Julia began her letter with the usual thanks—for indeed she could express, without any trace of affectation or false humility, the extent of her surprise, her gratitude, her sensibility of his great merits, the honour, and et cetera. But she paused over her conclusion. Should she invite him to continue his suit? Ask for time to consider? Or, should she peremptorily decline and not hold out false expectations?
Complete darkness and silence fell about the house and her letter remained unfinished.
At last, she decided to show Mr. Meriwether’s proposal to her brother and talk it over with him. She took up a candle and crept down the stairs.
Julia found Edmund asleep in his study, with Milton’s Paradise Lost open on his lap. She gently picked up the volume and saw it was open at the passage describing Adam’s resolve to follow Eve out of paradise, and share her fallen fate:
How can I live without thee, how forgoe
Thy sweet Converse and Love so dearly joyn’d,
To live again in these wilde Woods forlorn?
Should God create another Eve, and I
Another Rib afford, yet loss of thee
Would never from my heart; no no, I feel
The Link of Nature draw me: Flesh of Flesh,
Bone of my Bone thou art, and from thy State
Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.
Everything, it seemed, conspired against her. Edmund was longing for Mary and she was keeping them apart. William had told her, most definitely, to abandon all hope. She could not deceive herself that her parents would rejoice in a match with her cousin.
And Mr. Meriwether appeared to be a good man.
Julia went back upstairs and concluded her letter by telling her suitor to apply to her father, Sir Thomas Bertram, at Everingham Lodge, Norfolk, “without whose approbation I would not permit myself to contemplate any attachment.”
Her father might object to the match, and spare her the misery of deciding.
The note was despatched the following day, and she tried very hard not to think about it.
* * * * * * *
One April morning when Fanny arrived at work, she saw Eliza Bellingham in the downstairs shop, talking earnestly with a well-dressed gentleman with a benign expression and a handsome aquiline nose. He was smiling as he spoke, but Eliza appeared to be by turns exasperated and apprehensive, in great contrast to her usual composed manner with customers. Fanny decided she had better intervene.
“May I be of some assistance? Mrs. Bellingham, what can we do for this gentleman?”
Eliza Bellingham jumped at discovering Fanny at her elbow. “Miss Price! Miss Price, may I introduce my husband, John Bellingham,” she offered, and Fanny thought she detected some reluctance, some discomfiture, in her friend’s voice.
“Miss Price, your servant,” Mr. Bellingham bowed low over her hand.
“I was just asking my husband to depart, Miss Price. He can have no business here which he and I could not discuss—”
“I am come here on a matter of business, Eliza. I require an alteration to my coat” —he indicated the article in question, folded neatly over his arm— “and as you refuse to live with me or perform any of those little offices a wife ordinarily performs for her husband, I am come to this academy, for I understand your fees are very reasonable.”
“This is a ladies’ establishment, Mr. Bellingham,” Fanny interposed. “I should think you would wish to consult a tailor for alterations to your coat,” and Eliza Bellingham cast her a grateful glance.
“No, but I only require this—” and Mr. Bellingham held up an oblong piece of paper. “I only wish for a pocket of these exact dimensions to be sewn inside my coat. I could almost do the work myself, except I have other demands upon my time.”
“Show me, sir, where you wish the pocket to be placed.”
“I wish it attached firmly to the lining of the coat, just here, on the left, so that my right hand can access it easily. It should be able to bear some weight.”
“And you wish the pocket to be the dimensions of this paper? And placed so low, below the waist? Will it not affect the hang of the garment?”
“Perhaps, but I am no dandy.”
“Are you not, John?” asked his wife. “You have a new hat and breeches, I see, which is more than—”
“I require the pocket for carrying copies of a pamphlet I have written. I am distributing copies to every member of Parliament, as well as to every gentlemen of influence whom I come across—”
“John, how could you! How many pounds did you spend on printing pamphlets? When I had to take James out of school for lack of money to pay the fees!”
“Everything I am doing, I am doing for you and our dear children, Eliza. You must trust me.”
Mrs. Bellingham closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “Forgive me my outburst, Miss Price. I do apologize.” Turning to her husband, she added: “John, not here. Not now. Please go. Leave the coat with me and I will attend to it.”
“Why should you attempt to silence your own husband? What have I to be ashamed of? It is rather, the Prime Minister, and his detestable minions, who ought to feel shame. Young lady,” he went on, addressing Fanny, in his calm, quiet voice, apparently oblivious to his wife’s frowns. “You see before you a victim of one of the most monstrous injustices which ever befell an Englishman. Robbed of the fruits of honest enterprise, slandered, and imprisoned for years in a foreign country, deprived of the ability to provide for my family, I am now endeavouring to obtain redress for the unaccountable neglect and malice of the English ambassador to Russia. I have petitioned Mr. Perceval, the Privy Council, the Foreign Office, and the Prince Regent himself, to address the terrible wrongs done to me.
