The Emperor (8 page)

‘
Not my lady,' Mary Ann said automatically. 'You
address me as ma'am.’

The child reddened and curtseyed again. 'Beg pardon,
ma'am,' she mumbled, but seemed too paralysed with
embarrassment to move. Mary Ann looked her over with
the interest a mistress always accords to new servants, to
find what they are good for.

‘
I haven't seen you before, have I? What's your name?’

‘
Betsey, ma'am.'

‘Are you happy here, Betsey?'

‘
Oh,
yes,
ma'am!' she cried fervently; then, 'Only there's
such a lot to remember all at once, and all them different
stairs an' corridors. I'm sorry I woke you, ma'am.’

She looked subdued now, and Mary Ann reflected that
most mistresses would complain to Mrs Mappin about being
woken by a clumsy housemaid. She felt an unexpected
sympathy with this skinny child, and to her own surprise
heard herself saying, 'It doesn't matter. I was awake
anyway.' Betsey curtseyed again and knelt down to pick up her spilled brushes, and Mary Ann, watching her curiously,
said, 'Where do you come from, Betsey? You are new,
aren't you?’

She looked up with a glowing face. 'Yes, ma'am, I came
up on Monday from St Edward's.'

‘St Edward's? Oh, you mean the orphan asylum.'

‘
Yes, ma'am. Me an' my brother Timmy, we're orphans,
ma'am. We've lived there all our lives, until Mrs Mappin
brought me up to the house to train for a housemaid, on
account of the master's plan, and your father's, ma'am,
begging your pardon. Such kind gentlemen, ma'am, as ever
could be, and I'm that grateful, you can't imagine.'

‘My father? What plan?'

‘
The plan they have, ma'am, the master and your father,
to send the boys from St Edward's to Manchester, to be
'prenticed to your father's mill. The master came hisself to
explain it all, so they shouldn't be afraid, and he told how
they should be made 'prentices and learn a trade so that
they could keep themselves respectable-like all their lives, and never come to be beggars. My Timmy was to be one of
them, and we didn't like above half to be parted, ma'am,
until master said I was to come up to the house. And Mrs
Mappin told as how her ladyship once went to visit a
spinning-mill, and how it were a lovely green place, and
how the 'prentices lived in a lovely house, all white and
clean, and so I were pretty well pleased, ma'am, to think of
Timmy so well provided for. And one day Timmy might
come back, when he's learned to be a weaver, and we might
set up house together, for weavers earn a deal o' money,
ma'am, and then I might keep house for him, just as I've
learned here.’

The rapid and breathless stream ceased, and the child
beamed up at Mary Ann in artless delight and gratitude, so
that she could not find it in herself to rebuke the freedom
her question had provoked. She was pleased with what she had heard about her father and Edward. This was behaving
as a Christian should, placing the poor and dependent in the
way of keeping themselves respectably. She had never seen her father's mills, and knew nothing of his business, except
what she had gleaned in conversation; but she did know that
weaving was done by hand, not by machine, and that
weavers were therefore the elite of the cloth-trade and
might well, as Betsey said, earn a 'deal o' money'.

‘
I hope it may happen as you wish,' she said graciously. ‘You must chew your gratitude by being a good girl. Work
hard and say your prayers, and then your bother may be
 
proud of you, as you are of him.'

‘
Oh yes, ma'am, thank you, ma'am,' Betsey beamed,
bobbing like a cork on water as she backed out of the room.
Mary Ann looked at the clock on the chimney-piece, and
saw that it was still before her usual time of rising. She might
ring for Dakers, of course; but in the end she decided to
dress herself for once, and to go and visit her baby. The
nursery, surely, would be astir early, babies requiring to be fed regardless of the hour.

She put on her clothes, and being unable to dress her hair
herself, merely brushed it and concealed it under a cap, and
went out. At the end of the corridor a housemaid came out
of the red room and stopped, startled, at the sight of her;
but being older than Betsey, she did not drop anything, only
curtseyed and gave her a puzzled look. Mary Ann turned
the corner by the backstairs and walked along the corridor
to the nursery. She passed several bedroom doors: this was
the bachelor's wing, and behind one of these doors her
husband was s
^l
eeping, but she did not know which. She
reached the end of the wing and opened the door to the
night nursery, and paused on the threshhold.

Her husband was there before her. His back was to her;
he had drawn up a stool beside Fanny's crib, and was
leaning over, talking to the baby in a soft voice. Mary Ann could not hear what he was saying, but she could see that
Fanny was awake, and that her eyes were fixed on her
father's face, while one hand was clenched firmly round his right forefinger. Mary Ann took a silent step forward, and James's next words became audible to her.

‘
Then when you're older, I'll teach you to ride, and you
shall have a pony of your own, and we'll go riding together, over the moors, everywhere. I'll shew you everything, your whole kingdom.’

Fanny smiled as though she understood, and James made
a sound that could have been a chuckle. Mary Ann with
drew from the room and closed the door after her. In the
corridor she considered what she had witnessed, and it
pleased her. Men, she knew, did not usually notice their children until they reached a rational age, and that James should care enough for Fanny to rise early and sit in thenursery talking to her, seemed another point in his favour.
He
had
good qualities, and a heart capable of affection, and
if she took more pains to get to know him, she thought that they might still learn to be contented together.

