The Scandalous Suffragette

by Eliza Redgold

The moment that realisation came, another followed, fast.

  He had to take control of the situation.

  He had to keep her safe.

  She smiled, almost shy, like a violet in the shade. ‘I have something to tell you.’

  ‘I have something to tell you, too.’

  Every muscle in Adam’s body tensed as the powerful, protective urge kicked in. His next words came before he even registered them in his brain. ‘You must give up being a suffragette.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Of love that never found his earthly close,

  What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts?’

  —Alfred, Lord Tennyson: ‘Love and Duty’ (1842)

  Violet stared at Adam in horror. ‘You don’t want me to be a suffragette?’

  His expression was cold, stern. A sternness she had never seen in him before. It made him look older, more austere, as he had when she’d first met him. Before they were married, before she came to Beauley Manor.

  He nodded curtly. ‘I’m resolved upon it.’

  She stepped back, aghast. She’d never expected this, especially after what had happened between them. ‘I don’t understand.’

  He pushed back his hair from his forehead. She’d run her fingers through his hair, earlier.

  ‘It’s too dangerous,’ he said. ‘Surely you must see that, after what happened in London.’

  ‘I wasn’t hurt,’ she protested.

  ‘Only because I saved you in time. I can’t always be there to protect you, Violet.’

  He moved close, so close she could feel the heat from his body, beneath his robe. ‘I asked you not to keep any secrets from me.’

  She bit her lip. She’d wanted to tell him before the mission. How she wished she had.

  ‘Somehow you’ve got yourself involved with a group of near-anarchists,’ he went on, ‘Or so I’m told by Edgar Burrows.’

  ‘Edgar Burrows would blacken the reputation of any suffragette!’ exclaimed Violet.

  ‘Is he wrong about the activities of your group?’ Adam asked, evenly. ‘They’re militants, aren’t they? Prepared to do anything.’

  If they will not let us in the doors, we will break the windows.

  Uncomfortably, a phrase from the latest lilac letter came back to her.

  ‘How can you ask this of me?’ She choked back her tears.

  ‘Violet—’ Adam’s voice became persuasive ‘—you must listen to me. There are other methods. Peaceful, law-abiding methods. What the suffragettes like your group are doing is foolish.’

  ‘What method do you suggest?’ Anger began to build inside her, hot through her veins, rising to her chest. ‘What, leave it to the men, I suppose?’

  He kept his voice controlled, though his eyes glittered. ‘The law will change, in time.’

  ‘The time is now! We’ll wait a hundred years if we don’t seize this moment.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’ve done enough for the Cause.’

  ‘Will you tell me how to behave now?’ she asked, enraged. ‘How to walk? How to talk? How to dress? How to think?’

  A muscle flared in his cheek, near where the dent played when he smiled. There was no smile now.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he bit out.

  Tears smarted in her eyes. He’d never spoken to her in such a manner. Where had he gone, the man who only hours before had made love to her with such passion and such tenderness?

  ‘It’s not ridiculous,’ she insisted. ‘You promised me. We vowed to each other.’

  ‘I didn’t realise what it would mean until I saw what you were up to today. You must stop. It’s a risk I can no longer let you take.’

  ‘It’s my risk, not yours!’

  ‘You’re my wife.’

  ‘Your wife.’ She threw the word back at him. ‘Not your possession. You can’t treat me like a child. A doll with an empty head. Is that what you want?’

  ‘I want you safe,’ he said, through gritted teeth. She sensed he was struggling to control his emotions. ‘Secure.’

  ‘My safety is my own concern,’ she threw back at him.

  ‘You have to give up your membership.’ His voice had become as hard and unyielding as a police baton.

  Violet lifted her chin. No matter what her own reservations about the mission, she couldn’t allow him to command her. ‘It’s not your decision.’

  His jaw hardened. ‘I’ll prevent you from taking part in these militant activities, if I have to.’

