Sisters of Freedom

by Mary-Anne O'Connor

  ‘Hello,’ Patrick said. ‘I heard the news. Figured you’d be celebrating.’

  ‘Hello,’ Frankie said. ‘Come in, come in.’

  Patrick entered, wondering why she wasn’t happier. She’d been moody of late, exasperatingly so at times, but today he’d certainly expected an exuberant, elated Frankie, not a subdued one. He was disappointed. ‘I figured you’d be ecstatic.’

  ‘I am,’ she said, smiling now, but it seemed a bit forced. ‘Everyone’s fetching tea and cake.’

  ‘Oh, what kind of cake?’

  ‘Green.’

  Patrick chuckled, following her to the kitchen and trying not to ponder Frankie’s odd reaction. He tried not to notice that she was wearing her new white blouse again too but with less success. The sheerness of the material hinted at what lay beneath as she walked in front, allowing him a moment to take in tempting details of her unobserved before forcing his gaze away. It was hard enough trying to ignore such tantalising glimpses sitting next to her as they studied, let alone here, in Ivy’s home. Especially when Frankie leant to turn a page or reach for a book and he could see the clear imprint of lace against her skin. He was determined not to dwell on her that day, however – thinking about Ivy’s sister instead of Ivy was starting to become far too much of a habit. It was just as well he’d soon be finished his degree and a married man, for surely it was just the constant proximity to Frankie that was making his imagination run wild.

  ‘Hello, all. What great news, eh?’ he said, refocusing his attention as they entered the kitchen to a sea of happy faces. That was more like it. ‘Green cake today, I hear. Anyone found some shell yet?’

  ‘Pop’s got a bet on it,’ Annie said, waving at Patrick happily from her chair, her face smeared with icing. ‘Said whoever finds bits can have a penny.’

  ‘How much are you out of pocket so far?’

  ‘That makes thruppence,’ Albert said, finding another one and investigating it with his spectacles.

  ‘Hmm,’ Patrick said. He sent Ivy a smile and thanked Harriet as she poured him a cup of tea. ‘Well, I’d best eat up then. So, how was town?’

  ‘Wonderful,’ Ivy told him. ‘You should have heard what some of the politicians had to say. You tell it, Frankie. You’ll recall it better than me.’

  ‘Oh, that reminds me,’ said Patrick, turning to Frankie. ‘I ran into Mr Forsyth on the way here and he said to ask you if you could write a report for the paper.’

  ‘How ironically perfect,’ Harriet said with a satisfied chuckle but Frankie merely poured her tea.

  ‘Jumping on the bandwagon now, is he? We’ll see.’

  ‘I would have thought—’ Patrick began. ‘Well, anyway, at least tell me. I’m dying to hear what happened.’

  ‘Me too,’ Robert chimed in.

  ‘Oh, no, let Mum tell it,’ Frankie said, tapping her spoon. ‘I’m not sure if I quite … remember.’ That seemed out of character too and Patrick stared at her, confused.

  ‘That’s not like you. I heard you recite constitutional law off by heart for a full half-hour yesterday, and that was boring stuff.’

  ‘I don’t feel like it,’ she said shortly and Ivy frowned at her.

  ‘All right. No need to get huffy,’ Patrick said lightly but she was beginning to annoy him. Again.

  ‘Who’s huffy?’ Frankie shot back but Aggie intervened.

  ‘It’s been such an exciting day. You tell it, Mum.’

  Harriet didn’t seem to notice anything amiss and went on to tell them all that had transpired. Patrick shoved his annoyance with Frankie aside to listen and he was soon swept up with the story, booing and cheering with the others, including the twins, even though they really couldn’t understand what the politicians meant.

  The buoyant mood of the rest of the family overtook him and he found himself looking around the room, reminding himself how lucky he was. Aggie sat in the corner giving the baby her bottle and she and Robert looked so happy Patrick couldn’t help but smile. Meanwhile Albert was patting Ivy’s hand and gazing fondly at Harriet as she told the tale. This was such a close-knit family to be marrying into, far more so than his own. Despite everything they’d been through – Ivy’s disappearance, the fear and horror at the thought of losing her, inheriting the care of three infants after the tragic death of their mother – the Merriweathers had found a way to make things work. Patrick was proud to become one of them.

