The Regency (60 page)

‘
Oh, one never knows, until one sees it, what one wants to
buy,' Fanny said grandly. 'I like just to walk about the shops
and buy what takes my fancy.’

Prudence rallied a little. 'Oh yes, I like shopping a vast
deal.'

‘
But what sort of things?' Agnes insisted. ‘Do you mean
gowns and hats?'

‘
Well, I really do need a new gown made, if I'm to attend
anything like a dance, for I haven't brought anything suitable
with me,' Fanny said. 'Perhaps you can tell me who is the best mantuamaker in town?'

‘
Oh, certainly dear,' Mrs Pendlebury cried, appropriating
the question to herself. 'Madame Renee is out of question the
best. She's quite French, you know — used to make for all the
court-people over there, before the Revolution, of course.
Don't you think so, Frederick?' she said sharply, in an
attempt to make him shew himself to better advantage.

He jerked out of his reverie, and almost slipped off the end
of the sopha, and was obliged to look more than ever languid
and superior in compensation. 'What do you say, Mama? I did
not attend.'

‘
Wouldn't you say Madame Renee is the best mantua
maker?' his mother repeated impatiently.

‘
Oh yes, without a doubt, famous good,' he drawled, half-
closing his eyes with an air of world-weariness, 'but every
thing she makes is amazing ugly. She made that hideous
purple thing for you, didn't she, Mama? Puts me out of all
patience to hear people praise her, for she never makes any
thing fit to be seen in. But she is out of question the best. A
woman might go to her with every confidence. On the whole,
I don't know but what she makes better than anyone in the world, and vastly fashionable, quite like a London mantua
maker, let me die!’

Fanny listened to him with astonishment and growing bewilderment, for she had never come across this sort of
affectation before. She thought he looked as though he were
about to fall asleep, and his contradictions seemed to her
utterly fatuous.

His mother, however, merely said, 'I think you will find she
makes as well as anyone in York, Fanny, only she's very
expensive. Still,' eyeing her speculatively, 'I don't suppose
that is an object, with you. You can't do better than go to Renée. But who goes with you? You can't expect poor Mr
Hobsbawn to hang around a mantuamaker's parlour hour
after hour, and it is quite impossible for a young woman of
your degree to go about the town alone.'

‘
I have a maid to attend me, ma'am,' Fanny said with
dignity, and a hint of triumph.

Mrs Pendlebury would not be bested. 'Yes dear, a maid is all very well, but it is not the same as a chaperone. Besides,
young girls need an older, steadier female to advise them,
particularly when choosing anything as important as a gown.'
Fanny began to fear Mrs Pendlebury meant to propose her
self, but she went on, 'I think it would be best if you make use
of our Miss Imber — my girls' governess. Mr Hobsbawn, you
have seen her with them, I am sure. While Fanny is staying
with you, I shall be happy for her to be chaperoned by Miss
Imber. It will be nice for the dear girls all to be together.'

‘
Why, that's very kind of you, ma'am,' Mr Hobsbawn said,
smiling. 'Isn't it, Fanny? It will be much nicer for you to go
shopping and such with friends.’

Fanny was dismayed, thinking she had got rid of one
governess, only to be shackled to another, but she could do
nothing but smile and agree. But a moment later Agnes,
guessing her problem, winked at her, and whispered, 'Don't
worry, Miss Morland, Miss Imber is the very best sort of
governess, as timid as a mouse, and short-sighted, too. Pru
and me can do anything with her. It's as good as being out on
your own, nearly. She won't stop us having our fun, I promise
you.’

*

After dinner that evening, Fanny offered to play backgammon
with her grandfather, having discovered by a little judicious
questioning that he liked the game very much, and some
times had the housekeeper in of an evening to play with
him. She began to fear that the housekeeper nursed a secret
plan to elevate her relationship with her employer onto a
more intimate plane, and felt it incumbent on her to scotch it.

Mr Hobsbawn was pleased and flattered at the suggestion,
and soon had the board set up, and chairs placed to either
side. 'It's very good of you to indulge me like this, Fanny,' he
said. 'I like a game of backgammon more than anything.
You're a good-natured little thing, aren't you?’

Having put him into a pliant mood, Fanny felt it was a
good moment as any to advance her campaign.

‘
I shall play with you every evening, if you like, Grand-
papa. I suppose I shall not see you very often during the day,
for indeed, you must not neglect your business for me. The
mills are very important, not just to you, and to me, but to
the whole country.’

Hobsbawn looked surprised and pleased. 'I'm glad you
think so.'

‘
Grandpapa,' Fanny pursued. 'I know I am only a female,
but I do so want to understand about cotton-spinning, and
how the mills work.’

