Ravish Me with Rubies

by Jane Feather

  Petra grinned. “That sounds more my style, I’ve always wanted to wear britches.”

  Guy looked pensive. “I can think of certain scenarios where that might be appealing.”

  Petra fumbled with the buttons at the back of the crimson gown. “Get me out of this, Guy, quickly.” His simple statement had sent the familiar electric jolt of arousal into her belly and she struggled to catch her breath, which had little to do with the corset’s constraint.

  “Must I?” he teased.

  “If you don’t want me to expire on the spot.”

  “That wouldn’t suit my plans at all.” He spun her around and unfastened the tiny buttons at the back of the dress, then attacked the laces of the corset, observing, “Mrs. Young certainly believes in tight lacing.”

  “No, she doesn’t, she hates selling these abominations,” Petra told him, hurling the despised garment to the ground. “Look at the marks it’s made.” She lifted the bottom of her chemise and gingerly touched the deep welts on her skin. “And I only wore it for a few minutes.”

  Guy was too familiar with the disfiguring aspects of corset wearing to respond, saying instead, “I assume then that Mrs. Young is a member of the WSPU, like Dr. Garrett Anderson.”

  “Yes,” Petra said simply. The last thing she wanted was a discussion of the Union now, when somehow her relationship with her husband had emerged unscathed from her little demonstration, which, with hindsight she freely admitted to herself had been a mistake. She now saw that she’d put Guy at a disadvantage and any other man would have been embarrassed. Guy was just above and beyond such irritatingly human weaknesses.

  * * *

  Petra was in her parlor the following afternoon answering letters and a pile of invitations when a knock on the door brought Diana and Fenella into the room, together with Diana’s dogs, two magnificent South African Ridgebacks.

  “This is a nice surprise, and very well timed. I’m getting bored with this.” She gestured to the correspondence littered on the writing table.

  “We’re taking the dogs to the park. Will you come?” Diana asked cheerfully.

  Petra bent to stroke the dogs, who were greeting her enthusiastically. “Yes, I could do with the fresh air. I’ll just fetch my coat and meet you downstairs.”

  Five minutes later the three women were walking briskly toward Hyde Park. They entered at Cumberland Gate and Diana bent to unclip the dogs’ leads, letting them run free. “So I have news,” she said as she straightened. “The march is to take place next Monday, but word is being spread that it will be the following Friday.”

  “On Monday?” Fenella exclaimed. “But that’s so soon. Can they get everything together in just three days?”

  “Apparently so,” Diana said. “Speed is vital if we’re to keep it a secret until the last minute. We’re hoping that the powers that be will be persuaded that it’s not for another week so we’ll catch them unawares.” She bent to pick up a stick and threw it for the dogs in the general direction of the Serpentine.

  Petra bent to take a soggy stick from the jaws of Hercules, who stood panting and drooling at her feet. “That’ll be quite an achievement. The Union has grown so much it’s becoming a real political nuisance. If they get the chance to disrupt the march they will. It’ll be quite a coup if we can pull it off.” She hurled the stick toward the lake.

  “Has Guy said anything?” Fenella asked, hurling another stick for Hera, who was looking expectant after her brother had chased the one Petra had thrown.

  “Not in so many words,” Petra said thoughtfully. “But I know he’s waiting for something to happen. It’s very unnerving. I catch him looking at me now and again as if he’s trying to read my mind.”

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Diana questioned.

  “Because I don’t want to open the whole can of worms,” Petra responded. “And quite honestly I don’t think I could lie convincingly. I’m not very good at it at the best of times and Guy would see right through any deception. I prefer to just get the whole march over with. There’ll be plenty of conversation after that. At least, I hope it’ll be a conversation,” she added with a grimace. “I’ve never seen Guy really angry.”

  “He might surprise you,” Diana offered. “He doesn’t come across as unreasonable at all. Although he is clearly used to being in charge all the time.”

  “That is certainly true. Anyway, what are the details for the actual march?”

