Mr. Gibson had remained in Betsey’s memory as the most unusual adult she had ever met, because during the time of his convalescence in the attic, he spoke to her courteously, listened to her politely, and regaled her with tales of Africa and monkeys and crocodiles. She had been a most indifferent student, but when Mr. Gibson’s book arrived, she applied herself to learning how to read, so she could make out Mr. Gibson’s inscription for herself.
Wanting for nothing to experience perfect felicity but the return of her favourite son, Mrs. Price was surprised and vexed to receive a letter from her nephew Edmund Bertram, announcing an intended visit from himself and his sister Julia, to pay their respects to her. This surprise provoked more than it than gratified, as her niece and nephew would be underfoot just as William’s ship was expected to return! As she expostulated aloud on the inconveniences and undoubted expense entailed by this un-looked honour, she noticed a conscious look crossing Susan’s face. Mrs. Price pounced on the girl, and would not relent until Susan confessed William’s affection for his fair cousin.
Let any romantically-minded reader who might censure a girl of sixteen for betraying her brother’s secret, remind themselves that they never spent an evening unable to escape a poky little parlour and the tireless questioning of a Mrs. Price.
* * * * * * *
The appointed day, upon which so many solicitudes, alarms and vexations had been expended, finally dawned. The charitable ladies, the Blodgetts, Mrs. Butters, her daughter-in-law and her grandchildren were all assembled in the shop. As a light but persistent rain had fallen all morning, Mr. Blodgett, Mr. Edifice and Mr. Gibson waited outside with large umbrellas to assist the guests upon their arrival.
The sympathetic reader no doubt will share in the quiet exultation felt that morning by Mr. Edifice, for, despite the preference given him by his wife, Mr. Blodgett declined all ambition for rhetorical greatness and resigned the honour to the curate, and so the danger that Mrs. Perceval and her entourage would be greeted by a second-rate orator, was happily averted.
“Unfortunately, Miss Price is not permitted to listen to the address with us,” Mr. Edifice remarked to Mr. Gibson, as he looked over his notes one last time. “Mrs. Blodgett thought it best for Miss Price and her pupils to remain upstairs, so as not to overcrowd the shop. I did show her the early drafts of my speech and she was most encouraging. I know it would have given her no small degree of satisfaction to hear the finished effort.”
“I do not doubt it, sir.”
“Of course,” Mr. Edifice smirked, “I could not venture to say whether she most admires the speech or the speaker, for she has more than once commended me on my vocal abilities. I have the happy knack of being able to raise my voice for extended periods, without succumbing to hoarseness.”
“You should feel all the compliment of it, sir, for Miss Price is a most discerning critic.”
“She is, isn’t she? You will not find me to be one of those men who hold that the acquirement of knowledge is unnecessary or even undesirable in females, Mr. Gibson. Of course, there are limits, there are boundaries, but, as the young ladies of our nation will be, in the fullness of time, our helpmeets, our wives and the mothers of our children, they must not be entirely ignorant.”
“An enlightened viewpoint, indeed, sir.”
“Naturally, Mr. Gibson,” the curate added, moving yet further away from the others, and lowering his voice confidentially, “in choosing such a companion, any gentleman would need to rationally consider the fact that Miss Price, however amiable, possesses only a small inheritance of three thousand pounds. There are good connections on her mother’s side, but her father is merely a lieutenant of marines.”
Can Fanny possibly be entertaining thoughts of this fellow? Can he be forming designs on her? Mr. Gibson thought irritably to himself, and ventured: “But good connections alone will not provide the means for embarking on married life, will they, Mr. Edifice. I quite agree with you, sir, it would be folly for any self-respecting gentleman to form an alliance that was ill-supported financially. Pure folly.”
“There is another possibility which you may have overlooked, Mr. Gibson,” another quick glance over his shoulder— “in my opinion, Miss Price might expect to be enriched from another connection. Her patroness, Mrs. Butters, is exceedingly attached to her.”
“Ah, so you have some information?”
“I do not know it for a fact, Mr. Gibson, but it is not at all unlikely, in my view, that Miss Price may build upon some fair prospects there.”
“Has Miss Price herself hinted this to you?”
“Oh, heavens no! No, no, not at all. You cannot be so well acquainted with Miss Price as I, otherwise you would know her notions of propriety are so very strict that she would never allude to such a thing. I only speak of what I have observed, and have inferred. I only say, I think it is quite probable, and as more and more time passes, it will only become more probable—in fact, I may say, expected—by their mutual acquaintance.”
“Mrs. Butters is— but here sir, I think I behold the arrival of our distinguished guests. Do not permit me to abstract you any longer. The éclat of our proceedings rests very much upon your shoulders, I think.”
A small procession of carriages drew the august visitors to the doors of the academy just as the men finished their private colloquy—which was not entirely private as Ethelinda, the eldest of Cecilia Butters’ three daughters, wishing to be the first to see the Prime Minister’s wife, had also waited outside the shop and so had overheard the conversation.
Jane
