Old friends and new fancies

by Sybil G. Brinton

To see Mrs. Wentworth again was a keen pleasure. The letters they had exchanged formed the groundwork of a more intimate friendship, for despite Anne's seniority in years, their natures were thoroughly congenial, and within a few hours Georgiana felt completely at home in the charming little house not far from the Cathedral, which Captain Wentworth had purchased soon after his marriage.

She and her hostess were sitting together, the first day of her visit, exchanging inquiries after their mutual friends, and Georgiana was half hoping to hear some mention of William Price's name, as from what she had seen at Mrs. Hurst's dinner-party, she judged that the Wentworths knew him tolerably well. Yes—Mrs. Wentworth referred to that evening—said that she had seen Mrs. Hurst when last she was in town—Miss Darcy had heard more lately, probably—did she remember the young officer, Captain Price now, who had been present on that occasion?

Georgiana could reply in quite her ordinary manner that she had frequently seen Mr. Price since, and told of his visits to Desborough and Pemberley.

Mrs. Wentworth listened with interest. "I am very glad you have seen something in him, for I am sure you must all have liked him, do you not?" she said. "But, now, what an odd creature he is, never to have mentioned it. To be sure, I have not seen him since, or he would probably have done so, but hearing from a friend that he was in England again, and knowing you had met, I wrote to ask him to come and spend a few days here during your visit. It was a great liberty, I know, dear Miss Darcy, but he is a first favourite with Captain Wentworth and me, and we thought it would have been pleasant for him to have come just now; young people always amuse each other. He has so little time on shore, and up to last week I believed he was still abroad."

Georgiana's heart beat as if it would suffocate her, but she managed to return her friend's look, and say in a steady voice: "Yes, it would have been very nice. Is Captain Price not able to come?"

"No, most unfortunately not. I am very sorry, more so than ever now I know he has been to your part of the world. But he writes to say he fears he ought not to come—all sorts of regrets, and to tell Miss Darcy he is very sorry not to see her again. It is not at all clear why he cannot come, for he only repeats that he is sailing again some time next month, and thinks he had better stay in London, or go down to see his sister, until he goes."

Georgiana sat perfectly silent, gazing into the fire. Even from Mrs. Wentworth's first words she had not expected that William Price was coming, but to feel that the opportunity had been within his reach, and he could not—her heart told her that it was would not—avail himself of it, was very hard to bear. He was right not to come, if he believed that the reason for his rejection still existed; Georgiana honoured him for that; but was there anything else? Had he changed his mind? Was he ceasing to care? Georgiana hardly knew, until that bitter moment, how much she had been pinning her hopes upon seeing him again some day; and she thought, with something like bitterness, that it had not been much use to picture him in London, and consequently somewhat nearer to her, when, as things stood, he was immeasurably far away, whether in London or in Derbyshire or on the North Sea.

Her want of response passed unnoticed as Captain Wentworth entered the room, proposing to take the ladies out. His wife observed that she had been telling Miss Darcy of Captain Price's refusal of their invitation, and of their puzzle to account for it.

"Yes, it is a very ungallant thing, is it not, Miss Darcy? particularly when he has been told what an attraction we had for him. I thought he would have come, as he is so often up and down this road, between Southampton and London, but I suppose he has got some other irons in the fire."

Georgiana was glad to be able to leave the room, passing off the subject with a smile and a vague expression of regret, but the tumult of her mind was so painfully great that it was some days before she could find anything like the quiet enjoyment in her surroundings which she had promised herself. All those feelings which she had striven to repress were rising up again with renewed force. She struggled with herself alone, for she could not bear to tell Mrs. Wentworth the whole story; it was different for Miss Crawford with Elizabeth, but in this case the best-intentioned friend could not disentangle the skein.