  He’d just have to make sure he got past this attraction he was feeling for Frankie pretty damn fast, he told himself firmly, not including Ivy’s increasingly maddening sister in his gaze. He certainly didn’t want to be carrying that for a lifetime. Fortunately, in his experience, this physical type of connection with a woman usually fizzled out in time, just a natural biological urge that passed, so long as other emotions didn’t get on the way. It wouldn’t do any good to start considering it to be anything more when he so clearly loved Ivy.

  The impromptu tea party finished up and Patrick saw a perfect opportunity to spend some time alone with Ivy before studying with her frustrating sister this afternoon, and he knew exactly the way he wanted to spend it. There would be nothing like a good kissing session with his fiancée to curb any lust he might be feeling towards someone else. They hadn’t been doing too much of it, really, in fact things had never really been as heated as that first time on her birthday. Initially that was because he didn’t think she was well recovered enough, physically or emotionally, but then lately it was more because they were only having a short engagement and he had wanted to save it all up for the honeymoon, only two days away.

  That didn’t seem a very good reason that day, however, it being misty and cold and pretty much perfect weather for cosying up with a woman, so Patrick suggested they go down to the shed to feed Shadow so he could get her alone.

  ‘Just let me get my shawl,’ she said, fetching it and wrapping it about her. She looked lovely in the deep green hue, as always.

  Shadow was glad to see them, and even gladder to be fed, and he munched happily while Patrick turned to put his arms around Ivy, feeling a bit self-conscious as he did.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, but nothing more, and he bent down and kissed her. It was a nice kiss, pleasant and explorative, but it lacked the heated passion they’d shared in the forest and he wondered how much the champagne had to do with things on that day. He pulled back to look in her pretty face.

  ‘You know, you really are so beautiful,’ he told her, and she was, so he kissed her again but then it was her turn to pull back.

  ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t really, I mean, the wedding is so close now …’

  She was right, of course, but it didn’t feel natural that they not feel eager to share stolen moments of passion beforehand. Maybe tomorrow night on the eve of the big day, when they went to Nick Johnson’s dinner party and had some champagne. That may calm down what he suspected were just pre-wedding jitters and help things along. But, as they made their way back to the house and he went home to get organised to study and await Frankie’s arrival, the unnerving knowledge that they hadn’t fired each other’s blood remained. The three hours ahead he’d spend alone with Frankie suddenly seeming a very, very long time.

  Frankie was trying to get ready but Ivy obviously wanted to ask her something.

  ‘Spit it out, Ivy, for goodness’ sake,’ Frankie said, her guilty conscience causing to her sound cross.

  Ivy gaped at first but then she blurted the words in a rush. ‘Why don’t you like Patrick?’

  Frankie stared at her in shock. That was pretty much the last thing she’d expected her to say. ‘I … I do like him. I like him very much.’

  ‘No, you don’t. You’re funny with him and you always have been. I mean, I thought you got on rather well when we were up the river but since then … you’ve gone all prickly around him again.’

  ‘I’m not prickly around him.’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ Ivy corrected her. ‘You just were, in fact.’

  Frankie hadn
’t realised she’d been so obviously irritated with Patrick and frowned.

  ‘I don’t want to argue you with you about it, Frankie,’ Ivy continued. ‘I meant what I said when I told you I never want to fight again, I just want to know why so I can try to understand how to help the two of you get along.’

  ‘I do like him,’ Frankie said again. ‘I mean, look at all the time we spend together studying. I couldn’t stand to do that otherwise.’

  ‘That’s different. You have something in common to focus on then, don’t you? But without it, you really seem, I don’t know, annoyed with him all the time.’

  ‘We just … we clash, I suppose,’ Frankie said, looking for a plausible way to explain it. ‘We’re too alike perhaps.’

  Ivy considered that. ‘Yes, I suppose you are, really.’

  ‘We’re both competitive, and interested in law and sport,’ Frankie said, latching on to those facts, ‘and we’re both rather outgoing, I’d say.’

