Turning the Tide

by Edith Maxwell

  Georgia Clarke approached them. “My driver and carriage are waiting just around the corner. Please come with me.”

  Elizabeth thanked her. Mother caught my eye.

  “I’ll return soon.”

  I nodded my agreement. The crowd of bystanders dissipated, back to work or play or voting or whatever they’d been doing before the men accosted us.

  “I had no idea today would in fact turn into such a dangerous scene,” I said to Bertie as we returned to our place in the line.

  “Told you it was going to get ugly.” She tucked a few escaped curls back under her hat.

  “I guess you did,” I said. “What a blessing Elizabeth was not seriously hurt.”

  “I wonder if she should be going out in public like this if she’s at risk of being killed,” Bertie said, picking up her placard where she’d dropped it. “It would be awful to lose her.”

  “She’s brave. I imagine she’s been threatened plenty of times before. Zeb had said on First Day this Leroy Dunnsmore was always speaking negatively at work about women and the vote. I’ve already told Kevin about him in connection with Rowena’s death.”

  “But if he owns a gun, why wasn’t Rowena shot, too?” she asked.

  “Thee poses a good question. That was a very foolish thing he did today, and I think he wanted to be noticed. But one employs a quiet weapon if one wishes to murder someone without being noticed.”

  “Like whacking them on the head,” she muttered.

  “Like whacking them on the head.”

  sixteen

  By half past eleven my feet started to ache from standing. Faith and Jasmine had left to go to work, Faith having asked me to take note if anything else newsworthy happened. Several of the other women had trickled away, too. We’d passed the last couple of hours talking among ourselves, singing, and sometimes answering questions from passersby. Mother had returned from making sure Elizabeth had her ankle elevated with cold compresses on it, and stood with Bertie, me, and Frannie.

  Two well-dressed matrons walked by. One lifted her head and didn’t make eye contact with any of us, while the other glared at Bertie’s placard and pursed her lips in disdain. Bertie just smiled at her. They trailed a cloud of lavender scent after them, which jiggled loose a memory of the faint scent I’d detected near Rowena’s body.

  Bertie snorted. “That perfume was rather overapplied, I’d say.”

  Frannie gave a low, sad laugh. “Rowena would have been sneezing her head off at the smell. She had the worse reaction to scents.”

  “Many people do.” So the scent I’d smelled wouldn’t have been Rowena’s own. Interesting. I gazed at my mother’s dress. “Mother, I just noticed how short thy skirts are.” In fact, I could see the top of her lace-up shoes. It was the same hemline Rowena had sported.

  “It’s the new thing,” she said, sticking out a foot and twirling her ankle. “They say the longer skirts sweep tuberculosis germs into houses. So I hemmed mine up a few inches.”

  “It makes sense, I suppose,” I said. “I should probably do the same. The last thing I want to do is introduce germs into the birthing chambers I visit.”

  A tall, thin man with stooped shoulders and a long beard approached the polling place across the way. He swept the line of us with his gaze but stopped at Zula and stared. She stared back, chin in the air, lips compressed into a thin line. He shook his head slowly and trudged into the polling place like he was walking in thick mud.

  I made my way down to Zula. “Who was staring at thee just now?” I asked.

  “Oscar Felch.” Her nostrils flared.

  “So he’s back.”

  She cocked her head. “Where had he been? Rowena had said he would be traveling, but not the location.”

  “At a medical convention in New York City.” David had said the convention ended yesterday. Such a schedule would give the attendees a day to travel home and cast their votes today.

  “How do you know where he was?” She frowned, looking confused.

  “My beau is a doctor. He asked around. The police detective wanted to know why Rowena’s husband wasn’t home.”

  “You’re kind of cozy with the police, aren’t you? Why didn’t they find Oscar themselves?”

  I shrugged. “I had a connection with several other murders in town earlier this year. As I am a midwife, the detective has grown to appreciate I can go places and hear things he can’t.” I saw Oscar emerge from the building. “Excuse me,” I said to her. “I need to pay my respects to him.”

  She snorted but didn’t say anything.

  I walked briskly across the street. “Pardon me, sir. I believe thee is Oscar Felch?”

  “I am.”

  “My name is Rose Carroll. I wanted to express my sympathies on the death of thy wife.”

  His eyes, which already carried a haunted look, looked at me with deep sorrow. “Miss Carroll. You’re the lady who found her, my dear Mrs. Felch.”

  “Yes, I did. I’m so sorry.”

