by Dilly Court
‘Indeed you do, Lavinia,’ Mrs Harper-Colton said with a wry smile. ‘You chatter more than all three of my girls put together.’
‘You must miss them terribly now that they’re all married with homes of their own,’ Lady Pendleton said sympathetically.
‘At least they all found suitable husbands and were off your hands before they reached their majority.’ Gwendoline aimed a meaningful glance at her daughter.
Daisy sighed inwardly and remained silent. Mother would never let her forget the fact that the Harper-Colton girls, all gangly, toothy and with not a brain between them, had achieved what every ambitious matron wanted for their female progeny. Each one of them had snared a wealthy husband who could keep her in comfort for the rest of her life. It was an inescapable fact that she was expected to follow suit, and to do it before she was considered to be officially on the shelf. No one seemed to give her credit for being able to think for herself, and both her parents would be utterly horrified if they knew that she supported the Women’s Social and Political Union. Even now she could hear the screams and cries of protest from the women as the police descended upon them with truncheons at the ready. There had been no quarter given and probably none had been expected by the seasoned suffragettes. It was the first time that Daisy had been subjected to the violence of such a demonstration, and she was still shocked and shaken by the scenes she had witnessed.
‘Pay attention, Daisy,’ Gwendoline said crossly. ‘It’s your party that we’re discussing. You might pretend to be interested.’
Jolted back to the present, Daisy attempted a smile. ‘I’m sorry, Mother. I was miles away.’
‘That was quite obvious. Perhaps you’d better leave us to make the final arrangements, since you don’t seem to care one way or the other.’
Everyone was looking at her and Daisy felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. ‘I do care, Mother. I’m sorry, what were you saying?’
‘I was simply enquiring if you had any preference as to the floral arrangements on our tables in the private dining room at the Hotel Cecil. I have to give the final decision by tomorrow morning at the latest so that the florist can order the appropriate blooms and foliage. Jane and I have decided on gardenias, freesias and roses with sprays of stephanotis and a mist of gypsophila.’
‘That sounds lovely.’
Gwendoline sighed heavily. ‘You’d say the same if I suggested dandelions and buttercups. You should think you’re very fortunate to have a father who is prepared to indulge you in this way.’
‘I do, Mother. I am grateful, and I appreciate all the trouble that everyone is going to on my behalf.’ Daisy paused, glancing from one face to the other. She could see doubt and scepticism on each one, except for Miss Spruce who merely looked confused.
Lady Pendleton placed her arm around Daisy’s shoulders and gave her a hug. ‘I expect it’s all a bit overwhelming for a self-effacing girl like you, my dear. But rest assured, Rupert will be there to make sure you have a wonderful time. He’s such a dear boy, and he’s very fond of you. I’m sure he already thinks of himself as one of the family.’
‘I’m certain that my daughter feels the same way.’ Gwendoline paused, as if waiting for Daisy to agree, but when no response was forthcoming her smile faded. ‘What do you say, Daisy?’
She could stand it no longer. Daisy rose to her feet. ‘Actually I have an awful headache. Would you mind if I went to my room, Mother?’
‘Poor dear.’ Lady Pendleton smiled up at her. ‘Too much excitement is bad for one. You should lie down and rest.’
Mrs Harper-Colton nodded wisely. ‘And a cold compress is always efficacious.’
‘A cup of camomile tea always helps to soothe my nerves,’ Miss Spruce added eagerly. ‘Especially when taken at bedtime.’
‘Go then,’ Gwendoline said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘Do what you always do and leave me to make all the arrangements.’
Daisy did not try to defend herself. By this time her head really had started to ache miserably, and she was certain that she had an enormous bruise on her shin where someone had accidentally kicked her during their rush to escape arrest. She hurried from the room and went upstairs to lie on her bed until the dinner gong sounded.
