The Regency (65 page)

The carriage moved forward, the contact was broken, the
girl was left behind. The incident had lasted only seconds,
and yet Fanny felt deeply disturbed. The image of the girl was
impressed on her brain like a brand. She had never been so
close to a member of the labouring poor. Of course, she knew
all their labourers and servants at home, but they were
decent, clean, prosperous people. That thin, dirty, maimed
creature was something quite different. Fanny felt as though
she wanted to retch; wanted to find soap and water and scrub her own hands, as though the dirt had been transferred to her by that instant of sympathy. She put one dainty, gloved hand
in the other, and felt them over and over, to make sure they
were whole and unblemished and beautiful.

‘Fanny?’

Prudence was wanting her attention. She looked round a
little wildly.

‘
Are you all right? You look quite pale. I was asking if you
would prefer to go to the library first, and the bazaar after
wards, but you didn't seem to hear me.'

‘
Oh — I did not attend. Yes — whatever you like. I don't
care,' Fanny answered at random.

‘
Do you feel quite well, Fanny?' Prudence persisted. 'You
do look strange.'

‘
Quite well, thank you. Don't fuss,' Fanny said, the colour
beginning to come back into her face. Dirty, nasty creature,
with her disgusting wounded hand! But the image was
receding. 'It was very hot when the carriage stopped, that's all.'

‘
Perhaps we ought to go the library first, as we are just
passing it,' Miss Imber suggested, and the coachman, hearing
her, drew rein. 'It would be quieter than the bazaar, if Miss
Morland feels faint.’

Fanny's brow drew down in irritation, but just at that
moment her name was spoken from the other side of the
carriage, averting the storm.

‘
Miss Morland! What a curious chance — and a very happy
one, might I add! How do you do, ma'am?’

A militia patrol was marching down the street towards
them — a common enough sight in Manchester these days to
rouse no particular interest — but the officer had brought his
horse alongside the barouche, and raised his hand to his cap.
'I fear you have forgotten me, ma'am,' he said with a
teasing smile as Fanny did not answer.

Fanny looked up at the strongly handsome face with the
dark, cavalry moustache which was such a surprising contrast
to the white teeth, and recognised belatedly the officer of
Mathilde's ball, and of the woodland path.

‘
Why, yes, of course, it's Lieutenant — Lieutenant —' she
racked her brain for the name.

‘
Hawker, ma'am, Fitzherbert Hawker, completely at your
service,' he said, taking the hand which Fanny extended
hastily to him, and bowing over it quite correctly. The horse
waltzed back and then forward, breaking the contact, and
Fanny noted with approval how quickly with heel and hand
he checked it and brought it back to stand beside the carriage.
The other two girls were staring at him in awed fascination,
while Miss Imber seemed to have shrunk up into herself in
terror.

Their reaction made Fanny feel instantly older, more self-
assured, the young lady of fashion amid the country clowns.

‘How do you do, Lieutenant Hawker. What brings you to Manchester?' she said in her most polished manner.

‘
I am here on duty, Miss Morland, as you see,' he gestured
towards his patrol, marching on under the command of their
sergeant. 'There have been threats of frame-breaking, and we
have been sent here to prevent any trouble.'

‘
Frame-breaking? Here in Manchester?' Fanny said in
surprise. 'Surely not? You see for yourself how quiet everything
is.' Then she remembered the flood of rats again, and felt a
shiver of nervousness run down her spine.

‘
Yes, it is quiet, and we hope to keep it that way. But you
must have heard that the Luddites have been moving north.
There was an outbreak last week in Macclesfield. Our presence
here, I hope, will prevent its moving any further north.’

Agnes was almost bursting with excitement at the presence
of this real, grown-up, handsome man, who was looking at
Fanny as though she were absolutely out. 'Fanny's grandpa is
a mill-master,' she blurted at last, unable to hold her tongue
a
moment longer. Miss Imber looked shocked, and Prudence
pinched her reprovingly, but Lieutenant Hawker only smiled
kindly.

‘
Is he indeed? Then we must make sure he is not inconveni
enced.’

Fanny hastened to repair the situation. 'I am staying with
my grandfather for a few weeks. He is Mr Hobsbawn of
Hobsbawn Mills — perhaps you may have heard of him? But
pray allow me to present you to Miss Pendlebury, and Miss
Agnes Pendlebury. And this is Miss Imber.’

Hawker touched his cap. 'Ladies, how do you do? I'm
honoured to make your acquaintance. Miss Morland, I must
hasten after my men; but may I do myself the honour of
calling on you in a day or two, when my duties permit?’

