A Bloom in Winter (17 page)

After her company had left, Prudence did up the dishes and wondered what Andrew thought of her now that he knew she hadn’t even known how to do laundry. In his world, even men knew how to do laundry, even if they never had to. Would he even have married her had he known how useless she actually was?

Laundry!

Drying her hands quickly, she ran down the stairs two at a time and let herself into the cellar. After flicking the light on, she hurried over to where her sheets and Andrew’s undershirts were still soaking. Snatching up the laundry stick, she pulled up the washing and deposited it into the rinse water. Frantically, Prudence stirred the wash to try to rinse out the bluing but it was no good—both of their sheets and all of Andrew’s undershirts were freckled with deep blue spots. She let the water out and rinsed the clothes twice more before she gave up. She still wore the apron she’d donned when she washed the dishes and she wiped her hands carefully before covering her face and sinking to the ground in defeat.

Well, if Andrew had been surprised before to find out she couldn’t do laundry, he certainly wouldn’t be anymore.

*   *   *

Victoria stood in Katie’s doorway, unsure whether to slam the door in Kit’s face or enjoy the spectacle of watching him grovel.

She chose the groveling.

“You didn’t answer my note,” he said.

She crossed her arms and kept her mouth closed. Her things were all packed and ready near the door, but she still hadn’t decided whether she would accept a ride to the train with him or let Martha take her. Martha would be more than happy to drive; all Victoria had to do was call.

But this might be more entertaining.

“I apologized for my behavior in my note. I met Sebastian and your cousin at the club and I lost track of time. I tried to come here and explain, but you wouldn’t open the door.” He looked at her, accusing.

“You showed up completely blotto, after everyone had gone to bed. Hardly the time for an apology.”

Kit shuffled his feet. “I sent a note.” Sulkiness had crept back into his voice and Victoria had trouble suppressing a triumphant smile.

She reached down and grabbed one of her bags and shoved it at him. He stumbled, nearly falling.

“Hey! What was that for?” he asked.

“I thought you were driving me to the train station?”

His face brightened. “So you forgive me?”

“I didn’t say that.” She shoved a second bag at him. “Go put those in the car. I’ll be right down.”

She gave Katie and Muriel each a hug. Lottie had gone out earlier, saying she would see her soon. She didn’t seem elated about Victoria’s new position in the organization, but she was
resigned to it. Of course, Lottie worked another job and put most of the money into the organization, so she had a reason to be sour.

“Look, Vic, I said I was sorry, what else am I supposed to do?” Kit asked once they were in the car.

His voice sounded peevish, not at all repentant, and he glared at the road in front of him instead of looking at her with remorse. Of course, he was driving, but those old French novels she liked to read were very clear about how apologies were supposed to be handled. This was not the way. Of course, those were always between men and women who were in love, and that was not the case between her and Kit. Not at all. So maybe apologies were different, too? She settled back into the fine leather of his motorcar and let him sweat a bit. No reason to give in too quickly. She had been humiliated. Twice. Once when he stood her up, and then again when he was howling and drunk outside Katie’s door.

His shoulders were bunched under his fine jacket by the time they reached the station. “Do you have your ticket?” he asked tersely.

She nodded and he hopped out of the car. Instead of coming around to let her out, he opened the back door and pulled out her bags and gave them to a porter. Uncertainly, she climbed out of the car and approached as he tipped the porter.

“I forgive you,” she said in a rather small voice.

“What’s that?” he barked as the porter left.

She tilted her head back to get a better look at him. “I said I forgive you.”

“Oh, you forgive me, do you? How nice. How entirely big of you. Who do you think you are? A princess? Should I be grateful for your forgiveness now?”

She stepped back, alarmed by the sarcasm in his voice. Then anger burned through her again. “You’re quite lucky I forgive you, as you behaved like a beast! You humiliated me in front of my friends—”

“Oh, now we’ve come to the real problem, haven’t we? You were embarrassed in front of your friends.”

