Wayward Winds (32 page)

 61 
Confusion

Down the sidewalk and away from the Pankhursts Amanda ran, heedless of how disheveled she looked, heedless of direction, heedless even of the hot tears running down her face.

How could everything have gone wrong so suddenly? It was a nightmare come true.

Where she ran, where her steps took her over the next hour, she could never recall. She vaguely remembered taking a cab to Cousin Martha's house, thinking to seek refuge there. But as she approached the gate, something checked her steps. Somehow she could not endure the humiliation of facing them. Perhaps it was the realization that word of her predicament could not help but get back to her parents.

She turned and walked away, and again walked and walked, where she did not know. It was getting late, but she was not paying attention to time.

When next she came to herself, she found herself standing in front of the
Daily Mail
building. Whether she had arrived on foot or had hired a cab, she did not know. She stood several moments staring up at the imposing structure, then walked into the building. By now she did not care what people thought. Let them stare. She had nowhere else to go.

She asked the receptionist if Mr. Halifax was still here at the late hour. The woman replied that she thought he was, then pointed
Amanda toward the stairs where, up two flights, she would find the world editorial department.

The moment Halifax saw her he knew something was seriously wrong. Amanda had determined to maintain her composure and not cry, but he could see trouble written over every inch of her face. Quickly he excused himself from conversation and led Amanda to a room where they could be alone.

“Amanda, what in the world has happened?” he said the moment the door was closed. He gestured toward a chair. “You haven't been involved in what's been going on all over London?”

Amanda nodded as she sat down.

Ramsay sighed, and now sat down opposite her with serious expression.

Amanda took a breath and tried to be stoic. “I'm sorry to bother you here, Ramsay,” she said, “but . . . but I didn't know where to turn.”

“No trouble, Amanda,” replied Ramsay. “You should have come to me. Tell me what happened.”

Briefly she recounted the day's events at the museum, followed by her blow-up with Mrs. Pankhurst.

The journalist took the information in with interest. His expression grew yet more somber.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I don't know. I hardly think I will be welcome at the Pankhursts again. Although they will probably all be in jail before tonight, if what Mrs. Pankhurst said is true.”

“Believe me, it is true,” replied Halifax. “The whole city's abuzz. Our tomorrow's edition will have the Pankhursts and their dirty tricks all over the front page. That's why everyone's here so late. The police are looking for her now. They're reported to have Sylvia and Christabel in custody, but I've heard nothing to confirm it.”

“I suppose I could go back to the house,” said Amanda. “I have a key, and who knows, maybe by now there is no one there but a servant or two.”

The journalist was silent another moment, thinking to himself.

“From what you've told me,” he said at length, “you may not be safe there. Your name has come up a time or two around here today, although I let on nothing.”

“
Come up
—how do you mean?” said Amanda.

“The police are looking for you too. That's big news that the daughter of Sir Charles Rutherford was involved in the museum incident, and was the only one to escape without apprehension.”

“Oh, Ramsay, what am I going to do!”

“I thought jail was an honor for you suffragettes.”

“The rest may think it so, but I've about had my fill of jail and the whole movement altogether. I'm frightened, Ramsay. What they did today was the worst by far.”

“That's why the news is full of it. Your colleagues upped the stakes considerably today.”

“What am I going to do?”

Again he thought.

“Hmm . . . it's a risk,” he said, “but I think she'll go along. It will give us overnight to think of what should be done.”

“Go along—who?”

“You go back downstairs, Amanda,” he said. “I just need to wrap something up here briefly. I'll meet you down on the street. I'm taking you to my mother's for the night.”

 62 
What to Do

It was not until she arrived at the home of Ramsay's mother that Amanda began to grow conscious of her appearance. Mrs. Halifax and Mrs. Thorndike were seated in the drawing room. They rose when the two young people entered.

Ramsay explained briefly what had happened, that Amanda had had a falling out with the Pankhursts and needed a place to stay for the night.

