by Brown, T. J.
“Oof!” She had barely turned around when Susie lunged at her with a hug so fierce that it would have toppled her over if she hadn’t been holding on to Andrew’s arm.
“Oh, Lord, I am glad to see you! Is London always this brown? There was a foul-looking man on the train who kept smiling at me. Do you live very far away? Look at how pretty you are!” She turned to Andrew. “Thank you so much for letting me come visit!”
Prudence grabbed Susie’s shoulders and pushed her away a bit. “Let me look at you!” The girl looked the same as always, small but sturdy, thin brown hair pulled back in a bun, and a wide smile with slightly crooked teeth. She wore a severe black shirt and a warm black overcoat that looked new, probably a last-minute purchase with her meager earnings. Only her eyes seemed different, as abnormally wide and excited as they were. Prudence folded Susie back in her arms. Susie had been the only servant to welcome her and help her in those dark, confusing months at Summerset when she was relegated to the downstairs. She didn’t care about Muriel’s warnings, or that she would soon be caught in a web of lies—she had never been so glad to see someone in her whole life.
After Andrew had checked to make sure Susie had all her luggage—one large carpetbag and a reticule—he led them both out of the station. Prudence kept one hand on Susie’s arm, as much to see that she didn’t wander out into traffic as to make sure her friend was really here.
Once they neared their flat, they ducked into a warm tea shop, where Andrew lavished them with a high tea fit for the Queen. He ordered a pot of tea, tea sandwiches, scones and clotted cream, jam, and, after a wink for Prudence, big slices of sponge cake for them to share.
Susie assumed a bored, haughty look, as if she did this sort of thing every day, and Prudence grinned, proud and overcome by her husband’s sweet generosity to their friend.
She nodded toward Susie’s bags. “You best put your bag under the table between our knees if you don’t want to lose it.”
Susie’s eyes widened. “Would someone steal right here in front of God and everyone? My mum told me that’s the way it is here in London.”
Prudence shrugged. “I’ve never had a problem, but you can never be too safe.” She knew her own prejudices about this part of the city had everything to do with being raised in Mayfair.
The waitress set their tea down and Prudence smiled her thanks.
“My sisters are so jealous. I think I’m the first person in my family to ever leave Summerset.”
Humbled, Prudence poured more tea and spread a layer of clotted cream on her scone. All she had thought of was what Susie’s visit would mean to her, not what it would mean to Susie. She looked up to find Susie smiling at her and stuffing sponge cake into her mouth. Prudence laughed.
“So tell me all the gossip back home.” Prudence didn’t really want to know what was going on at Summerset, a place where she had been miserable, but she knew Susie was chock-full of things she wanted to share, and Andrew was truly interested in all the happenings from back home.
Susie related all the news and Prudence listened as attentively as she could. The girl was a bit hard to follow and occasionally Prudence would have to stem the tide of words coming out of her mouth to ask who someone was, but she mostly kept up until Susie mentioned the wedding.
“Wait. What wedding do you mean? My wedding?” Very few people from Summerset had attended Prudence and Andrew’s wedding, so Prudence could hardly see how it had entered the conversation.
“No, silly, the upcoming wedding, of course! The entire house is in an uproar and will be for months and the couple hasn’t even set a date yet! Lord, am I glad to get a break of that mess. The kitchen is going to be a madhouse, that’s what.”
Prudence sat back in her chair, still puzzled. “Susie, I’m completely lost. What wedding are you talking about? Is Miss Elaine getting married?” That was the only person Prudence could think of whose nuptials would put the entire house in an uproar.
Susie’s eyes grew even wider. “You don’t know? How could you not know? Why, Miss Rowena’s wedding, of course. Hers and Lord Billingsly’s.”
Prudence stilled. All around her the sounds of the café diminished and black spots floated in front of her eyes as dizziness overcame her. She gripped the fork in her hand and tried to steady herself.
“Prudence! Are you all right?”
