“I thought that would be obvious even to you. A common brawl is no place for a lady.” He stopped suddenly and turned. “Or was it your intention to fight each one of those men?”
“I fail to see how you can interpret the throwing of one tomato as the desire to brawl. Why you must misjudge everything I do—”
A muscle in his cheek twitched, stopping me from finishing the sentence. It took him a moment, but at last, with his jaw held tight, he said simply, “Go home. Helena, come with me.”
He strode off in an arrogant manner, not looking back at us.
“Well,” I said to myself. “He might be exceeding gifted when it comes to kissing, but he is a very illogical man.” She choked, and I hastened to cover up my comment. “I think, Helena, that you should go to your brother. I would not, however, mention our earlier adventure—he seems to be a little belligerent at the moment and is positively shaking with anger.”
“I don’t believe you have to worry about him being angry,” she said slowly, then kissed my cheek and ran after her brother.
I pondered her comment for a moment, concluded her senses were still overcome with emotion from the abduction and rally, and since the rally had broken up, made my way home without further incident.
Chapter Eleven
I had planned a quiet evening at home reviewing the household accounts so that they might be ready for Mabel’s return, but, as I have had occasion to note, things often do not work out as I plan. Annie burst into tears upon seeing me, and hurried toward the back stairs when I called after her.
The evening post brought with it a large, stiff envelope with a prominent coronet. It turned out to be an invitation to the Duchess of St. Alban’s annual masquerade ball a few days hence. I was surprised at the invitation since I do not move in that circle of society, but a moment of thought cleared up the situation.
“Helena,” I told Marmalade the cat. “She’s a friend of one of the daughters of the duke. No doubt she asked the duchess to add me to the invitation list, thinking I would enjoy the opportunity to parade around in an extravagant costume with the cream of society. The question is whether I should send my regrets, or indulge in the sheer waste of time and money that being costumed would require?”
Marmalade, a wise cat, made no comment other than to purr and rub his teeth on my hand as we sat before the fire.
“I agree. It would be an insult to Helena were I to refuse. That just means I must come up quickly with an idea for a costume. Something simple and plain, I think, like a toga. Oh! Emma will be able to help me! Surely with her knowledge of the ancient Greeks she can help me design a Greek costume, elegant and graceful, draped in a flattering fashion.”
I ousted Marmalade from my lap and left a message for Emma, asking for her assistance. As I entered the hall, Mullin stopped me with a note from Helena.
“Has there been any trouble below stairs,” I said as I took it. “Annie seems to be upset about something.”
Mullin was an admirable butler, but he had one failing—he loved to gossip. I could almost see his ears prick up when I mentioned Annie’s behavior. “No, miss. Nothing that I am aware of. Would you like me to make inquiries?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I thanked him and opened Helena’s note. My stomach tightened with dismay as I read the words. Maggie Green has invited me to participate in a protest tomorrow morning outside of Bosworth’s club. I feel I must go, and would be delighted if you were free to join us.
“Of all the idiotic…” I muttered to myself as I marched back to the library. “Now I’m going to have to go with her just to see that she is kept out of trouble.”
I wrote another note accepting her invitation, and was eyeing the account book when Theodore returned with the intelligence that Emma was not at home. “Her landlady says she’s likely down at her club,” he intoned in a slightly adenoidal voice.
“That’s perfect,” I said, brushing the cat hair off my lap as I gathered up my hat and bag. “I’ll go there and see all of the excellent costumes her club members have made up for their historical reenactments. Perhaps they will provide me with inspiration.”
As I was about to leave, Mullin materialized at my side. I could tell something was wrong because his face was pink with excitement.
“Yes? What is it?” I asked wearily, wondering what catastrophe had befallen us now.
“Excuse me for interrupting you, Miss Cassandra, but you asked earlier about Annie, and now it appears that she has locked herself in her room. We have tried to speak with her, but she won’t answer. Mrs. Mullin is concerned that she might have done some harm to herself.”
