Suffragette in the City

“I have so much to tell you,” she said breathlessly, having giggled through most of the feather lecture. “Someone ransacked our house last night!”

  I stared at her in amazement. “Good heavens!”

  “They tore apart the study, stole my mother’s gold candlesticks, and made a terrible mess of Griffin’s room.”

  “How awful! Did the servants not hear anything?”

  She peeled off her gloves and wadded them into a ball. “They weren’t home, except for the under-kitchen maid. We were all gone, of course, to the ball, and the servants had been given the night off. Lucy, the kitchen maid, had a toothache and was upstairs in bed. She said she didn’t hear a thing.”

  “Good heavens,” I repeated, shocked that such a thing could happen.

  “Griffin came home—did you know he was at the ball last night? Well, he came home early, and found two men ripping his study apart.”

  “That’s terrible! What did he do?”

  She worried her gloves. “He tried to stop them, but they were too strong for him, and one of them struck him on the head.”

  My stomach dropped into my boots as a wave of dizziness threatened to make me sick. I closed my eyes to stop the spinning.

  “Cassandra, are you all right? You suddenly went pale. Do you feel well?”

  “I am…it’s just the sun in my eyes,” I lied. “Is your brother badly hurt?”

  She smiled, and I felt my stomach move back to its accustomed location. “He is in good health, thanks to Clairmore.”

  “Clairmore?”

  “Our butler. He returned home early, and heard a commotion. When he went to the front of the house to see what it was, he found two men standing over Griffin, who was lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs.”

  “But…you said he was in good health?”

  “He is, don’t fret. The concussion was a mild one, and he suffered no other injury, only a small cut to his shoulder. He had a slight headache this morning and no other bad effects.”

  I admit that I heaved a sigh of relief. It was hard work trying to hide the love I felt for that obstinate man. “I am horrified, Helena. Do you know the miscreants’ motive for such an attack?”

  She watched as a group of American tourists stroll by, reading aloud from their Baedeker. “Harold says they were out to rob us, but Griffin believes they were after something in particular.”

  I considered this. “He might have a point. How would common burglars know that your family would be gone for the evening unless someone told them? Did the police question your servants?”

  “Harold wouldn’t let us notify the police. He says it was just a random burglary, and that one of the servants must have told someone that the family was to be gone. Only…” She looked puzzled.

  “Yes?” I prompted her.

  “I would agree, except Griffin said he would be home that evening, so the servants couldn’t have told anyone that the house would be empty.”

  A dreadful thought occurred to me, but I felt it best to keep it to myself. “Perhaps the burglars thought he would be asleep and out of the way,” I suggested slowly.

  “Yes, that would explain it! That must be what happened.”

  It seemed to me that the crime had been committed with one particular victim in mind, but I felt it wise not to share that opinion, and instead changed the subject. “Is your brother still planning on leaving soon?”

  She sighed. “Yes, he is. I tried to talk him into staying a little while longer as I thought he might have a reason to—” This last she said pointedly to me, which I ignored. “—but he seems adamant about leaving in two days. Cassandra, isn’t there anything you can do to keep him from leaving? I know he admires and respects you. Perhaps if you talked to him—”

  I looked at the Abbey, the two magnificent spires, the colored windows, the warmth of the stones. It seemed so unmovable, so sturdy, so permanent. No doubt a great number of unhappy lovers had passed through its doors, and yet it had survived since Norman times.

  “Your brother insists on perpetuating a misunderstanding, blowing it greatly out of proportion,” I replied carefully. “When I tried to correct the error, he brushed me off in a very rude manner. Oh, Helena, I have tried to speak with him, but he refuses to listen.”

  She gazed at me forlornly, and I felt ashamed for my part in driving away her beloved brother. Miserably, I steered the conversation into what I hoped would be happier thoughts. “Did you enjoy the ball last night?”

  “Oh, I did. Wasn’t it wonderful? The dresses were so lovely, yours included. I must admit, I was jealous of your costume. It was so very daring! I didn’t see you later, though. Were you not feeling well?”

