Fearless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 1): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series (11 page)

My hands clenched in my lap, fingers wringing in nervousness. I
did not
want the Suffragettes out on the streets. I wanted to protect them.

“She has a point, Mrs Poynton,” Mina offered serenely. I turned my head and stared at my cousin.

“And think of the exposure,” Helen added. “Perhaps if the interview with the reporter were carried out by a person of respect within our movement, at the same time as the audience with the deputy mayor, then the newspaper would be more inclined to offer the front page.” She glanced over my cousin toward me and offered a wink. Turning back to address Mrs Poynton she declared, “Breaking news, you see?”

“Breaking news,” Ethel repeated. Then a few contemplative seconds later, “Of course, it should be myself who deals directly with the newspaper.”

“Of course,” Mina, Helen and I said in unison. Mina giggled immediately, receiving an elbow in the arm from Helen.

I kept my face neutral and my eyes on Mrs Poynton.

“Very well,” Ethel announced, turning around and lifting up the three hundred odd page petition for the Auckland and Northland areas. She stared at it in her hands for a suspended moment and then looked up and speared me with a hard gaze. “This is only the start, Miss Cassidy. But to start well, we must needs make an impression.”

I stood up from my seat and weaved through the excited women in the hall, some of whom were practically bobbing up and down in their seats with enthusiasm. This was what Ethel did well. Unification of a goal. The desire to do the very best for our cause.

I didn’t need the incentive. The Suffragette movement was one I had wholly dedicated myself to. And now there was even more reason to succeed in this latest mission. Safety of the remaining Suffragettes was paramount.

“I will make the best of impressions, Mrs Poynton,” I promised, reaching her side and holding out my hand for the precious document. “I have so much to gain and even more to lose.”

She stared hard at me for a long breath, her eyes searching my face for sincerity. I had no doubt she’d see it. I’d long since decided my path lay through this franchise. The right to vote was more important than anything. With it women would achieve a form of equality never before accomplished. Never before seen.

And that achievement would only lead to further equality in the greater areas of our male dominated society.

Drummond was not going to hold my father’s position forever. The next chief surgeon
would
be me.

The petition was placed in my arms with steady hands. I met the challenge with indistinguishable dignity.

Gripping the entreaty tightly to my chest - this promise of freedom, this provider of privilege - I turned and faced my fellow Suffragettes.

“Today we take the first step towards our destiny,” I said. “Today we make the auspicious move to stand at men’s sides.”

“To equality!” Ethel cried from behind me.

The rafters rattled with the women’s shouted reply.

Ten

I Abhor Distractions

Anna

I tapped the petition lightly against my skirts; a rhythmic
thwack
sounded out inside the hansom. The three hundred or so sheets of signatures had been painstakingly glued together to make one scroll. The rolled up form was rather large for one hand to grip, but my agitation seemed to aid in the manoeuvre.

“I fail to see why you must accompany me,” I ground out between continued beats of the paper against my thigh.

“The more the merrier,” Helen replied. “Besides, Ethel would have the rest of us congregating for a photograph with the reporter, had she had her way.” Helen shuddered. “I may support this movement, but I do not wish to be documented as doing so for the rest of my days.”

“Your dedication to the cause is duly noted,” I said dryly. “And you?” I enquired of my cousin.

“Where you go, I go,” she replied simply.

Oh, but thank the Lord that was not necessarily the case.

“Mr Entrican has been known to change his opinion of late,” I pointed out, glancing out over the horse’s gently bobbing head to see how much longer we had before we arrived on Queen Street. Traffic was congested; I could count four carriages ahead of us at least.

“But he has always been so supportive of our franchise in the past,” Mina said plaintively. “Why, he’s the very reason we’re using the mayor’s office as our representative, rather than the local member of parliament.”

“I’m not arguing his former enthusiasm for our cause,” I pointed out. “Only his reluctance to be cornered by us recently.”

“And you believe he’ll see you?” Helen asked dubiously.

I wasn’t sure why, but I had the feeling that the man would indeed. Not much had been exchanged on that deserted dockyard street. But what had been exchanged had been interesting. He’d allowed me access into the inner workings of the City Council. Perhaps that was just how the man operated. Freely giving information away at the drop of a hat. But something told me his statements had been purposeful. The only conclusion I could make was he’d warmed to me.

I was counting on Mr Entrican’s favour considerably.

“I believe he’ll be intrigued as to why I am there,” I offered, instead of opening myself up to ridicule.

“Well, I’m sure you’d have more success than another rally,” Mina astutely pointed out.

“Indeed,” I murmured, thinking only of Margaret’s body so near the election speech stage. So near where our protest march would have terminated.

The cabriolet came to a stop outside the mayor’s offices. To my great relief not a single reporter was to be seen. I’d feared Ethel would have beaten us, insisting the interview be carried out on the steps of the council building. The backdrop would have made a fine photograph, at the very least. Especially if she timed it as we marched up the steps, petition in hand, determination and conviction on our faces.

I
was
determined, but for more dire reasons than the Suffrage movement.

Turning towards the two women accompanying me, I said, “Are you certain you wish to enter this lion’s den?”

Mina sucked in her bottom lip and looked around nervously. Helen reached over without looking at her friend and squeezed her hand sympathetically. Her eyes, though, were on me.

“We may not fervently support this cause as you do, Anna. But we do fervently support you.”

I stared at the girl. No older than twenty-two. Wilhelmina’s age. I felt a lifetime’s worth of death and destruction older than the two. What I had seen. What I had suffered. I wished to spare my cousin and her friend implicitly.

“Then you are most welcome at my side,” I said appreciatively.