“I see. Theodore, give the cabby a few pennies for his trouble and send him away. I’ll have to go to the Sapphist’s Club later.” Removing my hat, I ran up the three flights of stairs to the room that Annie shared with another maid, and spoke loudly outside of her door. “Annie, let me in. I want to talk with you.”
“She won’t answer, miss,” one of the housemaids said from behind me. “I’ve tried and tried, but she just won’t answer me.”
Most of the household staff was gathered with her, waiting to see what would happen. I heard noises from inside Annie’s room, and turned to the staff and shooed them away. “Go on, back to your work. I will take care of this.”
Mullin’s face dropped, but he herded everyone downstairs.
“Annie?” I tapped at her door. “Everyone is gone except me. Will you please let me in?”
There was a scuffling noise, then the lock turned and the door opened to reveal a haggard Annie, her face swollen and red from crying. She looked so miserable it almost broke my heart.
“Oh, dear,” I said, closing the door behind me. “Whatever is the matter?”
She wiped at her face with a scrap of handkerchief and mumbled something incomprehensible.
A firm approach was clearly called for. I shook her gently. “This sobbing will do you no good. Now dry your tears and tell me what the problem is.”
“Oh, miss, I can’t, I just can’t,” she wailed, squinting her eyes with the effort of crying. No tears came, indicating that she had been sobbing for some time.
“I will not leave this room until you do so. Annie, look at me,” I softened my voice. “There is nothing you can’t tell me. I’m your friend, you know that, don’t you?”
The words must have penetrated her misery, for she made an effort to collect herself. “Yes, miss, you are a friend. And I know you won’t think the less of me for my fall.”
“You fell?” I asked, looking her over for signs of injury. “Are you hurt?”
“No, miss, not that kind of fall.” She took a deep breath. “I have been ruined.”
“Ruined,” I repeated stupidly, not comprehending at first. My eyes widened. “Oh, ruined!”
Annie nodded, and a few weak tears straggled down her face. “What will I do?”
I sat down abruptly in an old rocking chair in the corner. “Oh, my goodness. Ruined. Are you—is there—will there be a baby?”
She nodded, her face puckered as two thin lines of tears stole down her cheeks.
“Oh, Annie, how?” I blushed as I heard my own inane question. “That is to say, how did you come to this? Is it…is Jackson responsible?”
She shook her head miserably. “Mrs. Garner will dismiss me as soon as she comes home. Oh, miss! Please don’t let them send me to the workhouse. I can’t go home, the shame would kill my mum. Don’t let them send me away.”
“You are my maid, not Mrs. Garner’s, so she cannot dismiss you. And I am not likely to,” I said in response to her panicked look. “Who is it who has led you to this situation?”
“Mr. Jones,” she snuffled into my skirt.
“I don’t think I know him. Has he offered to make an honest woman out of you?”
She shook her head.
“Have you had a discussion at all about marriage?”
“No, miss.”
“If he was agreeable, would you wish to marry him?”
“No, miss.”
I was surprised by her answer; I was sure she would feel the situation was serious enough to make her desire marriage over an illegitimate baby. “Oh, dear,” I sighed to myself, at a rare loss for words.
Annie looked up with a wretched expression. “You won’t turn me out, will you?”
“I’ve already said I wouldn’t, and I mean it. Let’s get you into bed. You’ve had a terrible day, but don’t worry. We’ll work things out somehow.”
I spent another ten minutes reassuring her and getting her tucked into bed before I pressed her for details about the father.
“William Jones, his name is. I met him when we first came to London. He was ever so smart, and I was the envy of all the housemaids for having such a beau.” She smiled with the memory of her domestic coup. “He took me to the Music Hall on my evenings off. We had such larks, you would laugh to see the way he went on.”
“Do you know where he is employed?”
“Self-employed, he said. He was on a very important job that he couldn’t tell me about, but he was never mean with his money, not like some I could say.”
“When did you last see him?”