  “I was fine, just tired trying to dodge Freddy. He would insist on dancing with me at every opportunity.”

  “I thought he danced very nicely,” she replied absently, picking at a piece of trim.

  I looked at her with astonishment. “You don’t mean to say that you danced with him as well?”

  “Yes, I did. Shouldn’t I have?”

  “Well, no, I guess there is no reason. I am just surprised that you would want to.”

  “He was speaking with Harold and asked me if I would care to dance, and as he was your cousin…”

  “Please, Helena, do not feel you must tolerate his attentions if you would rather not. He has become rather intense of late. It’s beginning to worry me.”

  We were silent for a moment, watching as a couple strolled by.

  “I would have never known who you were last night if you hadn’t approached me. It seems you fooled many people last night.”

  “Indeed?”

  She paused a moment, smoothing her gloves flat against her leg. “Griffin asked most particularly last night if you were going to be at the ball.”

  “Did he.” I was oddly out of breath as I wondered at what point Griffin had determined who I was. Certainly he had seen through my disguise by the time he dismissed the amiable Angus, but what I badly wanted to know was to whom he believed he was speaking when we were dancing.

  Helena made a noncommittal noise, and I was finally forced to look at her. She grinned as I demanded impatiently, “And did you tell him who I was?”

  “No, I did not. I thought it was better that he found out for himself.”

  “Did he guess, do you know?”

  Her smile faded a little. “He said later that he had seen you, but you were too busy with your many admirers.”

  “Many admirers,” I repeated indignantly, remembering the Columbine. “That silly, misguided man. He knows full well that I—”

  “Yes?” The curious expression on Helena’s face made me reconsider.

  “Never mind.”

  “Griffin was dressed as an Arabian sheikh. Did you see him?”

  “Yes, I believe I did,” I said slowly.

  “It was a very good disguise as well.”

  We sat for some minutes and enjoyed the spring sun. A sudden thought intruded upon my moody contemplation of Griffin’s character. “What on earth was Freddy doing speaking with Lord Sherringham?”

  Helena shrugged, and pulled on her gloves. “I have no idea.”

  The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. Something was definitely not as it should be on the Freddy front.

  “I apologize for not being able to meet you at home, but the family…well, I thought it best if we met here, instead.”

  “Ah.”

  “The reason I wanted to see you this morning,” Helena spoke slowly, “is because I have received a note from Maggie Greene. You have seen the newspapers, I am sure?”

  “I have. Some of the Union members have not yet been released. To be truthful, I fear for the future of the Union with them in prison. What did Maggie want with you?”

  “After my appalling behavior the other day, you must surely think me foolish to accept a letter from her, but she sounds so repentant that I cannot help but believe she has seen the error of her ways.”

&nbsp
; I looked at Helena with a weary eye. “You endow Maggie with attributes I fear she lacks. Has she asked for your support in a campaign to take over the Union?”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “I thought she might make a play for control after Mrs. Heywood and other officers were arrested. This means the end of the Union. The conservative members will never accept Maggie’s leadership, while the militant faction will not accept otherwise. I wouldn’t be surprised if they formed their own society.”

  Helena opened her bag and handed me a note written on cheap paper. It was from Maggie, asking for Helena’s support, encouraging her to consider joining a new organization if the Union refused to endorse the militants.

  I smiled grimly at Helena’s astonishment and handed her back the note. “What will you do?”

  “I’m not sure.” She looked at her hands for a moment before glancing up and noticing my obvious disappointment. “Dearest friend, of course I will do whatever you think best. Please tell me what to do!”

  “It’s not for me to tell you what to do; you are a grown woman and must make your own choices. If you believe you can do some good by joining Maggie’s forces, then you must do so. If you find you cannot wholly support her program, then you must tell her so.”

  We spent a long time debating the situation, and I believe she had convinced herself of Maggie’s unsuitability to run the Union by the time Robert strolled up. It was Helena’s turn to blush as she beheld my old friend.

