Suffragette in the City (36 page)

I listened with eagerness as she detailed the plan for the local candidate’s meeting, at which the general public was encouraged to ask questions of the various candidates. The National Women’s Suffrage Union would send a delegation of five members: one would act as speaker to ask each of the candidates whether or not they would support women’s rights, the other four would stand in solidarity behind her.

“I have been asked to be the speaker, but feel it a task beyond my strength,” she smiled wanly. “Mrs. Knox has kindly offered to stand in for me, and will ask the questions of the representatives.”

We were interrupted by her butler, summoning her to a telephone call. “I must take this call, my dear, so I will let you be on your way. I do want to caution you about giving out this information to anyone other than Miss St. John. As you know, we suspect that a certain member might use the information to cause a scene that would be detrimental to the cause.”

“I won’t say a word to anyone but Helena,” I promised.

As I left her house, I decided it would be beneficial to my bemused brain if I walked home rather than took the cab. I paid off the cabby, and started toward Mayfair. The air was heavy, but the sight of new green buds on the empty tree branches gave hope of brighter days. My spirits lifted despite the gray clouds.

Passing a nearby church, I paused to watch a wedding procession. The bride was lovely in white satin and orange blossoms, sending my thoughts inexorably spinning towards Griffin. The young couple stepped into an open carriage and drove off to the cheers of their friends. As I started forward I spied a clergyman in traditional black garb.

The sight of the man in profile flooded me with memories of three men cowering in the corner of a small room as Annie yelled and threw crockery. Mr. Hope, Freddy had called him. Chills ran down my spine as I remembered Helena’s faltering voice saying that, along with her brother, Oliver Hope was her trustee.

“Mr. Hope!” If it was the same man, it would be a tangible connection between Merlin, Percy, Freddy, and Lord Sherringham, the very proof that we sought. With these thoughts chasing around my mind, I immediately hailed a cab.

An overturned dray near Griffin’s house had me setting off on foot for the last block. As I approached the house, a cab arrived from the other direction, and a figure alighted. Thinking it was Helena, I raised my hand in greeting. The woman who walked up to the door did not see me, but I quickly saw from her short stature that she was not Helena. She wore a hooded coat and dark dress, and something about her sent a chill of premonition down my spine. I walked a little faster, thinking she looked familiar.

Griffin
’s butler opened the door and accepted a letter from the woman, who then turned and, without looking to either side, stepped back into the cab. A brief gust of wind blew back her hood as she entered the cab.

There was no mistaking the features of Maggie Greene.

Lost in thought as I watched the cab pull away, I stood next to the stone steps leading up to the front door. Maggie Greene and Lord Sherringham? What would they have in common? Certainly they did not share the same political beliefs, and yet, the suffrage movement was the one tie that bound them.

The butler did not even raise an eyebrow at my request to speak with his master, but informed me that he was out. I admit that at that news I wrung my hands.

“Lady Helena is in, miss, if you would like to speak with her.”

“Helena! Yes! She would know if her Mr. Hope is a clergyman or not. At least I could get that point cleared up. I will see her, please.”

I was shown into the dark parlor to await her. As I passed a half-moon marble table that stood next to the front door, I noticed the silver salver waiting with a stack of letters for their recipients to claim them. I paced the floor of the parlor anxiously, trying to piece my terrible thoughts together. The sight of the letter in Maggie’s hand tormented me. I had to know if it was addressed to Lord Sherringham or to Helena.

With exquisite care I opened the parlor door and looked out. The hall was empty. I tip-toed to the marble table and stared with a growing sense of horror at the letter on top.

It was addressed to Lord Sherringham and marked urgent.

There is no excuse for my action except one: I was trying to prevent the further attacks upon the man I loved. I snatched the letter off the stack and raced back to the parlor. The letter was sealed with wax and bore no clue as to the sender. I could not in all conscience open the letter myself, but I hoped Griffin would not feel bound by similar morals.

“Dearest Cassandra,” Helena cried as she entered the parlor and hugged me.

I held the letter behind my back, embarrassed by the theft. “Griffin—do you know where he is?”

Her smile faded at the urgent note in my voice. “Why, yes. He has gone to consult his solicitor. He told Harold he was having a will drawn up. He should be home soon, if you would like to wait for him. Robert went with him to see about some other matter.”

“He told—” Fear struck me with an almost palpable blow. I had a hard time swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat. “And what did Lord Sherringham say to that?”

“He smiled. It…it wasn’t a very pleasant smile, but he said nothing…”  Her voice trailed off.

I felt almost lightheaded with fear as I brought out the letter and held it wordlessly before Helena.

“I don’t understand, why do you have a letter addressed to Harold?”

“It was delivered by hand. That is, I saw it delivered just a few minutes ago…by Maggie Greene.”

Helena
’s eyes opened wide in disbelief. “Maggie? What would Maggie have to say to Harold?”