*

That same day an express from London disturbed the newly restored routine of the house, bringing the news that Flora,
who had been a little ailing all year, had taken a sudden turn
for the worse, and was not expected to recover. Within
hours Jemima, Mary and James had left for Chelmsford
House in the hope of being in time to say goodbye. Edward wished to go, but could not leave the estate at such a time; but though he remained at Morland Place, he was hardly
company for Mary Ann, being absent all day in body, and
even more absent in mind on the occasions that she saw
him.

A few days later, the pianoforte arrived. It came on an enormous carrier's cart, well packed and muffled with cloths and sacks, and put Oxhey into a great taking, for he had not been told to expect it, and felt at a disadvantage before the carrier's men.

A letter came with it, addressed to Mary Ann.

‘
My darling girl, I beg you to accept this gift from your
old Papa, and hope that it will give you many hours of
pleasure. I thought of it when I heard you playing on the
harpsichord at Morland Place. Such superior performance
as yours deserves a better instrument! You were used to
have a pianoforte at home, and it was never my intention
that you should be less comfortable as a married woman
than you were as a maid. So play upon it to your heart's content, my love, and think sometimes of one who thinks of you constantly, and loves you best in the world.’

Oxhey was hovering, looking unhappy, and Mary Ann
folded the letter with a smile and said, 'It is from my father,
a present for me.'

‘Yes, Madam. I understand,' he replied, looking gloomy. ‘What would you have me do with it?'

‘
Why, have it brought in, of course,' she said in surprise. ‘Yes, of course, Madam, but where would you have it put?’

‘
In the drawing-room, Oxhey,' Mary Ann said patiently. 'Where else does one keep a pianoforte? It can stand in the
corner, in the place of the old harpsichord. It will look very
well there,' she added in satisfaction. 'Now what is the matter?'

‘
But madam!' Oxhey actually waved his hands in his
anxiety to convey to her the problems inherent in the
command; but Mary Ann thought that he was concerned
only with the physical problems of the removal, and grew impatient.

‘Really, Oxhey, it is perfectly simple! The carrier's men
will know how best the thing is to be moved, and if you have
two of our men help them, I am sure it can be done with no trouble at all.'

‘And the harpsichord, Madam?'

‘You will move that first, of course. I dare say the legs
will remove, and it can be wrapped in the cloths that came
with the pianoforte, and stored somewhere until we decide what to do with it.'

‘
It belongs to Miss Mary – Mrs Haworth, I mean –
madam, and she is accustomed to play upon it,' Oxhey said, making one last effort, and Mary Ann frowned.

‘Mrs Haworth is a married woman, and this is no longer
her home. That she lives at Morland Place while her
husband is at sea is beside the point. While Lady Morland is
away, I am mistress of the house, and you will obey my orders. Now let us hear no more argument, Oxhey.’

By dinner time the pianoforte was installed in the corner
of the drawing-room, where it glowed handsomely, rose
wood casing, satinwood inlay, gilded candle-holders, all
complete; while the harpsichord, carefully wrapped, had
been put into one of the storerooms. The tuner had been
sent for from York, and Mary Ann was sorting through the
piles of music to choose such as were suited to the more modern instrument.

If Oxhey had hoped for Edward's intervention on his
behalf, he was disappointed. The master was so busy about
the estate at this time, especially with Jemima away, that it
was two days before he even entered the drawing-room; and
when Mary Ann brought the new instrument to his notice,
he only said vaguely, 'Oh yes, ma'am, very handsome. I
congratulate you,' before excusing himself to return to his
reports in the steward's room.

The pianoforte did add to her comfort and pleasure, but
an unusually fine burst of weather made her discontented
with her solitary indoor pursuits, and one day she put down
her sewing and wandered, on impulse, out into the court
yard. It was a time of day when everyone was about their
business elsewhere, and the yard was deserted, except for
the dog chained in its kennel, three brindled cats sleeping in
a strip of sunshine along the wall, and a large number of
pigeons roosting on the roof-slopes. The doors to the stable
building stood open, and the shadows within looked very
black by contrast with the sunshine.

She felt confined and for once longed to go outside the
walls and view the grounds. There were, of course, plenty of
horses at Morland Place, but she had never cared to ride,
and though her father had given her a very pretty vis-a-vis for her wedding, it was not the sort of carriage in which to go driving about the rough estate tracks. The silence of the
yard was growing unnerving to one accustomed to the noise
of a town and to being surrounded by servants, and she
began to feel absurdly as though something disagreeable
might pop out of one of those dark doorways; or at the very
least, that someone might come and rebuke her for being
here.

A thud and a shriek close behind her made her jump
almost out of her skin, and she had cried out in alarm before
she realized that it was only one of the peacocks flying down
and landing clumsily. She felt foolish; but her cry had had
the effect of bringing a young groom out of the nearest
stable door, a brush in his hand and his eyebrows almost in
his hair, and though it would be hard to tell which of them
was blushing the more violently, it was necessary for her to
command the situation.

‘
Is Mr Humby about?' she asked. She did not know any
of the grooms, but she had heard Humby's name mentioned
in connection with the horses.

‘
Oh, no, ma'am, he doesn't come up to th'ouse. He's at
Twelvetrees,' said the boy in surprise.