We alighted the hansom and walked up the steps to the council offices without a backward glance. Now was not the time to be hesitant. We needed to look as though we belonged. Had every right to be there.

The entrance foyer was sparse and devoid of furniture. Not a single painting of Auckland decorated the wooden panelled walls. The high ceiling and low light within made the space seem more masculine than it needed to be. That and, perhaps, the fact that we did not encounter another female.

The secretary at the reception was indeed male. A young man in his early twenties, whose eyes widened at the sight of three vivacious ladies. Well, at least, Helen and Wilhelmina were true beauties. Although I was still in mourning for my father, Mina had forgone weeds some months ago. My father only a distant uncle to my cousin. Both women wore the height of fashion; bold colours in bronze and mahogany, laced with splashes of aquamarine. They shone in the lights of the smaller reception area. Their petticoats ruffling, their bustles calling attention to their diminutive waists. Their perkily placed hats sitting jauntily.

The secretary’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets, it took some effort to gain his attention.

“Good day, sir,” I tried for the second time.

“Hmm?” he said, finally allowing his gaze to wander off the spectacle before him and alight on myself. “What can I do for you, miss?”

“We wish to visit with Mr Entrican, please.”

“Mr Entrican?” he queried, clearly still in the cloud of wonderment emitted from my company.

I spared a disgruntled glance at my companions, receiving wide smiles of delight from both ladies.

“Yes, Mr Entrican came to my aid this morning.” A small lie, but one I hoped would not be repeated to the gentleman in question. “I wish to express my gratitude, and my cousin and friend have chosen to support me.”

“Gratitude, you say?” the man enquired, now more firmly on stable ground. “I’m sure the deputy mayor would appreciate a letter, miss. But an audience is out of the question right now.”

“I assure you, Mr Entrican would like to hear what I have to say,” I tried.

“He’s a busy man, miss. Too busy for fashionable ladies offering tokens of their appreciation.” He glanced at the petition in my hand, which I quickly hid in the folds of my skirt.

I searched my brain for a suitable hook, to reel not only this gatekeeper in, but also Entrican.

Alighting on only one possible option.

“Well, if you must know,” I said in faux frustration. “It’s in regards to the council owned building in Mechanics Bay.”

The gentleman stilled, an expression of mild shock crossing his features. He took another searching glance at all three of us, dismissing Wilhelmina and Helen, and spearing me with an interested look.

“Does it now?” he asked, his attention now solely on me. Just what did that building house, that seemed so fascinating? An opium den, I was certain. But such a thing was not out of bounds for even a woman to attend or be aware of. My interest could be for the person I was mourning. But for some reason, the building in the dockyard was more than just an establishment for the smoking of opium pipes, I was certain.

But what exactly evaded me.

“Indeed, sir. I press upon you the need to meet with the deputy mayor, and his impending appreciation that you see to it.”

“Well now,” he said after a moment. “If you would please wait here, I shall determine if the deputy mayor is in fact free.”

He got up and left the reception table, moving through a door at his back that revealed very little. Several seconds passed before Wilhelmina plucked up the courage to speak.

“Just what are you playing at, Anna Cassidy? A building at Mechanics Bay? What would you know of such a thing?”

“‘Tis best you not enquire, cousin.”

“You’ve been very secretive of late,” she grumbled, arms crossed unladylike over her bosom. “It is becoming more and more worrisome.”

“Worry not, sweet Wilhelmina,” I pressed. “My interest is purely professional.”

“That’s what’s so upsetting,” she murmured, just as the secretary returned.

“He will see you now,” he declared with all the pomp of an audience granted by the Queen.

He stood to the side as I walked forward, his eyes straying down over my corset with an improper lascivious glare.

I suppressed the shiver that wanted down my spine as I passed him, coming out into a darkened anteroom with only one possible exit. The door across from me was open, and standing in the entranceway was Mr Entrican.

His eyes widened on identifying me, then quickly shuttered into the jovial mask he seemed to wear. Why I thought it a mask, right then, I’m uncertain. But the swiftness in which he hid his surprise alarmed me. What else did this man choose to hide?

“Miss Cassidy, is it not?” he questioned, offering a small bow as we approached.

“Mr Entrican,” I greeted with a small curtsy. “May I introduce to you my cousin, Miss Wilhelmina Cassidy and our friend, Miss Helen Nelson.”

“Ladies,” the deputy mayor intoned. “Won’t you please come into my office?”

A small breath of relieved air left me as we crossed what remained of the space and entered a much brighter environment. Late afternoon sunlight filtered in through the windows, shining lovingly on artistry depicting Auckland. I recognised Mechanics Bay, the location of the building and the hub of imported produce to our city. Much of what was sold to us from the Maori tribes came from the Hauraki and Waikato areas via this harbour and busy dockside port. I believed the natives called it Te Toangaroa; the literal translation my father had told me being “
Dragging of waka - or canoe - a long distance.
” A name I had always thought much more beautiful than functional “Mechanics.”

JJ Craig sawmill was depicted in one sketch. Niccol and Sharp Boatyard in another. Harkers Brickyard, James Robertson’s Rope Walk and Union Sash & Door Company among others. But not the building I’d seen the deputy mayor emerge from. It was clear, though, that Mr Entrican supported the workers of our great city. Progress and industry a theme in his etchings. However, the absence of Waipapa Hostel or the Waka Reserve at the base of Constitution Hill - such iconic Mechanics Bay institutions - set the tone of his favour.

Mr Entrican was a supporter of European endeavours over those who had settled here long beforehand.

I returned my eyes to the gentleman in question, noting he hadn’t missed my assessment at all.