Come Be My Love (4 page)

Snickering, Esther took a banana fritter from the platter offered by Ida, and said, "The way I heard it was that young John Work stumbled out of the Brown Jug, dizzy as a goose, and that’s why he fell into the ditch."

Lady Cromwell shot a stony glance at her daughter, who sobered immediately. "Be that as it may," the older woman said, "the problem still persists."

Sarah, certain she'd seen lamps lining the main thoroughfare as they'd driven through the streets of Victoria, looked at Jon and asked, "Does the city not have gas lighting?"

"Yes," Jon replied, "but they're not in use, as we have been plagued with air leaking into the mains. But the problem will soon be remedied and the streets should again be well-lighted, at least in the mercantile district."

"I'm relieved to hear that," Sarah said, reflecting on the tall storefront she'd fancied as one day being hers, a building with two brass lanterns adorning its fine brick facade. "It's important that the mercantile district be well-lighted."

Jon looked at her with curiosity. "Is there a particular reason for your concern about our mercantile district after sundown?"

"Well… yes," Sarah replied. "I plan to establish my own business."

Jon cocked a brow. "A business that requires lighting at night?"

Glaring at him with undisguised annoyance, Sarah said, "At times. I plan to establish a modiste, which will be supervised and operated by women, for the manufacture and sale of women's garments. It will frequently require my being in the building at night to sew garments and work on the books."

Jon steepled his fingers, and said contemplatively, "Why, I ask myself, would a woman, who is obviously capable of finding a husband, burden herself with such a task? It seems senseless, if not downright absurd."

Sarah looked at him steadily. "I am doing it because I want to," she said simply.

"Have you operated such a business before?" Jon asked.

Sarah raised her chin. "My father was a very successful clothier."

"I'm not asking about your father. The manufacture of clothing is a man's trade," Jon said. "I'm asking about you."

Sarah held his gaze. "I spent countless hours working with my father in his business and helping with his books," she said. "I even drove the delivery wagon on many occasions.”

"Many women in Victoria also help their fathers and husbands," Jon pointed out. "However, none burden themselves with the sole management of such a business."

Sarah bristled. Obviously, the man believed that women should stay at home busying themselves with all manner of tedious handiwork, as his late wife had no doubt done. Well, that might be fine for some, but for her it was not enough. "A woman is more than a mere butterfly content to lead an aimless, frivolous life," she said. "That we are incapable of handling a man's business is a most absurd bit of twaddle. We are responsible, intelligent beings, Governor, so why should we not be allowed to make our own way in this world?"

Jon stared steadily back at her. "Because women, as the gentler sex, are not conditioned to the harshness and brutality of the business world."

Sarah's mouth twitched with suppressed anger. "I beg to differ with you, but through the ages, women have borne greater harshness and brutality from drunken and abusive husbands. Men lead women to believe that as the gentler sex they are incapable of honorable independence. But, in truth, men fear that if women were given equal education and allowed to work in men's professions, they might excel and, in fact, be capable of performing all the duties in the positions men now hold exclusively, including those in government."

Jon eyed her with mounting interest. There was more to this particular night bird than he'd initially thought. She was articulate and astute and obviously intelligent. And she definitely had an independent streak. But she was also illogical, impractical and unrealistic. "Surely, Miss Ashley, you don't truly believe that a woman could hold public office?"

"I most certainly do. I assure you, we have the ingenuity, creativity, and skills for achievements higher than cooking, darning, and washing!"

Esther looked at Jon. "Perhaps you should heed what Miss Ashley says and not underestimate today's more independent woman, Jon. I suspect you have at least one daughter who shares her views."

"Josephine is naive and impressionable, as are all young women her age," Jon said. "She may believe she shares Miss Ashley's views, though she hasn't been brought up with such unconventional notions, but I trust it will pass eventually, and she'll come to her senses."

Lady Cromwell looked on with a disapproving air. Her voice had the sharp snap of a whip, as she said, "That is precisely why the girls should attend St. Ann's Academy, where they would receive moral guidance, or the next thing we shall see is Josephine flaunting herself in trousers."

Esther gave Sarah a bland smile, then promptly changed the subject. "Sarah brought with her two Singer sewing machines," she said. "and she has offered to teach the girls and me how to operate them."

Lady Cromwell peered over the gold rims of her spectacles. "There is no need," she said. "Both girls have a deft hand with the needle."

"But with a sewing machine a seam can be stitched in a fraction of the time," Esther argued.

"Which will undoubtedly create a crude, uneven seam," countered Lady Cromwell.

"On the contrary," Esther parried, "the seams are quite straight. Sarah showed us a sample. You will be greatly amazed when you see for yourself. I'm anxious to give it a try." She turned to Sarah. "When do you expect to have the machines operating?"