Andrew’s concerned voice called to her, and after a moment, the room righted itself again. She took a deep breath, ignoring the pain that stormed her heart. She gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m so sorry. I guess the shock of it . . . ”
“And no wonder!” Susie said. “Her being your friend and all. I thought you knew.”
Prudence shook her head and took a careful sip of her tea. Her pulse still raced wildly and jealousy gnawed at her stomach. So Rowena was going to marry Sebastian. How, how had this happened? “I didn’t.”
Andrew frowned at her, his eyes puzzled. “Are you sure you’re all right? We could go home.”
“I’m fine. Really I am.” She gave her husband a bright smile even though she felt so brittle inside, she feared she would shatter.
* * *
Living in the Buxton mansion in Belgravia was not the same as living in the Buxton mansion in Mayfair, Victoria reflected as she hid from her aunt in one of the many tiny, useless rooms that lined the corridors.
For one thing, the house was deceptively big. It didn’t seem much larger than the Mayfair home when viewed from the front, but it seemed to go inward forever, and though it had been refurbished since Aunt Charlotte had married into the family, it still seemed somewhat dated; its tiny, overaccessorized rooms seemed like relics of a different era, especially when compared to the spaciousness of Victoria’s old home.
Victoria took a sip of the tea she had brought with her and put her tired feet up on an overplush, overtasseled footstool in front of her. The room smelled of fresh beeswax, and she wondered how many servants were kept on to make sure that every room in the house was ready for family at any given moment. She knew that her uncle and her cousin Colin often showed up without notice, and her aunt made the journey four or five times a year.
Victoria desperately needed to escape so she could check in with Martha and tell her how she was faring. Not too shabbily, really, considering how difficult it was to ask for funds without her aunt knowing what she was up to. It was an art, really, to shill her aunt’s friends right in front of her. Victoria hoped Martha appreciated how much money she had been able to raise.
She’d even had to apologize to her sister and tell her all about her new cause, though she didn’t tell her she was actually employed by the organization. Rowena wouldn’t understand why Victoria felt such a strong need to do something useful and to be independent. Rowena had never felt that way. Perhaps she did now about flying, but who could be sure whether flying was Rowena’s new passion or just a passing phase as golf and tennis had been?
Her cousin put her head in the door. “Mother is looking for you, but I won’t tell her where you are if you don’t tell on me.”
Elaine quietly shut the door behind her. “I was about to thank you for this little impromptu trip to town until I spent all day at the dressmaker’s with you. I already paid my dues last fall, thank you very much.” She sat next to Victoria and put her feet up on the same footstool. “Couldn’t you find a room with a fire in the fireplace? Or at least bring another cup of tea?”
“I didn’t know you were coming, cousin dear. And I would have asked a servant to build a fire, but that would mean someone would know where I was. Now just hold your horses and learn.”
Victoria got to her feet, wincing, wondering how many more fittings she was going to have to stand through. Kneeling down in front of the small, ornately carved marble fireplace, she quickly built a fire, much to her cousin’s amazement.
“The things you know how to do!” Elaine said, shaking her head.
“My father taught me when I was a girl.” She resumed her seat and, b
ecause talking about her father brought a lump to her throat, she changed the subject. “So tell me, cousin dear, how do you suggest I go about getting a few hours on my own here in the city?”
Elaine shrugged. “We could go for a walk. The weather is finally getting nicer, so that wouldn’t be a stretch.”
“I said on my own.” She eyed Elaine meaningfully.
“Oh, alone, alone. What do you have, a secret lover no one knows about? Are you meeting Kit? Do tell, I can’t seem to find a secret lover to save my life.”
Victoria laughed. “You goose. No, there’s no lover and, once again, Kit and I are just friends.” She thought of the kiss they had shared and hid a smile. She hadn’t seen Kit since then.
“Okay, then, why don’t you tell me about your Suffragettes for Female Equality? I’ve been thinking I should join one group or another.”