Victoria looked around the sidewalk, her cheeks heating with humiliation. “Stop it. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

“Well, maybe I should just leave, then?”

“Maybe you should. It’s not as though I can’t find my way to the proper platform,” Victoria said, her voice clogged with tears. This was not the way it was supposed to be going at all. How did it get so far out of hand? Kit was supposed to be her
friend
.

“Good day, then.” Kit’s cheeks were mottled, but he tipped his hat and turned to go.

“You’re behaving like such a baby!” she yelled after him, and though he paused for a fraction of a second, he didn’t turn around.

Fine, she thought, wiping her tears with her gloved fingers. If he wanted to be a bore, he could just be a bore. Her breath caught in her lungs, but it wasn’t the tightness that preceded an attack, it was a sense of loss nearly as acute as the one she’d felt when she lost Prudence or even her father. Which didn’t make any sense at all, she thought as she resolutely found her platform. Kit wasn’t family, he had just been a friend and a rather poor friend at that, if she thought about all the ways he’d teased her or completely misunderstood her.

She boarded the train, remembering all the ways in which Kit had disappointed her. And after all, they had been friends for only a few months. Maybe they weren’t compatible after all.
Let him have his silly friends and their drinking all night and their Cunning Coterie. She had
real
things to do. She had real things to do for Martha, who was not only her boss but a friend.

Victoria entered her train compartment feeling better. Not completely better—it was still sad to lose a friend, after all—but still much improved. She had work to do.

*   *   *

Victoria’s mouth fell open when she spotted Rowena waving her hat and umbrella as the train pulled into Theton Station. What a departure from the sad, listless girl she had left just a little over a week ago.

Rowena caught her up into a tight hug the moment she stepped off the train.

“Lord, I’ve missed you. So much has happened.”

Rowena’s complexion had always been fair, but she had taken on a sickly pallor the past few months. For the first time in ages, a healthy pink stained her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled. “I don’t believe it!” Victoria breathed. “You’re in love!”

Rowena pulled away from Victoria, her eyes wide. “How on earth did you guess?”

Just then Sebastian appeared behind Rowena, smiling from under his black umbrella.

Victoria looked from one to the other, confused. “Sebastian?”

“Congratulate us, sister dear, for I am engaged to your sister!”

Victoria felt her mouth open. “What did you say?”

Rowena laughed. “It’s a very long story, little sister. Just let me say that quite a bit has occurred since you left.”

“I’ll get your bags while Rowena fills you in,” Sebastian said.

The rain poured down as the girls raced to Sebastian’s car.
“I can’t believe how quickly the weather changed. It wasn’t anything like this in London,” Victoria said, once they put down their umbrella and climbed into the car.

“This just started yesterday. Before that it was perfect. Sunshine, no clouds or wind. Perfect flying weather.” Rowena gave her a sideways look and Victoria pounced on her.

“You had better tell me what’s going on. It’s about the pilot and not Sebastian at all, isn’t it?”

Victoria kept quiet until Rowena had completely finished her story.

“But what are you going to do about Aunt Charlotte? She is going to be devastated when you tell her you’re not marrying Sebastian, and that instead you are marrying a pilot from an impoverished family.”

Rowena avoided her eyes and Victoria burst out, “Wait. He hasn’t asked you to marry him?”

“No. We’re not even thinking about that yet,” Rowena said. “I’m learning to fly! I’m going to be a pilot and I’m in love. Isn’t that enough for a week?”

Victoria narrowed her eyes. “Well, yes, I just don’t understand. If he loves you, why hasn’t he asked?”

Sebastian opened the back of the motorcar and set Victoria’s bags inside before coming around to the driver’s side.

Victoria fell silent, the muscles in her back bunched in a disgruntled knot. Part of her wanted to tell Rowena about her own exciting adventures, but her news couldn’t compete with a sham engagement. She wasn’t used to being upstaged. Plus, her argument with Kit still rankled.

“Well, when are you going to tell Auntie that you have broken off the engagement? You had better do it before people start sending engagement gifts.”

