“You can have, I hope, no objection to Susan herself? No question as to her good character?” Fanny managed to say, as she struggled with both mortification and anger. Of all things, the conviction that she had displeased or disobliged another person was painful for Fanny, and it was exceedingly difficult for her to encounter the scorn of the older man.
“Oh, no, no. Susan is a good girl—and a sensible, hard-working girl. But, Miss Price—” he gave her his most searching look. “Do I hear you correctly—do you say you will throw Mr. Gibson over?”
Fanny felt a catch in her throat, and her eyes welled with tears. She might have qualified the question by adding, there was no formal understanding between them. But she merely nodded.
Mr. Miller pushed some papers around on his desk, closed some ledgers, then said, with an awkward cough: “Well, you cannot have been—that is, you are wiser than I had supposed, for a young ‘un—and indeed, I know he was very good to your brother the commander—your family has reason to think well of him—or once had, at any rate.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Say now,” exclaimed Mr. Miller—for he had not become a wealthy man of business by being the dupe of others— “do you mean you will not marry this Gibson fellow until after my son marries your sister, or do you mean to say you will not marry him while he is cooling his heels in jail, or do you mean to say you will not marry him, not now and not ever?”
“I think sir, even if I were inclined to marry Mr. Gibson in the future, he would not be prevailed upon to marry me, since I have forsaken him when he stands most in need of a friend. But when I said I would not marry Mr. Gibson, indeed, I intended by it, that I would never marry Mr. Gibson.”
Mr. Miller then looked as most men look when in company with a female who is struggling in vain to hold back her tears — exceedingly uncomfortable.
“There, lass,” he said. “There, now. It is for the best, as you will see.”
Fanny nodded. “I will not make a match which would be disadvantageous for my family, and which does not meet with the approbation of my uncle. I understand my duty, Mr. Miller. I trust you will take my word in this matter?”
“Oh yes! Why, certainly!” Mr. Miller, regretting his earlier harsh tone. “One has only to look at you, Miss Price, to er—that is—.”
A moment’s silence prevailed. The clock continued ticking softly, and Fanny looked down at her hands.
“You mention your uncle, Miss Price,” Mr. Miller resumed. “The baronet. Yes, we all know of your uncle—your mother has taken care that the entire street knows of your uncle the baronet. Yet, I cannot see how my family will be the better, or the wiser, or the richer, for the connection. Do you not think that I, too, have a duty to see that my son makes an advantageous match?”
“Sir,” Fanny replied, “you may not have been informed that Susan will have fifteen hundred pounds on the occasion of her marriage.”
Indeed, Mr. Miller did not know, and could hardly have known before that moment. Sir Thomas himself would have been surprised to hear it. It was a sudden, almost wild, scheme of Fanny’s, taken into her head as she walked to the bakery, and firmly resolved upon at the exact moment she stepped across the threshold.
Henry Crawford left three thousand pounds to Fanny, in atonement for involving her in his false marriage scheme. Her resolution to give half of it away to Susan was no sacrifice, as compared to giving up Mr. Gibson. Impoverishing herself was a sort of guarantee that the prospect of marriage was pushed even farther out of her own reach, so that she would not waver in her determination.
Fanny watched the last of the hostility, the suspicion, drain from Mr. Miller’s face, to be replaced by cheerful complacency. “Then sir,” she said, fearing that should she linger any longer, she would begin crying in good earnest, “may I take my leave, in the assurance that there is now no cause for dissension between our two families?”
Fanny rose, and he followed, seeing her to the door and calling out loudly for Jacob to select some good things for Miss Price to take home with her, with his compliments.
Now that the awkward interview was concluded, he sought in vain to think of something to say, to attest to his very good opinion of Miss Price. His bath buns and molasses bread must be eloquent on his behalf. As for Jacob, it was utterly delightful to Fanny to watch the comprehension dawn across his countenance, as Mr. Miller said, “Well, son, it appears Sir Thomas has settled something on Miss Susan and I reckon that if it is all right with Sir Thomas, it is all right with me.”
Jacob’s raptures rendered him speechless, until he had the happy thought of asking his father for leave to escort Miss Price home.
I must always recollect this moment, Fanny thought to herself, as she watched Jacob attempting to throw loaves and buns into a large basket whilst putting on his greatcoat at the same time. I must think of this moment whenever I am feeling downcast. To be able to bestow such happiness upon Jacob! And my dear sister!
Jacob fairly dragged Fanny down the street in his haste. “I hope you know, Miss Price,” he said earnestly as they hurried along, “I would have waited for Susan, for so long as it took to persuade my father.” Fanny nodded, almost out of breath.
While Fanny