Victoria frowned, suspicious. If there was anything she’d learned about her cousin, it was that she wasn’t nearly as silly or stupid as she acted. It was a defense against a mother who thought her useless. “You can join another group, then. The National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies is a much better fit for you anyway.”
Elaine’s blue eyes were bright with curiosity. “And yet, how much money have you collected for your cause?” Elaine waved her hand at Victoria’s ferocious face. “Oh, don’t bother. Keep your secrets. I just wanted you to know that you don’t fool me.”
The door opening made both girls jump. A parlormaid poked her head in the door. Relief crossed her face. “Oh, there you are. Her ladyship is looking for both of you.”
“How much could we pay you to go away and pretend you never saw us?” Elaine wanted to know as Victoria got wearily to her feet.
The maid just shook her head. “You don’t have enough, Lady Elaine.”
“I was afraid you’d say that, Nora.” Elaine groaned as Victoria pulled her to her feet. “A cozy fire gone completely to waste.”
“Look on the bright side,” Victoria told her as they followed the maid down the hall. “At least we’ll get our tea.”
The next morning, Victoria begged off more fittings by saying she’d made plans to visit Prudence. Aunt Charlotte’s face carefully blanked at the mention of Prudence’s name.
“Just don’t forget we still need to shop for accessories,” was all she said.
Victoria looked away, trying not to remember the terrible night when she had threatened her aunt and uncle with the knowledge of Prudence’s parentage. Victoria had learned that night just how formidable her aunt really was and had promised herself she would never cross her again. She only invoked Prudence’s name now to gain herself a day alone. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
Then she caught sight of the longing on Rowena’s face. She knew that Ro missed Prudence. I’ll try to fix things between them as soon as I can, she promised herself. In a way, she wished she really were seeing Prudence today. Not a day went by that she didn’t miss her, too.
Elation buoyed her step when she finally made her escape from the house. How wonderful it would be to have her own little flat away from her family. To be able to come and go as she pleased. Martha had that luxury. Someday Victoria hoped she would, too.
Martha waved a hand when Victoria entered the building, as if she had only stepped out for lunch. At first Victoria felt a pang of hurt, and then she realized how sensible it was. Why waste time on ceremonial greetings when one had such important work to do?
Martha and Lottie stood with a group of women who seemed to be arguing in a good-natured way that Victoria had noticed a few times before in the loft they affectionately called their headquarters.
Martha raised a finger when Victoria joined them. “Hold that thought, there’s someone I want you to meet. Mary Richardson and Lilly Johansson, this is the woman I’ve been telling you about, Victoria Buxton. You’ll see her story on the front page of the next edition of our newspaper. She is also the canvasser who has those nice little checks coming in.”
All three women clapped and Victoria beamed. “I actually have a few more . . . ”
“Wonderful,” Lottie said. “This place eats up money like the giant ate Englishmen.”
“Ha!” Martha said.
The other woman, Mary, watched them, her wide mouth unsmiling and her back ramrod stiff. Impatience poured off her in jittery waves. She obviously wanted to get back to their previous conversation. “Was I interrupting something?” Victoria asked.
“No,” said Martha and Lottie simultaneously.
“Yes,” said Mary. The woman raised an eyebrow and tapped her shoe. “My apologies if I seem rude, Miss Buxton. But as important as fund-raising is, it is worth nothing if you don’t have action as well, don’t you agree?”
“Of course,” Victoria agreed, looking from Lottie to Martha for a clue as to what to do. They stayed silent and Victoria wondered whether this was some sort of test. Lilly, the quiet woman with soft gray hair, just sort of drifted away as if it was a discussion she didn’t wish to become embroiled in.
“And do you think the action should be agreed upon by all the members of a particular group? Or perhaps just a select few?” Mary persisted.
Victoria swallowed. “Depends on whether the group is a democracy or a dictatorship. If it’s a democracy, you need the consensus of the voting members. If a dictatorship, then you only need to get the permission of the dictator. Unless, of course, you are the dictator.”
