She and her brother declared themselves, as friends of Sir Thomas, to be the well-wishers of William, and proposed to take him away to the Crown Inn to ply him with roast beef and good ale to celebrate his safe return to England. To Mrs. Price, nothing could be more natural than that her eldest son deserved such a distinction, and a cheerful William was soon seated in a private dining-room with the Crawfords where they unhurriedly made his acquaintance.
Henry Crawford’s encouraging questions, and Mary Crawford’s admiring glances, soon had the unsuspecting midshipman relating some of his adventures. Young as he was, William had already seen a great deal. He had been in the Mediterranean; in the West Indies; in the Mediterranean again; had been often taken on shore by the favour of his captain, and in the course of seven years had known every variety of danger which sea and war together could offer. With such means in his power he had a right to be listened to; even Mary found herself liking the unpretending brother of Fanny.
Henry Crawford discovered that this young man actually aroused feelings of jealousy within his breast—and yet something more, a feeling he was unaccustomed to, which was self-reproach. He longed to have been at sea, and seen and done and suffered as much. His heart was warmed, his fancy fired, and he felt the highest respect for a lad who, before he was twenty, had gone through such bodily hardships and given such proofs of mind. The glory of heroism, of usefulness, of exertion, of endurance, made his own habits of selfish indulgence appear in shameful contrast; and he wished he had been a William Price, distinguishing himself and working his way to fortune and consequence with so much self-respect and happy ardour, instead of what he was!
The wish was rather eager than lasting. He was roused from the reverie of retrospection and regret produced by it, by some inquiry from his sister about the missing Fanny, and he returned his attention to the matter at hand, finding it was pleasant to have the sole command of his own time, and to choose where, when and how he could come and go, for Mary asked William Price if he had visited Fanny, and the young man answered in the negative, explaining that he was waiting to be paid out for some prize monies and needs must remain in Portsmouth to receive his share.
“I dare say that your parents were anxious to know everything you know about your sister’s whereabouts,” Mary speculated thoughtfully.
“Why, no, in fact, ma’am,” William looked confused. “My parents—my parents hadn’t thought to ask me if Fanny had written to me. They have been that happy to see me, begging your pardons, for I have been away from England for so long, and my father was a sea-going man, before he was injured, so…..”
“Ah, of course,” Mary murmured, noting to herself that to be a daughter in the Price household was obviously to be an afterthought for both mother and father. So Fanny Price was as forgotten at home as she was neglected at Mansfield.
Henry explained that he had promised the Bertrams he would find Fanny and reassure the family at Mansfield Park of her safety; and return her, if possible, to the bosom of her family. “She is in Bristol, or thereabouts, is she not?” Henry asked nonchalantly, refilling William’s glass.
“I must beg your pardon sir, but my sister asked me not to disclose her direction to anyone, even though –” he broke off and chewed his lip.
“What is it, Mr. Price?” asked Mary, all concern.
“My sister has not written me this month. I know that letters can miscarry, and in fact, it is a wonder to me how the navy can bring me a letter from my sister, from hand to hand, from boat to packet, from packet to ship, all over the globe, and while sometimes the letter must chase around after me for a while, it does find me in time, and me just a common midshipman, so now that I am on shore, I am sorry I don’t find a letter from her waiting for me here at home. She must know I am back in England, and I would sorely like to see her after all these years. But without leave, I cannot go to—to where she is, and so…. I have a letter ready to send to her, but I was hoping every day to see something from her….”
Henry smiled and Mary placed a sympathetic hand lightly on the midshipman’s well-muscled forearm.
“We do have some knowledge of the family, and are only asking for your confirmation. Fanny herself told us that she was to meet a wealthy widow—in Oxford, I believe it was, and go from thence to Bristol. Will that satisfy your sense of delicacy, as regards your sister’s confidence?”
William’s honest face brightened up. “Oh yes. Fan never told me she had confided in you as well. Yes, she wrote me about Mrs. Butters—a very kind lady.”
“Well then,” continued Henry, “my information is that she is with a family by the name of Simpson, is that so?”
William’s brow clouded, “Simpson?”
“Oh, no, no, no, I misspoke. It is Smallridge, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. That’s right, sir. Smallridge, of Keynsham Hill, just outside of Bristol. She says she is contented there, sir, otherwise I would have sent her funds
