by Jen Turano
“We didn’t break any laws,” a woman said, moving to the front of a cell and peering through the bars. “We were only protesting the conditions at the slaughterhouse after one of our co-workers got fired because she got sliced up by a machine that broke.”
The officer behind the cart released a grunt. “All of you were blocking the entrance to the slaughterhouse, encouraging other workers to join you. It was disrupting production and the owners demanded we act, which we did.” He nodded to Beatrix. “If you don’t want to join them in this cell, I suggest you move aside and let us get on with this.”
Right there, in the middle of her mean surroundings, understanding struck.
She’d been placed on an unexpected path that had started with her banishment from New York, which had then given her the unexpected opportunity of taking up a position where she’d gotten a taste of what it was like to be a working woman.
The thought had struck her more than once that her unexpected path had been God’s way of opening her eyes to the daily injustices working women faced, and now, what with how she’d ended up in this dismal place at exactly this specific time, after experiencing a surprising dismissal from her job, it was clear she was facing a new fork in the road, one where she might very well find that purpose Aunt Gladys had been talking about.
Unlike the women who were currently behind bars, she was not as helpless as she’d thought.
She was an American heiress—a grand heiress, at that—and it was past time she put that status to work for something other than securing the latest fashions or traveling the world on her family yacht.
Squaring her shoulders, she regarded the four officers in front of her and then sent them a nod. “There’ll be no need for your barbaric action today, officers. You’ve stated that these women are still here because they can’t make bail, but I’m here to tell you I’ll pay their bail. That means you can set them free—immediately.”
To her surprise, one of the officers shook his head. “It’s too late for that. We have orders to see this through. The warden wants to make an example of these women to discourage disorderly conduct from any women who consider protesting their employment conditions.”
Beatrix crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t ignore my offer to pay their bail. That’s against the law. But speaking of the law, now that I think about it, were these women not offered an opportunity to seek an attorney’s counsel?”
“They couldn’t pay their bail, so they wouldn’t have been able to afford any counsel.”
“But were they given the opportunity to even seek out counsel? Surely there must be resources in this fine city of yours that offer representation for the poor.”
When none of the officers answered, Beatrix turned her attention to the woman standing directly behind the bars of her cell. “You weren’t offered any counsel?”
The woman shook her head. “They let us send notes to our husbands, but that was all we were offered.” She shook her head again. “Me and the other women have been thinking that Mr. Tripp, he’s the main owner of the slaughterhouse, paid off people to make sure all of us suffer as much as possible. He wants to make sure no other workers give him any trouble.”
Beatrix rounded on the officers, all of whom were now shifting around on their feet.
“Is this true?” she demanded, her demand ignored as one of the men began jangling his keys before he fit one into the lock.
Beatrix moved to block the door. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to proceed with your plans because, you see, I’m determined to pay the bail for all of these women, and you are then going to release them.” She glanced at the gaunt-looking women, all of whom were now pressed against the bars of the three cells they were held in, taking a moment to do a quick count.
“There are ten women from the slaughterhouse, plus Colette and her sister?” she asked.
“That seems right,” Agent Cochran answered when none of the officers did.
She reached into an inside pocket sewn into her skirt, pulling out a roll of bills. She then counted out the bills, finding she was twenty dollars short. She lifted her head. “I only have one hundred dollars on me, but I have additional funds at home. I just need to send for it.”
“We don’t have time to wait for that,” the officer behind the cart said.
Beatrix narrowed her eyes. “If you think I’m going to step aside and allow you to proceed, you’re gravely mistaken.” One by one, she looked each officer directly in the eye. “All of you should be ashamed of yourselves. You must know this is wrong, and yet you’re using your orders to go through with it as if you don’t have a choice in the matter.” She gestured to the women behind bars. “These are mothers you’re so anxious to abuse, and daughters, and may very well be your neighbors. How, pray tell, has it happened that you’ve allowed yourselves to forget that?”
“It’s not as if we’re going to take enjoyment in following our orders,” one of the officers finally said. “And again, since you’re only short twenty dollars, most of the women will be spared.”
“All the women will be spared.”
Turning, Beatrix discovered Aunt Gladys marching their way, Blanche on one side of her, a gentleman in an expensive suit on her other side. That gentleman immediately introduced himself as an attorney, right before he announced that all bail had been paid and all the women were to be released immediately.
Given the fury residing in Aunt Gladys’s eyes, Beatrix knew that her aunt would be more determined than ever to advance the cause of women. And given the real-life lesson Beatrix had just experienced, she knew without a doubt that she’d finally found a worthy purpose in life, one she’d never be able to ignore.
Chapter 29
“Where’s Theodosia? I thought she’d be here for the big launch of Gemma and Oscar’s peddle-boat.”
Looking up, Norman found Stanley moving to join him where he was standing at the back of a wagon Mort was hitched to. Mort had apparently decided he no longer wanted Norman to ride him after the cat debacle, but had graciously condescended to pull the wagon holding the recently completed peddle-boat, but only after Norman had bribed him with more than a few carrots.
