Suffragette in the City (4 page)

“No,” Freddy answered, stuffing a biscuit into his mouth. “That’s not at all what I mean.”

“You must admit that there does seem to be a certain amount of danger involved,” Caroline said, sending an oddly reproachful glance at Freddy. “If the newspaper is at all accurate, each instance of this group’s demonstration has ended in some form of violence. I question the wisdom of involvement in that sort of protest.”

“There has been violence only because people fear what the Union represents.”

“But it
is
dangerous,” Freddy said, agreeing with Caroline.

The memory of the violent slurs and attacks against the suffragettes rose with stark clarity in my mind. “No more so than any other cause I might involve myself in, so about this let us please agree to differ.”

Caroline continued to look worried. Emma gave me a small, supportive smile.

“With regards to your original question, Aunt Caroline, the Union has pledged itself to obtain the right for women to vote. That is their sole purpose, and one to which I have wholly devoted myself.”

Freddy sat in a puce-accessorized, wine-colored chair and waved at the still soggy newspaper with an almond biscuit. “Suffragettes, that’s what they’re calling you, dearest one. Suffragettes! I ask you, how can any man take seriously a woman who calls herself a suffragette? You simply must urge your group to come up with a less humorous label.”

Caroline frowned and shook her head at Freddy before asking me, “And how do they intend to achieve that noble goal?”

“Through non-violent protest and every constitutional means. Our plan is to attract attention to the cause via protests, meetings, and parades.”

“But demonstrating in public, my dear. Is it prudent?”

“You don’t mind at all the fact that I intend to take a lover, but you object to me participating in a support parade?” I asked in surprise.

“One can be discreet with a lover,” she said, shocking me to the very tips of my toes. She and Henry had always seemed so devoted that I couldn’t help but wonder if she was speaking from experience. “The same cannot be said of marching about with signs, and chaining yourself to a railing.”

“I don’t believe Cassandra is looking for attention, if that is what concerns you,” Emma said in my defense. “I stopped by briefly to see her last night, before the demonstration had taken place, and she had chosen a spot furthest from those who organized the event, no doubt in due respect for the finer feelings of her relatives.”

That, or I was simply late from my dinner out with the soup dribbler. I cleared my throat and nodded, trying to look considerate of her fine feelings.

“Naturally, we respect and appreciate that. But I worry that there may come a time when you will be absorbed, if you will, by the danger, and not be able to escape it.”

“That is what I have been telling her, Aunt. I have pleaded with her to take heed of my warnings, but you see before you a man whose every word is discounted and ignored.” Freddy slipped from the chair to his knees before me, taking my hand in his. “Beloved one, you know how I feel about you—”

“Oh Freddy, for heaven’s sake, not again!”  I struggled to pull my hand from his. Caroline watched in surprise as Freddy, strengthening his hold on my hand, attempted to pull me down into his embrace.

Emma laughed outright as we had a regrettable little struggle which I won just as Hargreaves, Caroline’s butler, opened the sitting room door to announce visitors. Freddy rose quickly from where he had tumbled when I yanked my hand away.

“They’re here early,” I murmured to Emma as Caroline went forward to greet her guests.

“Who’s expected today, do you know?” Emma asked in a whisper, looking vaguely worried.

I patted her hand. She was a naturally shy person, quite timid around men she didn’t know. “A very tame group, just a countess whose husband had become an important political acquaintance of Uncle Henry’s, and an opera singer who will make her debut next week in Covent Garden.”

“Ah. That is tame.”

Freddy said from his chair, “I expected at least an Arctic explorer or the reigning pugilistic champion.”

Emma stood beside me a short while later as we greeted the opera singer. The pleasantries over, I was in the process of taking a cup of tea to Senora Monteneros, who I was delighted to see took immediately to Emma despite the obvious barriers of language and background, when Hargreaves announced the entrance of the countess, Lady Sherringham.

“Do you take cream, Senora Monteneros?” I inquired as I glanced over to the door. “Oh, good god!”

Despite unjust and inaccurate claims to the contrary, I am not by nature a clumsy person. However, upon viewing the newest arrivals, I will admit to a slight lack of adroitness when I spilled an entire jug of cream down the front of the Senora’s ruby-colored velvet and lace tea gown.

The countess was none other than the thin-faced woman in bilious green from the past evening, and she had brought with her the pale, shy looking girl that I had last seen on the infuriatingly smug, equally infuriatingly attractive Griffin’s arm…who was three paces behind her, his amber eyes immediately seeking mine, his gaze just as disconcerting as I remembered it.

“Bloody hell,” I whispered to myself. This was
not
going to be a pleasant afternoon.

Chapter Four

“Senora, I am so sorry, I can’t think how—I’ve never spilled dairy products on anyone before—I’m sure my aunt’s maid will assist you,” I stammered, trying to mop up the mess as Senora Monteneros expressed her opinion of me loudly and vehemently in Spanish.

