Her Leading Man (33 page)

Martin was sorry he’d asked, but it was too late
to take back his
innocent question.
After shooting a brief glare at her granddaughter,
Mrs. Mayhew said, “I
certainly did. I marched with
Miss Susan B. Anthony and Mrs. Elizabeth
Cady
Stanton.
I am presently in regular communication
with Mrs. Stanton’s daughter, Mrs.
Blatch.”

“
I see.” Martin prayed for a waiter to show
up
and
take their order, even as Mrs. Mayhew sucked
in breath preparatory to
continuing her recital of great
feminist names.

Christina said, “I’m sure Martin needn’t hear a list
of marches you’ve
attended, Gran. Perhaps you can
save the lecture for another day. I have a
splitting
headache and don’t feel like hearing it again.
Please.”

She looked just awful. Martin experienced another,
stronger urge to
lift her into his arms and carry her
off to bed. There he’d pamper and pet her
until her
headache went away and she slept. “I’m so sorry
you feel poorly,
Christina.”

“
Thank
you, Martin.”

He was astonished when her eyes filled with tears. Never,
in a million years,
would he have believed
Christina Mayhew could suffer from
unrestrained
emotions. He cast a peek at her grandmother and was
sorry to see her
scowling at Christina in overt disapproval.

“
The younger generation,” Gran said in a
vinegary
voice. “No spirit. No gumption. No lasting
power.”

Christina returned her grandmother’s scowl. Her
own voice dripped
alum when she retorted, “Lest you
forget, Gran, I’m the one who had to deal
with the
police yesterday. You’re the one who conveniently
thrust me forward
into the fray if you’ll
recall. You re
the one who clammed up and refused to
speak.”

Gran sniffed. “You’re much younger than I. You
should protect your
grandmother.”

“
And I tried.” Christina heaved another
soulful
sigh. “It wasn’t my fault you tried to batter that
poor
policeman with your cane.”

Martin
felt his eyes widen. “You hit a policeman?”

“
Gran doesn’t discriminate,” Christina told
him.
“She’d be happy to hit anyone. Everyone, even.”

“
Good
God.”

“
The brute was manhandling me,” Gran
declared.
“I’
m an old woman.”

“
He was
trying to help you into the paddy wagon.”

Christina and her grandmother exchanged scowls
once
more. Martin was relieved when the waiter
came to take their
orders. He ordered for the three
of them and added a
polite
,
“Thank you
,
” when
the
waiter
bowed, preparatory to taking their orders to
the kitchen.

Martin had suddenly developed an almost overwhelming
sympathy for people
in service trades. Including
policemen. Martin didn’t think it would be
any fun at all to
have to arrest old women—or serve
persnickety old crones dinner, for that
matter.

“
All things considered, I can’t remember
another
time when I’ve been this fed up with my
grandmother.”
Christina flung her suit jacket over a chair.

She
and Martin had just left Mrs. Mayhew in a room by
herself, and
Christina had made no bones about wanting
to spend the night with Martin. Her
grandmother,
needless to say, hadn’t been shocked. She’d only
sniffed and looked
superior.

“
Try not
to think about it,” Martin suggested.

Christina frowned at him. “And how, pray, do you
expect me to do
that? We still have to show up for
a hearing in front of the judge. Maybe
stand trial.”

She was sorry she’d snapped when she saw the
genuine concern on
Martin’s face. He didn’t deserve
her anger. He deserved her undying
gratitude. Holding
out a hand to him, she said, “I’m sorry, Martin.
I guess I still
don’t feel very well. Although,” she
added conscientiously, “I’m not at all
hungry any
longer, and my headache’s not nearly so bad. That
was a delicious
meal. Thank you for it. And for everything.
I
don’t
know what we’d have done if you
hadn’t come for us.”

He came to her at once, taking her hand and lifting
it to his lips. As
ever when he did that, warm, rippling
shock waves of awareness and delight
tingled
through her. Her reaction to his touch made her want
to rush to her
father’s medical library and look up
human physiological reactions to touch,
even though
she had a feeling the subject wasn’t covered in
books.

“
Try not to worry about it, darling.” Martin
gave
her a tender smile “I doubt that you’ll have to face
any judges or
jurors. I regret to say that Peerless has
ways of
handling the police that often
circumvent
more conventional rules and regulations.”

She felt her eyes widen. “Do you mean you bribed
them?”

“
Not I,” he said, still smiling. “That’s not my
department,
thank God.”

“
My goodness.” She tried not to glower at
him.
Her outrage at his words was
probably idiotic. She
knew she shouldn’t be shocked;
anyone with enough
money
could buy police cooperation and political favors.
She’d known
as much
for years.