I paced the length of the room, barely able to get the words out. “Helena, I must see Griffin. I can’t open this letter, but he could. We have to know what Maggie is communicating to your brother, we have to know if he—if he is planning—”

A horrified expression stole across her face as she clutched my arm in a fierce grip. “Cassandra, you can’t mean that Harold has something to do with what you told me about Maggie’s plans?”

I nodded miserably.

“It can’t be!” As I believe I have had opportunity to mention, there is a streak of steel running through Helena that is not apparent from a casual glance. It was evident now.  “We must confront Harold with this!”

“We can’t! If we wait for Griffin—”

“No. Harold is at home now, I just left him in the library. He was speaking with a business acquaintance, but as soon as Mr. Jones leaves, I will—”

“Mr. Jones?” I all but shrieked, horrified at the name. “Mr. William—or Merlin—Jones?”

She paused. “I believe his name was William. Do you know him?”

I crumpled into a chair, my knees no longer able to hold me. “Helena, you must tell me, did Mr. Jones have a gold tooth?”

“Why, yes, he did. Cassandra, are you ill? Shall I fetch someone?” She ran to me as I moaned, my hands clutching my head.

 “Everything revolves around your brother, everything comes back to him. Maggie, Freddy, Merlin—it all comes back to one person.”

She was on her knees before me, holding me as I rocked back and forth trying to deny the terrible truths that finally fell into place.

“You are distraught, my dear. I will fetch you some smelling salts.”

I clutched her hand as a blinding flash of light lit up my brain. “You said you just left them—your brother and Mr. Jones—are they still here? Helena, I must hear what they are saying. That would be the proof we need!”

“Yes, I’m sure they’re still in the library, but proof of what? What is it you suspect? I fear from your countenance that it is something terrible. Oh Cassandra, what do you think is happening?”

I thought furiously. The library. I hadn’t been in Griffin’s library, only his study. “Is there another door to the library other than the one to the hall? Somewhere we can listen to their conversation?”

“No, only the one door. Although there is the alcove.”

“The alcove? Could one hear a discussion in the library from the alcove?”

“Yes, it’s a small opening on the first floor that overlooks the library. But Cassandra, you haven’t answered—”

And I didn’t answer her questions. Instead I leaped up and grasped her hand, dragging her with me as I ran out into the hallway and up the stairs. “Where is it? Where is the alcove?”

She showed me down a narrow hall to a small round room with windows on one side, and a curved bench following a dark wooden railing. I peered over the edge and looked down into the library. The room was long and shaped like an L with the alcove on the wrong side of the short end. To the left, a paneled wall of some five feet blocked my view into the rest of the library. I held my breath and heard the soft murmur of voices.

“Is there no other way to hear?” I whispered.

“No.”

“Then I shall just have to lean out and do my best. Hold onto my skirt.”

I stepped onto the couch and stretched forward, bracing one hand against the paneling, the other holding tight to the railing. Helena clutched at my belt to keep me from falling.

It wasn’t enough. I still could not understand what the men were saying. “Let go of my belt,” I whispered back at Helena. “Hold onto the hem of my skirt.”

I stretched further forward as she released her hold and was gratified when a man’s arm came into view. The words were louder, and almost intelligible. With both hands flat against the paneling and my feet wrapped around the bench railing, I stretched a last few inches.

“—will do it tonight, if you can make sure he’s unconscious.”

The pleasantly bland voice was that of Mr. Jones.

“It shall be done,” Lord Sherringham replied.

I see now that my mistake was in trusting the strength of my feet and ankles. Helena held on for dear life when I suddenly slipped down the paneling as my feet cramped and lost their grip on the railing, but she could not hold me up as I tumbled down onto the (thankfully) carpeted floor of the library below.

I lay stunned for a moment, unsure of what happened, then slowly my vision returned. I looked up. Mr. Jones smiled down on me, his hands tucked into his waistcoat. Lord Sherringham stood behind him, sputtering and turning a dangerous shade of red. His eyes held a glazed, thoroughly unstable look.

“You!” the earl snarled, the unhealthy gleam in his eye growing stronger. Spittle collected in the corners of his mouth. “You are the cause of all my misery! I have you to thank for being turned out of my home! I have you to thank for the engagement of my sister to a fortune hunter! I have you to thank for the alienation of my brother!”

I glanced up to where Helena stood clutching at her throat, staring down at the incredible scene. Lord Sherringham followed my look and gave a great roar of madness, for mad he clearly was. The look in his eye and his incoherent comments made it evident that he had been pushed over the edge.

“Helena,” he screamed, rattling the windows.

Helena
stood frozen with horror, unable to move.

“Run, Helena, run out of the house! Find Griffin—find Robert—
run now
!”  The panic in my voice must have reached her, for she suddenly spun around and was gone. Merlin glanced at Lord Sherringham, then dashed out of the room. I hoped Helena would have enough sense to not run straight down the stairs into Merlin’s waiting arms.

Lord Sherringham, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes ablaze, walked forward toward me. I rose hastily to my feet and looked for escape. There was none.

“Is there any reason I should not place my hands around your neck and squeeze the life out of you?” he asked in a high-pitched, deranged voice.