She was half asleep when it summoned the family to dinner. She roused herself with difficulty and rose from her bed. She was stiff and sore, but at least her head had stopped aching. She filled the willow-pattern bowl on the washstand and splashed her face with cold water. Feeling slightly more alert, she changed her dress for the third time that day before taking a seat at the dressing table. She tidied her hair and added a dab of face powder and just a hint of rouge to complete her toilette. Satisfied that she looked reasonably presentable she stood up, shaking out the creases in her blue crêpe de Chine dinner gown.
She made her way downstairs, but just as she was about to enter the dining room she was startled by the jangling of the doorbell. She hesitated, waiting for Betsy to come rushing up from the basement kitchen, but the bell rang again and there was no sign of the maid. Thinking that it was probably Teddy, who was always losing his key, Daisy went to open the door. But it was not her brother who stood on the step; it was one of the suffragettes, a young girl from south of the river. Daisy had met her when they had been put in charge of the tea urn at one of the Women’s Social and Political Union meetings, and she had seen her earlier that day in Oxford Street. ‘Hello, Ruby. What can I do for you?’
‘I come to ask you a favour, miss.’
‘You came all this way to see me? It must be something very important.’ Daisy glanced over her shoulder as she heard footsteps behind her, but it was only the parlour maid, who had come to a halt outside the dining room with a large soup tureen clutched in her hands.
‘Sorry, Miss Daisy. I couldn’t see to the door and fetch the soup at the same time.’
‘It’s all right,’ Daisy said calmly. ‘I’ll deal with this, Betsy.’ She turned back to Ruby. ‘What do you want? I’m afraid I can’t ask you in. As you can see, we’re about to dine.’
‘I can see that, miss. It’s just that I got instructions to do something.’ She winked and tapped the side of her nose. ‘It’s top secret, but after what happened today I don’t feel as how I can face it on me own. They’re going to do something really shocking. We might get locked up in the Tower for it.’
Daisy stared at her, trying to decide whether this was some elaborate joke, but then the suffragists were always deadly serious, and she could see that Ruby was in earnest. ‘Why me, Ruby?’
‘Because you’ve got a kind face, miss. You talk to me like I was your equal. Some of them what demand equality with men don’t seem to think it applies to us poor working girls.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ Daisy said, although she knew that it was. The class system was rigid, even in a movement dedicated to women’s rights. ‘What is it that we have to do?’
Ruby glanced round nervously as if expecting to see a policeman on every street corner. ‘Meet me outside Buckingham Palace tomorrow midday. There’ll be others present but I’d feel so much better if you was at my side, miss.’
Daisy was trying to think of a suitable response when a hansom cab pulled up at the kerb and Teddy leapt out. ‘All right, Ruby,’ she said hastily. ‘I’ll be there, but you must go now.’
A wide grin almost split Ruby’s snub-nosed features in half. She took Daisy’s hand and shook it vigorously. ‘Ta, miss. You’re a toff. I knew you wouldn’t let me down. If we get arrested I know you’ll take care of me.’ She bounded down the steps, almost cannoning into Teddy who stood aside, staring at her in astonishment.
He took the steps two at a time. ‘Who on earth was that funny little creature, Daisy? What did she want?’
‘Nothing. She was just asking the way. She was lost.’
‘I’ll say she was. Lucky for her that Mother didn’t see her. She’d have sent her away with a flea in her ear. She wouldn’t want the neighbours to think tha
t we associate with that class of person.’ He pulled a face, kissed her on the cheek and breezed into the house, tossing his bowler hat onto the hallstand. ‘I hope I’m not late for dinner. I’m absolutely famished.’
‘You’re late, Teddy.’ Victor Lennox glared at his son over the top of his gold-rimmed pince-nez. ‘And you too, Daisy. Whatever happened to manners?’
‘Sorry, Father.’ Teddy took his seat at table. ‘Had to stay behind at the last minute. Wretched fellow on the telephone went on and on. I thought he’d never stop gassing.’
Victor frowned. ‘That’s no way to speak about a client, Teddy. I hope you treated him with due respect.’
‘I’ll say I did,’ Teddy said, making a quick recovery. ‘I’m always the soul of tact and diplomacy.’
