Suffragette in the City (20 page)

She looked at me curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s a long story—”

I stopped as the door opened. Robert stepped in, saw Helena, and apologized. Or rather, he started to. One look at Helena sitting in a canary chiffon day dress with ruffles at the neck and sleeves seemed to bewitch him. He stammered, and finally dragged his eyes off her to me.

“I was about to leave on that errand we discussed last night.”  His eyes went back to Helena. “Do you have any other instructions?”

I watched him with interest. “Only one—that you meet my very good friend Miss St. John. Helena, this is Robert Hunter, an old childhood friend who has come to stay with us.”

Helena
blushed prettily (a fact I noticed sourly—when I blush it clashes with my hair), and held out her hand.

“Helena is Griffin St. John’s sister,” I said meaningfully. Given the news Helena had brought, I was very anxious that Robert should be quickly on his way.

“How fascinating,” he breathed, never once taking his eyes off of her.

“Yes, she is,” I said, prodding Robert. “And I’m sure you’ll have a chance to see Helena again, but right now you have a call to make.”

Robert blinked at me. “I do? Oh yes, I have a call I must make.”

“An urgent one.”

He gazed longingly at Helena. “I hope to see you soon, Miss St. John.”

I pushed Robert out of the room and turned to find Helena wearing the same dreamy expression. Sitting beside her, I asked, “Did Griffin say anything else to you last night?”

“Last night?” Her thoughts were evidently a million miles away.

“Yes, last night. The evening we most recently had.
That
last night.”

“No,” she sighed happily. “You’ve known Mr. Hunter for a long time? Does he…is he here with his family?”

“He has no family other than a brother in South Africa,” I answered, watching happiness spread across her face.

I could see I was not to get any further information out of Helena today, so I gave her a brief summary of Robert’s life, told her I would think of something with regards to Griffin, and sent her on her way. As she was leaving, a messenger delivered a letter for the family. It was an invitation from my aunt to dinner the following night, in honor of Joshua and Mabel’s return.

An intimate family dinner
, the invitation read, which could mean anything between four and forty people, depending on my aunt’s whims. I gave the letter to Mabel, answered as many questions about Helena as I deemed necessary, and went out to meet Emma for the final fitting of my costume.

“I still think one of your simple Greek outfits would have been lovely,” I told her an hour later.

“Yes, but just think how much more unique this will be,” Emma said as I turned for the dressmaker. “There are always Greek women at a costume ball, but how many Scheherazades will there be?”

I had to admit that she had a point. After consultation with a scandalous version of the Arabian Nights, not to mention a good deal of money in the form of incentives to Madame Depui, the dressmaker, I had devised a costume made up of  golden gauze embroidered with faux precious gems.

“I like the sashes,” Emma said approvingly. “Green, blue, and purple—very dashing. But Cassandra, your midriff! Won’t your aunt be scandalized?”

I looked down to the daring two inches of bare midriff peeking through the sashes that swept from my left shoulder to my right hip. “Madame Depui insists that it is perfectly suitable.”

“Oui,” Madame said, adjusting one of the veils that hung from a small, close-fitting cap. “It is perfect the way it is. Very catching to the eye.”

“What jewelry will you wear?” Emma asked as I disrobed and began to get into my regular clothes.

“Nothing. I think jewelry would detract from it. Thank you, Madame. You will be sure to have the hem raised by this afternoon?”

 “Yes, it is minor, the hem. I should have it done in time.”

“Excellent.” I tipped her generously, and invite Emma to take a walk with me in Hyde Park. “I have so many things to tell you. Robert is back from South Africa.”

“Robert Hunter? How interesting.”

“Yes, and you will have to come to tea to meet him. He’s matured nicely, I think. And is a fair way to being smitten with Helena.”

“Really.” She looked interested, and pressed me for details. As we strolled to the park, I filled told her first about Robert and Helena, and then about my own troubles.

“It sounds to me like Mr. St. John is jealous,” she said after a few minutes of silent thought.

 She slid me a considering look. “Is there any reason he should be?”

“Emma! You know me better than that!”

“No, I meant that he wouldn’t be jealous unless there was some sort of an emotional relationship.”

“Oh. Well, as to that…” We had reached the park and had started across its expanse. I cleared my throat and paused a moment to admire the daffodils bobbing in the weak March sun. “You know it was my intention to offer Griffin the position of lover.”

“Yes.”

I glanced at her to see if she was laughing at me. Her face was averted as she leaned over to admire some crocuses.

“Well, I did offer him the job, and he accepted.”

“I see.” She turned to me, her smile knowing. “And I take it you approve of him in that role.”

“I would have to be mad not to,” I said, unable to keep from smiling myself at the memories that threatened to scorch my mind. “I just knew he would have the most outstanding derriere, but it has exceeded even my highest hopes.”