  ‘What?’ She staggered backward, as if his words were blows. Then she lifted her chin. ‘Will you imprison me? Lock me up? That’s the current solution to the suffragettes.’

  He cursed. ‘You will be locked up if you continue. You nearly committed a crime today. I cannot allow this any longer.’

  ‘Allow.’ She repeated the word with sarcasm. ‘You have no rights over me.’

  ‘I have rights.’ He clipped the last word. ‘My rights as your husband.’

  ‘But you promised me a marriage of convenience,’ she insisted. ‘We made our terms.’

  He swore, under his breath. ‘You didn’t tell me your life would be in danger.’

  ‘I didn’t know that would happen!’

  ‘Those horses could have trampled you. The police were waiting to arrest you. If you were caught, you might have gone to prison. Do you understand?’

  ‘Of course I understand! Do you think me a fool?’

  ‘Yes!’ he shouted. ‘Yes, I think you’re a fool for risking life and limb! Do you understand me? I forbid you to attend any more such protests.’

  ‘You forbid it?’ Her voice rose, too. ‘Who do you think you are?’

  ‘I’m your husband!’ he roared.

  ‘And my master?’ she threw back at him, in equal rage. ‘Have you forgotten our arrangement? Was it all a lie, a trick, to get your hands on my fortune?’

  The bedroom became deadly quiet. She’d gone too far, a voice in her head warned her. But she lifted her chin. She couldn’t back down.

  Adam clenched his fists. ‘That’s a despicable suggestion.’

  ‘You promised me I would have my freedom.’

  He slammed his fist into his hand. ‘You won’t have your freedom if you don’t have your life!’

  Violet shook her head, furious. ‘I know the danger. I’m prepared to take the risks...’

  ‘You won’t,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Not any more.’

  ‘What will you do to stop me? Lock me in my bedroom? You know the terms of our marriage.’

  ‘Those terms were a mistake.’ He bit out the words. ‘If you knew how much I regret...’

  He swung away from her and glared out the window, into the night.

  Violet stared at him in horror. His profile was set as hard as the bricks of Beauley Manor. Her heart began to thud.

  ‘You regret the terms of our marriage,’ she whispered.

  Yet the way he’d touched her. He’d made her believe...

  Adam turned back to face her. His expression was inscrutable. ‘Of course I regret it. The terms we made were ridiculous. I don’t know what impulse drove me to it.’

  ‘You got the better side of the bargain.’ She threw the words at him while his rang in her ears.

  He regretted marrying her.

  Adam’s jaw clenched. ‘So you regret the terms also.’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’ Tears welled in her eyes, but she forced them back, lifting her chin. She wouldn’t cry. She was too angry to cry.

  ‘Our terms must change,’ he said. This is exactly what I wanted to prevent. What happened today must never happen again.’

  He regretted making love to her, too.

  In a stride he crossed to where she stood by the open doors.

  ‘Do you understand me,
Violet?’ Adam seized her arm. ‘You can no longer be a suffragette.’

  She wrenched herself away.

  ‘I’ll always be a suffragette.’

  With a crash, she slammed the connecting doors shut.

  Violet turned the key in the lock.

  Seated on the dressing-table stool, she shook with anger. She half-expected Adam to come crashing through the door. She’d never seen him so furious. She’d never been so furious herself.

  All the sensations of the day and night churned inside her as she stared at herself in the mirror. In the looking glass, her cheeks were as white as the satin of her peignoir.

  She stood and paced the room, trying to gather her thoughts. They were as jumbled as skeins of silk in her embroidery box.

  Hopelessly entangled.

  Her worst fears had come true. She’d told Adam, before they married, that the bonds of love could bind a woman. She was caught in them now, those bonds of love.

  Her fingers twisted as she paced up and down.

  They had spoken such angry words to each other. He wanted her to give up the militant group, ordered her to do so in a way she’d never imagined he would. It was true he’d touched a nerve about their militant activities. She felt conflicted about it herself, but it had to be her choice.

