Come Be My Love (19 page)

There was no afterward beyond more lovemaking without commitment.

"Please don't do this," she said. "You're scaring me."

Jon moved around the table. "You don't need to be afraid of me," he said soberly as he edged his way toward her. This time, she didn't move, and he took her in his arms and held her. "I don't want you to ever be afraid of me, love. I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

Sarah placed her hands against his chest to maintain some distance, and said, "Then please don't do what you were doing."

Jon tipped her chin up to gaze into her eyes. "What, telling you how it would be with us? I thought it would ease your apprehension. I want to be the first man with you. I want to be the one to teach you everything about making love."

"Well, I'm not ready for that."

"All right, we'll go slow, take things a little at a time until you’re used to the idea."

"I don't seem to be getting through to you, Jon. Just because—"

He touched his finger to her lips to stop what she was about to say. "You
are
getting through to me. I understand." His hands closed around her waist and she stood in the circle of his arms. "Now, tell me how you’re doing with your enterprise."

Sarah looked up at him, distracted. "My... enterprise?"

"Your mercantile business." He kissed her lightly.

Sarah removed his hands from around her waist and held them at arm's length. "Are you curious or interested?"

"Both."

Her face, which moments before had been tight with apprehension, became animated, and her eyes shone with zeal as she said, "It's so exciting. I've had favorable responses from many of the women here, and even some of the men. And the application for my license is almost ready. I have also obtained signatures from several merchants and two bankers. And a few of my new women friends have told me that their husbands will endorse the application as well. So I expect to deliver my papers to the city council shortly, perhaps even by the first of next week."

Jon sighed. She was so confident, so filled with eagerness and enthusiasm that he didn't have the heart to tell her that the council had no intention of granting her the license. In fact, they had no intention of stopping short of seeing her on a ship bound for the States, which, of course, he’d not allow. He did make up his mind, however, that when the battle was over, he’d be there to nurse her wounds in the way he knew would most quickly and completely heal the hurt.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sarah sat at her dressing table, preparing for her meeting with the city council, a confrontation she and Esther had wryly come to refer to as
The Inquisition
. Peering into the mirror, she adjusted her bonnet at a jaunty angle so the bird perched among the cluster of silk flowers would not appear to be sitting squarely on top of her head. Esther stood looking over her shoulder. Sarah glanced at Esther’s reflection in the mirror and noted that her features were really quite good: nicely contoured lips, straight nose, well-defined cheeks. But something was different. True, Esther was about to make a bold, brash statement against her brother and his cabinet. But there was something else, something about her eyes. Eyes that looked suspiciously as if they wore a touch of... brown bistre?

Looking more closely, trying to discern if Esther was, in fact, wearing coloring on her eyes, Sarah said, "Are you certain you want to march with us?" Esther’s joining the group that Sarah had collected to parade to the courthouse would definitely place Esther in jeopardy with both her mother and Jon.

Esther gave her a confident smile. "Yes," she replied. "I think it's appalling what the city council is doing to you. And Jon is being an utter gooseberry to allow them to do it. So I want them to see that you're not alone in your crusade."

"I appreciate it," Sarah said, leaning toward the mirror. Was Esther also wearing a trace of rouge on her cheeks... and perhaps a touch on her lips? Her face definitely had more color.

Esther's brows gathered in a frown. "Jon doesn't suspect what you have planned, does he?"

"No," Sarah replied. "I haven't seen him in the past few days." Five days to be exact. Although collecting the last of the signatures had kept her mind occupied during the day, at night she had not been able to dismiss thoughts of Jon and the way he'd described how his lovemaking would be, or the way she had responded to him. Every time she thought of
that
her face grew hot. Nor could she dismiss their candid exchange in the cottage. As she visualized the hedonistic scene Jon described, her eyelids fluttered closed, her heart accelerated, and damp heat centered between her thighs...

"You'd better pull yourself together" —Esther's voice seemed far away— "or you'll look like a wilted flower by the time you get to the meeting. Just remember, Jon rescued you at the picnic so I imagine he'll rescue you from the city council, if need be."

Sarah blushed even deeper at Esther's wrong assessment. "I won't need rescuing," she said, touching her handkerchief to her brow. "Everything is in order so the council will have no choice but to grant my license."

"Don't be too sure," Esther warned. "Mrs. Harris said that the mayor let slip that the city council is going to try and make you look so foolish, you won't want to stay in Victoria."

Sarah stood and adjusted the blue scarf fichu around her shoulders and smoothed the skirt of her matching poplin walking dress. She had no idea what to expect from the city council, but whatever their decision, she'd be dressed in a manner that would not distract from the issue at hand. "At least I won't be facing them alone," she said, fluffing the lacy ruffles at her wrists.

