“More than several months!”
“Very well, but I do assure you that the chief attraction for me is not dear old Lord Delingpole.”
“Did I say that? Don’t be so cunning, Mary. I hinted that you are a prime attraction for him.”
“Oh! Of course he admires me. But no more than I require, I assure you. Shall I disappoint you dreadfully if I confess that, while in Wales, I devoted myself to the serious study and collection of Welsh harp music. As I would be happy to demonstrate. This piece is called ‘Morfa Rhuddlan’.”
* * * * * * *
The younger Mrs. Butters continued to be a frequent patron of the academy, if “patron” was a fit description for someone who did not expect to pay for the services she enjoyed. In addition to wanting a full wardrobe of riding habits and pelisses, as well as the usual morning frocks and evening gowns any lady requires to make a creditable appearance, she had three young daughters who were growing rapidly, and they needed new clothes and alterations not infrequently.
Fanny was not surprised to observe that generosity was not met with gratitude. Cecilia Butters held the view that since ‘the work was done by charity cases,’ the cost must be negligible.
Fanny was personally altering a bodice which Mrs. Butters had brought back, with the complaint that it was ill-fitting, when Mrs. Blodgett entered the classroom with a busy clacking of heels and a breathless air.
“Oh, what do you think, Miss Price! The Prime Minister’s wife and a deputation of Tory ladies will be visiting us in a se’ennight, to examine the good work we do here! Mrs. Perceval herself! Think of it! How excellent this will be for drawing business our way!”
“How wonderful, ma’am,” answered Fanny, rising from her seat. “There must be a great deal you wish to do in preparation.”
“Indeed, indeed! How can we obtain some flowers to decorate the room? They will be so dear at this time of the year, and we cannot appear to be wasteful and extravagant! And refreshments—we must have refreshments! Oh, heavens!”
“Perhaps there ought to be an oration, an address of welcome,” suggested Mr. Edifice, who, as usual, had found some reason to linger after his morning’s labours were done. “With some flattering allusions to Mrs. Perceval, from the classical authors, as representing the spirit of Benevolence. Or Athena—she was the patron goddess of needlework, as perhaps you were aware, Miss Price.”
“Yes!” exclaimed Mrs. Blodgett. “What a fine suggestion, Mr. Edifice! My husband can give a welcoming address to Mrs. Perceval when she arrives. And we must have all the members of the ladies committee here, of course. We need to let them know straight away, Miss Price! Oh! But what to do about the flowers!”
“Mrs. Blodgett, if you will permit the academy to use all the trimmings of fabric and ribbon from the cutting room, I believe I can instruct the girls in making artificial flowers. And ma’am, you may recall that I wished to use the scraps to make—”
“Yes, yes, Miss Price, if the work is done well enough. We have not much time to prepare, so see to it immediately!”
So Fanny went to work, showing her students how to make artificial flowers with paper and taffeta to transform the schoolroom, sewing decorative sashes for the committee ladies, and explaining to her students what a Prime Minister was.
From the charitable ladies came the proposal that the pupils sing ‘Rule, Britannia’ but only one trial of their abilities was necessary to establish that, while a few of the girls could carry a tune, the majority sang badly or not at all.
“Well, this is most disappointing, girls,” sighed Mrs. Blodgett. “I do wish we could have something more by way of entertainment. Mrs. Perceval is also bringing some of her young daughters with her as well.”
Instead of a musical interlude, Mrs. Blodgett accepted the kind offer of Cecilia Butters that she and her daughters display themselves, wearing the fashionable attire made for them at the academy. There was, alas, insufficient time to prepare entirely new ensembles, but Cecilia Butters consented to choose something from her wardrobe, and her daughters likewise.
Mrs. Butters and Mr. Gibson were to attend on the day; she as an honoured founder of the academy, and he to report on the proceedings for the Society for Bettering the Condition and Increasing the Comforts of the Poor. Fanny was determined to make amends for her unfriendly behaviour on the last occasion she had seen Mr. Gibson—the disastrous reception at the Delingpoles—and her pleasure at the thought of seeing her friend, more than overbalanced any anxieties she felt about the visit of so august a person as Mrs. Perceval.
Chapter Seven
Mr. and Mrs. Price eagerly anticipated the arrival of their oldest son, William, and in particular, they looked forward to showing him their copy of Amongst the Slavers, sent to them by the author himself, and inscribed “For Miss Betsey Price, my fellow story-teller, with kind regards, Wm. Gibson,” on the flyleaf. In this precious volume their boy was immortalized.
When the book was not in Susan’s hands—for she was often called upon to read the passages involving William aloud to the family circle—it rested in a place of honour on the mantelpiece and was pointed out to every visitor, no matter how many times that same visitor entered the parlour.
“And to think, when William brought Mr. Gibson in from the Derwent, as yellow as butter and thin as a skeleton, I packed him upstairs to the attic!” exclaimed Mrs. Price regretfully. “If I had known he was going to become famous, and say so many handsome things about our William, I would have turned Tom out of his bed for him, you may be sure.”
“This should do our boy no
