Wayward Winds by Michael Phillips Page A

broke up the conversation.
    â€œNice to see you again, Halifax,” he said. “Come with me, Amanda.”

 10  A Surprise at Hastings
    Amanda sat down on the side of her bed, removed her shoes, and lay back with a deep sigh. The day had certainly ended more hopefully than it had begun.
    During the drive home in Geoffrey’s expensive new motorcar, she had wished she was riding with Ramsay Halifax instead.
    Anyone but Cousin Geoffrey!
    Yet she supposed she owed him at least a minor debt of gratitude for taking her to the Gardens in the first place. She had wondered after two or three years if she was ever going to meet anyone in London besides the Pankhursts! And now, thanks in part to Geoffrey and Cousin Gifford, she had made the acquaintance of the mysterious journalist from the Daily Mail .
    â€œAmanda dear,” said Mrs. Pankhurst the following afternoon at dinner, “you remember the meeting this Wednesday down in Hastings. You will be with us, I hope?”
    â€œYes, of course,” answered Amanda.
    â€œWe shall take the train down in the morning. The event is scheduled for two o’clock.”
    â€œIs it indoors or outdoors? What shall I wear?”
    â€œYour finest!” chimed in Sylvia. “I am. For once no one will be throwing things at us!”
    â€œOr yelling obscenities,” added Christabel.
    â€œIndoors, to answer your question,” said Emmeline. “The southern England committees have all joined to rent a large facility in Hastings. We will be speaking to every woman in the cause for miles. They will come from everywhere between Cornwall and Dover. And not a man among them!”
    â€œThat’s a relief,” said Sylvia.
    â€œBut how will it help?” asked Amanda.
    â€œTo rally the troops, Amanda. Imagine five or six hundred women, on fire for women’s rights, taking the message to every city and town across southern England!”
    When it occurred four days later, the Hastings Women’s Suffrage Rally turned out to be everything Emmeline Pankhurst had hoped for. The hall was packed with enthusiastic supporters, and, except for a few hecklers outside, once the round of speeches and music and hoopla and organizational meetings began, the day went off without a hitch.
    Only one of the prophecies concerning the day proved inaccurate, that voiced by Emmeline herself. Just moments before she was scheduled to begin the opening address to the crowd of ladies, her daughter Sylvia came hurrying backstage to speak with her. The noisy hubbub of the hall filling with women finding their seats could be heard through the heavy curtain.
    â€œMother, there is a man out there!”
    â€œI don’t think one man will cause us too many difficulties,” smiled Emmeline. “Dear Mr. Pethick-Lawrence could use some company. If only more men shared his vision for our cause. We need more male supporters. Who is he?”
    â€œI don’t know,” answered Sylvia. “But he is sitting in the middle of the front row!”
    â€œWell, if he interrupts,” laughed Mrs. Pankhurst, “I shall call upon every woman in the place to throw him out!”
    The unknown intruder, however, uttered not a peep throughout the proceedings. When the daughter of former M.P. Charles Rutherford was introduced, Amanda walked to the podium. Instantly, she saw the man whose presence had so unnerved Sylvia.
    His eyes bore straight into hers. A slight smile spread over his face. With difficulty she flustered her way through her speech in support for the cause of women’s rights.
    As soon as the gathering broke up, which was to be followed shortly by a meeting of all the committee chairwomen, the uninvited guest sought her out. Amanda sensed his approach but did her best to pretend she did not see him.
    Such a presence, however, was impossible to ignore. The small group of women nearby quieted. Slowly Amanda turned. His eyes again stared straight into