  “Ah, Robert, there you are. Helena, you remember Robert Hunter,” I said mischievously.

  She shook hands with him in a self-conscious manner. For his part, Robert was unable to take his eyes from Helena.

  “I asked Robert to meet me here so he could accompany me later with some shopping,” I explained, delighted with my foresight. “As you have a little time before you must go to the library, perhaps you will chat with Robert for a few minutes. I have the most overwhelming desire to visit the Abbey and see the crypt again.”

  “Certainly. I would be delighted,” she answered, gaze cast down demurely.

  “Excellent. I will be back shortly.”

  I strolled off to the Abbey and joined a throng of tourists. I spent as long as I could admiring the Lady Chapel, then went below to tour the crypt. Consulting my pocket watch, I made my way back outside to tear Robert away from Helena.

  I hadn’t the heart to separate the two. Robert insisted on escorting Helena to the library, fearing for her safety on such a hazardous mission, so I went about my shopping on my own. I returned home a few hours later to find Robert, the girls, and the hounds playing in the square across the street. I waved at them as I went in to dress for dinner.

  In honor of my aunt and uncle, I wore a daring new Worth evening dress. It was made up of layer upon layer of gauzy dark green and cream chiffon, soft and flowing, with billowing sleeves. Although the bodice was boned, I was forced to wear a different corset from the Rational undergarment I normally don. When I looked at my reflection in my bedroom mirror, I almost gasped with pleasure. An embarrassing amount of flesh showed, but the gown floated about me in a most flattering manner.

  “You look lovely, miss. Like a fairy princess.”

  “A very substantial fairy princess,” I hugged Annie. “But thank you for the compliment. I feel…presentable.” I looked at the reflection again. “Are you sure there is not too much of my bosom showing?”

  “Oh no, miss, that’s the fashion. You look lovely.”

  I went downstairs to sit in the library with Robert while we waited for Mabel.

  “You look lovely, Cassandra.”

  “Thank you. It’s the result of several hours of dedicated work by my maid. You look very handsome as well, although a trifle sad, I think.”

  He sighed. “I was thinking of Miss St. John.”

  “Ah.” I watched him carefully, sure of what was to come.

  “She…I…I have nothing, Cassandra, nothing which I could offer her. I spent all those years working for William on his coffee farm for nothing. He wouldn’t even give me the parcel of land we agreed upon in exchange for my apprenticeship.”

  “Your brother has always been…well, we won’t go into that now. Couldn’t you raise the money to purchase a farm through some other means?”

  He sighed again. “No. I did manage to raise a sum of money and purchase a small, inferior farm, but I lost it.”

  The poignant note in his voice made a lump come to my throat.

  “How did you lose it?” I asked.

  “William bought up the note.” He stared gloomily into the fire. “When the first crop yield failed my expectations, I couldn’t meet my obligations, and he foreclosed.”

  “There must be something we can do. I would be happy to loan you whatever sum you need.”

  He smiled and kissed my hand. “Dearest Cassandra, what a good heart you have. Thank you, but no. I will find a way by myself.”

  “But, surely a loan would solve all of our problems. I would be part owner, and you could marry someday, and take your bride to live on the coffee farm.”

  “What a fine husband I would make,” he laughed bitterly, “borrowing money to be married then dragging my poor wife out to live in the wilds of Africa. No my dear, I will find my way without your generous offer of help, don’t worry.”

  Joshua came in at that point and I said no more on the subject, although I resolved to have a chat with him later about Robert’s situation.

  As we rode over to my aunt’s house, I listened alternately to Mabel making disparaging comments about the evils that befell women who went out in public dressed in an unseemly manner, and Joshua as he described the various merits of the motorcars he had tried out earlier. My thoughts were elsewhere, mostly concerned with the attacks on Griffin and myself.