Hobsbawn looked doubtful. 'Do you, love? But that's a
man's business.'

‘
At home I often go about the estate with Uncle Ned and
Papa,' Fanny pursued, 'and I look over the books with the
steward, and talk to the bailiff, so that I may understand how
it is run. One day I will come into my inheritance, you see,
and I feel I ought to know the business, so that I can make
sure everything is done properly.'

‘
Nay, but Fanny, love, you'll have a husband one day —’

‘
Yes, Grandpapa, to be sure: but Morland Place will be
mine,
not his,' Fanny said firmly.

A gleam of admiration came to Hobsbawn's eye. 'Eh, love,
but you've got Hobsbawn spirit in you!’

Fanny hastened to make profit. 'I have
your
blood in me,
Grandpapa, and though my name is Fanny Morland and not
Fanny Hobsbawn, it doesn't change what I feel inside. What
interests you must interest me, and I want to understand your
business. Won't you please tell me about it?' She put on her
most appealing look, and Hobsbawn visibly weakened. 'If
you
were to explain everything, I'm sure I should understand in
no time.’

Hobsbawn thought of the times he had taken little Henry,
Fanny's brother, to the mills, to shew him his inheritance.
They had been proud times, happy times! Little Fanny was
his only grandchild now, his only living descendant — the last
of the Hobsbawns.

‘
Well, after all,' he said, 'I suppose there's no harm in talking
to you, if you think you can understand it. But I hardly know
where to start. What is it you want to know?’

Fanny racked her brain for something to say that would
convince him of her interest. What had she heard her father
and Uncle Ned talking about?

‘Well, sir,' she said, 'I have heard that the Americans won't
send us any more cotton. Do you know why that is? And is it
very bad for you?'

‘
Bad? It's as bad as can be!' Hobsbawn growled. 'It's all a
lot of damned nonsense, anyway. The Americans complain
that our anti-contraband patrols are always stopping their
ships and seizing their cargoes — well, they shouldn't ship
contraband, then it wouldn't happen!' Fanny nodded wisely, not understanding a word. ‘So now they've struck back at us
with this damned silly Non-Intercourse Act, and the upshot of
it is, they won't send us any raw cotton. As if times aren't
hard enough anyway, with cloth lying about in warehouses,
because we can't sell it in Europe; and what we sell in South
America we might as well have given away, for they promise
plenty, and never pay up! Damn dagos! I never trusted
'em!’

He paused, and Fanny recaptured her wandering mind,
and tried to think of another question.

‘
I'm sorry you should be so worried, Grandpapa,' she said,
marking time.

‘
Don't let it trouble you, love. I've been through hard times
before, and when they come, I just pull in my horns like an
old snail, and sit it out. Oh, this war won't last for ever, and then we'll be back on full-time working, and you'll see what
will happen!'

‘Full time working?'

‘
Aye, lass, didn't you know we are on a three-day week
now? We just haven't got the raw cotton to spin.’

This was more concrete, more understandable. ‘So on the
other three days, the mills are closed? No-one goes to work?'

‘
There's always some work, for the likes of me, and the
managers, and the mechanics; but the spinners and piecers
and so on are idle, yes.'

‘
You don't pay them, I suppose, when they're not
working?’

His brow contracted. 'Pay them when they're not working?
What kind of talk is that? I was beginning to think you had
some brains, Fanny, but you're talking like a simpleton now.'

‘
I was just wondering how they manage,' Fanny said hastily.
‘It isn't important.'

‘
Well, it's hard for them, of course,' Hobsbawn said
grudgingly. 'Especially with the price of bread what it is these
days. I'm sorry for them, but there's nothing I can do about
it. And now, is there anything else you want to know, or can
we get on with the game?’

She saw she had angered him, and tried to think of something flattering to say. She remembered her father's words.
‘Well, I'm sure you won't go bankrupt, Grandpapa, because
everyone says you're much too clever.’

He looked at her sidelong. 'You little puss, are you hoaxing
me? Of course I won't go bankrupt! In fact, I've got a scheme
in hand at this very minute to put me ahead of all my com
petitors and make myself another fortune.'

‘
Oh, do tell me, Grandpapa! What is it?' She injected eager
ness into her voice, leaning forward a little and clasping her
hands to her breast.

Fortunately, Hobsbawn was not very critical of female
behaviour, having had so little experience of it. He took her
interest at face value, and chuckled, pleased with himself.
‘Well, Fanny, it's like this. Practically next-door to my number
two mill, another mill-master I know has built a weaving-
shed, a big one, for mechanical looms, driven by steam-
power. He's a spinner, like me, and this American business has hit him hard. He'd a finger in a lot of pies, and they've
all failed, and now the pieman has come along asking for
his reckoning.’