She laughed and squeezed my arm. “So you have had your first lover’s squabble, and now must find your way clear to making up.”

“I would hardly call this our first squabble.”

“Perhaps not, but this is the first one where your relationship has entered into the fray. Well, my dear, I have no advice for you other than to talk to him. I find that most things work themselves out if you just take the effort to talk.”

“That’s easier said than done.” We had reached the edge of Rotten Row, and paused to admire the horses as they cantered past.

Just as we were turning away, I noticed I noticed a small man in a brown check suit standing at a little distance next to the railing. He turned, his eye meeting mine, whereupon he smiled, politely tipping his hat in greeting.

“The man with the gold tooth!” I gasped to Emma. “Or as I suspect, Mr. William Jones!”

“Who?”

“I’ll tell you about it later.” Emma followed as I hurried over to the man.

“Good day, miss,” he said cheerfully, gold flashing as he spoke.

“It
was
. Would you tell me, please, who you are and exactly why you have taken to following me?”

“Me, miss? Follow you, miss?”

He did a credible job of appearing confused, but I was not misled. “Yes, you sir. There is no use in denying it, I know full well you have been following me. What I would like to know is why. I do not have a great deal of time; you will please make your explanation and apology succinct.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about, miss. I haven’t been following you, I’m just out for a stroll on a lovely morning.” He smiled amiably.

“A likely story,” Emma said scornfully.

I took a deep breath. “Very well, if you will not tell me, perhaps you will tell a policeman.” I turned as if to go in search of one, expecting him to stop me, but he held his ground.

“By all means, if it makes you feel better.”

Emma and I exchanged glances. There were no policemen about, only people strolling around the park, or those riding the Row. A group of young women on horseback, several carriages, and two men in military uniforms were approaching, but no bobby. I shrugged in imitation of defeat.

“Would you like me to beat him with my umbrella?” Emma asked, wielding that item as if it was a sword.

“That wouldn’t be wise, miss, that surely wouldn’t,” the man said with another of his unpleasant smiles.

Emma took a step closer to me.

“It’s tempting, but I don’t believe it will be necessary,” I told her. “I am sure I will obtain the information I seek by another means.”

The group of giggling young women were a few feet away, followed closely by the two officers. I hated to use violence, but there are times when the needs must and all that. As the gigglers and their officers came into hearing range, I turned to Mr. Jones and slapped him on the cheek.

“You cad!” I shrieked, taking him and Emma by surprise. “You bounder! You brute! How dare you say such things to me! You, sir, are no gentleman!”

Englishmen to the tips of their toes, the two officers abandoned the pursuit of the young women and gallantly rode over to assist me. I clutched Emma’s arm and leaned on her, my hand over my eyes as if sobbing.

“Ma’am,” one of them dismounted and held his hat in hand, “may we be of assistance? Is this man bothering you two ladies?”

Mr. Jones threw one look at the two men, another at the grim determination on my face, and took off like a hare.

“He impugned my virtue,” I cried, urging the officer after him.

“And mine!” Emma said, falling into the spirit.

“Never fear, ma’am, I’ll get the bounder.”  The first soldier saluted, tossed his reins to his compatriot, leaped over the railing, and was off.

Fearing Mr. Jones was too wily to be caught by just one man, I grasped my skirt with one hand and ran after them, Emma on my heels.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but he’s done a bunk,” the officer said, looking around in circles at the entrance to the street. “He’s given me the slip.”

“That’s all right. You did the best you could. Thank you for your chivalrous actions.”

He bowed, and offered to escort us somewhere, but we declined. After he left, I explained quickly to Emma why I sought him.

“We will cover more ground if we separate,” Emma said, looking thoughtful. “You take this side of the block, and I’ll do the opposite. Shall we meet up in about a quarter of an hour?”

“An excellent idea.” I picked up my skirts and headed in the direction indicated, searching street after street without luck. Just as I was about to give up, I caught site of my quarry a block ahead, walking quickly around a corner. I ran after him, just in time to see him disappearing into a shop. I ran past a bookstore and Cook’s office, stopping next to it at a gentleman’s outfitter.

“There’s nothing for it,” I told myself, and plunged into the building. Blinded by the dimness of the shop after the bright day, I was startled when a voice spoke directly behind my right shoulder.

“May I…
serve
you in some way, madam?”

It was a shop clerk, looking more than a little astonished at my appearance.

“Thank you, no. I’m just browsing.”  I strolled nonchalantly over to a counter and prepared to interest myself in its contents. Once rid of the clerk’s attention, I would casually work my way through the rest of the shop in search of my prey.

“Good heavens!” I cried, staring in horrified shock at the products of an intimate and thoroughly masculine nature held in the case. “Does that do what I think it’s supposed to do?”