"You are certainly right there," Esther said. "I suspect we'll have half the city behind us by the time we get there. I let the word out that anyone wanting to join us was welcome."

Sarah visualized a parade of determined women marching to the fateful meeting...

Forty minutes later, Sarah and Esther walked in long purposeful strides toward the stone jail building where the city council held its meetings. Accompanying them was an entourage of Charlotte Potts, Elizabeth Thurman, Wellington and Mandi, Flora and Jeremy Pickering, Mrs.
Dewig
-
Gertz
and
Mr
Gertz
, and four men and eighteen women whom Elizabeth, Charlotte, and Flora had enlisted for the occasion. As they paraded through the streets, curious onlookers fell into step behind them, and by the time they reached the jail building, the flock had grown considerably.
En masse
, they marched into the anteroom, where a nervous little man sat at a desk. The man looked up in shocked surprise, rose, scurried into a back room and shut the door. A few minutes later, he returned, accompanied by Mayor Harris and Israel Needham.

Sarah stepped forward. "My appointment is at eleven o'clock." She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that she was exactly on time. "I trust you're expecting me."

"Well, yes." Mayor Harris's eyes scanned the crowd. "If you'll step this way."

Sarah and her flock followed Mayor Harris into a large room where six dour-looking men sat lining one side of a long table. While Mayor Harris and Israel Needham took their places, people crowded into the room, some filling the pew-like benches, others standing against the walls and packed into the hallway. Mayor Harris called for quiet in the room.

Sarah faced the formidable assemblage. Reaching into her carpetbag, she pulled out the application papers and offered them to Mayor Harris. "As you will note, I have answered all the questions and obtained all the required signatures."

Mayor Harris took the papers and perused them, while the two council members flanking him looked on. Although the men exchanged murmured comments, Sarah was not able to discern what they were saying. At once, the men's voices died, and all eyes focused on the door. Sarah turned to find Amor De Cosmos stepping into the room. He leaned against the wall, a sardonic smile curving his lips. Mayor Harris whispered to each of the men beside him, and they passed his words along in both directions. That done, he turned his attention to Sarah's papers and silently reviewed them, brows drawn, mouth set in a pugnacious line. When he'd finished perusing the document, he passed it to Israel Needham, who gave it a fastidious examination.

Sarah noted the meticulousness with which the men inspected each page. "I'm certain you'll find everything in order," she said.

Mayor Harris looked up. "That, Miss Ashley, is for us to decide." His tone warned her to be silent. He reached across Israel Needham and pointed to a particular item on one of the numerous pages, then mumbled something.

Israel Needham nodded, and Sarah caught a glint of wry humor in his eyes. "It seems, Miss Ashley, that you have not completely answered the question about the removal of offal matter. Could you be more specific as to what offal matter you will be removing, and by what means you will be removing it? That is, will you use a shovel? A tin pail? You have not included these details."

Sarah glared at the man. "I stated that the offal matter would be from slop jars on the premises, and periodically from the privy. I assume you gentlemen are aware of what is contained in both."

"But you have not stated on this application exactly what that is," Needham pressed. "If you will simply explain in detail to the council at this time, I'll note it on the document and complete the question for you."

Sarah's eyes narrowed as she gazed around the table at the faces. It was just as Mrs. Harris had warned. These men intended to make a public spectacle of her. Well, she could play their insidious little game. Glaring at the man, she replied, "Human excrement, Mr. Needham. If you wish more detail I'll have to depend on you for that. Holding such a lofty position on the town council as commissioner of sanitation, you must know the precise composition of the matter in question."

A whoop from Jeremy Pickering was followed by robust laughter from the rest of the spectators.

Israel Needham's face deepened into a rich shade of red. When the laughter died, he muttered, "Then we will just fill in the answer as human excrement."

"Why so formal, Needham?" Jeremy Pickering shouted. "Why not just call it
sh
—"

"Jeremy!" Flora jabbed her husband in the ribs, sending him into a fit of coughing and the crowd into roars of laughter.

"Order! Let's have order in here," Mayor Harris said while rapping the table with his gavel. When the crowd settled down, the mayor scanned the faces. "If there is another outburst, all spectators will be asked to leave." He turned to Israel Needham, who appeared to be the spokesman for the group, and nodded for him to continue.

Needham cleared his throat. "About the nature of your business, Miss Ashley. You state that you intend to manufacture women's garments. Could you be more specific?"

"More specific?" Sarah felt a nagging uneasiness. She could not guess what the catch was this time, but she was certain it had something to do with bloomers. Aware of the men's hostile gaze, she said, while attempting to maintain a steady voice, "It is stated quite clearly on the application. I plan to manufacture bloomer costumes, overtunics and shirtwaister dresses."