“It’s all right, Cassandra. I’ll help her,” Emma said, taking the opera singer’s arm and deftly guiding her through the maze of incidental tables full of bric-a-brac that cluttered my aunt’s sitting room.

The newcomers were still across the room, greeting Caroline and Freddy. I looked quickly for an escape, and had just opened the door at the opposite end of the long room when my aunt’s light, piping voice reached me. “Cassandra, dear, I’d like you to meet Lady Sherringham.”

I stopped in the doorway and looked through it wistfully to freedom, briefly contemplating bolting down the hallway before reminding myself that I was not a coward. I had faced much worse things than three people invited to tea. I turned to smile at my aunt’s guests.

The three pairs of eyes boring into me drove the smile from my lips.

“Hargreaves, send Grangly to attend Senora Monteneros and Miss Debenham,” my aunt directed, eyeing the front of the opera singer’s gown with interest.

I moved slowly, gritting my teeth and forcing the smile back upon my lips, all the while studiously avoiding tall figure beside my aunt.

“Lady Sherringham, may I introduce my niece, Cassandra Whitney? My dear, this is Lady Helena St. John, the earl’s sister.”

I am nothing if not well trained in the standard pleasantries, and thus I duly murmured polite phrases as we all shook hands. The countess’s hand felt cold even through her gloves. Lady Helena, the tall, willowy young woman with hair the color of burnished gold, smiled a genuine smile, and greeted me with obvious pleasure. I liked her at once, and pitied her for having such a cold sister-in-law.

“And this is Mr. Griffin St. John, the earl’s younger brother.”

I dreaded looking up into those mocking amber eyes. “Miss Whitney, it is a pleasure.”

Raising my gaze to his, I offered a firm hand. He took it gravely and bowed over it with only the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. I used the opportunity of daylight to examine his face. He was not handsome by conventional standards, but I decided his features were pleasing overall. The tanned cheeks bespoke time outdoors, while the firm set of his chin, and direct gaze gave him an unmistakable air of a man who was comfortable with himself.

His eyes, those glittering amber eyes, held an intense regard that challenged, however, and I recognized that he was a man who was not used to having his authority questioned. I found myself lifting my chin in answer to the look.

With a disarming grin he dropped my hand, and suddenly I noticed the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and how charming he could be when he wasn’t spouting nonsense or being generally obnoxious. Then there was the consideration of just what he might look like without his clothes…

“You are in town long, Miss Whitney?”

The glacial tones of his sister-in-law ended such enjoyable thoughts.

“I am. I have lived my life in the country, and thought a change would be pleasant.”

“Indeed,” she said with frosty grandeur, accepting a cup of tea from Caroline.

“Lady Helena, would you care to sit on the wine and puce settee? I assure you it is better to have it beneath you than in a position to catch your eye,” I said in a quiet tone, steering her toward the piece of furniture in question.

Helena
giggled, and I chewed over the question of whether or not any of her party was going to mention the fracas of the previous evening to my aunt. Although I was not ashamed of my actions, I had not known at the time that Griffin’s brother was of political importance to my uncle.

“It wouldn’t have stopped me from speaking to him as I did, though,” I murmured to myself as I took my seat.

“Pardon?” Helena asked.

“Oh, nothing. I spent a good deal of my time alone, and thus I have a bad habit of talking to myself. Did you enjoy the Hospital Ball?”

She chatted merrily away about the ball while I indulged in a bit of subtle interrogation. By the time Emma and the Senora returned, the latter still glaring, I felt it safe to excuse myself and leave Helena to Freddy, who had just wandered over to join us.

“I’m so sorry that you had to take care of that odious opera singer,” I told Emma, pulling her aside. “Was she too horrid?”

“Not at all,” Emma answered with a smile that was sent to the Spaniard. “I find her charming, to be honest.”

“You two seemed to be getting along quite amiably. I had no idea you spoke Spanish.”

“I don’t,” she said simply, then laughed at my look of confusion, and nodded toward Freddy and Helena. “She’s lovely. Is that the important countess?”

“Her sister. Her name is Helena, and she’s twenty-one years old.”

“Mmm, a bit young, but still delectable, with a delicate complexion that gives her the appearance of a fragile china doll, all sweetness and no vices. Pity. I’d give anything for that hair, though. And the widow’s peak. Are her eyes brown or hazel?”

“Brown. Her brother’s are amber.”

“Are they.”

My gaze went to where he stood leaning casually against the fireplace, turned toward my aunt, but to my surprise, it was us he was watching. “He really is…well, there’s just no other word for it but magnificent, don’t you think?”

“Very,” she said, without looking his way.

I nudged her with my elbow. “Not Freddy, Griffin. That is, Mr. St. John. It’s just a shame his personality doesn’t match his external appearance.”