Sarah dabbed her mouth. "Soon I hope." Turning to Jon, she said, "Perhaps you'd be so kind as to tell me where I might go to apply for a business license. I'd like to get started at once."

Jon hadn't expected her to pursue her venture so soon. "Applications for licenses are at the legislature building." He regarded her speculatively. "But what makes you think you can compete with the Hudson's Bay store? It stocks a complete line of women's apparel."

Sarah gave him a confident smile. "I won't be competing with Hudson’s Bay. I'll be selling apparel women cannot buy there or from any other store in Victoria, items such as bloomer costumes and shirtwaister dresses. I've brought along a wide selection of sizes, and once the women of Victoria see the practicality of my apparel, it won't be hard to convince them to buy."

"Bloomer costumes?" Her announcement brought Jon to the brink of outright laughter. "I doubt you'll find a woman here who'd be inclined to wear something as ridiculous as bloomers."

Sarah pinned him with eyes darkened by anger. "You being a man would see it that way, which is to be expected," she said, "and I have taken that into account."

"My being a man has nothing to do with the facts, Miss Ashley. The ladies here are traditional, conservative women who adhere to popular sentiment. I assure you, they won't condone anything as unconventional as bloomer costumes."

"Perhaps at first they won’t," Sarah admitted, "but I intend to change that. Women need freedom of limb and motion if they aspire to higher levels of employment, to move out of sewing circles and into the professions men now hold. Dress reform is one of the most important aspects of our emancipation. So in addition to selling my costumes, I shall enlighten women as to what is considered healthful attire. Of course, I plan to discuss other aspects of liberation as well."

"To obtain your business license," Jon said, "you'll first have to offer your business plan to the city council, members of which are openly opposed to women in business. I'm afraid you won't find them very supportive."

"Is there an ordinance prohibiting a single woman from setting up and operating her own business?" Sarah asked.

"No," Jon replied, "but you won't be setting up anything without a business license, which must be approved by the city council and signed by me. I'd hate to find you locked away with scurrilous men, but as yet we have no facility for women in our jail, and we do strictly enforce the law regarding business licenses."

 
"Then, if I end up in jail, you shall have that on your conscience. Make no mistake, Governor. I will sell my garments to the women of Victoria," Sarah said. "And if you think you can stop me just because I am a woman, you'll soon find yourself with a fight on your hands."

Jon sensed a battle brewing, one he had no intention of losing. He raised his goblet and tipped it toward her in a silent toast. "Then, shall I assume it will begin tomorrow at the legislature building?"

Holding his dark gaze, Sarah replied, "Yes, Governor, you may assume that, unequivocally."

CHAPTER THREE

 
"Mandi,” Sarah called out. “Please get my lilac bloomer costume with the braided trim out of the steamer trunk and locate the mauve hat box. It’s with the stack of hat boxes in the corner." Although initially she'd planned to wear conventional dress to the legislature building, Jon's cavalier attitude at dinner the previous evening still galled her so she was more determined than ever to introduce her bloomer costume to the women of Victoria as soon as possible.

Mandi slipped the bloomer costume from the trunk and began smoothing out the folds. "Ah was
wonderin
' when you was
goin
' to start
showin
' off your things," she said.

A smile played about Sarah's lips as she imagined Jon’s face on seeing her bloomer costume. Even though it was quite lovely, he would, of course, disapprove. The man was far too insular to do otherwise. But if she intended to promote her garments, she must get on with the business of doing so.

Lifting the bloomer costume off the bed, she stepped into a pair of lilac, Turkish-style trousers and donned a tunic of matching foulard, the silk fabric richly embroidered with shades of purple and lavender and amethyst. A band of purple braid trimmed the loose garment at the wrists of the bishop sleeves and along a full hem that reached just below her knees. Standing in front of a long mirror, she positioned on her head a small straw bonnet trimmed with silk lilacs, several loops of leaf-green ribbon, two ostrich plumes, and a cluster of purple forget-me-nots. "What do you think?" she asked Mandi, when she stepped back to view herself.

Mandi held up an over jacket of matching lilac foulard. "Ah think you look real nice," she replied. "And Ah '
spect
you'll cause quite a stir."

Sarah slipped her arm into one flared sleeve of the over jacket. "Yes, I imagine I will." She hoped she wouldn't cause too much of a stir. But once the ladies of Victoria realized how practical a bloomer costume could be, she was certain they'd all be anxious to own one. She opened her lilac silk parasol and twirled it against her shoulder. "Well, wish me luck."

Mandi eyed her with mild concern. "Ah '
spect
you'll need it, this
bein
' your first time
goin
' to town dressed in your costume and all.
Ah'll
sho
' be anxious to know what happens."

