Impossible Saints

by Clarissa Harwood

  Lilia’s friends tried to defend her, but after an uncomfortable silence and Lady Fernham’s unsuccessful attempts to change the subject, Lilia excused herself and—for the first time ever—hid in the lavatory. She was haunted by Paul’s accusation that she was a coward. He must have known it would rankle. Was she now becoming a coward in matters of work as well as love?

  The lavatory was modern and as attractively decorated as a bedroom, so it was a pleasant place to hide. At odds with the pink floral wallpaper was a painting on the wall of a ship in a storm. The way the ship teetered on the edge of a wave represented perfectly Lilia’s own state of mind, and she stared at it as if hypnotized.

  When she left the lavatory, Harriet was waiting for her in the corridor.

  “Did Miss Selwyn upset you?” Harriet asked.

  “Not really. She has a right to believe what she likes about me.”

  “Don’t worry about her. She has an odd way of criticizing people to their faces and praising them behind their backs. She did the same with you: after you left the room she started to speak of all the good things you’ve done for the WSPU. Even she agreed that nobody can keep up our spirits the way you can.”

  In a low voice, Lilia asked, “Where am I to turn when I lose my spirits?”

  “Why, you may turn to us, your friends, of course,” Harriet exclaimed in surprise. “All I meant is we believe in you. Whatever is the matter? Something has been troubling you all afternoon, I can tell.” Harriet laid her hand on Lilia’s arm.

  “Forgive me,” Lilia said with a sigh. “I don’t know what’s wrong except I feel cross and out of sorts today. Perhaps I’m losing hope that we’ll get the vote, though I didn’t want to admit it in front of the others. This morning I reread John Stuart Mill’s The Subjection of Women. He published it almost forty years ago, but we’re still repeating his arguments for establishing equality between the sexes over and over again. What has changed since then? When will people listen to us?”

  “They will. Don’t lose heart.”

  Lilia was too dispirited to reply. She returned to the drawing room and tried to be cordial, but she left the party early. She refused Harriet’s offer to walk home with her because she thought she needed to be alone, but once she was on the street, she felt an immense loneliness. She had been staying busy and fighting with all her strength to keep the hollow, empty feeling at bay, but it caught up to her now with a vengeance. She told herself it was ridiculous to feel lonely when friends and colleagues were around her all the time. She also told herself there was no point thinking about Paul when any relationship between them was impossible. But she did feel lonely, and she did miss Paul. Perhaps it was time to visit her family. Ingleford was a small village and it would be easy to encounter him there as if by accident.

  When she reached the street where she lived, she saw Will striding towards her. When he saw her, he sprang forward and lifted her off her feet, enveloping her in a bear hug.

  “Will, you barbarian! Put me down this instant!” Lilia cried. “What are you doing here?”

  He obeyed, setting her down lightly and grinning at her. “I was at your house, looking for you. Haven’t you noticed my absence?”

  “What absence?”

  “Come, now. We haven’t seen each other for at least a week. Tell me you’ve missed me.”

  “I haven’t missed you a bit,” she said with a smile.

  “Liar.”

  Lilia couldn’t help liking Will. She found his open, relaxed, flexible temperament particularly refreshing, largely because it was so different from Paul’s. She never had to worry about offending Will or having to sort out his complex emotional state—indeed, Will’s emotional state seemed to range only from mild to extreme happiness. In fact, Will reminded her of a large, lovable dog, who needed only a pat on the head to please him. He would have disliked this comparison, but Lilia thought it apt.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

  “You seem different. More serious than usual.”

  “I must be serious. My work is important, and it requires a great deal of energy.”

  “You needn’t convince me of that. But don’t you ever want to relax and enjoy yourself?”

  “Of course. I just haven’t got time.”

  He turned and took both of her hands in his. “Lilia, let me show you how to have fun. Give me this evening to prove to you that pleasure can be as good for you as work.”

