The Regency (95 page)

She stood beside him at the balustrade, looking out over
the dark water, waiting. She could hear him breathing, feel
the warmth of his body radiating through the little space
between them. She had a distinct and piercing sense of him
just at that moment, as though she had known him all her
life, better than she knew anyone else; she knew him, skin and
bones and muscles and blood; she knew he was hard and cold
and untrustworthy, and that he would never hurt her,
because in some way they belonged together. And at the very
same moment, she knew that all this was nonsense.

‘
Well, Miss Morland,' he said, his voice coming familiar out
of the darkness as if it were an extension of her own thoughts,
‘have you had an agreeable evening?'

‘Yes,' she said simply. 'I'm glad I came.'

‘
I'm glad too. I wanted to have one last, happy time with
you.'

‘
Last?' she queried, feeling a little cold finger of breeze
touch the back of her neck. She shivered. 'Are you going
away?'

‘I'm afraid so. I'm afraid I must.'

‘For a long time?'

‘
I don't know. I hope not.' He paused. 'I have enjoyed
seeing you happy this evening.' His words sounded so final that
she shivered again, and he said, 'Are you cold, Fanny?’

He had never used her first name before, and it made her feel both protected and exposed at the same time. 'No,' she said, but he stepped closer all the same, turning her to face
him and putting his arms round her.

‘
Little Fanny Morland,' he said softly, and his dark head
stooped over her like some nemesis, cutting out what little
light there was. She felt his lips on hers. It was a strange,
strange sensation! She had never been kissed before, not by a
man, not on the mouth. She didn't quite know what to make
of it; but she knew she wanted something from him, and she
put her hands up and took hold of him, to keep him there. His
big, alien body was close to her, and she didn't know what to
do with it, or with all the extraordinary feelings rushing
through her; she only knew she felt hurt and disappointed
when he pulled away from her.

‘
You're a fool, Fanny,' he said in a hard, bitter voice. 'And
I'm a greater one. What the devil are we to do with each
other?'

‘
Don't,' she said falteringly, not understanding him, only
knowing she didn't want to feel separate from him; and then
there was an enormous explosion in the air above her, which
made her jump and cry out, and a blinding flash of light
drove her hands to her eyes.

Then Hawker was laughing loudly, like someone who has
seen a danger pass by. 'it's only the fireworks, you goose!
Look, Fanny, take your hands away, or you'll miss them!
Look, look up into the sky!'

‘
Don't laugh at me!' she cried, but he pulled her hands
away and turned her again towards the river. The sky was
awash with coloured stars, comet-tails, cascades, and the river
was a second sky mirroring the first, a black silken eternity
filled with dazzling lights. 'It's beautiful!' she cried out in
surprise.

‘
You're beautiful!' he shouted. He was still laughing, but
she didn't mind it now, feeling that it was with her and not
against her. He seized her wrists and tugged at her impatiently.
'We must go.'

‘No! I want to see the rest!'

‘We must go, I say! Come, Fanny, it's all over.’

He dragged her away from the water's edge into the dark
alley, though the fires were still erupting overhead, and she
went unwillingly because she must, his hand steely on her
wrist.

‘I don't want to go home,' she cried.

‘You can't always do what you want,' he said.

‘
When will I see you again?' she asked, beginning to be
breathless and a little frightened, dragged along behind him
like a child. 'You're walking too fast! I shall stumble!'

‘
I won't let you fall,' he said tersely. It was an ungentle
promise.

‘When will I see you again?'

‘
I told you I was going away. I don't know when I will be
back in London.'

‘
Before Christmas? I shall be going back to Yorkshire at Christmas. If you don't get back before Christmas, will you
come up to York?’

They reached the gate, and he paused and looked down at her. By the light of the torches at the gate, she could see his
face, but it was dark and unfathomable. 'Come to York? Why
should I come to York?' he asked as if the question amazed
him.

‘To see me,' she faltered.

‘Miss Morland, I repeat, you're a fool,' he said.

She felt tears burning in her eyes, and turned her face
away and closed her teeth on her lip to stop it trembling. I won't let him see me cry, she thought, half in fury, half in
grief. I will never let him see me cry! He's hateful! Cruel! I
shall never think of him again.