"So will I," Sarah replied. Snapping her parasol closed, she grabbed her gloves and reticule, and left.

Esther met her in the entryway. "I've ordered the coach to be brought around for you," she said, gazing with interest at the bloomer outfit. She stepped back to observe it more thoroughly. "Your costume is lovely, and so sensible."

Catching the gleam of envy in Esther's eyes, Sarah said, "I'd like very much to give you a pair of bloomers, if you'd accept them."

"Thank you for the offer," Esther said, "but Mother would positively have a fit of the vapors." Esther's forehead puckered with a contemplative frown. "But, perhaps if I were to wear them only in the privacy of my bedroom. Yes, that's exactly what I'll do!"

So, Jon's sister had a streak of rebelliousness in her.

Esther eyed Sarah with concern. "I had no idea you planned to wear your costume today."

 
Sarah pulled on a white kid glove. "Well, actually, neither did I. But then, I decided it was as good a time as any to introduce it." She only hoped the women of Victoria would be as receptive to the attire as Esther and Josephine had been.

"I do wish you well," Esther said. "But it won't be easy."

"I know," Sarah replied. "But I'm not one to shy away from obstacles."

"It's a good thing," Esther said, "because I fear there will be many of them set in place for you. Right now, Jon and his cabinet are having some rather monumental problems with political and governmental issues, mainly the threat of unification with British Columbia."

"Well, I hardly see how my selling bloomer costumes and shirtwaister dresses could have any bearing on unification with British Columbia or any other governmental issues," Sarah said, pulling on the other glove.

"It does seem a bit illogical," Esther admitted. "But you see, Jon is strongly opposed to unification. He's determined that Vancouver Island remain independent from the mainland, and he feels that only by maintaining a stable economy can he prevent unification. To do that, he must have the support of his cabinet, the city council, the House of Assembly, and the merchants, most of whom are Hudson's Bay men, and they don't want a woman merchant among them. Jon's efforts are further aggravated by caustic editorial attacks in our newspaper, the
Colonist
. The editor is Jon's political enemy, and he can be quite scathing at times."

"Well, I'm sorry about that," Sarah said, "but I have no desire to become a teacher or a seamstress, and since today's woman has few other options, I have little choice. So in spite of the men of this town, I intend to pursue my business and see it become a success."

"I share in your sentiments," Esther said, "so I hope for your sake you succeed. However, Jon feels otherwise. He believes a single woman in business would be a threat to the merchants' integrity, and that she would create contention and unrest in the community."

Sarah looked at Esther with a start. "He told you that?"

"Well, not in so many words," Esther replied, "but from last night's conversation you know what his views are on where a woman's place is to be. I suspect he'll be your biggest obstacle."

"I simply cannot believe that I could possibly be a threat to anyone," Sarah said, "so I'll proceed with my plans, and your brother and his cabinet and the merchants of this community will have to deal with that as best they can."

Esther stepped onto the porch. "I suspect they've already initiated something," she said. "Jon left unusually early this morning… said he was meeting with his cabinet and the mayor. He's up to something. I just know it."

"At least he's true to his word," Sarah mused, on a note of disgust. "The fight is most definitely on."

Esther gave the coachman instructions and again wished Sarah well.

As Sarah rode, she felt a growing sense of resentment. She refused to believe that she'd managed to liquidate her savings, flee from Hollis and Tyler, and make her way to Victoria, only to be defeated by a haughty governor and his flock of boot licking bureaucrats before she'd barely begun. She had no idea what to expect. Options ranged from being issued a business license, then later facing whatever obstacles Jon and his council would concoct, or not being issued a license at all. But since Jon admitted there was no ordinance prohibiting a woman from running a business, there seemed no way the council could refuse...

Brows gathered in concentration, it was some moments before she realized the coach had pulled to a halt. The footman helped her out, and when she looked up and saw the legislature building, she simply stood and stared. The architecture—part wood, part brick—combined a confused agglomeration of styles fancifully painted in various shades of red.

The footman, following the direction of her gaze, smiled in amusement. "It's a bit of a controversy around here," he said. "It's been described as a Chinese pagoda, a Dutch toy, a Swiss cottage, and a Chinese wash house. Most folks around here just call it the Birdcages."

Sarah chuckled. "Birdcages for a bunch of popinjays. That seems appropriate." She marched up the wide stairs to the main entrance. Once inside, she located the room dubbed
House of Assembly
and stepped up to a desk displaying a sign carved with the name, Joseph Porter, Esq., Clerk of the House. Leveling her gaze on the man behind the desk, she said, "I'm here to obtain a business license."