  She hesitated.

  “Let me take you to dinner at my hotel,” he pressed. “I’ve been asking for weeks now, and you haven’t given me a good reason for refusing. It’s time you said yes.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Good. Don’t think. Come with me.”

  Still she hesitated.

  Will argued, “Surely you’re not worried about your reputation. Is all your talk about being a modern woman just talk, after all?”

  She knew he was playing a game with her and that she shouldn’t take his bait. He liked to challenge her, to push her to prove she wasn’t conventional, to put her theories into practice. As silly and childish as the game was, she wanted to win. She would prove that she could do as she liked, and to Hell with anyone who tried to stop her. She agreed to join him for dinner.

  Will’s hotel, the Savoy, was the grandest hotel in London. Lilia had never been inside, but she knew she would have to change into her best dress. Will waited while Lilia stopped at her house to put on the blue silk gown that Lizzie kept rolling her eyes at. But Lilia didn’t wear it often, so it still looked new. What was the point of getting rid of a perfectly good dress, even if it was out of fashion?

  But when Lilia and Will entered the luxurious dining room of the hotel and she saw what the other women were wearing, she wished she had suggested a different restaurant. The other women wore elaborate beaded and lace-trimmed gowns and even more elaborate hats. One woman’s hat was enormous, a sweep of ostrich feathers in a swirl of tulle.

  Will must have sensed Lilia’s hesitation, for he looked down at her and said in an undertone, “Welcome to the circus. We’ll watch the plumage go by from the safety of a corner table.”

  She laughed, and it no longer mattered that her dress wasn’t new or fashionable.

  It seemed to Lilia that the maître d’hôtel treated Will with more deference than he did his other guests, despite the fact that Will’s rumpled brown sack coat couldn’t possibly meet the dress code requirements. It made her wonder for the first time how wealthy he really was. She knew he had money, but he was so casual and relaxed, very different from her conception of a wealthy person. She couldn’t even imagine him dressed in a frock coat like the other men in the dining room. He always looked as though he had come from a hunting expedition or a ramble over a mountain range.

  The food was delicious. Lilia had just taken her first bite of dessert, a special creation of the chef ’s that was called pêche Melba after the Australian singer Nellie Melba, when she noticed Will looking at her with unusual seriousness. Thus far he had been a delightful dinner companion, telling her stories that he thought would amuse her and being his usual lighthearted, charming self.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman here,” he said.

  “Will, that’s simply not true,” she protested. “Look at the blond woman in the red dress over there. She’s lovely.”

  His eyes didn’t leave her face. “I saw her. She’s all right, but the two of you aren’t even in the same category.”

  She chose not to ask him to explain the classification system he had in mind. “Are there any desserts named after famous New Zealanders?” she asked, hoping to distract him.

  “Not to my knowledge.” He said no more about her appearance, but he remained serious as they finished their dessert and rose to leave.

  Once out of the dining room, Will said, “Would you like to come up to my room? It has a stunning view of the river.”

  Lilia was not so naïv
e as to think the invitation was only to see the view. She felt a strange combination of emotions: confusion, curiosity, anxiety, recklessness. And the wine she’d had at dinner didn’t help. She rarely drank and she felt fuzzy-headed.

  “Why not?” she said with a smile.

  Will hadn’t exaggerated about the view. His suite of rooms had both east- and south-facing windows, and when he turned out the lights, the city below them came alive. Lilia went to the south window and looked down at the river shimmering with the reflection of light from the lamps on Waterloo Bridge. Then she moved to the east window, where the spire and dome of St. John’s Cathedral glowed in the darkness.

  Some of the fog in her brain cleared and she began to have second thoughts. What was she doing? She had been playing a child’s game with Will, after all.

  From behind her, Will placed his hands on her shoulders, and she turned to face him.

  “What is it, my dear girl?” he said. “It’s not like you to be so quiet.”

  “It’s nothing,” she said.

