The Emperor by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

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