The man inspected her costume critically. Reaching into a long drawer, he retrieved a bundle of papers and offered them to her. "Supply the information required," he said in a cool, dry tone, "secure the necessary signatures, and bring everything back here for the legislative council to review."

Sarah stared at the bundle of papers then looked at the man in bewilderment. "You apparently misunderstood. I'm only trying to get a business license."

"If you wish to obtain a business license, then you must complete the papers I have given you," the man said, as if explaining something to a backward child.

Expelling a weary sigh, Sarah took the papers from the man and sat on a long wooden bench. Paging through the documents, she noted that they had been hastily drawn. She scanned the information requested. Copious details about the location of the building and the nature of the business. An agreement to abide by oppressive restrictions and specifications for privies, including the exact hours when offal matter would be moved. A schedule for beating and shaking rugs, one for cleaning and maintaining the board walkway in front of the building and another for disposing of
ammoniacal
liquor,
soaplees
and other offensive matter. She was also required to provide character references and signatures from six local merchants, the backing of two local banks, signatures of the mayor and each member of the city council, and lastly, the signature of Governor Jonathan Cromwell.

She stepped over to the man behind the desk and waved the papers in front of him. "There's no way a person could possibly follow all of these rules," she said. "I cannot imagine that every merchant in Victoria has been subjected to this in order to obtain a business license."

The man blinked dispassionately. "If you wish to discuss it with a member of the legislative council, I'll schedule an appointment for you. The council is occupied with governmental matters at this time, but they might see you in, say, three weeks."

Glancing around, Sarah noticed several men looking on in amusement. Obviously, they'd been party to this scheme. She drew in an extended breath through flared nostrils, and said, "I do believe I understand." Gathering her reticule and parasol, she left the room, the bundle of documents clutched in her hand, a scowl on her face.

Marching down the hallway she located Jon's office and swept into the room. She was at once aware of the rugged, virile man sitting behind the desk. With his crop of unruly black hair and his broad chin with the shadow of a day-old beard, he looked more like a frontiersman than a governor. She was also aware of the penetrating dark eyes appraising her. But she refused to be distracted by the man. Standing before him, her eyes stinging with tears of outrage, she said, "You and your council must take me for a complete
noddy
!" She slapped the documents on his desk with a thud, sending Jon's papers fluttering about, then pursed her lips and waited.

Jon leaned back in his chair, a smile tugging at his lips, which he suppressed, and allowed his eyes to range over Sarah. Her overtunic and the baggy trousers that draped from beneath it were almost clownish. The entire costume gave her a diamond-shaped outline, her bonnet with its tall plume forming the apex. On another woman the ridiculous costume might look sexless. But on Sarah, it looked provocative. The soft silk emphasized her female assets, which were rising and falling with her vexation, making him vividly aware of the enticingly woman beneath...

"Are you quite through ogling?" Sarah snapped.

"I was just admiring your... outfit," Jon said. Everything about the woman glowed. Her flushed rosy cheeks, her moist angry lips, her shimmering silk costume.

Sarah's eyes narrowed as she jabbed a finger at the bundle of papers before him, and said, "I refuse to let a group of underhanded pettifoggers prevent me from achieving my goal."

"Underhanded pettifoggers?" Jon smiled. Too true. The lot of them were exactly that. But Miss Sarah Ashley had the makings of a rabble rouser, and he intended to nip it in the bud. "Am I to assume you were not granted your request?" he asked, with mock innocence.

"You already know that!"

"I told you last night that the city council was opposed to women in business," Jon said, "and that you wouldn't find them very supportive."

Sarah braced her hands on his desk, leaned toward him, and said, "But you didn't tell me they would stoop so low as to fabricate papers in an effort to undermine my efforts!"

Jon looked into a pair of green eyes with enlarged pupils, and said, "Isn't that a bit strong?"

"What exactly do you call it? I'm obviously being singled out as a scapegoat."

Jon rose. "A scapegoat is one who bears the blame for others," he pointed out, while walking around his desk. "Is that what you're doing? Being a martyr for all the women who have suffered throughout the ages for their misfortune of... being a woman? What a pity. I find it most fortunate that you are a woman." He filled his nostrils with the sweet woman-scent of her—the fragrance of rosewater, and talcum powder, and a touch of something spicy he couldn't define—and folded his arms to keep from pulling her against him and kissing her senseless...

"A scapegoat is also one who is the victim of unreasonable hostility," Sarah countered.

Jon laughed lightly. "Believe me, I feel anything but hostility toward you."

Sarah glared at him. “I see I'm getting nowhere here.” She turned and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind. He didn't follow, but Sarah could hear his deep, rumbling laughter echoing behind the closed door.