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She thought he’d understood. She could not allow him to make her decisions. Nor could she allow her feelings about him to sway her.

  She shuddered. Loving him as she now knew she did, would she be able to defy him? In time, would she weaken? Surely she would never give up being a suffragette. But she’d never wanted to have to choose between love and duty. Was there room in her life for her passion for the Cause and her passion for Adam? Or would those bonds tighten?

  He’d told her on their wedding day that he wanted to avoid entanglements. That physical contact must be kept to a minimum. She hadn’t understood, completely, not then. Now she did. He hadn’t wanted her to develop feelings for him.

  Yet she had. She’d trusted him. Made love to him. Given him her all. She shivered, as though his hands were once again caressing her skin. How could it be? The desire she’d witnessed in his face, at his hands, in his body...yet he’d said he regretted the terms of their marriage. Beyond the connecting door, she heard another slam shut. Adam had left his side of the bedroom by the door that led directly to the upper hall. She drew a painful breath. It would be intolerable to remain another day. She had to leave Beauley Manor. She had to break free from the bonds of love.

  Was it dishonourable to leave? Feverishly, still pacing, she tried to reason. No. She had married him in good faith. He’d married for freedom from the burden of financial ruin for his family, his home. She for the freedom to follow her ideas, to support the Cause.

  For her, that freedom was gone.

  She had done her part. Her dowry could be used to rebuild Beauley Manor, to save it from crumbling into ruin. No creditors could take it. The gambling debts his father had accrued had all been paid.

  Her duty was done.

  Dragging herself to her feet, she pulled out her trunk.

  It didn’t fall through the floor. Not this time.

  At the wardrobe she began to pull out clothes. Dresses. Skirts. Blouses. Back and forth. All piled in the trunk. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  She stopped, still. At the back of the wardrobe was her wedding dress.

  She sank to the floor, the white-satin dress in her arms. With her finger she traced the pearl buttons, the ruffles and ribbons, the puffed sleeves.

  Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband?

  ‘I will,’ she’d promised. Looking back, it was so clear. She had wanted to marry him. Some wiser part of her had been urging her along.

  Her heart.

  When had she known she loved him? The realisation had come to her mind so clearly as they’d dashed through London, hand in hand. Her body had known, before her mind. It had tried to guide her. Her feet had known, when he asked her to dance at the ball, as they waltzed together, across the floor. Her hands had known, as she’d reached for him, needing to touch him, in the river. Her lips had known, at that first kiss, before they were even wed.

  Violet took a deep breath. She ran her fingers over the pearl buttons on her dress, as she thought of her other vows. They’d spoken of children. One of each. A boy and a girl.

  A pang of sorrow ripped down her middle, from her heart to her stomach. She’d begun to imagine those children, that boy and girl, playing on the lawn at Beauley. It was as if they already existed, were part of the family.

  It wouldn’t happen now.

  She had to leave Beauley Manor, and those barely acknowledged hopes and dreams.

  She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t remain, not after what had happened between them. Not when her feelings had changed so much for him.

  Their marriage of convenience was over.

  What a scandal it would be. A bitter laugh escaped her lips. A scandal had brought her to him. The scandal of being a suffragette. Now she would have to face a worse scandal, the scandal of leaving her husband.

  She held tight to the wedding gown. She had to leave it behind. She wouldn’t ask for the return of her dowry. She would never do that. She loved Beauley Manor as much as Adam did now. It had become her home. Her cause, too.

  She’d helped save his home. That was all she could do. Now she had to save herself.

  He didn’t love her, as she had grown to love him. He had merely been doing his duty.

  Tears poured down her cheeks as she hung the wedding dress in the wardrobe.

  She’d married Adam for duty.

  She’d leave him for love.

  * * *

  On the flagstones, Adam stood at the bottom of the stairs, Beau at his side.

  ‘Damnation,’ he swore.