  Ivy studied her. ‘Yes, but it’s also because you think he’s pompous. You’ve said so before.’

  Frankie sighed. ‘Not so much any more. He’s come a long way since he’s been with you. I think you’ve rubbed off on him.’

  ‘I think it was just, you know, what he went through,’ Ivy said thoughtfully, flushing as she added, ‘with the police.’

  ‘You need to let any blame you feel over that go, Ivy. It was an accident and just one of those things. You can’t go marrying the man if you’re going to feel remorseful and therefore beholden for the rest of your life.’

  ‘You … you don’t want me to marry, do you? You think it’s a waste of a life not to work or study.’

  She looked sad about that and Frankie took her shoulders. ‘No,’ she said gently. ‘I don’t think that. I think it’s a wonderful choice for you and that you’ll be very happy with Patrick and that the girls will love whatever siblings or cousins … or however that’s going to work, that you give them,’ she said, and Ivy smiled. ‘I’m happy for you, truly.’

  Ivy nodded. ‘All right then. I’m sorry to have questioned you so, it’s just that your opinion is very important to me. I don’t think I could marry a man that you didn’t like.’

  ‘I don’t think I could stand to let you marry a man that I didn’t like,’ Frankie said and Ivy smiled again. She gave her a hug.

  ‘Thanks for the chat, Frankie.’

  ‘Any time, Ivy girl,’ she said, watching her leave with mixed emotions, ‘and I do like Patrick. I like him very much.’

  Ivy nodded and smiled again before walking out and Frankie stared after her.

  Very much, indeed.

  ‘Don’t forget you’ve a final fitting for your suit in the morning,’ his mother said as she lay down the refreshments tray. She looked unimpressed at serving them, but their maid was sick. Patrick couldn’t help but compare her to Harriet Merriweather, who seemed to revel in making the tea for her family and guests and had no servants at all.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Patrick said.

  ‘Father Brown asked that we drop off the church donation too, so you may as well do so while you’re at it.’

  ‘All right,’ he said, picking up the teapot to pour. ‘Tea?’ he asked Frankie.

  ‘Yes please.’

  ‘How long are you studying for this afternoon?’ Sybil said. She avoided even looking at Frankie, who Patrick knew she heartily disliked, telling him more than once that she found the notion of him studying with ‘that woman’ preposterous.

  ‘Until about seven. I’ve my last exam first thing.’

  Sybil tutted. ‘Ridiculous state of affairs, sitting an exam the day before your wedding.’

  ‘I couldn’t very well ask them to postpone it on my account. Fortunately it’s only the one exam on Constitutional Law, which Frankie knows more about than I do.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Sybil Earle said, still not looking at Frankie. ‘Can’t see why that should be of interest to you now you’ve secured the vote, which is what you suffragettes were after, as I understand it.’

  ‘We are after far more than that,’ Frankie said, ‘and we’re hoping to secure parliamentary representation now that we’re eligible; change some of the laws ourselves.’

  ‘Well,’ Sybil said with a sniff. ‘Call me old-fashioned but I still say a woman’s place is in the home.’

  ‘A woman’s place is wherever she feels fulfilled,’ Frankie said clearly, unintimidated by his mother’s coldness. ‘Why should they be the ones forced behind closed doors to a life of domesticity?’

  ‘Because that’s the natural way of things,’ Sybil said, turning to look at her for once. ‘All the law-making in the world won’t change that fact. Natural laws need to be obeyed first and foremost and it’s the women who have the children.’

  ‘Not if they choose not to,’ Frankie said.

  Sybil looked scandalised. ‘Why on earth would anyone choose to be a spinster?’

  ‘Spinsters get to live a life of their own choosing, not one dictated by their husbands. They have freedoms a married woman isn’t afforded, like being able to work and have a profession.’

  ‘But they never marry and have a family! I still say it’s unnatural and no self-respecting woman should wish it upon themselves,’ Sybil asserted, looking down her nose at Frankie.

  ‘On the contrary, I think it shows marked self-respect to choose it,’ Frankie said coolly. ‘I most certainly intend to.’

  Sybil stared at her. ‘Well,’ she said again, her words clipped, ‘it’s your choice, I suppose. I’ll leave you to your studies then.’