‘That’s enough, Teddy.’ Gwendoline placed her soup spoon at a precise right angle on her empty plate. ‘No business talk at the table, please.’ She focused her attention on Daisy. ‘And what is your excuse for being late? Another sick headache?’
Daisy had been trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, which was difficult as Beatrice was pulling faces at her behind her starched linen table napkin, but now all eyes turned in her direction. She crumbled a piece of bread roll between her fingers, playing for time while she thought up a convincing reply. ‘The doorbell rang, Mother. The servants were busy serving dinner and so I answered it myself.’
Gwendoline uttered an exasperated sigh. ‘You ought to know better, Daisy. What would people think if they had seen you? Why do you think we employ servants?’
‘They cost us enough in wages,’ Victor said drily.
Ignoring her husband’s caustic remark Gwendoline glared at her daughter. ‘And who, may I ask, was calling at such an inconvenient hour?’
‘It was just a young person asking for directions.’ Daisy popped a piece of bread into her mouth, hoping that this was the end of the interrogation.
‘That’s true,’ Teddy said earnestly. ‘Dashed pretty little thing, but no dress sense. She looked as though she’d bought her outfit at a jumble sale.’
‘Trust you to notice what she was wearing.’ Beatrice giggled. ‘But she took your fancy all the same. You’re turning into quite a ladies’ man.’
Gwendoline glowered at her. ‘That’s enough. Eat your meal, Beatrice.’
‘That’s an interesting point, Mother,’ Beatrice said innocently. ‘Technically do you eat soup, or drink it?’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Gwendoline turned her attention once again to her elder daughter. ‘Don’t forget to pick up your gown for the party tomorrow. I’d do it myself but you’ll need to have a final fitting, just to make sure it’s perfect. I don’t want to give Emily Harper-Colton the chance to gloat because her girls have all found rich husbands, and you’re still unmarried at twenty-one and perilously close to ending up an old maid.’
Victor cleared his throat. ‘I say, hold on, old girl. That was uncalled for. Daisy is taking her time. She doesn’t want to accept the first chap who offers for her.’
‘She’s waiting for Rupert to come up to scratch and then she’ll turn him down,’ Beatrice said slyly.
‘That’s not true. There’s nothing remotely romantic between Rupert and me.’ Daisy raised her chin, meeting her mother’s cold gaze stare for stare. ‘And I’m afraid I can’t go to the dressmaker’s tomorrow morning. I have a prior engagement.’
‘Then you will break it, Daisy. I won’t have my arrangements upset because you are a stubborn and ungrateful daughter. You will collect your gown and it will be perfect or I’ll want to know the reason why. This party is costing your father a great deal of money, and everything will be just so.’
‘A great deal of money,’ Victor repeated, nodding his head. ‘Your mother is pinning all her hopes on this event, Daisy. If you don’t end the evening engaged to at least two eligible young men she’ll think that the whole colossally expensive affair has been a fiasco.’
The fitting seemed to be taking forever. Daisy had put the wretched gown on several times and suffered the dressmaker’s assistant sticking pins into her tender flesh without protest, but the hands on the clock moved slowly but inexorably towards midday. ‘Is this going to take much longer?’ she enquired, trying hard not to sound too impatient as the dressmaker returned, her arms filled with beaded chiffon. ‘You see I have a luncheon appointment at twelve.’
‘I’m afraid I’ve had to take the garment in at least half an inch, Miss Lennox, but it’s finished now. Would you like to try it on again just to make certain?’
Daisy shook her head. ‘No. I’m sure it will be absolutely fine. Thank you.’
Minutes later she was outside on the pavement hailing a taxicab. ‘Buckingham Palace, please.’
The cabby grinned. ‘Going to lunch with royalty, miss?’
She smiled, shaking her head. ‘Not today.’ She opened the door and climbed in, placing the box and her parasol on the seat beside her, but the cabby did not seem in a hurry to pull away.
He turned his head, eyeing her curiously. ‘You ain’t planning on joining them mad women, are you, miss?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, staring straight ahead. ‘Drive on, please. I’m late as it is.’