Tears pooled in her eyes again. “It’s been over four days, now. He used to call for me every day, faithful like, but now he’s stopped calling for me, and won’t answer any of my letters.”
“Four days isn’t very long. Don’t worry, we’ll find him,” I said, wondering how one went about finding a recalcitrant suitor. “What does he look like?”
“He’s ever so good looking,” she said, sniffling. “Brown hair and eyes, not too tall, and dresses sharp. And he’s got a lovely gold tooth.”
Blood pounded in my ears as I swayed against the door. There must be hundreds of people in London with gold teeth. Perhaps thousands. “A gold tooth? Where?”
“In the front. It shines when he smiles.”
Mullin was lurking around the stairs as I descended, my knees unusually wobbly, and my brain whirling with speculation.
“Everything is fine, Mullin. No need to worry,” I repeated the platitudes. “Tell Mrs. Mullin that Annie will do herself no harm. She is just a little upset over a bit of trouble in her family.”
Since I had yet to deal with the neglected household accounts, I was up early the next morning. After a few mundane tasks, I set off to meet Helena. Other than casting a suspicious glance up and down the street for a man with a gold tooth as I left, I did not spend much time musing over Annie’s dilemma. I would support whatever choice she made, either finding her a small cottage on my late father’s estate, or keeping her in service if that was her desire.
“I only wish I could so easily resolve the worry about Helena,” I said with a sigh as the carriage rolled along. While it was true she was an adult woman and ultimately responsible for her own behavior, I felt a distinct unease when I considered her unbridled enthusiasm. She was putty in the hands of the manipulative Maggie Greene. “It’s very clear that I’m going to have to keep an eye on her, no matter what my feelings about the militants.”
“What’s that, miss?” Jackson asked as he opened the door for Helena.
“Nothing. Oh, my, Helena, that is an incredibly lovely walking suit. That amethyst is absolutely gorgeous.”
“Thank you, dear Cassandra.” She beamed as she sat beside me, the color from her dress casting a brilliant hue over my ivory gown. I looked critically at her dress, trying to find a fault or flaw in it. There were none.
“How do you do it?” I asked in defeat. “Every time I meet you I pick out a dress I think is particularly smart, but on each occasion you put me to shame.”
“I put you to shame? Cassandra, you have it reversed. I try my best to keep up with your fashions but cannot come close. Look at your lovely ivory gown—those crossed panels of black velvet ribbon are simple, and yet entirely elegant.”
“You are a true friend to fib to me like that. I appreciate the compliment, but I think we both know that your figure is the one favored by fashion. But come,” I said quickly to forestall her protests, “tell me about the Duchess of St. Alban’s masquerade ball.”
“I hope you don’t think it forward of me to suggest that you be invited to the ball. Lady Alice particularly asked me who I might like to have come, and there was no one I would rather see there than you.”
I took the compliment with the grain of salt I felt it deserved, but thanked her anyway. “Will your entire family be attending?” I asked with studied nonchalance.
“Harold and Letitia will,” she said pulling a face. “Griffin is invited, but he said . . . well, he said some rather rude things about the ball.”
“Ah. I can understand his reticence—I am not fond of such events either.”
“Oh, but you’ll come, won’t you? I had thought you might like to have your cousin as your escort,” she smiled, “but perhaps now you would prefer someone else.”
I sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t have that many male relations who would be able to accompany me, so even if I did want to attend—and I must admit I have thought of an excessively cunning costume—my lack of an escort will keep me home.”
“Oh, but surely there must be someone…I beg your pardon, Cassandra, that was rude of me. Of course, if you would rather not go I can understand your desire to stay home. But dear, dear friend,” she grasped my hand and pressed it between her lovely amethyst-colored gloves, “if it is simply for the lack of an escort, your problem is solved. I’m sure Griffin would be delighted—”
I pulled my hand back quickly. “No, thank you, Helena. It will not be necessary to foist me upon your brother. Besides, a bachelor escort who is not a relative would never be acceptable in the eyes of society.”
