Upon our private representations to Miss Price of the distress of your family since her departure from your midst, she agreed to quit her post. Her employers were saddened to part with her, but as she had, one month previously, devotedly nursed their two little children through a grave episode of illness, she had thereby secured their affection and gratitude to the highest degree. They kindly consented for her to depart without the customary notice given in these circumstances.
To continue, I naturally had occasion to hold many conferences with your niece, first at the home of her erstwhile employers and later as we retraced our path to Northamptonshire. I was well aware of your niece’s maidenly modesty and gentleness when I first made her acquaintance, but I soon became sensible as never before of her sweetness of temper—qualities which any judicious man desires to have in a wife. Impelled by the strongest feelings of love and respect, I declared myself to her and am humbled to relate that Miss Price consented to make me the happiest of men. We therefore diverted my carriage north to Gretna Green, and were there confirmed as husband and wife.
Mrs. Crawford sends you her love and begs you to accept this small watercolour portrait in token of her affection and gratitude. The full-size version will hang over the fireplace in the main sitting-room at Everingham.
So, having located your niece, as I pledged to do, may I reiterate it was an honour to render this service to your family, whose warm friendship I will forever hold in the highest esteem. If I may ever be of assistance again, I am, of course,
Your humble servant, Henry Crawford
(When Henry had composed this letter, his sister had exclaimed, “Must you take your little fling at Maria, Henry! Is it not enough to throw her over! I fear that none of the Bertrams will ever speak with me again!”)
Before Sir Thomas could send someone to gently break the news to her, poor Maria, sitting down to breakfast, had the misfortune of seeing a small notice which Henry had caused to be placed in the papers on his last day in London: Lately, Mr. Henry Crawford, Esq., of Everingham, Norfolk, to Miss Price, niece to Sir Thomas Bertram, Bart., of Mansfield Park, Northamptonshire.
Her eyes swam with tears, her heart threatened to burst out of her chest, she felt she was choking to death, but, she did not doubt the truth of what she read. Only Henry himself would have published such a notice—it must be so.
* * * * * *
William Price attempted in vain to assemble his features into what he supposed was the appropriate and serious mien for a lieutenant. He could not entirely keep a smile from his lips as he showed himself in the dockyard for the first time in his new uniform, nor could he forebear contemplating the appearance he would make at the Assembly dance later that week. He thought as well of Lucy Gregory and her sisters, who had snubbed him at the last Assembly, when he was still a midshipman. Fortunately, implacable resentment formed no part of his character, especially not when Lucy Gregory had grown up into such a fine pretty young lady, with such jolly dimples and blonde curls, and he was picturing himself whirling her about in a country dance, when suddenly he heard his name being called by the Agincourt’s purser. He fairly flew, weaving his way around barrels and bales being loaded and unloaded, and under ropes pulled by straining men, but resisted the urge to leap over coiled rolls of rope as being incompatible with his new dignity as a lieutenant, and finally finding Captain Henderson speaking to his first lieutenant, he stood at attention, waiting for the Captain’s eyes to fall on him. The pair were discussing something with great animation, and William could make out the words “new orders” and “west coast,” but he kept a respectful distance, until, the Captain finally noticing him, he was summoned to step forward.
“Mr. Price, I am leaving Lieutenant Bayly here in charge. You shall accompany me to the Admiralty on behalf of your new captain.”
“Yes, sir.”
London! William exclaimed to himself. The Admiralty! When he had been in London with Mr. Crawford, he had been driven past the Admiralty, Mr. Crawford had pointed it out to him—now he was to step inside, perhaps actually set eyes upon the First Lord…. And then… possibly he would be permitted to visit his younger brother John, or perhaps Fanny was still in the city. Given leave to go home and prepare for the journey, his thoughts alternated between pride and dismay, picturing himself calling on his grand Bertram cousins in his uniform, and wondering if his mother had washed and mended his linen.
His announcement threw the household into more than usual heights of alarm and disorder, and Susan was urged to find dear William’s shirt and mend it, and perhaps it could be washed and then dried before the fire, and his mother thought that her sister Bertram had mentioned exactly where her family were staying in London in her last letter, at which Betsey looked conscious and turned and ran upstairs, and William followed her, to find her hiding inside a small packing box in the attic which she had fitted up with an old blanket, a dish, a cup, half of the household’s teaspoons and, unaccountably, old newspapers, handbills and—what were these? Letters?
He reached out for them, and narrowly avoided Betsey’s teeth clamping down on his hand.
“Shan’t!” she exclaimed. “The beautiful lady is going to give me a shilling for them!”
“Betsey, give me those letters, there’s a good girl.”
“Shan’t!”
“Will you give me one letter for this big shiny penny?”
Since Betsey did not know the value of coins, only that they were coins, she happily
