Page 34 of If a Lady Lingers

The room erupted around them in a flurry of confusion and bewilderment. The whispers from the guests grew into full out demands to know what was happening and whether Whitby’s allegations were true, and the judges began to argue with each other in an attempt to sort through what was happening.

But of course, the judges and Nash remembered the disqualified first entry and her subsequent letter in which she claimed Elias Daring had created the plans, in which she begged for reconsideration. Now they snatched dark looks at her as they squabbled among themselves on the dais. None of it was helped by Whitby, who refused to look away from her.

Nash stepped back from the huddle with the other red-faced judges and gave a decisive nod. Then he held up his hands to reclaim the room’s attention.

“As Mr. Daring just explained,” he announced in an attempt to keep control of the evening and downplay their embarrassment, “his daughter lent her insights and opinions to the designs, but we can all recognize his genius in the plans themselves. We were made aware of Miss Daring’s assistance to her father when the entry was submitted.”

All eyes in the room fell onto Daisy, followed by a new round of surprised whispered and curious gawking.

“All great architects bring on apprentices to assist them with their work,” he continued. “Ask Mr. Decimus Burton what it was like to study with me.”

Laughter at the young architect’s expense sounded throughout the room. But Daisy’s heart fluttered to be compared to such a man.

“Many more architects take the opinions of their wives and female relatives into consideration…whether they want to or not.” A ripple of new laughter sped through the room, mostly from the judges themselves. “We consider Miss Daring’s assistance as nothing more than that of a wife or an apprentice. There is nothing wrong with lending ideas to plans.”

“Mr. Elias is lying to you,” Whitby insisted, wheeling once more toward the judges. Intensity glowed in him like a white-hot flame. “Miss Daring didn’t help with those plans, didn’t give a woman’s opinion—shecreatedthem.” He sent her a look over his shoulder of pride, admiration…love. “It’s her dream house. And it’s deucedly brilliant. Just like her.”

A sob rose in her throat as all kinds of emotions roiled together to overwhelm her. God help her, she would have fallen to the floor if Whitby hadn’t taken her hand to give her the support she needed.

He looked into her eyes as if they were alone yet explained loudly to the roomful of people around them, to the judges and her father behind them, “The truth is that Miss Daisy Daring did those plans. All of them.”

“Whitby,” she whispered, unable to find her voice, yet she no longer had the strength or resolve to continue with the fraud.

His eyes softened, as if he knew how much he was wounding her, yet they both knew he had to continue. “When they were submitted under her own name, the committee disqualified them. Not because of any flaw in the design, not because they weren’t innovative—but because she was a woman.” He took both of her hands in his and squeezed them. “And shame on them. Because they should have been evaluating the quality of her plans and the brilliance of her designs.” He slid the judges a scolding glance. “Not whether she rides a horse sidesaddle.”

Despite outbursts of quiet laughter at that, the attention of the guests turned from the spectacle in front of them to the plans on the easel. But they kept their distance from the drawings because they didn’t yet trust what Whitby was telling them.

“So she submitted those exact same plans again under her father’s name,” he continued. “This time, the plans were not only accepted for the contest, but now they’ve been heralded as exceptional and worthy of winning. But they don’t belong to Elias Daring. They belong to his wonderful daughter. She deserves your praise and admiration. She deserves recognition by the committee and the Crown.”

The guests all pushed forward for a fresh look, as if the drawings had magically appeared from stardust because they were created by a woman. Their gaping was a new judgement that excluded the gray-haired men on the dais. They wanted to assess for themselves if they could spot any difference in plans made by a man versus a woman architect. Based upon their whispers and shaking heads, they’d found none.

“Miss Daring,” John Nash called out to her, “are this man’s accusations true?”

Her lips parted to answer, but she hesitated. The old habit of secrets and denials rose up inside her—

“Yes,” she forced out in a low and rasping admission. “It’s all true.” As her courage grew, so did her voice. “Papa looked over them only after I had created all the plans, after I had sketched out the floor plans, drawings, and decorative elements…He gave assistance and input to me, not the other way around.”

Whitby lifted her hands to his lips and rewarded her courage with a kiss. She choked back tears as a relieved smile spread across her face. The weight on her shoulders lifted, and the heaviness in her heart vanished like rising smoke into the shimmering chandeliers overhead.

She tore her eyes away from Whitby to glance at the judges who huddled together on the dais to discuss this strange turn of events. The anger that darkened their faces only underscored their embarrassment at being tricked. At the hands of a woman, no less.

“They won’t give me the prize,” she whispered to Whitby, barely louder than a breath. “Their pride’s been hurt. They’ll disqualify me again.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that everyone knows now how talented you are.”

“But it does!” She swallowed down a sob. “How will I provide for my family now?”

“The way you’ve always done.” He nodded toward the drawing on the easel and at the excited crowd gathering around it. Their interest in the plans was obvious, and far beyond the curiosity of gawking at designs made by a woman. “Look at them, Daisy. They see what you’ve done, how you’ve turned housing on its ear. They’ll all want to hire you now, if only to say that their house was created by England’s first woman architect.”

Her shoulders deflated. “That’s not the right reason.”

“No, the right reason is that you’ll give them homes filled with space and light and the latest innovations, right down to new boiler stoves in the basement and water closets in the attic. And all of their homes so beautifully decorated that they’ll be the talk of the town and the envy of their friends.”

He grinned at her with that same bright and delightful smile that always made her bubble with happiness, that always made her feel special. Now it only pierced her with thoughts of all she’d lost when she lost him.

Nash stepped to the front of the dais and once more gestured to gain the party’s attention, although only half successfully this time. The guests still pressed forward to take greedy turns examining Daisy’s drawings,oohhhing andaaahhhing as fresh details emerged from the sketches.

“While the Darings’ designs have much merit—”