  She knew he was going to kiss her. And she was going to let him. Perhaps a kiss from one man was very like a kiss from another.

  Will’s moustache tickled her skin. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. He was good at kissing, good enough that she wondered how many other women he’d kissed. But she felt no fire, no tingling, nothing but a scientific sort of curiosity and annoyance with herself for analyzing the moment in such detail.

  As she returned the kiss, she willed herself to stop thinking.

  But when she felt his hands beginning to unfasten the hooks at the back of her dress, she pulled away. “I can’t do this.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “I can’t explain it.”

  “Is there someone else? Do I have a rival? I’ll kill the bastard,” he said cheerfully.

  She didn’t reply.

  “All right, you don’t have to tell me.” He took her hands in his. “But you should know I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  “Oh, Will.” She sighed. “I told you not to do that.”

  “I know, but I couldn’t help myself. Will you travel around the world with me? Think of the adventures we’d have. Don’t you love me, even a little?”

  “No. I’m sorry. Traveling with you does sound wonderful, but I can’t.”

  “Will you marry me, then? You won’t have to move to New Zealand. We can make our home here.”

  “You know I don’t want to marry.”

  “And you won’t even share my bed tonight?”

  “No.” She stepped away, out of his reach. “I’m not the right woman for you. I hope you’ll find someone who will love you as you deserve.”

  He didn’t press her, but although he tried to resume his lighthearted manner, she could tell he was hurt. He went down to the lobby with her and hailed a cab. Just before she stepped in, he took her hand and said, “If you change your mind, you know where to find me. But I won’t stay in England much longer.” His eyes were sad.

  “I’m sorry, but I won’t change my mind,” she said.

  In the cab on the way home, Lilia berated herself for her reckless behavior. Until that evening, she had been so careful to keep Will at arm’s length. What had possessed her to go to his hotel? It wasn’t as if she had been overcome with passion for him. She had been flattered by his attention, and he had proven to her that she wasn’t immune to it after all.

  The evening with Will had proved something else to her, too. Loath as she was to admit it, there was only one man in the world whose touch she craved. She was starting to realize that, no matter how much time she spent apart from Paul, she couldn’t stop thinking about him or wanting him. But she wasn’t ready to give in. She would hold on to her resolve—or, from Paul’s perspective, her cowardice—as long as she could.

  21

  No one can say of the modern English girl that she is tender, loving, retiring, or domestic… . Love indeed is the last thing she thinks of, and the least of the dangers besetting her… . But the Girl of the Period/does not marry easily. Men are afraid of her; and with reason. They may amuse themselves with her for an evening, but they do not readily take her for life.

  —Eliza Lynn Linton, “The Girl of the Period” (1883)

  Three days after Lilia’s evening at the Savoy with Will, Mrs. Pankhurst came to her house for a talk. It was an unusual occasion. Normally, if the Union leader wanted a meeting with Lilia, it would take place at the WSPU office at Clement’s Inn or, less frequently, at Mrs. Pankhurst’s own house. Thus, Lilia was a little nervous. Not many people could make her nervous, but her leader was one of them.

  “I’ll get right to the point,” Mrs. Pankhurst said as soon as Lizzie had brought the tea and left them alone in the parlor. “Now that you’re my deputy, you’ll be subjected to more public scrutiny than usual, and I won’t be here to advise you.”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “First, let me say that I admire your courage in advocating for reforms that few others dare to speak about. I refer, of course, to your advocacy of contraception and free unions. I don’t wish to dampen your enthusiasm, Miss Brooke, but I must urge you to be more diplomatic and to keep your more extreme views private.”

  “Very well.” But Lilia was puzzled. She thought she had been careful not to mention those particular beliefs in front of audiences who wouldn’t be open to her views.

  Mrs. Pankhurst took a sip of tea. “You ought to know I agree with you on both subjects, but speaking of them in public will only close the ears of the people from whom we most need support.”

