Evelina writes from Queen Ann Street on Saturday 2 April, the moment she arrives. She is just going to Drury Lane. Garrick performs Ranger, and she and Maria are in ecstasy that he should happen to play. They would not let Mrs Mirvan rest until she consented. Her chief objection was their dress. They have had no time to Londonize themselves, so they are to sit in some obscure place where she will not be seen. Evelina says she would be alike unknown in the most conspicuous part of the house or the most private. She has hardly time to breathe, and she adds only this: the houses and streets are not quite so superb as she expected. She has seen nothing yet, so she ought not to judge. Her letter of thanks for his consent is, she supposes, still on the road.
That night she returns in raptures. She had no idea of such a performer. Ease, vivacity, grace, fire in the eyes: she could hardly believe he had studied a written part, because every word seemed uttered from the impulse of the moment. When he danced she envied Clarinda, and almost wished to jump onto the stage. She is afraid Villars will think her mad, and she intends to ask Mrs Mirvan to go to the play every night. She will write each evening all that passes, in the same manner as if she could see him and tell him. On Sunday they go to Portland Chapel, then walk in the Mall of St James's Park. It does not answer her expectations. It is a long straight walk of dirty gravel, uneasy to the feet, and at each end, instead of an open prospect, only houses built of brick. When Mrs Mirvan points out the Palace, Evelina thinks she was never much more surprised. The walk is still agreeable. Everybody looks gay, and the ladies are so much dressed that she and Maria can do nothing but look at them. Mrs Mirvan meets friends. Evelina looks for an acquaintance and sees not one person she knows, which seems odd when all the world appears to be there. They are not to walk in the Park again next Sunday, even if they are still in town, because there is better company in Kensington Gardens. Evelina cannot see how that is possible, given how much everybody was dressed.
On Monday they are to go to a private ball given by Mrs Stanley, a fashionable lady of Mrs Mirvan's acquaintance. The morning is spent shopping for silks, caps, and gauzes. The mercers bow and smirk, conduct them from room to room with so much ceremony that she is almost afraid to go on, and recommend every silk so strongly that she fancies they think she wants only persuasion to buy everything. At the milliners, the ladies are so dressed she would have thought they were making visits. They are served more often by men than by women, finical and affected, recommending caps and ribbons with such importance that she wishes to ask how long they have left off wearing them. A complete suit of linen is promised against the evening. Her hair is dressed. Her head feels odd, full of powder and black pins, with a great cushion on top, and her face looks quite different. She does not know when she will be able to use a comb herself. She is half afraid of the ball, because she has never danced but at school. Maria says there is nothing in it. Evelina wishes it was over. Poor Maria cannot wear one of the caps she made, because they dress her hair too large for them.
Coming Up in Chapter 11
On Tuesday morning Evelina gives the whole morning to her pen, because London evenings end too late for night writing. The private ball was not four or five couples. Two large rooms were full, and the gentlemen passed and repassed as if the ladies waited for the honour of their commands.
