Edmund Bertram's Diary

He was in good spirits. He asked me if I had proposed to Mary yet, and when I shook my head he said I was making slow work of it.

‘I want to find you all married the next time I come home: you, Fanny, Julia — and Aunt Norris!’

I could not get a serious word out of him, but it was good to see him again, all the same.

Monday 5 December

Fanny and I dined at the Parsonage again this evening, and on Fanny happening to mention her brother, Crawford continued to draw her out by asking her all about him.

‘William is on the Antwerp, you say?’ he asked, drawing his chair closer to hers.

‘Yes,’ said Fanny.

‘And you are longing to see him again, no doubt,’ he said with a smile. ‘You have been parted for a very long time.’

‘Oh, I have. I would like to see him again above anything. I wish I knew when he was coming home.’

‘I will ask my uncle. Admiral Crawford will know, or if he does not, then some of his connections at the Admiralty will be able to find it out. The Antwerp is in the Mediterranean, you say?’

‘Yes, or at least it was, the last time I heard.’

‘Well, it is not so very far from there to here. I am sure he will be home again soon. will you see him when he is?’

‘I hope so.’

‘And so do I, for I can tel how much you miss him.’

They continued in similar vein, and I thought how very good it was of Crawford to take such an interest in William, for if there was anything guaranteed to please Fanny, it was someone’s taking an interest in her brother.

I said as much to Mary, who remarked satirical y, ‘Oh yes, Henry is always able to please young ladies.’

‘And I...’ I caught myself, as she looked at me expectantly, and I realized I had almost asked if I could please them, too... ‘will be very glad to see William, too.’

‘Ah, yes, I am sure you must be longing for a visit from him quite as much as Fanny,’ she said, laughing at me.

I was bewitched, and wondered again if I had any chance of being accepted by her. If her smiles were anything to the point, then yes. But if her professions of a desire to be rich were to be taken seriously, then no.

I was no closer to understanding her when the evening came to an end.

Tuesday 6 December

As sometimes happens in life, talking about a thing has brought it on, for Fanny had a letter from William this morning.

‘Well, Fanny, are you not going to tel us your news?’ I asked her, as I saw her bright eyes, and knew it must be good. ‘Do not keep us in suspense!’

‘The Antwerp has returned. William is home!’

‘I wondered why the letter was so short!’ I said with a smile. She smiled back at me, for William’s letters are usual y exceedingly long.

‘He had time for no more than a few lines, written as he was coming up the Channel. He sent the letter in to Portsmouth with the first boat that left the Antwerp when she lay at anchor.’

‘The first boat? I would expect nothing less!’

‘That is very good news,’ said my father kindly. ‘You will like to see him, I am sure. There will be no difficulty in his obtaining a leave of absence.’

‘No, none at all. It is one of the advantages of being a midshipman, ’ she agreed.

‘Then we must invite him here. Fanny, you must write to him. I will dictate the letter myself.’

Fanny furnished herself with pen and paper, and I could not help remembering the first letter she had writ en to William, blotted with tears, and strangely spelt. As I watched her even hand flow over the paper, I thought how much she had grown, not just in stature but in person, and how graceful she had become over the years.

She was in the middle of the letter when Crawford strolled up from the Parsonage, carrying a newspaper.

‘My dear Miss Price, what do you think? As I turned to the ship news this morning, I saw that the Antwerp had docked, so I came at once to give you the news.’

‘I know,’ she replied, looking up from her letter. ‘I have had a letter from William this morning.’

‘Ah! I had hoped to be the first to tel you. But I cannot be sorry you have had it already, when I see how much pleasure it brings you. I have never seen you looking happier.’

‘You are too kind. And it was very thoughtful of you to bring me the paper,’ she said, ‘for if I did not already know, it would have delighted me beyond anything.’

‘Then I am rewarded for my small trouble,’ he replied with a bow. The letter was finished, and Crawford suggested we go out for a ride. I asked if Miss Crawford might like to come with us, but she was indisposed, and so the three of us went out together. When we had done, Fanny and I returned to the Parsonage with Crawford, and I asked after Miss Crawford. She was better, but her head still ached, Mrs. Grant said. I sent her my good wishes, and after lunch I repaired to the study where my father and I talked over estate business until dinner.

The table seemed lifeless without Mary. I have come to depend on her presence, and the liveliness of her company; a liveliness I am increasingly unwilling to live without.

Friday 9 December