a cart horse, sir. I’ll tell the ladies that we would be better served to go to Glasgow or Aberdeen. Perhaps their governments are more enlightened.”
With that, McElwee turned on his heel and strode down the corridor.
Logan walked back to his office in contemplative silence. Had the man been correct? Had he never considered the plight of women?
He entered his office, grateful to find it empty for once. Normally, he was surrounded by people who just wanted to add one more thing to a discussion, ask a favor, or deliver an invitation.
Even Thomas was absent, a fact for which he was grateful.
He closed the door behind him, wishing it had a lock, and settled into the chair behind his desk, turning slightly so that he could see the view. Edinburgh Castle hunkered on the hill, reminding everyone that this was a royal place, the capital of Scotland, the home of intrigue. What better place to march?
What would Edinburgh citizens do in response? Some of the men might jeer. Some would no doubt feel threatened. How would the women react? Perhaps half of them would be shocked, or maybe the majority of them would applaud.
Thomas entered the office without knocking, but then he thought Logan’s office his domain.
Logan ignored him.
He didn’t know many women. His mother had died when he was nineteen after a long illness. His sisters-in-law were all pleasant women but he had the impression that he terrified them. None of the three had ever initiated a conversation with him. Instead, they stood in the background staring at him like he was a beast in the parlor.
He supposed they were happy. Whenever he visited his family, his brothers were the same boisterous bunch, laughing and boasting as they always had. They were his brothers and they hadn’t changed, although he might have.
Strangely enough, he enjoyed going to their houses more than them coming to his home. They weren’t the same people when they came visiting. His brothers were as silent as their wives.
Would his sisters-in-law wish to march through Edinburgh? Or would they be appalled at the idea? Were they eager to vote? Or was that something they left to their husbands? Were they more concerned with their children than their rights?
He heard Thomas rustling papers behind him and wished he could banish the man for a while. Only in his home was he allowed any true privacy, but even that had to be dictated and enforced. No visitors. No slipping into his library to ask if he wanted coffee or something to eat. No bringing domestic problems to his attention.
Mrs. Landers ensured that his library was sacrosanct. She was also one of the few women he knew well.
Even the women on his list of potential wives weren’t personalities as much as commodities, and that realization would have shamed him had he not understood they did the same to him. Did he earn enough to support them and a family to come? Was he of sufficient social bearing? Criteria that was perfectly acceptable and understandable.
But who were they as people? Did Barbara Drummond care about the plight of women or was she more concerned with her own life? Did Olivia Laurie want to engage in politics or did she consider the whole idea beyond her?
“The SLNA wants to hold a march through the middle of Edinburgh,” he said without turning.
“Do they, sir?” Thomas said, his voice without inflection. Thomas, from his tone, didn’t give a flying farthing.
He nodded. “They want to call attention to the organization, and educate the citizens of Edinburgh on the causes of women.”
“Causes, sir?”
“Voting. Women getting the vote.”
“Why should women get the vote, sir? They would only go to their husbands to be told who to vote for.”
He glanced at Thomas. His secretary wasn’t a bigot; he was repeating those tenets he’d been brought up to believe.
“You aren’t supporting that, are you, sir? Most men don’t want women to vote.”
“Why is that? Or is that even a correct assumption? I
With that, McElwee turned on his heel and strode down the corridor.
Logan walked back to his office in contemplative silence. Had the man been correct? Had he never considered the plight of women?
He entered his office, grateful to find it empty for once. Normally, he was surrounded by people who just wanted to add one more thing to a discussion, ask a favor, or deliver an invitation.
Even Thomas was absent, a fact for which he was grateful.
He closed the door behind him, wishing it had a lock, and settled into the chair behind his desk, turning slightly so that he could see the view. Edinburgh Castle hunkered on the hill, reminding everyone that this was a royal place, the capital of Scotland, the home of intrigue. What better place to march?
What would Edinburgh citizens do in response? Some of the men might jeer. Some would no doubt feel threatened. How would the women react? Perhaps half of them would be shocked, or maybe the majority of them would applaud.
Thomas entered the office without knocking, but then he thought Logan’s office his domain.
Logan ignored him.
He didn’t know many women. His mother had died when he was nineteen after a long illness. His sisters-in-law were all pleasant women but he had the impression that he terrified them. None of the three had ever initiated a conversation with him. Instead, they stood in the background staring at him like he was a beast in the parlor.
He supposed they were happy. Whenever he visited his family, his brothers were the same boisterous bunch, laughing and boasting as they always had. They were his brothers and they hadn’t changed, although he might have.
Strangely enough, he enjoyed going to their houses more than them coming to his home. They weren’t the same people when they came visiting. His brothers were as silent as their wives.
Would his sisters-in-law wish to march through Edinburgh? Or would they be appalled at the idea? Were they eager to vote? Or was that something they left to their husbands? Were they more concerned with their children than their rights?
He heard Thomas rustling papers behind him and wished he could banish the man for a while. Only in his home was he allowed any true privacy, but even that had to be dictated and enforced. No visitors. No slipping into his library to ask if he wanted coffee or something to eat. No bringing domestic problems to his attention.
Mrs. Landers ensured that his library was sacrosanct. She was also one of the few women he knew well.
Even the women on his list of potential wives weren’t personalities as much as commodities, and that realization would have shamed him had he not understood they did the same to him. Did he earn enough to support them and a family to come? Was he of sufficient social bearing? Criteria that was perfectly acceptable and understandable.
But who were they as people? Did Barbara Drummond care about the plight of women or was she more concerned with her own life? Did Olivia Laurie want to engage in politics or did she consider the whole idea beyond her?
“The SLNA wants to hold a march through the middle of Edinburgh,” he said without turning.
“Do they, sir?” Thomas said, his voice without inflection. Thomas, from his tone, didn’t give a flying farthing.
He nodded. “They want to call attention to the organization, and educate the citizens of Edinburgh on the causes of women.”
“Causes, sir?”
“Voting. Women getting the vote.”
“Why should women get the vote, sir? They would only go to their husbands to be told who to vote for.”
He glanced at Thomas. His secretary wasn’t a bigot; he was repeating those tenets he’d been brought up to believe.
“You aren’t supporting that, are you, sir? Most men don’t want women to vote.”
“Why is that? Or is that even a correct assumption? I
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