‘I’ve already taken a few of them there. You don’t look like the kind of young lady who ought to be associating with that sort of person.’ He waited for a few seconds and when she chose to ignore his comments he drove off, muttering something unintelligible beneath his breath.
A large crowd had gathered outside the palace, and Daisy’s stomach lurched as she saw a contingent of mounted officers controlling the onlookers while policemen on foot were attempting to deal with the women who had chained themselves to the railings. She was almost deafened by the noise as she stepped out of the cab with her parasol clutched tightly in her hand. Men were shouting and women were screaming insults at them or chanting their slogan Deeds Not Words. The clattering of horses’ hooves and the rumble of traffic only added to the general din and confusion.
The cabby leaned out of the window. ‘Ain’t you got a home to go to, young lady? I’ve a daughter about your age and I wouldn’t want her to be mixed up with this lot.’
She hesitated, torn between the desire to retreat into the comforting anonymity of the cab and the urgent need to support the cause. Her heart was pounding against the confines of her stays, and her knees threatened to give way beneath her. If only she were not such a coward. At this moment she hated herself.
‘Make your mind up, love. I got a living to make.’ The cabby’s lined face creased into even deeper furrows as he fixed her with a hard stare. ‘You’ll end up in the clink if you ain’t careful, ducks.’
She took a deep breath. She must not let the brave suffragettes down. She thrust a half-crown into his hand, and at that moment she spotted Ruby being hauled from the railings by a burly police constable. Even at a distance, Daisy could see the girl’s mouth opened in a scream as he hit her with his truncheon. Forgetting everything, she raced to her aid.
Chapter Two
HANDCUFFED TO A young police constable, Daisy came face to face with the law in Bow Street police station. The sergeant seated behind the desk wore an expression of barely controlled irritation. He was assisted by an equally harassed-looking junior officer as they took the names and addresses of the women who had been arrested outside the palace. Ruby was protesting loudly but some of the younger suffragettes were visibly upset and openly weeping. Daisy was too stunned to say anything. After a bone-rattling ride to Bow Street in the confines of the horse-drawn Black Maria, she had tried to recall the precise course of events that had led to her arrest, but all she could remember was hitting the constable with her tightly furled parasol and knocking his helmet off. She had known then that she was in deep trouble.
‘Next.’
She was not dreaming: this was a living nightmare. She was standing in front of the desk, looking up into the face of a man who
quite obviously had little sympathy for women’s suffrage.
‘Name?’ He glared at her, pen poised.
The full impact of what she had done hit her with the force of a tidal wave. What would her parents say when they discovered that their elder daughter was a common criminal? She wished that she could faint away like the young woman who had been standing to the left of her, but she realised now that she was made of sterner stuff. She was scared, worried and also angry. She gave her name and address in a clear, calm voice, but inwardly she was seething.
‘Take her to the cells, constable.’
Daisy stared at him in disbelief. ‘You’re locking me up? But I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘That’s for the magistrate to decide, miss. Think yourself lucky that you’ll be in court this afternoon and won’t have to spend the night in custody.’
Custody. The word sent icy chills down her spine. She was being sent to a cell like any other felon. ‘Please, sergeant. May I get word to my father?’
‘This ain’t the Ritz, miss. Take her away, constable.’
She opened her mouth to protest but a tug on her wrist was a painful reminder that handcuffs were made of cold steel and she had no choice other than to follow the police officer. They came to a halt at the end of a long, narrow corridor. ‘Please will you do one small thing for me, constable?’ she asked, clutching his sleeve. ‘I’ll be in terrible trouble at home when they find out what I’ve done.’ He hesitated, but she could see a flicker of sympathy in his eyes, and she pressed on without giving him a chance to refuse. ‘Please telephone my father’s office and tell him where I am. This is all a dreadful mistake.’
‘They all say that, miss.’ He unlocked the handcuffs.
‘Lennox and Carlton, stockbrokers in the City. If you would just lend me your pencil and notebook I’ll write the number down.’
‘It’s against all the rules, miss.’