“Jon leaves for Kent in a few days,” Rowena managed, suddenly crestfallen.

Victoria shifted, uncomfortable. She’d never seen her sister in love before and Victoria knew nothing about her beloved, other than the fact that he hurtled himself and her sister recklessly through the skies.

After they reached Summerset, Victoria bided her time until she could slip away to her secret office. She chatted with Elaine and her aunt and told them about London, as if she had spent the entire time with society. She had a hard time inventing people who were in society whom her aunt didn’t know. At last, she admitted that though she’d seen most of those people at the opera and such, she had spent most of her time at the Kingslys’, and with some friends of her father’s. Though Aunt Charlotte’s mouth had puckered at that, there hadn’t been much she could say.

Once she had spent as much time as she decently had to discussing fake wedding parties, she dashed up to her bedroom, gathered the leather folders Martha had given her, and secreted herself in her hidden office. After building a roaring fire to help fight off the ever-present chill, she settled herself down with her work. A moment of disappointment transpired when she thought about what she had originally planned to tackle upon her return to Summerset—more articles for
The Botanist’s Quarterly
—but that evaporated when she thought about how worthy the work was that she now committed herself to.

One of the folders Martha had given her contained information on how to perform her new duties. Martha wanted her to be a spokeswoman for the organization, as well as help with clerical duties. The other folder was filled with papers Victoria had put together herself on various services for women. She pulled
out the first packet and went through it. First, she discovered a small packet of cards, with
The Suffragettes for Female Equality
printed on them, with a post office box address in a lovely, feminine script. Then she looked over a packet of papers containing a list of names separated into groups. Victoria frowned, wondering by what criteria they were grouped. Then her brows rose as she caught the differences. The first group included her aunt’s name and was a list of twenty women who could be considered first-tier society. These were the women who set the standards that all others lived up to. Like Aunt Charlotte, most were titled, wealthy, and in their forties.

The next group was more of a puzzle, but Victoria soon figured it out. These women were fashionable and stylish. They were also wealthy, but they were younger, not necessarily titled but definitely society. The third group was easy. They were all Jewish women who were tolerated by society because of their wealth and their attention to detail. The fourth packet contained the most names, but Victoria recognized only a few of the names on the list. It took her several minutes before she realized they were all newly rich, social-climbing wives of self-made men or they were Americans. After this list there was a note from Martha.

So glad to have you with us! I know you are going to be such an asset. Because my name has been besmirched among society, I no longer have any clout with these women. But you, my darling, are the perfect person to incite in these women sympathy for our cause. I think you should emphasize how we help poor mothers and downplay our suffragette activities, as many of these poor women have been deluded by their husbands into believing that not having any rights is for our own good. Can you believe this? It makes me so angry!

So it is best working among these women to use our main name, the Suffragettes for Female Equality, which might be less inflammatory. You wondered why I wanted you to use discretion when discussing your work with others and this was one of the very main reasons. Of course, my darling, I am not asking you to lie about our activities; just be careful about which truth you share!

So about this list. I am sure you will be able to persuade your aunt to introduce you to these women if you do not already know them. The season is approaching and there will be many opportunities for you to speak about our worthy cause. We will of course have several training sessions before sending you soliciting into the wild, so to speak, so I need you to come back to London as soon as you are able. Besides, I will miss you dreadfully.

So for now, your assignment is to memorize this list, make sure your aunt knows how eager you are to take your place in society, and plan a trip back as soon as possible! I trust in your ability to do all those things, enterprising creature that you are.

Best,

Martha Long

Victoria frowned. Take her place in society? She hated society. Their father had raised them to detest such snobbery and now she was going to have to court it?

She shuddered. Martha had no idea what she was asking. But then again, she could see the wisdom of having someone on good footing not only with the people who had the money to keep their organization running, but with those whose husbands made parliamentary policy. She just wished she didn’t have to be
the one to win these women over. She had thought she would be working more on the front lines rather than in the sitting rooms and parlors of the wealthy.