Before her marriage forty years ago, Mrs. Butters had been Miss Harriet Blodgett, of the prosperous and well-known family of linen-drapers in Bristol. The Blodgetts foresaw that outlawing the trade in African slaves would mean the wives of ship captains and the wives of merchants would curtail their spending on silk, satin, muslin and lace. And they were correct: the end of the slave trade idled the factories and the dockyards, and shopkeepers of Bristol waited in vain for customers.
The Blodgetts resolved to expand their business into London while at the same time establishing a school for instructing impoverished girls of good character in the needle trade. This was to be both a charitable and a merchant enterprise, the profits from the latter providing the funds for the former. The school was under the supervision of a committee of lady patrons, all members of that reputable organization, the Society for Bettering the Condition and Increasing the Comforts of the Poor. Mrs. Butters attended many lengthy meetings of the ladies’ committee, and Fanny acted as their secretary, taking excellent notes in her neat handwriting, while the charitable ladies debated and discussed every detail of the enterprise. They examined and rejected possible locations, eventually selecting a spacious brick warehouse in Camden Town, but it was found to need many more alterations and fittings-up than first anticipated, and all in all, it was such a complex and drawn-out business, requiring so much in the way of talkings-over, second and third thoughts, and polite disagreement and irritated feelings, that Fanny could only wonder how other, truly ambitious operations were ever successfully conducted. How did ordinary mortals put aside their petty vanities and uneven tempers to construct canals, or build cathedrals or invade countries?
Even the most appropriate name for the enterprise had been debated at length. One lady had proposed “The Academy for the Needle Arts,” others protested that “Academy” was too... well, verging on being pretentious, and another suggested the “Camden Town Needlework School and Emporium operated by the Society for Bettering the Condition and Increasing the Comforts of the Poor.”
A polite silence followed, and eventually Laetitia Blodgett observed that, of the half-a-dozen names put forward, none of them included the name of “Blodgett,” that is, the name of the family sponsoring the scheme, and perhaps it was not too presumptuous to expect, etc., so in the end it was agreed, or rather, some ladies resigned themselves to the fact, that the school would be called “Blodgett’s Charitable Academy. “
Thereafter everyone called it, simply “the Academy,” including the Blodgetts.
Today was the day appointed for interviewing the young applicants, and Fanny had passed a restless night in anticipation.
Fanny wholeheartedly supported the benevolence of the scheme; her strong sense of gratitude to Mrs. Butters alone assured her participation. The brusque but kindly widow had been a constant friend and advisor ever since Fanny had escaped her unhappy home situation at Mansfield Park. Mrs. Butters had introduced Fanny to a large circle of intelligent, benevolent people who fought slavery abroad and the miseries of the poor at home. More significantly for Fanny, Mrs. Butters had lovingly teased and scolded her into overcoming her timidity.
Thanks in large measure to Mrs. Butters, Fanny believed she acquired confidence and wisdom. She could recall the past, and her difficult childhood, with forbearance. Her stern uncle, Sir Thomas Bertram used to frighten her, and her cousins Tom, Maria and Julia alternately bullied or neglected her as they grew up together. Her aunt, Lady Bertram, was too indolent to take an interest in raising her children. Fanny remembered them all, and Mansfield Park, with fondness. She could even feel pity for her Aunt Norris when she imagined that lady living by herself in Mansfield, no longer able to direct and advise, to scold and warn, to bustle about the great house engaged in the important little nothings which had given purpose to her existence.
As for the fourth cousin, Edmund....
Her wish to avoid thinking about Edmund helped, just a little, in quelling the doubts that assailed her, for she knew that plunging her mind, heart and hands into this new enterprise was the best way to put the past behind her.
“So, here we are at last, ladies,” exclaimed Mrs. Butters as the coachman drew up to the three-storied brick warehouse which was to be Fanny’s new place of employment. A scaffolding was erected across the front of the building, and a man was perched up high, painting “Blodgett’s Charitable Academy” and “Blodgett & Son, Linen-Drapers” in large gold letters above the door. “What a busy day is in front of us! And we breakfasted so early—I am already feeling famished. I hope Matron has got some tea ready.”
“I shall examine the shop, Madame, if you please,” announced her lady’s maid Madame Orly.
The ground floor shop was presided over by Mr. Blodgett and his son Horace, who were brother and nephew to Mrs. Butters. They would display and sell the fabrics which the students would learn to ornament with embroidery in the upstairs classroom, and on the top floor, the dressmakers would assemble the finished garments. Madame Orly was to assist in the shop, while Laetitia Blodgett supervised the dressmakers. The excitement and bustle of the day was calculated to draw forth Mrs. Blodgett’s most querulous reactions and anxious imaginings. Fanny was arguably too young, gentle and yielding to make a creditable instructress; the asperity of Mrs. Blodgett more than made up the balance.
As Fanny descended from the carriage, she saw a long line of fidgeting, hopeful girls standing in the lane, waiting to be called in and interviewed, some with their mothers or grandmothers, others with a sister or dear friend to hold their hand and whisper encouragement. Some clutched small pieces of cloth which Fanny knew to be samples of their skill with a needle. Some had walked from nearby Somers Town,