“Heavens . . . such a frightful business,” said Mrs. Thorndike, shocked to learn that Amanda was involved with such people as the Pankhursts.

“Don't you worry about a thing,” said Mrs. Halifax. “We will have you bathed and in a fresh dress, and you will feel much better before you know it.”

Amanda was not inclined to argue. She was too exhausted mentally and physically. After what she had been through today, she was willing to do whatever anyone told her.

“Amanda,” said Ramsay, “I'm going to go back to the office, then maybe down to the police station. I want to see if I can find out anything.”

He saw the look of alarm that passed across Amanda's face.

“Don't worry,” he went on quickly. “I won't tell anyone you're with me. But we have to be careful. I want to learn how serious is the situation. It may be that you will have to turn yourself in tomorrow.”

“You cannot be serious, Ramsay,” interposed his mother.

“I simply want to know where things stand,” he replied. “We cannot turn your house into a refuge for suffragette fugitives, or the police would be around here just like they are the Pankhurst place.”

Mrs. Halifax nodded soberly. She knew the necessity for avoiding such a development even better than her son.

“Don't worry,” Ramsay went on, “I have no intention of placing Amanda in harm. We simply must be prudent.”

He turned and left the house. The moment he was gone, the two ladies busied themselves getting Amanda bathed, dressed, and fed.

As the evening progressed and dusk began to fall, Amanda could not prevent misgivings creeping in. She had never noticed it before now, but being in Mrs. Halifax's home made her realize that she was a little afraid of Ramsay's mother.

This arrangement wasn't really proper anyway, staying in the home of an unmarried man. It would be far more seemly to go to Cousin Martha's.

And yet . . . she might be in trouble with the police—serious trouble. And Ramsay was the only one who could help her. She
had
to stay here.

What am I worried about?
she said to herself. She could trust Ramsay. He would let no danger come to her.

Ramsay returned at half past nine. The four sat down at the table, and as he partook of a modest tea, Ramsay gave his report.

“The situation is serious, as I suspected,” he said. “Besides the incident at the museum and the bomb at Trafalgar Square, there were telephone lines cut, hundreds of windows broken in the business districts, and tar put in the mailboxes of many M.P.s. It is clear to the police that Mrs. Pankhurst has changed her tactics.”

“What about Amanda—is she in danger?” asked Mrs. Thorndike.

“To a degree—yes,” replied Ramsay. “The guard at the museum reported what happened and that he let the women into the exhibit on the basis of Miss Rutherford's request. They
are
looking for Amanda. But it has not yet come to the point of a warrant being issued for her arrest. The bomb at Trafalgar is more serious, though no one was injured. The fact that they presently have Mrs. Pankhurst in custody makes the police less inclined to press the matter with Amanda.”

“What about the others?” asked Amanda.

“Somehow Christabel and Sylvia managed to slip out of the grasp of the police,” replied Ramsay. “I don't know how. A warrant has been issued for Christabel. Meanwhile, a raid took place at the Pankhurst home two hours ago. Mrs. Pankhurst, Mrs. Tuke, and both Mr. and Mrs. Pethick-Lawrence are now behind bars in Cannon Row police station.”

“What am I going to do, Ramsay?” asked Amanda. “I don't want to go to jail.”

“I doubt it will come to that,” replied Ramsay.

He paused a moment and sipped his tea.

“As I was driving back,” he said, “I had an idea. But let me ask you a question first, Amanda—what is your future with the Pankhursts?”

“I don't know,” answered Amanda with a forlorn expression.

“How long do you anticipate continuing to be part of the suffragette movement?”

“Everything happened so fast today that I've hardly had the chance to think about it.”

“Do you plan to return to live with the Pankhursts?”

“After what I said today, I am not sure I would be welcome. Besides, didn't you say Emmeline was in jail?”

“At present. And Christabel and Sylvia in hiding.”

