Page 48 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

‘You did what?’ His face darkened.

‘They were talking about votes for women, and how unfair it was that women should work just as hard as men, and men had the vote and women didn’t. It seemed so obvious when they were talking, and I said I wished there was something I could do, but I couldn’t because of my condition, and Mrs Summers said there was always something a person could do, and suggested I gave some money to help the Cause, until I was able to take action myself. So I did.’ He didn’t say anything. ‘Give her money,’ she clarified.

She braced herself for fury. But after a long ominous moment, his silence broke in a long sigh, that ended up with a most unexpected chuckle. ‘Eh, lass, I can’t be angry with you. You’re not canny in the ways of the world, and why should you be? You’re clever, my Nina, I’ve always known that. You’ve had an education that I wish I could’ve. But you can’t spot a rogue, or understand a swindle coming down the road at you the way I can. That’s what I’m here for – to protect you against the things that book-learning can’t save you from. Now don’t look so blue. I’m not angry with you. And it was your own pin-money you gave away, so I’ve nothing to say to it anyway. Just don’t get mixed up with these new suffrage types that are going around making trouble.’

He smiled fondly at her, and she saw that he was pleased at what he saw as her lack of worldly wisdom. From the beginning, her intellect had unmanned him. He needed her to need him for something, and the more she needed him, the happier and more self-confident he was. She had learned something that day, she thought. It was a lesson she must not forget, if she was to keep him happy – and his happiness secured a pleasant life for her. With the baby coming, she wanted everything to be pleasant.

There was, however, a little seed of rebellion in the back of her mind, which she was aware of but didn’t want to look at directly – not just then, at least. She had been brought up by her aunt to think for herself; and to believe one’s mind was the most important part of oneself. It should never be betrayed.

But that was not a battle for this moment in her life, with the baby coming. One day in the future, perhaps…But not now.

CHAPTER NINE

When Aunt Schofield came down from her room, having washed off the grime of the journey, Nina was waiting with tea in the drawing-room.

It was the first time that her aunt had visited, and she had wanted everything to be perfect. She had consulted with Mrs Deering over the guest bedroom: the best towels, flowers, writing materials, a tin of biscuits on the chimneypiece, a selection of books by the bedside. After much thought, Nina had chosen a collection of Walpole’s Letters, a new publication on grammar and usage called The King’s English, and John Galsworthy’s latest novel, A Man of Property, in case Auntie should feel in need of refreshment by fiction from the exertions of higher thought.

Typically, however, Aunt Schofield did not mention the arrangements, only giving a civil nod as she took her seat at the tea table and saying, ‘This seems a pleasant house. I can see how one might be quite comfortable here.’

‘Why don’t you come and live here – in Market Harborough, I mean?’ Nina said eagerly.

Aunt Schofield’s eyebrows shot up. ‘My dear child, and leave London? What on earth would I do in a country town? I wonder you find enough to occupy you.’

‘Well, we always intended to spend part of the year in London, but this year it hasn’t been possible.’

‘Quite. And I must say at once, Nina, that I’m delighted for you. It is natural for your husband to want children, and a child will strengthen the bond between you.’

‘Did you never want children?’ she asked.

‘Never,’ said Aunt Schofield. ‘I have no interest in babies or small children. If one’s child arrived at the age of ten, as you did, it would be a different matter. Bringing you up, watching you develop, nurturing your abilities, was a delight – both intellectually and personally. I would recommend you to engage the best nursery staff you can, to free yourself from the initial drudgery. Once the child becomes old enough to converse, that will be time enough for you to take an interest.’

‘But I wonder,’ Nina said, ‘whether one can step in at a late stage, when someone else has done the “initial drudgery”. Won’t the child naturally prefer the person who was there from the beginning?’

‘There will be a physical attachment to the nurse, certainly, but the life of the mind is more important. The attachment to the preceptress will be greater.’

Well, Nina considered, her aunt had never had a child. She thought of her own mother, whom she had adored, and had lost at the age of ten. I want to be that mother to my child; but I want to be Aunt Schofield to it as well. ‘I want both,’ she said aloud.

‘Then you will find having a child leaves very little room in your life for anything else.’

It was clear that Aunt Schofield had done with that subject, so Nina turned the conversation. While she poured tea and handed bread-and-butter, she supplied the questions that kept Aunt Schofield talking on wider topics. Nina loved hearing about a world outside Market Harborough and pregnancy: she felt her mind stretching. Her aunt spoke of Russia’s first faltering steps towards democracy: their parliament, the Duma, had sat for the first time; but the Tsar had already restricted its powers and claimed the right to rule by decree. They discussed whether a benign dictatorship was better than a corrupt bureaucracy. She referred to the German government’s recent legislation to increase the size of its navy, a response to the launching of Britain’s Dreadnought, the first of a series planned of massive new battleships. They discussed whether displaying military strength was a deterrent or whether it might, through competition, actually precipitate war. She mentioned the Education Bill going through Parliament and they discussed whether standardisation of education across the country was a good or bad thing.

And Nina raised the subject of the recent 350-strong delegation to the prime minister, demanding women’s suffrage, led by Charles McLaren MP, who presented a memorial signed by two hundred of his colleagues.

‘My friend Lady Clementine Leacock was there,’ she said eagerly. ‘She made a speech – one of only seven women allowed to do so! The prime minister said they had made a conclusive and irrefutable case.’

Aunt Schofield was unmoved. ‘I read the comments in the newspapers. But nothing will come of it.’

‘Why not?’

‘Whether or not the prime minister personally supports women’s suffrage, he cannot promote it when there are so many in his cabinet who are strongly opposed. You look disappointed, Nina. Did you think one speech from your friend would bring the walls tumbling down?’

‘I suppose I hoped,’ Nina said.

‘A group that has exclusive rights and privileges – men, in this case – will not give them up easily. Arguments of fairness or justice will not sway them.’

‘Then what will?’

‘I don’t know. Men won’t give women the vote until they are forced to, but what could constitute sufficient force I can’t imagine. In Aristophanes’ play Lysistrata, the married women withheld sexual congress from their husbands until they ended the war.’