Fanny was delighted, excited, taken aback. She did not
know how her grandfather would take to a gentleman calling
on her, when she was not even out. Miss Imber was looking as disapproving as a fieldmouse can.

‘
I think, sir —' Fanny began hesitantly, and Hawker saw
his mistake.

‘
I mean, of course, to leave my card with your grandfather as soon as I can. We are members of the same club, I believe,
and I'm sure we have met at the Exchange on several
occasions.

Fanny's brow cleared. 'We should be pleased to see you,
sir,' she said.

Hawker saluted again, bestowed one last smile, and rode on
down the street. By God, he thought, the little heiress had
grown up a regular beauty! And a bold one, he thought, from
her eyes. How old was she now? She looked seventeen or so, but on the other hand, she hadn't behaved as though she were
out, and he hadn't seen her at the ball the other night. No
matter — she remembered him all right, and not unkindly!
He had been looked at by enough women to recognise
admiration when he saw it, however veiled it was meant to be.

Now he had the task of finding some way to scrape up an
acquaintance with the old gentleman within the next twenty-
four hours. How the devil was he to convince a mill-master
that they had anything in common? But poverty, they say, he
reminded himself grimly, makes strange bedfellows.

 
Lucy and Thomas were just mounting up for their early
morning ride when Major Wiske appeared at the door,
drawing on his gloves and looking about him at the fresh,
lovely morning.

‘
Hullo! You're up early,' Lucy said. 'I didn't think any of
the Bow-window Set would be astir before noon today, after
your late night last night.'

‘
Doubt if they will. But I'm not really one of the Set,'
Wiske said. 'Not a full member — not obliged to keep up
appearances.'

‘Or non-appearances,' Lucy suggested.

‘
Thought I might come out with you, if you've no objec
tion? Think you can find me something to ride, Parslow?'

‘
Yes indeed, sir,' Parslow said quickly. 'Feather's going
very well at the moment, sir. I'll have her round for you in
five minutes.'

‘
Good fellow. I'll help her ladyship to mount,' Wiske said,
taking Hotspur's head as Parslow hurried away.

‘You've plainly made an impression on Parslow,' Lucy said,
throwing the long end of her skirt over her arm, and lifting
her left foot for Danby's linked hands. 'He won't let anyone
but me ride Feather usually; and I don't think he'd let me
take her out if he could stop me.' Wiske threw her up, and the
instant Hotspur felt her on his back he whipped his head free
and tried to leap away. Lucy was ready for him, however, and
turned him in tight circles, while she unconcernedly found
her stirrup and settled her skirts.

‘
Don't know why you ride horses like that,' Wiske
complained, trying to catch Hotspur's head as he passed.

‘
Oh, he always does that,' Lucy said. 'It's only his fun. He
doesn't mean anything by it.’

Hotspur champed his bit and gave the Major a speculative
look.

‘
If he were in my squadron, I'd send him to the rough
rider,' Wiske said.

‘He's just a baby. He'll settle down,' Lucy said.

‘
Mimosa was just the same, and she didn't settle down,'
Wiske pointed out. 'And Minstrel was wicked to the end. You
like difficult horses, that's the truth.'

‘
Mimosa had a cold back,' Lucy said firmly, 'and Minstrel
had been spoilt before I got him. Really, Danby —' She had
been about to say, 'You lecture me like a husband,' but
thought better of it.

A few moments later Parslow returned with Feather, the
Major mounted up, and the four of them set off into the park.
The horses were all fresh, and when they had walked the pre
scribed half-mile to settle them down, Lucy glanced round to
see that they were all ready, and put Hotspur into a canter.
He sprang away, and Feather after him. The speed was too
much for Cobnut's short legs. Parslow held his horse back to
stay with Thomas, and Lucy and Wiske were soon well ahead,
and out of sight.

The track went up a long, slow incline, and the horses
began to slow and to labour for breath, and at the top Lucy
and Wiske pulled up, and jumped down to breathe the horses.

‘
What do you think of Feather?' she asked. 'I think she's a
bit light in the neck, don't you?'

‘
She'll make a lady's horse,' Danby said politely, patting
the mare.

‘
That's a damning compliment,' Lucy observed. 'Don't let
Parslow hear you say that.'

‘
Depends on the lady, doesn't it?' Danby said. He studied
Lucy appreciatively. She always appeared
to
her best in
riding-clothes. The tight-fitting jacket of dark blue superfine, relieved at the neck with a white stock, the voluminous skirt,
the small, neat tricorne with the net veil — they made her
look very young and girlish. Hotspur put his head down to
graze, and Lucy slipped the rein over his head and sat down
on the grass, hugging her updrawn knees as she gazed
out
over the park.