  “As I understand it, we assemble at Caxton Hall at ten o’clock on Monday, take up our banners and just process in a quiet and peaceful manner to Westminster, hoping that we can get to Parliament Square before they have time to marshal the forces to stop us. Emmeline and two or three others will bang on the door to St. Stephen’s Hall and demand entrance. If the sergeant and his men try to block their way then they’ll push forward and the rest of us will be right behind them, a bit like a battering ram at the siege of a castle.”

  Diana laughed, her eyes glinting with excitement. “It’s going to be wonderful. This time we’ll make sure they hear us.”

  “What do we do when we get inside?” Petra asked.

  “Chant our demand for suffrage, just that, over and over, and wave our banners. Nothing more aggressive.”

  “It’ll make enough of a stir as it is,” Fenella observed. “Will Parliament be sitting on Monday?”

  “Not until the afternoon, of course, but there should be enough members around in the morning to find our presence disrupting.” Diana turned her step toward Mount Street. “I need to get home. I promised to go to Caxton Hall this evening to help with the posters. Can either of you join me?”

  “Not tonight,” Fenella said. “I have a rehearsal in Chiswick. Edward’s written three one-act plays and he wants to put them on together at the Music Box. It’ll be an exhausting evening, but I can come and help tomorrow morning.”

  “Petra, how about you?” Diana asked.

  Petra shook her head. “Guy’s going to be in for dinner and I’ll get all flustered and muddled if I try to make up some reason why I’m suddenly going out for the evening. Can you manage without me tonight? I can come tomorrow morning too.”

  “I’ll see you both then.” Diana raised a hand in farewell and went off with the dogs toward Cavendish Square.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Guy was in his office when Petra came home and when he heard her voice in the hall went out to greet her. “Can you spare me a few minutes, Petra?”

  “Yes, of course.” She looked askance as she followed him back through the library. “Is it something important?”

  “Something I want to discuss with you.” He closed the door after her, gesturing to a chair.

  “Nothing unpleasant, I hope,” she said warily. It was unlike Guy to sound so businesslike.

  “No, I trust not.” He sat down, leaning back in the big leather chair behind the desk. “I want to have a house party at Ashton Court.”

  Petra nodded, saying nothing.

  “Do you feel up to hosting such an event?” Guy asked directly.

  Petra frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  He held up his hands defensively. “Don’t misinterpret, Petra. I rather assume you haven’t had any experience in such matters and I want to be sure you feel comfortable. It’s quite an undertaking and the guests will for the most part be politicians, members of the cabinet, the prime minister himself, I hope.”

  Petra found herself bristling at her husband’s assumption that she was not up to one of the most essential tasks of a society hostess. “I can assure you, Guy, that I am perfectly capable of organizing and hosting a country house party, however erudite the guests. I’d like it, though, if you’d invite my brother. He may be a junior member of Parliament but I don’t see why his career shouldn’t benefit from having you as his brother-in-law.”

  “Of course Jonathan will be welcome.” He offered a rueful smile. “I do appear to have offended you, my dear girl, and I really didn’t mean to. I don’t want to
impose too much upon you, that’s all.”

  “We’re married,” Petra stated. “Shared social obligations aren’t an imposition. If you want, need to invite these men to Ashton Court then I shall be delighted to welcome them. And you needn’t worry, I know what’s expected of a hostess and I’m more than capable of fulfilling those expectations.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” he said, somewhat surprised at her vehemence. “Forgive me if it sounded as if I did.”

  “My mother may have neglected some aspects of my upbringing,” Petra stated, “but not the social duties of a chatelaine. She did rather assume I’d be married in the end and would need such skills.” She wasn’t quite sure why she was so put out, it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption of Guy’s, given what he knew of her family, but it seemed to cast reflections on them and while she considered herself entitled to criticize them as much as she wished, it was no one else’s business. Joth, she knew, felt the same way.

