The evening at the Talbot Hotel was necessarily an improvement, as it afforded at least a comfortable place to sit and a cold collation, their having arrived too late at the inn to have a proper supper. The establishment was ancient, but clean, and the land-lady especially grateful to have the custom of travellers at this season and in such inclement weather. The land-lord was everything to be expected of the publican at a posting house: well-fed and rosy-nosed, generously assuming the arduous burthen of incessant conversation with his disinclined audience, leaving the lighter duties of cooking, cleaning, waiting, and house-keeping to his lady. At length the weary party were able to excuse themselves and apportion the rooms after much civil quarrelling as to who was to have the best room, and who was to share. In the morning, the party had a scanty breakfast and left before the land-lord was come down to further impede the progress of their journey. Owing to having slept poorly, Lady Catherine’s garrulity of the previous day was now replaced with irritability, augmented with a pronouncement every five minutes of how disagreeable it was to travel in a closed, crowded chaise. The carriage groaned as it toiled down the rutted roads, and after another day of sheeting rain and seas of mud, they reached the inn in Telford where they were to stay the night.

The next morning, they had some leisure and the possibility of breakfast before meeting Mr. Roberts, who would conduct the party to the foundry. Lady Catherine had—-to everyone’s inexpressible delight—-found this situation more to her liking and arose refreshed. With astonishing energy, she abused her fellow passengers roundly for their want of fortitude and spirit on the journey hither, and ate a substantial breakfast. Anne ate little and was silent. Sir William studied the news-paper, leaving Colonel Wallis to support whatever attempt remained at conversation before Mr. Roberts was to make his appearance later that morning.