  Lilia nodded blankly.

  “It’s also very important to keep your private life as blameless as possible.” Mrs. Pankhurst set down her teacup. “I ought to have spoken to you about this sooner, but I don’t like to interfere in anyone’s personal business.”

  Now Lilia was very nervous indeed. She waited for an explanation, or a condemnation, gripping her hands together in her lap.

  “You and Mr. Reed have been spending quite a lot of time together. He makes no secret of his interest in you, and I’ve already cautioned him several times to behave with more decorum.”

  Lilia bit her lip, then said, “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

  “I saw no reason to trouble you. Your own behavior has been beyond reproach. That is, until recently.”

  Dear God. Why did Lilia feel as though she were about to be lectured by her mother? What had happened to the progressive, modern Mrs. Pankhurst who advocated equal rights for women?

  “Some acquaintances of mine saw you at the Savoy Hotel with Mr. Reed.”

  So that’s how it was? Even Mrs. Pankhurst was bowing to conventional morality. Lilia was disappointed in both Mrs. Pankhurst and herself.

  “Please understand me, Miss Brooke,” the other woman said with energy, compelling Lilia to meet her eyes. “I have no problem with your actions personally, but you must think of the way they reflect on the WSPU. While I’m in America, you will essentially be the WSPU.”

  “But we’re already censured for unsexing ourselves,” Lilia protested. “For being unwomanly and immoral. I was called a ‘female hooligan’ the other day because of our militant activities.” She picked up her teacup.

  “Yes, I can see why you might be confused. I’ll explain it by telling you about my marriage.” Mrs. Pankhurst was a widow, and although she rarely spoke of her private life, she had made no secret of her happy nineteen-year marriage to an older man. “When we fell in love, I suggested a free union, but he refused.”

  Lilia’s teacup paused on its way to her lips.

  “He shared my ideals and my belief that marriage was an unnecessary, outdated institution, and in theory he agreed with free unions. But he was sobered by the experiences of friends of his who had shared a free union and were nearly destroyed by society’s condemnation. He also quite rightly pointed out that I would be severely hampered in my public work if we were not properly married.

 
“Miss Brooke, if you love Mr. Reed, I suggest you marry him. For all his exuberance and sometimes indiscreet behavior, I believe he’s a good man. He won’t stand in the way of your work for the WSPU, and he has been a great help to the Union, financially as well as practically. He may be a help to you, too.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Lilia said. She looked down at the teacup she had forgotten she was holding. As she set it down on the table, the cup wobbled, rattling loudly in its saucer.

  “It’s your decision, of course.”

  After Mrs. Pankhurst left, Lilia leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She wondered if anyone besides Mrs. Pankhurst’s acquaintances had seen her at the Savoy with Will. There was no knowing who else might have recognized her. If any of the anti-suffragists knew about her indiscretion, they could use the story to damage her reputation. And if anyone knew she had actually gone to Will’s room, they could make enough trouble that she might have to resign from the WSPU leadership, perhaps from the WSPU entirely. But she shrank from dwelling upon such a possibility. It was too upsetting.

  When Harriet returned home from teaching lessons that day, Lilia was still in the parlor.

  “What’s happened?” Harriet inquired as she walked in. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” She reached for the teapot and, finding it cold, rang for Lizzie.

  “Not a ghost—Mrs. Pankhurst.”

  “Oh? Then why do you look so grim?”

  Lilia related her conversation with Mrs. Pankhurst, pausing only when Lizzie came into the room to replace the cold tea with a fresh pot.

  Harriet hadn’t known about Lilia’s evening at the Savoy, and she looked baffled. As soon as Lizzie had left them alone again, she said, “Why on earth would you go to Mr. Reed’s hotel with him?”

  “I don’t know, Harriet. It was stupid of me. I did kiss him, but I didn’t stay. I knew as soon as I went to his room that it was a mistake.”