“I would by no means defend the sale of indecent items,” said Fanny, “But many of the prisoners, perhaps most of them, were selling ships in bottles and cribbage boards and so forth. It seems a pity they cannot continue. They sorely need the little income the market provides.”
“I fancy,” Mrs. Butters remarked, “when Mr. Birtle finds some other place upon which to turn his improving gaze, the prison market might resume.”
“Then, ma’am,” said Fanny, “we must wish for some shocking outbreak of vice to occur in some other part of town!”
“No doubt the good people of Bristol will not disappoint Mr. Birtle in that regard. Someone will open their tavern on a Sunday, or go sea-bathing in a state of nature. But you know, Fanny, that many of my friends are members of the Society for the Suppression of Vice. In fact you may not be aware that our friend Mr. Wilberforce founded it.”
“Indeed?” William Wilberforce was only known to Fanny as an eminent campaigner against the slave trade.
Mrs. Butters gave a little smile as Fanny refilled her tea cup for her. “I fancy Mr. Wilberforce did not grow up around sailors and sailing ships. We learnt to look the other way, as far as certain male predilections were concerned. I am a great admirer of Mr. Wilberforce. But he and the Clapham Saints have an odd compulsion to go about bothering fortune-tellers and people who sell French pictures.”
“Ma’am...” said Fanny with some hesitation.
“Well, what is it, Fanny?”
“I believe I have an idea which might assist the prisoners, as well as—that is, I wonder if our own Committee for the Relief of Distressed Gentlewomen might experiment with establishing a bazaar, here in Bristol.”
“A bazaar? What is a bazaar?”
“It is perhaps nothing more than a new word for a market, taken from the Persian, but it is a new thing in London—a converted store-room in the West End, filled with many stalls, which are rented out on very easy terms to respectable women.”
Mrs. Butters understood instantly. “So, the bazaar is a place for women to sell the kind of items our gentlewomen have been making—needle cases and bonnet trims and the like?”
“Yes. And given that the bazaar is operated with no expectation of profit,” said Fanny, “the ladies receive more money, for as we were saying at the last committee meeting, when we place these items with merchants, the ladies’ share gives them such a poor return for so many hours of labour.”
“Go on,” said Mrs. Butters, reaching for a second muffin.
“I do not know, but I surmise the premises for the bazaar in London were rented at a very low cost, as the building stood vacant.”
“Yes, in these times every city has vacant buildings of this sort,” Mrs. Butters nodded her head.
Fanny drew a deep breath. “So... if we were to undertake a similar scheme here, perhaps we might also make provisions to sell any unobjectionable items, made by the French prisoners.”
“What an interesting notion, Fanny!” Mrs. Butters said, and Fanny felt a little thrill of excitement.
“Thank you, ma’am. Do you think—might you wish to raise the idea at the next committee meeting?”
“I, Fanny? It is your suggestion, not mine. You may speak to the committee. I will help you draw up a projected estimate of the expenses, but you must explain what a ‘bazaar’ is and win their support.”
Fanny went from happiness to distress in an instant, and was on the point of pleading her unfitness, when Mrs. Butters spoke to her firmly.
“Do you wish to help your fellow creatures, or no?”
“Yes, of course, ma’am.”
“Then screw your courage to the sticking place—well, that bit of Shakespeare is not apropos, I suppose. I am not urging you to murder anyone, you have merely to engage and persuade half-a-dozen very opinionated ladies who are much older than you.
“On second thoughts,” Mrs. Butters added, “perhaps it would be easier to murder someone.”
* * * * * * *
Thanks to the intervention of Mrs. Butters, Fanny and Madame Orly were again permitted to enter Stapleton prison to visit their friend. It was a matter of no small urgency for Madame Orly. Napoleon had abdicated, and she fancied that soon all the prisoners would be sent back to France.
A slight rain was falling and few prisoners left their cells to take their midday exercise, save for Captain Duchesne. He begged to be assured that the ladies had come by carriage on such an inclement day, and added, with feeling, “You cannot know how important your visits are to me—how they gladden my soul—it is as though the sun has come out from behind the clouds.”
Fanny was not above a little prevarication in the manner of informing Captain Duchesne of the bazaar scheme. Instead of telling him herself, though it was of course her own notion, she asked Madame Orly to explain it to him. All she had to do was enjoy watching the look on Captain Duchesne’s face as Madame Orly explained she would take out a stall at the bazaar and sell the items manufactured by the prisoners. He took the little Frenchwoman’s hand, and kissed it, and said in a voice of deep feeling, “Would you please convey to Madame Butters our most profound thanks and service. It is my wish to be able to thank her in person, one day.”
Madame Orly blushed and appeared for a moment to be too overcome to speak.
“The loss of your market is to be regretted, Captain,” said Fanny, after a moment’s delicious pause as the Captain and Madame Orly gazed at one another. “Mr. Birtle said the prisoners were so offended by the obscene items that they attacked the men responsible for making them.”