  “My mistake, I’m so sorry,” Guy said. “Can we forget I made any apparent aspersions about your upbringing, please.” His smile was penitent. His wife was rarely touchy but this was obviously a sore point. One not to be forgotten in future.

  Petra shrugged in agreement, asking briskly, “When do you want to have this house party?”

  “I thought the last weekend of the month, a Friday to Monday.”

  Petra nodded and stood up. “Give me a guest list and I’ll see to the invitations.” She paused at the door. “It doesn’t sound like the kind of company Diana and Fenella and their husbands will particularly enjoy, so I won’t invite them.”

  “If you say so,” Guy said easily. “I leave all the details entirely up to you, my sweet.”

  Petra left him, reflecting that in three weeks the memory of the women’s invasion of Westminster would still be very fresh and she could well imagine that her friends would prefer to avoid a social encounter with their bêtes noires so soon. As for herself, well, she would just have to brazen it out. How Guy would choose to handle the awkwardness remained to be seen. She couldn’t deny, though, the prickle of apprehension at the prospect.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Ashton.” Freddie had just entered the house when she crossed the hall on her way upstairs.

  “Good afternoon, Freddie. Isn’t it a lovely day?” she greeted him with a smile. “His lordship’s in his office.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He bowed, holding his hat to his chest, waiting politely for her to start up the stairs before going into the library and through to the office.

  “Good afternoon, my lord.”

  “Freddie . . .” Guy looked up from his papers. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this afternoon.”

  “No, but I have some information that I thought might be of interest,” his secretary said.

  “Oh?” Guy looked a question mark.

  “I heard from a reliable source, sir, that the suffragists’ march on Parliament is to take place a week this Friday. You said you wished to know.”

  Guy nodded. “Yes, indeed, I did, thank you, Freddie. Have you heard anything else? How big it’s expected to be . . . ?”

  “Not exactly, my lord. But rumor has it that the London protesters will be joined by members of the Union from Manchester and other cities.”

  “Mmm.” Guy pushed back his chair, his expression thoughtful. “Since you’re here, there are some notes I’ve made on common land rights on my desk. Take a look at them and see if you can make a decent speech out of them.” Distracted, he left the office, collected his hat and cane from the attending footman in the hall and went to Westminster to see if he could find Jonathan, who, he reasoned, might know something more about his sister’s plans.

  He ran Jonathan to earth in the Commons bar, drinking with a trio of friends. “Granville, what brings you to this side of Westminster?” Jonathan asked jovially. “May I get you a drink?”

  “Whisky, please,” Guy responded. “I wanted a word with you if you can spare it.”

  “Of course. Annie, two whiskies please.” He signaled the woman behind the bar before gesturing to a table and chairs in the window. “Shall we sit over there?”

  Guy followed him and they sat down, waiting until the barmaid had brought their drinks before he asked, “Do you know anything about this proposed women’s suffrage march on Westminster, Jonathan?”

  Jonathan looked wary. “Not really,” he said carefully. “Petra doesn’t usually tell me the details of these protests in case it puts me in an awkward position.”

  “Considerate of her,” Guy muttered into his glass. “So you don’t know anything about a planned invasion of Westminster?”

  Jonathan looked startled. “An invasion? No, no one’s said anything to me about that. I heard that another march was being planned for some time soon, but just the usual protest in Parliament Square.”

  Guy sipped his whisky. “I suppose I’ll just have to ask her point blank.”

  “Petra’s a very bad liar, sir.”

  “Yes, I know.” He drummed his fingers on the table. He didn’t like the idea of confronting her, putting her on the spot, forcing her to tell him something she didn’t want to divulge. And he knew he would get it out of her if he was determined. But it seemed like bullying and didn’t sit well with him.

  “Are you totally against the idea of universal suffrage, sir?” Jonathan looked at him closely.

  “I am against your sister, my wife, taking any part in activities designed to force His Majesty’s government to take actions against the will of Parliament and the well-ordered running of this country,” Guy stated with some force.

