--to procure, we say, the prettiest new dresses and ornaments; to drive to fine dinner parties, where she was welcomed by great people; and from the fine dinner parties to fine assemblies, whither the same people came with whom she had been dining, whom she had met the night before, and would see on the morrow--the young men faultlessly appointed, handsomely cravatted, with the neatest glossy boots and white gloves--the elders portly, brass-buttoned, noble-looking, polite, and prosy --the young ladies blonde, timid, and in pink--the mothers grand, beautiful, sumptuous, solemn, and in diamonds.They talked in English, not in bad French, as they do in the novels.They talked about each others'
houses, and characters, and families--just as the Joneses do about the Smiths.Becky's former acquaintances hated and envied her; the poor woman herself was yawning in spirit."I wish I were out of it," she said to herself."Iwould rather be a parson's wife and teach a Sunday school than this; or a sergeant's lady and ride in the regimental waggon; or, oh, how much gayer it would be to wear spangles and trousers and dance before a booth at a fair.""You would do it very well," said Lord Steyne, laughing.
She used to tell the great man her ennuis and perplexities in her artless way--they amused him.
"Rawdon would make a very good Ecuyer--Master of the Ceremonies--what do you call him--the man in the large boots and the uniform, who goes round the ring cracking the whip? He is large, heavy, and of a military figure.I recollect," Becky continued pensively, "my father took me to see a show at Brookgreen Fair when Iwas a child, and when we came home, I made myself a pair of stilts and danced in the studio to the wonder of all the pupils.""I should have liked to see it," said Lord Steyne.