“I’ve not seen Theo much this past week,” Norman replied. “She’s been spending most of her time with Blanche at the Huttleston house.”
Stanley frowned. “Who’s Blanche?”
“She’s a woman who wants to take the beauty industry by storm. Theo’s been using her extensive background in chemistry to help Blanche reformulate recipes, which will hopefully curb some of the unfortunate effects Blanche’s creations have caused—such as hair falling out and hives.”
“I doubt any lady would want to buy a beauty product that has her breaking out in hives.”
Norman smiled. “Indeed. However, Theo’s been joining me every afternoon as I wait for Beatrix to get done for the day at Marshall Field & Company, so I imagine she’ll show up here at some point, then go with me to fetch Beatrix.”
“You fetch Beatrix from work every day?”
“Didn’t really have a choice in the matter, not after realizing Beatrix’s life has been placed in jeopardy because of me.” Norman raked a hand through his hair. “It would have been far easier to keep an eye on her if she would have agreed to abandon her position. But because she adamantly refused to do that, Edgar, Gladys Huttleston’s butler, and I came up with a plan. He escorts Beatrix to the store every morning, and I meet her every afternoon when she gets off work. I’ve then arranged for Pinkerton men to check on her while she’s at work, just to make certain she’s safe.”
“If you’re escorting Beatrix home every afternoon, and you’re coming to the factory every morning and staying until lunch with me and Father, when are you finding time to work on your electrical research?”
“I’ve not done a bit of research in weeks,” Norman said, using a rag to rub a smear of grease off the peddle-boat. “After I’m done at the factory, I’ve been helping Gemma and Oscar with th
eir peddle-boat as well as giving them science and mathematics lessons because their tutor is still under the weather.”
“How’s that going?”
“Surprisingly well. Gemma is far more advanced intellectually than I realized, which makes instructing her incredibly satisfying. And while Oscar isn’t as accomplished as Gemma is, he’s still remarkably bright and eager to learn.” Norman set aside the rag and caught Stanley’s eye. “I’ve been considering taking up teaching, perhaps at the college level. I’ve been hounded to teach at different colleges for years, and now might be the perfect time to explore that option.”
Stanley frowned. “Why now?”
Norman shrugged. “Because one of the stipulations I’ll make before accepting a position will be to include women in my classes. That might eventually benefit Gemma once she reaches college age because perhaps it’ll prove that women deserve a chance in the world of scientific study.”
“Are you sure you’re not dying?”
Norman grinned. “As I told Father the other day after he asked me the same thing, no, I’m not dying.”
“You’re acting quite unlike your normal self, although I have to say I’m enjoying this new, un-normal you, even if it is somewhat unsettling.”
Norman inclined his head. “Thank you, I think, but I have to mention that you’ve not been acting normal of late either, what with how often you bring Theo into our conversations.”
“I don’t bring her up all that often.”
“You do, and you also still seem incredibly put out that she’s attending the Palmer ball with Harvey Cabot instead of you.”
Color creeped up Stanley’s neck. “I never said I wanted to take Theodosia to the ball.”
“You didn’t have to. Your constant scowling whenever the topic of the ball comes up speaks for itself.”
Stanley tugged on his collar. “Theodosia hasn’t mentioned anything to you about what she thinks of me, has she?”
“No, and even if she had, I wouldn’t divulge that information to you, because according to numerous etiquette books I’ve recently read, a gentleman does not disclose personal information about a lady to anyone unless he has express permission to do so.”
“But I’m your brother.”
“And Theo’s my best friend, and as such, I’m compelled by that friendship to keep any secrets she may disclose to me. And before you start arguing with that, what say you give me a hand getting this boat into the water?”
Even though Stanley tossed Norman a look that had annoyance stamped all over it, he didn’t hesitate to help, pulling the boat from the wagon bed and then carrying it with Norman to the lakeshore. Gemma and Oscar immediately joined them, their eyes bright with excitement.
“Think the paddles will work the way we want them to?” Oscar asked as he dropped to the ground and peered at the paddles they’d attached to the back of the boat.
“I have no doubt the boat will operate exactly as I told you it will,” Norman returned, smiling when Gemma plopped down on her stomach beside Oscar, peering at the paddles as well.
“Aren’t you afraid the chain will rust?” she asked.
“Not unless you intend on pedaling for days, something I wouldn’t advise since the weather, with it being almost the end of October, is turning questionable.”
Gemma was on her feet a second later. “Then Oscar and I should immediately launch the boat, before that questionable weather turns up.”
“You can’t take the boat out on the water until your mother shows up, which should be in”—Norman consulted his pocket watch—“fifteen minutes.”
“That’s forever from now,” Gemma complained.
“It’s not, but to pass the time, I suggest you and Oscar go back to the wagon, give Mort a few pats to keep him in an amiable frame of mind, then get yourselves into those flotation devices I made for you.”
Gemma frowned. “Why do we have to wear those? Are you afraid the boat might sink?”