  When the connecting door had slammed between them and the key had turned in the lock, he’d stared at it, dumbfounded.

  How had the conversation between them turned to such chaos, spiralled so out of control? He wanted to go to her, hold her in his arms and explain what had driven him to his harsh behaviour.

  After what he’d experienced in his childhood, witnessing the horrific scenes between his parents, he’d learned to avoid anything that could wreck his sense of security and stability. His feelings for Violet had blasted through all that.

  He’d intended to use reason, cool persuasion, to convince her that giving up her militant activities was the best course of action. He hadn’t reckoned on that powerful, almost primitive force surging through him to protect the woman he loved.

  He exhaled. Of course he loved her. He’d fought that deep attraction from the start, the pull that went beyond the physical. No wonder he’d been intent on ensuring they kept their physical distance. Now that distance had been breached, releasing all the feelings that had blazed inside him for so long.

  Instead of cool reason, he’d lit a spark of fury in her that had ignited his own. He knew he’d ended up handling it badly, but still...

  Damnation.

  He’d waited for the connecting door to open between them again. When she didn’t appear, he’d eventually gone downstairs, into the hall, and reached for a bottle of whisky.

  Beau barked.

  ‘Only one, boy. Don’t worry.’

  His father had drunk many a whisky in the hall, Adam brooded. He wouldn’t fall into that trap.

  He slumped into a chair by the open fireplace. The flames had long burnt out.

  The whisky flared down his throat. It warmed his body, but didn’t soothe his mind. The emotions churning through him had aroused painful memories of his childhood, memories he wanted to forget.

  He gazed through the window, into the awakening sky. Red fingers of light pierced the violet dawn. It would soon be
morning.

  He drank again, deeply.

  He’d go down to the river. It was always a calming place for him, even if lately visions of Violet at the water’s edge haunted him there. In a short time, she’d become part of Beauley Manor. It was really too late in the year for an early morning swim, but he needed it. By God, he needed it. He’d walk, in any case. Give them both time to cool off.

  She was so foolhardy. So stubborn. Couldn’t she see that he’d do anything to protect her from harm?

  He finished the whisky, resisted another.

  He had to make her understand. But he’d let her be, for now. That was the most straightforward approach. He’d sort it all out, in the full light of day.

  Seizing a coat, he headed out the door and clicked for Beau. The dog came leaping out of the manor, barking.

  ‘What is it, boy? Come along.’

  Beau barked again, circled.

  ‘Come on, boy.’

  He had to regain control. He’d walk for as long as it took.

  * * *

  Violet heard a bark from outside the window.

  Folding the letter she’d been writing, she slipped it under a silver candlestick on the dressing table.

  At the window, she stared out into the breaking morning and looked down to see Beau chasing behind Adam as he strode away from the house.

  Violet wiped her hands across her cheeks. ‘Goodbye, Beau.’

  The dog barked again. Fainter, this time.

  She put her hand on the glass.

  Adam didn’t look back.

  ‘Goodbye,’ she whispered.

  * * *

  Adam flung wide the connecting door. He didn’t have to search the adjoining bedroom to know Violet wasn’t there. He knew it. Instantly.

  She was gone.

  Lying on the dressing table was a white folded paper. He picked up the letter and read it once. Twice. Three times before the words sank in.

  He crumpled the paper into a ball inside his fist, let it fall among some items she’d left behind. Candlesticks, pots and bowls. A silver-backed hairbrush.

  Mere remnants. Her presence had gone. It was more than the sight of her, that presence, as she dressed for dinner, sat at her dressing table, or brushed her hair. More than her scent, that fragrance of violets that followed her and now haunted him. More than her voice, making speeches about the Cause, or laughing, as she talked to him and offered him violet creams. More than her touch, even though yesterday afternoon she’d found the places in his body that gave him more pleasure than he’d experienced before. More than the taste of her, sweeter than a Coombes Floral Cream.