“Oh, Edmund,” Julia exclaimed. “I promised myself I would not be so selfish, and would try to think of others—and now I am so completely happy, while you…”
“I think a young lady may be permitted to dwell on the fact that she is getting married in only two days! My dear little sister! May you draw wisdom from all the marriages you have observed, Julia, and may you enter the state with a clear head and a warm heart.”
* * * * * * *
William Gibson also returned to Portsmouth later that same day, having finished his northern assignment. Fanny had told no-one of Mr. Gibson’s intended courtship. He was still thought of, and spoken of within the Price family, as ‘William’s friend,’ and ‘William’s benefactor,’ on account of his book Amongst the Slavers.
It was Julia who, watching Mr. Gibson and Fanny together, and observing that even the cramped dimensions of the parlour could not entirely account for how closely Mr. Gibson sat next to Fanny, and how often his hand brushed hers as he helped her make the tea, decided Mr. Gibson must be an admirer of her cousin. And so she informed Edmund.
The news made Edmund uneasy; a perturbation which he, at first, interpreted as being concern on Fanny’s account. The thought that this complete stranger should be a friend, a confidant and admirer of Fanny! Edmund needed time and reflection to better understand his own feelings. However, only hours after he learned of Mr. Gibson’s affection for his cousin, Edmund was invited by William Price to the Crown to dine together with Mr. Gibson, a last bachelor’s dinner before the wedding.
William Price could not know of Edmund’s reservations, and he was likewise unaware his friend Mr. Gibson held all the Bertrams, more or less, guilty of carelessness about Fanny’s happiness, and deficient in respect and esteem for her. And Mr. Gibson knew that in Edmund, he beheld his rival for Fanny’s affections.
Thus, William Price, with a disposition to think well of everyone, and congratulating himself on making an introduction between two men he expected to become good friends, was surprised to sense the reserve, to hear the quiet ‘how d’ye do, sir’ exchanged, and to see the very firm and prolonged handshake, which put him in mind of a wrist-wrestling competition on board ship! He might almost have thought that these two had resolved to dislike each other on sight.
The conversation began amicably enough—William Price asked Mr. Gibson about his voyage on the Comet, and steam and steamships and the potential uses of steam engines provided a source of mutual interest and intelligent conversation.
“I’m sure you have read about the improvements being made in the safety and efficacy of steam engines,” said Mr. Gibson. “At some point, the mechanical power produced by the steam engine will more than compensate the labour and cost involved in constructing the machine, and collecting the coal or wood to heat its boilers. I don’t speak of the enormous steam pumps used at pit heads. I foresee that in a very few years, we will see new and smaller models of steam engine, suitable for domestic use. I am working on a novel, in fact, set in the future, in which many mundane tasks are performed by steam-powered machines.”
“Such a novel should help spur the imaginations of our inventors,” said Edmund. “We have had the water-mill for centuries, but it is not portable. Perhaps a steam-powered machine, small enough to be transported to the fields, could be used to dig irrigation trenches, or bundle sheaves of wheat. Fewer men, women and children would be condemned to labour like beasts of burden.”
“Exactly,” said William Gibson. “Consider how many chores involve repetitive, simple motions. Could not the cleaning of chimneys be accomplished with a brush mounted on a revolving cable, powered by a hand-crank or a treadmill?”
“And machines are replacing the weavers already,” said William Price. “But the more complicated tasks—these still must be done by human hands. A machine can’t climb in the rigging on a ship. In your novel, can you conjure up a machine that can sew a suit of clothing as my sister can? Or do elaborate embroidery?”
At the mention of Fanny, Mr. Gibson turned to praising “Miss Price” for the excellent work she’d done at the Academy, at the innovations she had introduced, and the difficulties she had overcome.
Edmund was taken aback by the familiarity with which Mr. Gibson spoke of his cousin; this stranger evidently regarded himself as better-informed about Fanny’s opinions, her wishes, her habits, her likes and dislikes, than her own family. Edmund thought this Gibson fellow was being a little too presuming, in his talk of ‘Miss Price this,’ and ‘Miss Price that.”
“As much as my cousin Fanny deserves praise, I must own, Mr. Gibson, her family has always been somewhat concerned that Fanny is too delicate to engage in any demanding occupation, as the instruction of young people must surely be. You did not know her as a child, as I did. She was rather frail. She grew up in the country, and I cannot consider the air in London, nor the confinement of constant employment, as being beneficial to her health.”
“If I may offer some reassurance, I can attest that her health and spirits have been excellent this past year,” said Mr. Gibson. “She was in the habit of visiting the great public parks in London, and she took regular walks in her neighbourhood. I am aware she was thought to be delicate, in the past. Perhaps there was something to be wished for in her situation, more than in her constitution.”
“At any rate,” said William