“No, but I am afraid that one of you may get distracted by an unusual fish, or a gust of wind may whip up some waves, sending you into the lake.”
“Oscar and I know how to swim.”
“You’re wearing the flotation devices and that’s that.” Norman nodded to Stanley. “Your uncle Stanley was forced to go into the water the last time the two of you went boating. I have recently read, though, that swimming is a most acceptable exercise for a gentleman to participate in, running being nowhere to be found in that book, which is a shame since it is my exercise of choice . . .”
He stopped talking when Gemma and Oscar scampered away without a single word, heading toward the wagon.
He turned to Stanley and quirked a brow.
Stanley grinned. “Children, if you’re unaware, aren’t really keen to suffer through dissertations, especially ones that have something to do with appropriate exercises for gentlemen.”
“I would think Oscar would find that fascinating, being that he’ll one day be a gentleman and will need to decide what manly exercise he should pursue.”
“He’s eight, and at the moment, the only thing he and Gemma are interested in is getting their new boat on the water. That also explains why they’re now trying to wrestle themselves into those flotation devices you made them.” Stanley nodded to where the children were doing exactly that, grinned again, then returned his attention to Norman. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re surprisingly good with the children, and that you’re so concerned for their safety has left me questioning if I know you at all.”
“You’re surprised I’m concerned about the safety of my niece and her friend?”
“I’ve insulted you, haven’t I?”
For the briefest of moments, Norman wanted to agree that he was insulted, until he remembered that he’d never shown any attention to any of his nieces or nephews before, let alone their friends, and thus had never shown any concern about their safety.
It was an unfortunate state of affairs, but since he’d decided he was going to do his utmost best to make amends for the neglect he’d shown his family, he caught Stanley’s eye and shook his head. “You have every reason to be surprised about my newfound interest in our family, so no, I’m not insulted. I’ve been self-centered for most of my life, consumed with my own affairs, thinking that I was justified with that unfortunate behavior because of my unusual intellect. I’ve recently realized that perhaps I’ve been wrong in the path that I, as well as Mother, believed God had set out for me, because that path wasn’t leading me to a place where I could put my intellect to use helping people. To my chagrin, I’ve realized I’ve been pursuing science as a way to benefit myself, hoping to earn accolades from fellow scientists, and even hoping to create a viable electrical vehicle so that I’d no longer be burdened with the inconvenience of traveling around without the benefit of a horse.”
“You still don’t have a horse,” Stanley said, sending a pointed look to where Mort seemed to have fallen asleep again on his feet.
“But I now have the means to travel freely about the city without waiting for trains or rented cabs, even if Mort doesn’t always want to deliver me to my intended destination. But speaking of horses . . .” He nodded to where two riders were galloping their way.
As they drew closer, he recognized Beatrix, the mere sight of her sitting so competently on her horse leaving him smiling. He’d not seen her ride since their train adventure, but she made a most impressive sight, moving at ease with her horse, while her companion seemed a touch unsteady in the saddle, although he wasn’t certain who she was riding with.
“Is that Theodosia?” Stanley asked, shielding his eyes with one hand as he peered at the other woman riding alongside Beatrix.
Norman’s gaze flicked over that woman again, then flicked over the black stallion, one that turned out to be Sebastian, Theo’s new horse. “I believe it is.”
“What’s she done to herself?”
“I think Gladys Huttleston and her friends have take
n her in hand.”
Stanley began moving toward the ladies, looking over his shoulder. “Theodosia didn’t need to be taken in hand. She’s always been perfect just the way she is.”
Before that incredibly telling remark could settle, Norman suddenly realized that Beatrix, who’d already dismounted from her horse, shouldn’t have been at the lake in the first place because she was supposed to be working.
Striding forward, he reached her side in a blink of an eye. Taking hold of her hand, he brought it to his lips. “What’s wrong?”
Beatrix’s nose wrinkled. “Why would you assume something’s wrong?”
“You’re supposed to be at work.”
She blew out a breath. “Oh, yes, quite right. I’m not at work because I’ve been dismissed from my position.”
“What?”
“I know, it was a shock to me as well, but I haven’t had much time to dwell on the matter because after I was dismissed, I then found myself traveling to a jail to secure the release of Colette Balley.”
Norman took hold of her arm right as Agent Cochran rode up to join them, looking remarkably windblown.
“Dare I hope Agent Cochran was with you when you went to this jail?” Norman asked.
“He was, but since you’ve clearly got a million questions, allow me to explain.”
By the time Beatrix was done explaining, Norman had more questions than answers—one of those being how Beatrix had acquired the funds needed to post bail in the first place because she hadn’t been employed long enough to amass fifty dollars, let alone one hundred dollars.
Before he could voice a single question, though, a carriage arrived on the scene, his mother, father, and Constance stepping out, Constance holding the hand of her youngest son and his nephew, Christopher.
Christopher immediately tugged his hand free and dashed for Gemma and Oscar, who were now waddling their way into the lake, the flotation devices he’d made for them impeding their progress.