“Why, Cassandra,” Helena said, clearly amused. “I never thought you would be a slave to society’s rules.”
I squirmed a bit at her gentle teasing. “I’m not, for my sake. But there are my aunt and uncle to consider…oh! That might be the answer to my problem. I wonder if they have been invited?”
“I’m sure they must be, your uncle is such a prominent man. What an excellent solution! You could attend with them, and we could stand together and make wicked comments about the couples dancing.”
“I doubt that you will do much standing,” I said with a smile.
She smiled back happily, and we indulged in a cheerful gossip for the remainder of the trip. I was just about to ask her a few subtle questions about Griffin when we arrived at our destination. I put my hand on her arm as she started out of the carriage. “Helena, please . . . let me caution you about becoming too involved with Maggie Greene’s group. I know you are excited and determined to do your part, but please allow your good sense to guide your actions.”
She flashed a smile. “I won’t do anything that I think you wouldn’t do.”
I followed behind her, far from reassured.
Maggie stood in a cluster of about twenty women. She was a little perturbed to see me, but took my appearance in stride. “Ladies, this is an important protest that we will make today. Has everyone a sign?”
Helena held up her hand, and one of Maggie’s minions brought over two signs. Helena’s read Women Demand Equality, while mine mysteriously proclaimed to one and all that I was Ignorant No More.
The bulk of the women, including Helena, were gathered in a cluster at the front of the club entrance. Maggie sent me down the street about half a block with the instruction to wave my sign at every passing vehicle. I was rather hesitant to leave Helena, but her assurance that she would not act foolishly still rang in my ears. Giving her one last uncertain look, I took my assigned position.
The club steward came out and wrung his hands anxiously as he spoke with Maggie, but she soon sent him packing. A few minutes later, a pair of constables arrived and proceeded to shoo away Maggie and the others.
I moved closer, expecting the worse, but she surprised me with her acceptance of the inevitable. Gathering the group together,
she herded us across the street. “The club clearly has the local police in their pocket,” she informed us with a determination that filled me with foreboding. “We are forbidden to demonstrate directly in front of the entrance. They said nothing about demonstrating across the street, however, so this is where we will make our stand!”
As we took our new positions, vehicles poured into the street from the far end. I peered into a few of the carriages and motorcars as they stopped alongside the curb, but they were all empty. A suspicion began to take form when the first group of men exited the club.
Maggie and her contingent were in a knot directly across from the club exit; as the first gentleman stepped out onto the pavement, the militants increased the volume of their chants and waved their signs vigorously. The man ignored them and marched down the street to where his motorcar was waiting.
Uneasy, I started for Helena; as I dodged one of the protestors who was shaking her sign vigorously, I saw Maggie’s hand flash and heard the impact as a stone smashed the window of the motorcar parked opposite.
“I knew it!” Horrified, I dropped my sign and ran forward as the women began flinging stones with abandon. Torn as I was with the desire to haul Helena away, I was more concerned about Maggie harming someone. I launched myself at her from the side, hoping that the others would stop if I could down her. We fell together, hitting the pavement with a force that made my teeth rattle. Hats flying, we startled a few of the women closest, but the rest seemed to think nothing as we rolled in the street, Maggie screaming curses and trying to gouge my face with her fingernails.
Rocks and debris dug painfully into my back as I did what I could to wrest a large stone from Maggie’s right hand, and at the same time keep out of reach of the talon-like left. A sharp elbow to my jaw made me see stars but had the benefit of reminding me I wasn’t a helpless victim. Gritting my teeth against the pain of Maggie’s knee in my ribs, I made a fist and punch out blindly. Luckily, I connected with her face, snapping her head back into the curbstone. I hauled myself upright, breathing heavily, my lip swollen and wet from where she had landed a blow. I licked off the blood as I got to my feet, bending over to examine Maggie. She was dazed but not seriously hurt.