She drew several deep breaths, and said in a voice which
hardly trembled, 'Will you have the goodness to hand me into
the carriage, Mr Hawker? If that is not asking too much of
your manners.’

She saw a faint gleam of admiration in his eyes, before she
lowered hers; and kept them rigidly on the ground as he
opened the door, let down the step and handed her in; and
then climbed in beside her. They rode in silence until they
reached the place where he had met her, and the coach
stopped.

‘
How will you get in?' he asked suddenly, and his voice
sounded subdued. I have shamed him, she thought trium
phantly.

‘
I have made my arrangements,' she said coolly. 'You have
no need to concern yourself any further. I wish you good
night, Mr Hawker, and thank you for an enjoyable evening.'

‘
Goodnight, Miss Morland,' he replied without emotion,
opening the door and pushing the step down; but as she
placed her hand on his to climb out, he gripped her fingers for
the fraction of a second, and said, 'God bless you!’

She made no response, withdrawing her hand as soon as
she was safely down, and walking away without another word
or a backward glance.

BOOK THREE

The Heiress

‘
Do you remember me? or are you proud?’

Lightly advancing thro' her star-trimm'd crowd,

Ianthe said, and look'd into my eyes.

‘A yes, and yes to both: for Memory

Where you but once have been must ever be,

And at your voice Pride from his throne must rise.'

Walter Savage Landor:
lanthe's Question

 
A

October 1813

 
Jasper Hobsbawn, emerging from a conference with a
mechanic over a machine that was overheating, walked over
to the window for a piece of rag on which to wipe his hands,
and glancing out through the grimy pane, saw a familiar
carriage in the yard below. With a silent curse, he threw down
the rag and hurried downstairs.

In the outer office Cutler, the senior clerk, looked up
apprehensively.

‘Is Mr Hobsbawn here?' Jasper asked.

‘No, Mr Jasper, sir, it's Miss Morland.'

‘Deuce it is!' Jasper muttered. 'Where is she?'

‘In th'office, Mr Jasper, lookin' at the books.'

‘What?’

Cutler's eyes fawned. 'She axed me, Mr Jasper. What could
I say?'

‘
No, quite right, it isn't your fault. Carry on, Cutler,' said
Jasper briskly, and walked through into the inner office,
which had always, until recently, been unassailably his own.
Fanny was there, sitting at the desk, a voluminous black cotton
wrapper over her pale muslin dress to protect it from ink
and dust, her hair caught up behind under a very saucy hat
decorated with three miniature arrows with rather dangerous-
looking points. The books were spread open in front of her,
and she was studying them with a frown of concentration
between her brows.

‘
Well, Miss Morland, what a pleasant surprise to see you
here,' Jasper said, controlling himself. 'And for the third time
this month. Is there something I can do for you?’

Fanny looked at him briefly. 'No thank you, Mr Hobsbawn.
Your servant gave me the books.'

‘My
clerk
should not have done so,' Jasper said with faint asperity. 'Not without permission.’

Fanny raised an eyebrow. gave him permission,' she said
shortly. She surveyed him dispassionately. 'I'm glad you are
here, however. There are some questions I have to put to you.
These items here, marked
Surg. —
what are they?'

‘Surgeon's fees, Miss Morland.'

‘
So I imagined,' she said witheringly, 'but I say again, what
are they? They are very high — much too high.'

‘
May I?' He came round the desk and looked over her
shoulder, while she laid a dainty, nacreous finger against one figure and then another. 'The name beside the figure refers to the employee for whom the surgeon was called. This one, for
instance — Rahilly — is one of the spinners who caught her
arm in the machine. It had to be stitched.'

‘
By the surgeon? The apothecary could have done the job
at half the cost. It is wasteful to call in the surgeon for small
injuries,' Fanny said severely. 'And what is this one —
O'Brien? I see there are three — no, four entries for O'Brien.'

‘
He slipped in the yard and put his foot down into a sump-
hole containing a mechanical pump. Since the pump was
operating at the time, the flying blades tore off his foot.'
Jasper spoke unemotionally, but he hoped the words would
cause her to quail or feel faint. 'I hope you don't think that
was too trivial to warrant calling the surgeon?’

Fanny merely tapped the ledger page. 'Four visits?'