“
You don’t look as though you approve,” said
Martin
mildly. “It’s a common enough
practice, especially
these
days, with actors getting into
trouble every time
they turn
around. Not you,” he hastened to add, lest
she take his words
amiss. “I’m talking
about drinking
and drugs and wild parties and so on. What you
did
is
nowhere near
as bad as that.”

“
I
should say not.”

“
But it’ll still be Peerless money that buys
your
way out of the pickle jar.”

She said
,
“Oh
,
” and
frowned. “I see.” It wasn’t fair,
the way money could buy justice,
especially in the
United States, where everyone was supposed to be
equal to everyone
else. Except women, who seemed
to be inferior to everyone—at least according to
the
laws of
the land.

It became apparent to her that she hadn’t hidden
her surprise and
disappointment very well, because
Martin sighed and followed his sigh with,
“I know,
it’s
not fair. But it’s the way business is carried out,
I’m afraid. Peerless
has a lot invested in its
actors.”

Gently withdrawing her hand from his so that she
could remove pins
from the hat she’d worn to dinner,
Christina said, “I know it. It just
doesn’t seem
. . .
well,
right, I guess.”

“
Perhaps it isn’t right, but it’ll save you
from
racking up
a
criminal record.” Martin pointed this out
a little more
sharply than he’d spoken before.

Christina’s frown deepened. “But should I be
spared the
consequences of my choice of participating
in an act of civil disobedience? The
faster we
suffragists demonstrate in concrete and unalterable
terms the inequality
of the voting laws, the sooner
we’ll see the laws change.”

Martin sat on the bed and started removing his
shoes and socks.
“Maybe, but it won’t do your future
plans any good to have a criminal record
with the
police.”

“
I don’t know about that. Resistance to tyranny
is
obedience to God, you know.” She couldn’t believe
she’d said that, and
to Martin, of all people.

He gave her an ironical glance “Yes, I do believe
I’ve
heard that before. Don’t
forget, though, that most
universities frown
on accepting students with criminal
pasts.”

She stared at him in horror
,
that fact not
having
occurred to her before this minute. The last
remaining
vestiges of energy drained out of her—she wouldn’t
have been surprised
to know that she’d gone pale,
too—and she folded up onto the padded
bench at
the foot of the bed
with a thud. “Good heavens.”
Her voice was a wispy whisper in the hotel
room.

“
I didn’t think you’d thought about that aspect
of
this adventure.” He still sounded ironic.

Suddenly Christina resented his attitude. She
resented
h
is tone of voice. She resented his words.
She
resented
his superior attitude and his worldly wise
way of speaking. She resented him
because he was
a man.
Most of all, she resented him because he was
right.

Gathering herself together, she rose from the bench.
“If,” she said in a
voice that shook with rage, “I
am refused admittance to medical school in Los
Angeles
because I’ve stood up for my principles and
my rights as a
citizen of this great nation, I shall
enroll elsewhere. I won’t be thwarted by
blind obedience
to an unjust law.”

“
Oh? And where else is there for a woman to
go
to
medical school? I didn’t even know the university
in L.A. accepted
female medical students, actually.”

“
They’ve already accepted me.” Bitterly,
she
added, “Although they wouldn’t grant me a
scholarship.
My father is a respected and well-known
alumnus
, you see.”

“Ah.”

She resented that single syllable, too, and snapped,
“
And my scholastic background is better than most
men’s. My academic
record is superior, as a matter of
fact.” She yanked off one of her shoes and
slammed it
to
the floor. “And even though my record is better than
any man’s, they
won’t give me a
scholarship.”

She hadn’t noticed before, but Martin looked as if
he were tired, too.
Why he should be weary, she
didn’t know. He hadn’t been arrested. He didn’t
have
to fight
for the rights every American should be
granted at birth.

“
They might have second thoughts about
admitting
a woman with a criminal record,” Martin pointed out
dryly. “And if they
do, where will you go?”

“
I don’t know,” she snapped. “But I’ll find
somewhere.
Perhaps in Europe, if the schools in America
are too benighted to
accept me.”

“
Is that so?” He stood up and unbuckled his
belt.
He looked cranky
.

Christina was cranky, too. “Yes.”

“
So you think Europeans are more open
to
women’s demanding access to men’s jobs than we
here in the United
States are?”

With a sniff, Christina began unbuttoning her
waist. “They
couldn’t be too much more intransigent
than we are.”

“
I suppose that’s why all those suffragists in
England
were arrested and force-fed after having been
locked up and
beaten?”

She lifted her chin. “There is, somewhere in the
world, a medical
school that will accept me, Martin
Taff
t
. I
don’t know where, it is, but I’ll find it. And
I’ll attend it. And I’ll become
a physician. I don’t
care how much you men want to keep us women
tied down, confined
to the house, and obedient to
your despotism!” Her ‘voice had risen
significantly.