She spared him a glance, but then urged me over to the sofa where Helena sat. “Yes, quite.”

I made the introductions, taking my seat in chair upon whose arm Freddy lounged while Emma sat next to Helena.

“Have you lived long in London?” Emma asked Helena.

“Oh yes, for some time. I live with my brother.”

“Indeed,” I glanced toward that person. His unblinking gaze met mine.

“We all live together, although Griffin frequently travels. He has only just returned from Arabia.”

Emma smiled and pressed her hand. “You must be delighted to have him home again.”

“Yes,” Helena hesitated. A faint frown creased her lovely brow as her gaze wandered over to the topic of our conversation. “Although of late it almost seems . . . .”  She paused and turned a brilliant smile on me. “I worry so when he travels to dangerous locations.”

“I have no doubt you do,” I said. “Do you go with him?”

“Unfortunately, no. I stay at home with Letitia and Harold. I would like to travel, but Griffin refuses to take me, so I have to content myself with reading about his journeys instead.”

“Ah, you enjoy reading?” I gave Emma a smile. “Emma is quite the scholar.”

“Yes, indeed she is,” Freddy said in a slow, lazy voice. “She’s exceptionally well versed in the art of Sapphistry, aren’t you, Miss Debenham?”

Helena
looked dubiously at Emma.

“Don’t worry,” I told her, shoving Freddy just hard enough that he tottered off the arm of the chair. “Emma may be a great scholar of all things Greek, but she’s no bluestocking. You needn’t feel you need to brush up on the classics to talk with her.”

“Quite the contrary, I would say,” Freddy said as he dusted himself off and wandered over to where Griffin stood.

Emma shot him a sharp look and murmured an excuse before moving over to sit next to the Senora.

“I’m afraid the only thing I ever read are the most frivolous of novels,” I said, moving over to the sofa. “Do you enjoy them, too, by chance?”

“Oh yes, whenever I get the chance. My sister-in-law,” she cast a fearful glance towards the countess, “doesn’t approve of popular novels, but I am lucky in that my brother has such a large library.”

Full of sermons and political treatises on the superiority of men, I thought sourly as I remembered the venomous stout man’s comments.

“My brother Griffin, I should say,” she smiled.

I amended the thought to include those books deemed convivial by pig-headed males. “How lucky you are. And what types of books does your brother read?”

“He enjoys many types of books, but spends much of his time writing rather than reading. Perhaps you have read his books? They are very popular and are full of the most exciting adventures. He has received a great deal of acclaim,” she added with pride.

“St. John,” I said slowly. “No, the only book by a St. John that I am aware of is a horrible little volume pontificating the superiority of men over women explorers—something about the Englishmen abroad . . . .”

I stopped as an appalling thought crossed my mind.

“
The Englishman
’
s Role Abroad
was the title,” she said, smiling to my great discomfort. “It is a very popular book, although I don’t agree with all Griffin says in it.”

I stammered an apology for my rude comments. Helena waved it away and continued. “He has written other books as well, ones about his travels which I’m certain you would enjoy.”

“I shall certainly look for them. I have always wanted to travel, but have been obligated to stay at home with my parents in the country.”

“I would be happy to lend you my copies, if you would really like to read them. He’s written seven books—the last is my favorite. It’s a journal of his travels in Africa last year.”

Her voice faltered as she looked over my shoulder, then she leaned forward conspiratorially. “Miss Whitney, might I ask you a personal question?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Last night,” she began, making me flush with remembrance, “last night you were—
demonstrating
with a group of women.”

I nodded.

“Can you tell me—” She threw another worried glance toward Lady Sherringham, then hurried ahead in a rushed whisper.” Would you be kind enough to tell me about the suffrage movement? I am so interested, but my brother will not let the subject be spoken of, and I do not often have the opportunity of talking about such things.”

“I would be delighted to tell you about it. The goal of the Women’s Suffrage Union is to obtain the right for women to vote.”

“Yes,” she said intently, “but
why
do you want to vote? Women don’t have the experience that men have in politics. I don’t wish to be rude, but I don’t see what there is to gain by being able to vote.”

I beamed at her, happy to be able to clear up her obvious misconceptions. “You must be aware of how much women have gained in the last thirty years. We may now fill a number of important positions previously denied to our sex. We can be churchwardens, sextons, members of school boards, and even members of parish councils. Unfortunately, there are many avenues still closed to us: men refuse to allow women the right to serve on a county council, stand for Member of Parliament, or to vote on the subject of imperial matters.”

“I agree with you, of course, but I cannot help but feel that my brother is partially right when he says women don’t have the experience needed to vote with intelligence.”

I wondered to which brother she was referring, then decided it was probably both. “That’s utter codswallop.”

A faint blush stained her cheeks. “I agree that it sounds silly, but I suppose I can see some reason in it. Only, why do
you
support women’s suffrage?”