Mary Richardson’s eyes widened. “Very well put, Miss Buxton.” She turned to Martha and Lottie. “Not bad at all for your token aristocrat. What else can Miss Buxton do? Sit up and bark when asked?”
Lottie’s mouth fell open and Martha hissed in outrage, but before either one of them could speak, Victoria laughed. “Actually, I can do a great many things. I’m a fairly decent writer, my memory is a steel trap for poetry and literature, I’m very talented at ferreting out secrets, and I can make an excellent pot of tea. Would you like a cup?”
For a moment no one spoke and then both Martha and Lottie erupted in laughter. Even Mary’s mouth quirked upward. “Touché, Miss Buxton, touché. And I would very much like a pot of tea.”
Victoria felt a moment of triumph as she made a pot of tea on the coal stove, but it didn’t last long, as the three women retired to the corner of the room to wait for their tea. They resumed their previous conversation but didn’t ask Victoria to be a part of it, and none of them said thank you when she brought them tea.
Annoyed, Victoria took a seat at an empty desk and pulled out the papers she had brought with her, including three checks from her aunt’s friends. She had carefully typed several copies of her list containing every group in support of women she could find, and she placed one on each of the desks in the room.
She glanced back at the trio. From the gesticulations, it looked as if it was heating up again. Finally, Mary stood up and shook hands with Martha and Lottie. She stopped at Victoria’s desk as she left.
“Excuse my brusqueness, Miss Buxton. Sometimes my mind is so full of plans I forget what it’s like to be polite. We are at war, whether or not people realize it. I just want all the leaders to accept that, and show it by their behavior.” With a final glance at Lottie and Martha, who were still in earnest conversation in the corner, Mary gave a nod and left.
Was the suffragette cause really a war? Martha had given her the task of answering correspondence from women in any sort of crisis from all over London. Victoria was charged with the task of answering the letters, telling these women where, if anywhere, they could get help. She became more and more sober as she worked. Women were in trouble everywhere. One woman desperately needed a doctor, another needed food for her children. Women asked for jobs, food, rent money, someone to care for their baby or their mother—the list was endless.
A cheering startled her and she looked up to find that Martha had brought a basket of meat pies into the room. Victoria glanced at the clock. She had been working for three hours.
She asked Martha and the others about their thoughts as they ate.
“Of course it’s a war,” said one woman from East London. “In order to change society, we have to be able to vote for people who care about the things women care about.”
“I dare you to find a man who does,” Lottie put in.
“My father did,” Victoria said. “Many of his friends do.”
Lottie tossed her head. “No offense, Miss Buxton, but where are those friends now? The number of men who will actually go against their fellow men in our favor is almost nil. I’m sure they exist, but they are damned sure quiet about it.”
“What we need is more women willing and able to do the hard work necessary to get their attention, if you know what I mean.” The woman from East London gave a grim smile.
Victoria wondered what the woman meant as she made her way to her aunt’s house. Emily Davison had given her life for the cause. Could Victoria ever go that far, be that committed, that selfless, for the cause? Or was she merely going through the motions, secure in the fact that she was a wealthy aristocrat with free time and connections to lend to the movement?
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
How did this get so completely out of control? Rowena thought as Aunt Charlotte and Lady Edith launched into another round of bickering over wedding details. Rowena had never been more grateful for her relative independence than when Sebastian’s mother joined them for their trip to London, purportedly to buy a few last-minute garments and accessories for the season. But Rowena suspected that she mostly wanted to ensure that no wedding decisions be made without her input.
Though Rowena and Sebastian had refused to give their families a firm wedding date—which they had assumed would keep the preparations to a minimum, allowing time to plot their eventual breakup—it seemed that nothing could stop this train now that it was in motion. Both she and Sebastian were trying to figure out a way to break off the engagement without creating a scandal, but so far both had come up empty-handed.