  She exited, nose high in the air. Patrick picked up his teacup with amusement but he was thoughtful too, and still wary of Frankie’s mood today.

  ‘You’ve got your work cut out for you, convincing people like my mother about women’s rights,’ he said, taking a sip and choosing his comments carefully. ‘They’ll hold fast to the “natural way of things” argument for many years to come, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Should be a law against that,’ Frankie said, taking her tea as well and sitting back with a flick of her long plait.

  Patrick studied her for a moment, unable to help thinking how gorgeous she was when impassioned and how it did seem a shame that she’d never marry, regardless the dangerous direction of such musings.

  ‘What?’ she said, eyebrows raised. He couldn’t resist commenting, despite himself.

  ‘Don’t you ever think about what you’ll truly be giving up and wonder if you’ll be missing out … I mean romance wise?’

  Frankie studied her cup, avoiding his gaze. ‘Sometimes,’ she admitted.

  That piqued his curiosity. ‘Who’s caught your eye? Nick?’ he said, feeling jealous at the thought.

  Frankie flicked him a glance. ‘None of your business. Anyway, it wouldn’t be worth it if it meant I’d be chained to the home.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be that way though, does it? I mean, if the man supported your freedoms, like you father does with your mother. She lives a pretty fulfilled life out of the home.’

  ‘Not as fulfilled as it should be,’ Frankie said, ‘but yes, he would never stand in her way, it’s just the law that limits her endeavours.’

  Patrick placed his cup down, considering that. ‘I wouldn’t stand in my wife’s way if she wanted to go out into the world and forge a career. I’d support her in any way I could, even in something as difficult as trying to change the laws herself.’

  Frankie looked over, watching him now. ‘I’m sure Ivy will be very glad to hear that, should she ever choose to join me.’

  Patrick stared back. He’d quite forgotten about Ivy somewhere along the line in this conversation and felt rather taken aback and ashamed.

  ‘Yes, well, I’ll have to make sure I tell her so,’ he said, sitting up straight and clearing his throat. ‘Anyway, where were we?’

  Frankie put down her cup and drew her notes over. ‘The proposed Act 43, to consolidate enactments relating to usury, interest, and to certai
n instruments and contracts.’

  ‘There should be five subheadings,’ Patrick began as he stood up to focus his thoughts on where they should be, starting to pace. ‘No, four. Bills of loading, usury … no, oh, God, I’m never going to remember this one.’

  ‘It’s actually an easy acronym,’ Frankie said, tapping her notes. She was always suggesting acronyms for recollecting facts. Patrick actually found it very useful and goodness knows he needed all the help he could get with this exam. Constitutional Law definitely wasn’t his strongest subject and it seemed to be hers. He hadn’t been just flattering Frankie when he said that to his mother before.

  ‘Go on then,’ he said.

  ‘Bug Merriweather. B. U. G. MW.’

  Patrick stared at her then chuckled in surprise. ‘Well, that’s simple enough, I suppose. B. U. G. MW. Bills of loading, Usury and interest, Guarantees and … Memorandum in Writing!’ he finished, pleased. ‘Hey, that is a really easy one. Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she said, looking pleased herself. ‘Now elaborate on each.’

  Patrick groaned but he was soon away, his confidence restored by his recollection of the subheadings and his mind firmly on the job at hand. It took about an hour to recite everything though, and by that time he was definitely ready for a break. Not only because he was mentally drained but because he’d sat down and it had been her turn to pace, her body moving back and forth in front of him in endless parade. It was warm and cosy in the small room too, and without her coat he had to endure the sight of her body in that damn blouse over and again.

  It was starting to make him edgy and, after the unexpectedly personal conversation they’d shared and the rather poor attempt he’d made at sparking things between himself and Ivy earlier, he was also getting annoyed with Frankie again, as unfair as that was.

  ‘Relating to …?’

  ‘I’m too tired,’ he complained.

  ‘Come on, it’s not that hard.’

  ‘Frankie, stop pushing me,’ he warned as she stopped directly in front of him.

  ‘Relating to …?’

  ‘I don’t bloody know.’