  Caroline’s house was lit up when we arrived, bright electric lights shining from many of the windows. Although I approved of electric light for its qualities of brilliancy and efficiency, I missed the soft, romantic glow of gaslight for an evening party.

  Robert handed me down and tucked my hand into his arm as we went in. As I gave my coat to Hargreaves, I asked him in a whisper how many people were expected.

  “There are twelve for dinner, Miss Cassandra.” That was a good sign, it meant my aunt had limited her guests to a manageable number. I have never been a fan of large parties where it is impossible to have a conversation with the majority of guests.

  Hargreaves threw open the doors to the drawing room for Mabel and Joshua. I nudged Robert, who still wore a glum face. He held out his arm. I took it, and as we entered the room I tickled him under his chin.

  “Cheer up,” I whispered in his ear. “Try to enjoy yourself.”

  He smiled down at me.

  I turned my head to greet my aunt and instead saw Griffin and Helena standing next to Mabel. I stopped, unable to go on, frozen with disbelief. Griffin’s eyes were positively icy as they glared at me. My cheeks burn hot in response. Robert tugged me further into the room, looking at me with concern until a movement sent his attention to Helena. He dropped my hand and went to join her. Uncle Henry moved between Griffin and me, severing the mesmerizing gaze that trapped me. He greeted me, made complimentary comments about my dress, and turned toward Griffin.

  “And here is a young man who will no doubt also appreciate the beauty of your gown. Mr. St. John, I think I can safely say that with the exception of the ladies present, there is no lovelier example of English womanhood. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Griffin moved forward, the muscles in his jaw working. “I can’t argue with you, Sir Henry. Miss Whitney is the epitome of beauty.”

  His voice was thick, but his eyes held only anger as a dull red flush crept over his face and neck.

  Once released from his hypnotic stare, my spirits rose in response to his unspoken challenge. Because of his stupidity and obstinacy, I was to be cast into the role of a woman who had trifled with his affections. Unless I did something, h
e would go away and lick his wounds, a confirmed woman-hater.

  “I would like to speak with you a moment, Mr. St. John,” I said firmly, grabbing his hand and literally dragging him towards a secluded corner.

  He followed stiffly, a frown on his face. My aunt and sister telegraphed disapproval by the means of eyebrow semaphore, but I ignored it.

  “What do you mean by refusing to see Robert yesterday?” I demanded in a quiet, if terse, whisper.

  Griffin stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t care to see the gentleman. I believe I have that right.”

  “No, you don’t, not he when went with the express purpose of speaking with you. He wanted to explain about the other evening.”

  He held up a hand. “I have told you, Miss Whitney, there is no need for explanations. Save your breath for one of your protest marches.”

  I glanced over at my aunt, who was greeting two guests. “Why are you being so obstinate?” I hissed between my teeth.

  “I am trying to make myself clear. You have made your choice, and I am endeavoring,” the vein in his temple throbbed as he struggled to keep his voice down, “to respect it.”

  I opened my mouth to inform him of the individual of my choice, when the door opened again and Lord and Lady Sherringham walked in.

  I closed my eyes, unwilling to believe what I had seen. I opened them, but the Sherringhams were still there. I turned to Griffin, but he had walked over to stand beside Helena, glaring belligerently at Robert. I stood marooned on a small Persian rug and awaited my doom.

  Uncle Henry introduced the Sherringhams to the guests who were unknown to them, and piloted Lord Sherringham my way. I stood still, hoping that if I didn’t move I would escape notice.

  “Of course, you know my niece Cassandra Whitney. You saw her the other night at the opera,” Henry said in an even tone.

  I lifted my head and met the outraged stare of Lord Sherringham.

  “Good Gad, Benson! What is that woman doing here? I will have none of this! If she is dining with you, we will leave immediately. This…this person has been the cause of much family distress. She is unbalanced and dangerous. I tell you, if this woman stays I will leave!”

  Everyone stared at me with varying degrees of abject horror on their faces. Griffin was the exception. He wasn’t looking at me; he scowled at Robert, his hands clenched into fists.