tonight.”
“Nonsense, you make me sound like visiting royalty,” Carrie Chapman Catt said in her rich, deep voice. “We’re all foot soldiers in this together, you know. These are my fellow infantrywomen: Sarah Lindley, Annabel Chapman, Hortense Maitland, Mildred Roberts, and Felicia Hamm. I’m delighted to meet you, Molly. I hope you’re a fellow champion of the cause.”
“She’s about to join the ranks of the enemy,” one of the younger women quipped.
“Meaning what?” Carrie asked sharply.
“She’s getting married in a couple of weeks.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll cease fighting for the cause,” Carrie Chapman Catt said fiercely. “I myself have been married twice and have never been under my husband’s thumb.”
“And I don’t intend to be under my husband’s thumb either,” I agreed. “I’ll most definitely still be a supporter of votes for women.”
“Well said, Molly.” The speaker was a beautiful young woman with porcelain white skin and hair that was deepest copper. “I’ve been enduring the same teasing from our more militant sisters. I’m Sarah and I’m also getting married in a few weeks. So we shall be twins—the two redheads who will defy the odds and remain true to the cause after they marry.”
“I’ll wager you won’t have an easy time of it, Sarah,” another of the women said. “Your intended seems horribly conventional and old-fashioned to me.”
Sarah flushed. “Well, he has been raised in that kind of society, so I admit that my task won’t be easy, especially if we go back to England.”
“Your future husband is English?” I asked.
“The honorable Monty Warrington-Chase,” Gus said with a grin. “Son of an English peer. Our sister Sarah will be a lady one day.”
“She may be able to influence her husband in the House of Lords,” Carrie said. “The women of England are having a tougher time than we are, but in spite of it are acting with greater bravery and audacity—throwing themselves in front of carriages, chaining themselves to railings. Foolhardy, but one must admire their courage.”
Sid touched my arm. “So Molly, we’re dying to hear about this assignment. What could the mysterious rich gentleman have wanted that has wearied you to the point of exhaustion?” Her eyes twinkled as she said this.
I looked around the group. It was somewhat unnerving to have those earnest faces staring at me. “Oh, but I don’t think I should interrupt your meeting,” I said. “I should go up and change out of these crumpled rags and leave you to your discussion.”
“As to that, I believe we’ve agreed upon everything that we can tonight,” Carrie said. “Elena will continue to write her series of articles on injustices to women, and we hope that some may be published in the national press.”
“And Annabel and I will try to persuade Mr. Samuel Clemens to join us at the rally next month,” the sharp-faced girl said—I believe she was Mildred. “His endorsement could really give our cause the boost it needs. He has a wonderful way with words.”
“Well, he would have, wouldn’t he, being a famous author,” another of the young women said drily.
“Samuel Clemens?” The name was somehow familiar to me.
“Molly, you remember. Samuel Clemens is the author Mark Twain. He came to one of our parties once.”
“So he did.” A picture came into my head of the white hair and bushy eyebrows, and a surprising endorsement of women’s suffrage.
“So tell us about your adventures today while I go and make another pitcher of sangria,” Sid said. “Only talk loudly enough so that I don’t miss anything.”
“Well,” I began, enjoying the shock I was about to give them. “You’ll never guess where I have been today—” I looked around. “Chinatown. My employer is a Chinese man of great wealth.”
“Mercy me,” someone muttered, but the others merely looked interested. Nobody swooned or reached for smelling salts
“Nonsense, you make me sound like visiting royalty,” Carrie Chapman Catt said in her rich, deep voice. “We’re all foot soldiers in this together, you know. These are my fellow infantrywomen: Sarah Lindley, Annabel Chapman, Hortense Maitland, Mildred Roberts, and Felicia Hamm. I’m delighted to meet you, Molly. I hope you’re a fellow champion of the cause.”
“She’s about to join the ranks of the enemy,” one of the younger women quipped.
“Meaning what?” Carrie asked sharply.
“She’s getting married in a couple of weeks.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll cease fighting for the cause,” Carrie Chapman Catt said fiercely. “I myself have been married twice and have never been under my husband’s thumb.”
“And I don’t intend to be under my husband’s thumb either,” I agreed. “I’ll most definitely still be a supporter of votes for women.”
“Well said, Molly.” The speaker was a beautiful young woman with porcelain white skin and hair that was deepest copper. “I’ve been enduring the same teasing from our more militant sisters. I’m Sarah and I’m also getting married in a few weeks. So we shall be twins—the two redheads who will defy the odds and remain true to the cause after they marry.”
“I’ll wager you won’t have an easy time of it, Sarah,” another of the women said. “Your intended seems horribly conventional and old-fashioned to me.”
Sarah flushed. “Well, he has been raised in that kind of society, so I admit that my task won’t be easy, especially if we go back to England.”
“Your future husband is English?” I asked.
“The honorable Monty Warrington-Chase,” Gus said with a grin. “Son of an English peer. Our sister Sarah will be a lady one day.”
“She may be able to influence her husband in the House of Lords,” Carrie said. “The women of England are having a tougher time than we are, but in spite of it are acting with greater bravery and audacity—throwing themselves in front of carriages, chaining themselves to railings. Foolhardy, but one must admire their courage.”
Sid touched my arm. “So Molly, we’re dying to hear about this assignment. What could the mysterious rich gentleman have wanted that has wearied you to the point of exhaustion?” Her eyes twinkled as she said this.
I looked around the group. It was somewhat unnerving to have those earnest faces staring at me. “Oh, but I don’t think I should interrupt your meeting,” I said. “I should go up and change out of these crumpled rags and leave you to your discussion.”
“As to that, I believe we’ve agreed upon everything that we can tonight,” Carrie said. “Elena will continue to write her series of articles on injustices to women, and we hope that some may be published in the national press.”
“And Annabel and I will try to persuade Mr. Samuel Clemens to join us at the rally next month,” the sharp-faced girl said—I believe she was Mildred. “His endorsement could really give our cause the boost it needs. He has a wonderful way with words.”
“Well, he would have, wouldn’t he, being a famous author,” another of the young women said drily.
“Samuel Clemens?” The name was somehow familiar to me.
“Molly, you remember. Samuel Clemens is the author Mark Twain. He came to one of our parties once.”
“So he did.” A picture came into my head of the white hair and bushy eyebrows, and a surprising endorsement of women’s suffrage.
“So tell us about your adventures today while I go and make another pitcher of sangria,” Sid said. “Only talk loudly enough so that I don’t miss anything.”
“Well,” I began, enjoying the shock I was about to give them. “You’ll never guess where I have been today—” I looked around. “Chinatown. My employer is a Chinese man of great wealth.”
“Mercy me,” someone muttered, but the others merely looked interested. Nobody swooned or reached for smelling salts
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