When a girl, Julia had been guided by her older sister Maria in everything, including Maria’s tendency to be condescending towards Fanny. Now, Julia saw and admired Fanny’s quiet self-discipline, her fund of literary knowledge, her unfailing thoughtfulness. Fanny had asked Edmund more questions and took a warmer and more sincere interest in the poor cottagers of Thornton Lacey than Julia had ever done. Observing Fanny sit down and write a long and affectionate letter to Lady Bertram, Julia’s mother, living in far-off Norfolk, Julia realized that Fanny had been a more faithful correspondent to her mother than she herself had been. And upon Fanny’s mentioning Miss Lee, Julia blushed to realize it had never once occurred to her to write to their old governess, while Fanny wrote to her regularly!
Despite this better understanding and higher opinion of each other, the two young ladies could not be said to be on newly intimate terms. Fanny had once suspected that her own brother William was very fond of Julia, and that Julia was not entirely indifferent to him, but she never supposed that Julia would seriously entertain the idea of becoming a mere “Mrs. Price,” nor that her brother would risk his own happiness in forming such a design. With that in mind, she never raised the subject of her brother during her visit. Julia made no communication, and Fanny took no liberties. Fanny had never betrayed her affection for Edmund to anyone. They were two solitary sufferers, or connected only by Fanny’s consciousness.
* * * * * * *
William Price’s knowledge of the yellow fever, its commencement and progression, told him that, however wretched he may have felt, his case was not a fatal one. He was young and healthy; he had acquired no vicious habits to undermine his constitution, and he knew that bed rest, boiled water and a simple diet were his best preservatives. He refused all other treatments, having developed no faith in their efficacy from his own observations.
He knew he was feeling better when, after some days and nights of being indifferent to his surroundings, he found himself aware of a persistent and irritating noise. Turning his head on his pillow, he saw a man of middle-years, lying on his back, in the adjacent cot, his long and noble nose pointing skyward, and his mouth hanging open.
Apart from counting the cracks in the plaster of the ceiling, the snoring of his roommate was about the only thing Price could focus on, as he drifted in and out of sleep.
An orderly, coming in with a bowl of mush made from boiling water and pounded ship’s biscuit, informed Price that his noisy room-mate was Captain Frederick Irby of the Amelia, the new commander of the West African Squadron, likewise convalescing from fever.
In the following days William, able to leave his bed for brief periods, assisted the orderly in taking care of the Captain, and showed him every attention and courtesy within his limited power. The irksome confinement of their joint convalescence was made more tolerable by their conversation—William, on account of his extended service in the African Squadron, was able to satisfy many questions put by Captain Irby as to the coast, the climate, the amenities in Freetown, and the efforts of Irby’s predecessors, while Irby for his part was not loath to recount the details of his career in the Navy and his engagements with the French.
The reader will not be surprised to learn that Irby was favourably impressed by the conversation of the young lieutenant, seeing in his remarks the proof of good principles, professional knowledge, energy, courage, and cheerfulness, everything that could deserve or promise well.
“We’ll have work for you, Price, by and by,” said Irby. “I am fitting up that schooner you captured near the Gambia to scour all the slavers from the Pongus river.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Our information is that two of the slavers are British subjects. Apprehend them if you can. They will be tried under the new felony laws, and transported to Australia.”
“Indeed, sir. And sir....”
“Yes, lieutenant?”
“A schooner and a few jolly-boats, working together, might more effectually carry the message to the slaver settlements. On the previous expedition, I did not wish to put my entire crew at risk by taking the launch ashore to fire the barracoons, as I wished. But a small party could detach from the main—only a few men, some torches and a quantity of gunpowder would be all that was necessary—”
“Yes, of course, Price. I see your point. And we can fit small cannons on the schooner to provide cover for the fire-team. Excellent suggestion. The slavers on the Pongus shall learn that you come with fire and sword to execute judgment upon them.”
* * * * * * *
A mild spring morning shortly after her arrival saw Fanny seated next to Julia, as the young ladies jounced along the road to Mansfield in the pony cart.
They were paying a visit to their Aunt Norris, who of course Fanny would on no account avoid or neglect, for she truly believed the young owe a duty to their elders, even disagreeable elders. Thus could Fanny set out on the seven mile ride with Julia with no expectation of pleasure whatsoever, but with a serene conscience and a nicely worked cushion cover to present as a gift. The ride proved to be both diverting and entertaining for, in addition to admiring the beauties of the countryside, Fanny heard from Julia all the details of her encounter with Viscount Lynnon at the Northampton assemblies, and his Christmas-time proposal, and Fanny was excessively diverted.
“Julia, I fancy that a great many girls, when finding themselves proposed to by