“Whatever I decide, it would seem that after today, everything is bound to change.”

“Do you
want
to go back?” asked Ramsay.

“I don't know,” sighed Amanda. The truth of the matter was that she didn't know what else she could do. Her bank account had dwindled to something less than three hundred pounds, which would not be enough to support herself for more than another year, if that. She might be able to afford a flat of her own, but then what would she do a year from now? If only she hadn't spent her money so foolishly!

Mrs. Halifax astutely observed the expression on Amanda's face. “Is it a matter of finances?” she asked.

“I'm afraid that is partially the case,” replied Amanda, nodding her head.

“Amanda dear—worry yourself no more about it,” she said. “We have plenty of room in this huge old house since my husband died. It is just the three of us—Ramsay, Mrs. Thorndike, and myself, along with two servants. You will stay with us as long as you like.”

“I couldn't impose—” began Amanda.

“Nonsense, dear. The matter is settled.”

“What do you think, Amanda?” said Ramsay. “If you indeed are through with the Pankhursts after today, I could arrange to have your things picked up. Or, as you said earlier, you have a key and you could return for them.”

“I will think about it tomorrow,” sighed Amanda. “What about the police?”

“I may have an idea that will help,” answered Ramsay. “I will write an article. We will get it into day after tomorrow's edition—an exclusive interview with Amanda Rutherford about the incident at the British Museum.”

“What!” exclaimed Amanda.

“Don't you see—it would give you a chance to explain publicly what happened, and, if you like, say that the incident caused a falling out between you and Mrs. Pankhurst and that you are leaving the movement. That is why I asked what your plans were.”

Amanda thoughtfully took in his words. Such a step could not help but affect many things about her future.

“Such an interview would prejudice the police in your favor. I do not think they would press the matter further. You could make a public apology for your complicity in the affair, and even go so far as to turn yourself in. I realize the risk such a course would involve. But at this stage, the authorities would gain so much positive publicity by having a defector, as it were, speak out against the movement, I am certain they would not arrest you.”

It fell silent around the table. Amanda was the first to break it.

“It's so ironic . . .” she said in a softly melancholy tone, then paused and smiled a sad smile. “I came to London thinking that I was joining a great cause. For as long as I can remember I wanted to make a difference in the world. I wanted to have an impact. I wanted my life to count for something of significance. I was so angry with my father when he resigned from the House of Commons. I thought that he was reneging on his duty to change the world for good. I determined that I would never shirk that responsibility to help my fellow man.”

As she spoke, Mrs. Halifax listened with keener interest than she allowed her Teutonic features to reveal. The wheels of her mind were turning over many possibilities which she had only been considering
vaguely until then. For the time being, however, she would keep her own counsel and see what developed.

“And now here I am,” Amanda continued, “trying to figure out a way to keep from being arrested. And for what? For a cause that sets bombs and cuts telephone wires and destroys priceless antiques. What has it all been for? How do such things make the world a better place? What good has it done anyone?”

Amanda laughed lightly. But there was no joy in her voice, only the bitter realization that her life was not turning out as she had hoped.

“Your Mrs. Pankhurst would say that such means are justifiable if the end is gained,” suggested Ramsay.

“I might have said the same thing two years ago,” rejoined Amanda. “But their tactics have changed since then.” She smiled ironically. “Perhaps I have changed too,” she added.

Again it was silent, this time for several minutes.

“Well, what do you say?” said Ramsay at length.

“About what?” asked Amanda.

“The interview. Shall I write the story, saying that you were duped and knew nothing of their plans to damage the exhibit at the museum, and expressing your horror at what happened?”

Amanda sighed deeply.

“Yes, write the story. I will consent to an interview for your paper. And then tomorrow—that is, Mrs. Halifax,” she added, turning to Ramsay's mother, “—if you were serious with your offer—”

“Indeed I was, dear.”

“—then tomorrow I shall return to the Pankhurst home and gather up my things.”