  Jonathan frowned. “But if it were acceptable to the government you wouldn’t be against the idea of universal suffrage?” he asked hesitantly. “Against women having the vote? The principle itself, I mean?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, right now that’s not the issue. My problem is to keep your sister from breaking the law and causing an untold amount of trouble and embarrassment.” He drained his glass and stood up. “Thank you for the whisky, Jonathan.” He strode from the bar leaving his wife’s brother staring after him wondering what if anything he could do to stop whatever collision was about to happen between his sister and her husband.

  Guy decided not to confront Petra directly for a few days, there was time before the march was to take place for him to set Freddie to discover the details. Besides, he had the whole weekend ahead of him and maybe Petra would let something slip. But the weekend passed pleasantly with no mention of suffrage, universal or otherwise. He had engagements of his own on Saturday morning so he wasn’t aware of his wife’s activities at Caxton Hall, and the dinner party they hosted that evening went off smoothly. He had the feeling once or twice that Petra was going out of her way to prove herself an impeccable hostess, which made him feel guilty and willing to indulge her triumphant air at the evening’s end.

  * * *

  Monday dawned bright, sunny and chill.

  “You’re up early,” Guy observed in surprise as he emerged from the bathroom to find his wife consulting with her maid over her dress for the morning. Petra tended to enjoy leisurely mornings over tea and the Gazette and Times before preparing to take on the day.

  “I have a dressmaker’s fitting at nine thirty this morning.” Petra’s voice was a little muffled as she headed into the bathroom. “I don’t even have time for a bath.”

  Guy shrugged and continued with his dressing. “Are you coming down for breakfast?” he inquired as he prepared to leave the bedroom.

  “No, Dottie will fetch me a piece of toast. I’m meeting Diana and Fenella after the fitting and we’ll have coffee and crumpets at Fortnum’s, probably.” It wasn’t a complete lie. It was certainly an intention, although they all doubted it would be possible.

  Guy nodded, dropped a kiss on the back of her neck and headed downstairs to the breakfast room. Petra heaved a sigh of relief. The next time she saw her husband it was going to be in very different circumstances.

/>   “Shall I fetch the toast, m’lady?”

  Petra shuddered. “No, thanks, Dottie, I feel sick, I couldn’t eat anything.” She pushed her arms into the sleeves of a tweed coat. She wanted to look as unremarkable as possible and any of the rich furs in her wardrobe would not do for this morning.

  “I think I should come and show my support,” Dottie said doubtfully.

  “No, absolutely not,” Petra declared, taking the girl’s hands in both hers. “Just go about your work as usual and don’t let on to anyone that you know anything. There’s no point stirring up trouble for yourself when it’s not necessary. Just think that I’m going to be there for both of us.” She smiled reassuringly and Dottie nodded, unable to conceal her relief.

  Petra hurried downstairs, casting a quick glance at the closed door to the breakfast room as she sped past, and attained the pavement with a sigh of relief. She hailed a passing hackney and only seemed to breathe normally when the door was closed and the vehicle had turned onto Mount Street.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Looks like something’s going on at the Hall, ma’am,” the hackney called over his shoulder. “Quite a crowd gathering.”

  “Just let me out here,” Petra instructed, reaching into her purse for change. “This’ll do fine. Thank you.” She handed him a few coins and jumped down to the street, hurrying in the direction of the commotion.

  Women, for the most part wearing the colors of the Women’s Social and Political Union, seethed around the entrance to Caxton Hall, waving posters as organizers stood on boxes trying to form orderly groups out of the mass.

  “Over here, Petra.” Diana hailed Petra from a group forming on the other side of the street. “We’re in the first group with Emmeline, so we’ll be among those knocking at the entrance to St. Stephen’s Hall.” Her eyes shone with excitement and passion. “Can you see Fenella anywhere?”

  “Not yet.” Petra took the poster a woman thrust into her hands as she stood on tiptoe to see better over the crowd. “Oh, there she is. Fenella . . . Fenella,” she called, cupping her hands around her mouth as a megaphone.