Shifting glances and whispering among the crowd brought Sarah's head around, and to her surprise, she saw Jon standing in the doorway. The shock of seeing him took her breath away. The faces around her faded. The whispers and stares receded. All she was aware of was how incredibly handsome he looked standing tall and commanding in a top hat, tan frock coat, and brown breeches. The coat emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and the tight breeches made her aware of how lean his hips were, how powerful his thighs, how very male he was. Gradually, it dawned on her that perhaps he, too, had come to take part in her ordeal.

Jon held Sarah's gaze, aware of whispers rustling through the crowd. Then he peeled off his gloves, removed his top hat, and walked through the crowd, which parted for him to pass. Scanning the faces of the councilmen, he said, "Don't let me interrupt this cozy little gathering, gentlemen." He lowered himself into a chair at one end of the table and rested his gaze on Sarah. Wisely, she'd worn conventional dress. He'd thought of suggesting she do so, but deciding she'd take it as meddling, tossed that idea. He focused on her bonnet and the dainty bird perched atop. Catching the worry in her eyes, he smiled. She flushed deeply, fanned her lashes several times and licked her lips, leaving them shimmering and wet.

Jon fixed Israel Needham with a wry smile. "As you were saying, Commissioner... something about the nature of Miss Ashley's business..."

Needham glanced around at the other men, cleared his throat, and proceeded. "Miss Ashley, you led the council to believe that you would be fashioning women's garments, yet it clearly states here that you plan to manufacture trousers."

"Bloomers," Sarah corrected.

"Is there a difference? As I see it, both accommodate a man's needs, that being to have freedom to move about unrestricted while--” he leveled his gaze on her “--earning a living to support a family."

"You're absolutely right," Sarah said. "The garment does allow one to move about freely, much more freely than trousers." She gave him a contrite smile. "And I do see your point."

The councilmen nodded to one another their minor success. For a moment, Sarah didn't respond, and Jon grew uncomfortable, suspecting she was stymied. Then he noted that she didn't waver beneath Needham's gaze and in her eyes he saw triumph.

She gave Israel Needham a smile with a trace of irony, and said, "I apologize for restricting my garments to women. If you or any other man on this esteemed council care to purchase a bloomer costume, I'd be happy to take measurements and see that you receive what you want. I'll have a complete line of silks and fine wools. But, of course, if you prefer ginghams or plaids, or perhaps checks—that's quite the rage among men now—that can be arranged." Again the room filled with laughter, and Mayor Harris banged his gavel on the table until the voices died.

Jon saw the mayor's eyes flicker with amusement, and, he thought, perhaps even… admiration? But maybe Harris had no choice but to concede. His wife, Jon noted, was among Sarah's supporters.

Israel Needham's eyes narrowed as he said slowly, and deliberately, "That, Miss Ashley, is not what I meant."

"I know exactly what you meant," Sarah said. She leaned forward, fingers splaying on the table as she scanned the faces of the men. "How ready the distinguished members of this council are to raise a bugbear by turning their attention to insignificant details on my application in an attempt to embarrass me and publicly ridicule my utilitarian garments. But perhaps I should give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that your impression of what I propose to do is distorted: that you view my plans through glasses fogged by prejudice and hear my proposal through ear trumpets blocked by prejudgment. Gentlemen, I respectfully suggest that you cease these dilatory tactics and proceed with good faith consideration of my application and the issuance of my license." Applause and cheers erupted, and again Mayor Harris rapped his gavel.

Jon grinned widely, amazed at Sarah's capacity to survive in the face of adversity. Silence stole over the room as everyone waited for whatever would happen next. Sarah seemed relaxed now. Perhaps too relaxed. Maybe even... overconfident. Jon saw the slight curve to her lips and caught the baleful look in her eyes as she waited. But he knew she hadn't won the battle yet.

Israel Needham passed the papers to Samuel Eckstein, another council member, who looked at the item to which Needham pointed with a stiff finger, nodded, and said, "The location of your building, Miss Ashley. You stated that it will be on Wharf Street, but you didn't indicate where on Wharf Street it will be."

"That's because I have no idea
where
on Wharf Street it will be, since I am unable to lease a building from anyone until I have my license, a recent directive I suspect. My plan, however, is to find a building near the waterfront. But now I suspect you'll object to that, too, for whatever reason, so perhaps you might be so kind as to give me an idea where I will be allowed to operate. A location some distance from Victoria and up a muddy little lane accessible only by mule should meet with your approval." She tightened her mouth and said nothing more.