Page 37 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

‘Still, we got something out of it,’ said Aggie, ‘because the Daily Mirror put our arrested three on its front page, and that got the prime minister to agree to receive a deputation. But it has to be from all the women’s suffrage societies. We’ll have to turn up with those feeble Nusses in tow.’

‘Nusses?’ Nina queried.

‘The National Union of Suffrage Societies – NUSS. They don’t like our methods, they like to be polite and ladylike and stick to what they call “constitutional methods”. As if that’s ever worked in the last fifty years! They call us the Wasps – you know, from WSPU – which I take as a compliment. I’d like to sting all those damned stuffy MPs until they called fainites!’

‘The Daily Mail has started calling the WSPU “suffragettes” to distinguish us from the non-militant suffragists,’ Clemmie said. ‘It’s a rather vulgar-sounding word, I think.’

‘Some of us are vulgar,’ said Aggie, defiantly. ‘Begging your pardon, Mrs Cowling, but when asking nicely doesn’t get you fairness or justice, I reckon you have to stick your tongue out, right to the roots. Those East End women work damned hard all day, and then they have to go home and do all the domestic jobs their men won’t do. Same with working women everywhere – they do twice as much as the men, but the men have the vote and they don’t.’

‘But we will keep trying the polite methods too,’ Clemmie said. ‘This deputation to the prime minister – it’s an important step forward. They’ve asked me to be part of it,’ she told Nina, with a shy, pleased look.

‘When is it?’ Nina asked.

‘The 18th of May. I’m going to be one of seven women who make a speech.’

‘How exciting! I’m sure you’ll be wonderful. I wish I could be there to hear you. Unfortunately,’ she spread her hands in a graphic gesture, ‘I can’t go anywhere for the time being.’

‘You’re doing something equally important,’ Clemmie said loyally.

Nina thought Mrs Summers looked as if she didn’t agree with that word ‘equally’. She regarded Nina thoughtfully. ‘There’s always something you can do, Mrs Cowling, if you’re serious about helping the Cause. But are you? Serious, I mean?’

CHAPTER SEVEN

Coming out of church, Kitty met the neat, black-clad figure of Miss Eddowes, standing by the lychgate talking to Mrs Batty, the former sexton’s widow, and Mrs Albright, the postmaster’s wife. She smiled politely at all three, murmured, ‘It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?’ and would have passed on, but Miss Eddowes caught her attention.

‘One moment, if you please, Lady Stainton.’ Her two companions melted tactfully away. She said to Kitty, ‘There is something in particular I would like to discuss with you, if you have a moment.’

‘Is it about the banquet for Axe Brandom? Because I believe the rector has already spoken to my husband.’

‘No, this is something quite different,’ said Miss Eddowes. Kitty gave her a patient, receptive look, but she glanced over Kitty’s shoulder and said, ‘Not now, if you’ll forgive me. I would rather not talk about it here. May I come to see you next week?’

‘Er – yes, of course,’ Kitty said, surprised. She turned her head slightly and saw that Giles was approaching. Was it something she didn’t want Giles to hear? In which case, what on earth could it be?

‘Let me see,’ Miss Eddowes said, consulting a mental diary. ‘Monday and Tuesday are difficult for me. Would Wednesday be convenient for you, Lady Stainton? I could come up to the Castle at, say, eleven.’

‘Yes, that would be all right,’ Kitty said, bemused. Before she could ask anything more, Giles was by her side and Miss Eddowes had given him a brisk nod and a ‘Good morning,’ and walked away.

‘What was that all about?’ Giles asked her.

‘I’m not sure,’ Kitty said. ‘She said she had something to discuss with me but she wouldn’t say what.’

‘A request for money, nine chances out of ten,’ he said, offering his arm as they walked towards where the carriage was waiting. ‘Or she wants you to join one of her committees. Another one, I should say, since the rector tells me you have agreed to head the committee for the summer fête.’

‘Should I not have?’ she asked anxiously.

‘On the contrary, I think it’s a good thing for you to be seen to be involved with local affairs. My mother never would – thought it an impertinence to be asked. You needn’t actually do anything, you know. Just having your name at the head of the list of patrons is enough.’

‘Oh! I didn’t realise. I thought—’

‘That you would have to sit through weekly committee meetings in the church hall, agree to run the white-elephant stall and take a turn in the refreshment tent?’

‘You’re laughing at me,’ she said, making a moue. ‘How should I know how these things work?’

‘Didn’t your stepmother tell you?’

‘I don’t think she was a committee sort of person,’ Kitty said. ‘And we were never close, you know. I don’t recollect that she ever told me anything. I was left in the nursery until I was sent to school, and left at school until it was time to be brought out.’

‘Poor little countess,’ Giles said, but kindly. ‘We have more in common than I first thought. Both of us had a distinct lack of parental love. It’s a wonder we turned out so well.’