  “Do you think she suffered?” His voice was gravelly.

  The same question Zula had asked. “I can’t say, but it’s possible she passed out immediately after being attacked. Has thee been in contact with Kevin Donovan, the police detective on the case?”

  His expression turned stony. “I certainly have. The man was most unpleasant to me. He implied I might have contracted a killer to do away with my wife. My own sweet wife! I never would. I adored her, and was heartbroken at her …” His voice trailed off.

  “Her plans to leave thee.”

  “Yes, how did you know?” His gaze drifted over to Zula, whose back was to us now. “Oh. That despicable unnatural woman told you.”

  I nodded.

  “She put all kinds of rotten ideas into Mrs. Felch’s pretty head. Like she didn’t have to have children if she didn’t want them. What lady doesn’t want to bear her husband’s babies?” He shook his head in disbelief.

  I suspected Rowena had had her own ideas on the matter, but I kept my thoughts to myself. And his feelings were perfectly understandable. His expectations for a happy personal life had been dashed.

  “It’s all I ever wanted beyond my profession, to have a wife and a family. And now I won’t have either, at least not with Rowena.” He tipped his hat. “Good day, miss. Now I’ve done my civic duty, I have affairs to attend to. Which include planning a funeral.”

  Frannie had left the demonstration about the same time as Faith. Now, as the clock on the Armory read noon and my stomach grumbled accordingly, she returned pulling a wheeled cart. She went down the line handing out individual meat pies and ladling lemonade from a large pot into cups. I’d brought my own telescoping cup, which I opened and shared with Bertie and my mother when our turn came.

  “Thee is an angel, Frannie,” I said. “Did thee just bake these pies?”

  “No, my daughter and I made them yesterday. I’m glad I baked extras. I suspected we’d get a big crowd today.”

  “I’m glad, too,” Bertie mumbled around a mouthful of the savory pastry.

  “We all thank thee,” Mother said.

  I spotted Hilarius Bauer sauntering around the corner. I swallowed my last bite and headed in his direction. “Hilarius,” I called.

  He looked around and stopped. “How’s that brother-in-law of yours, miss? I didn’t see him at the tavern last evening.”

  Good. Of course, Frederick had been home with all of us, greeting Mother. “He’s well, as far as I know. I wanted to thank thee again for thy assistance in getting him home. I couldn’t have done it alone.”

  “You’re welcome, miss. I like to help people out.”

  “Is thee here to vote?”

  “Correct. It’s our obligation and our privilege as citizens.” He glanced at the still-long line of women. “I don’t see no rhyme nor reason why you ladies can’t
vote, too. I hope they change the law one of these days so you all can cast a ballot.”

  “Thank thee. We hope so, too. I appreciate thy support.” I wanted to ask him more about the night of Rowena’s murder, but I couldn’t figure out a plausible way to approach it, so I kept my silence.

  “Off I go, then.” He lifted his cap at me, accepted an orange ballot at the door, and disappeared inside.

  Mother tucked her arm through mine when I returned to our spot. “So Rosie, dear, tell me all about what’s new with David. I so enjoyed meeting him in the summer, as did thy father.”

  “What’s there to tell? He loves me and I love him. He’s kind and funny and handsome.” I smiled. “And he makes me laugh.”

  “And does thee like his parents, as well?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I quite like his father, Herbert. But Clarinda doesn’t seem to care much for me. She wanted him to marry a distant cousin, a society girl. She doesn’t approve of him consorting with me—not only a Quaker but also a happily employed woman.”

  “So thee has obstacles coming from all sides.” She raised her eyebrows. “And how does he propose to persuade this Clarinda thee is his choice?”

  “I’m not sure. I just hope he can.”

  “Will thee continue with thy midwifery business after thee and he are wed?”

  “I’d like to. And he’s said he supports my doing so. We both want to have a family, too, so I suppose I’ll take time away from midwifery for a few years. I’m starting to train Annie Beaumont as an assistant. She’s a friend of Faith’s and wants to be a midwife, too.”

  “A wise idea.” She frowned. “I think perhaps I should pay a call on Clarinda Dodge. Maybe I can find common ground with her as a mother and convince her you are a good match for her boy.”

  “I don’t know, Mother. She’s not easy to become close to. Or at least hasn’t been for me.”

  “But I’m of a similar age as she. And we’ve both raised children. Let me try.”

  “I think it sounds like a good idea,” offered Bertie, who had been listening. “It can’t hurt, right?”

  “I suppose not.” I had a thought that such a visit might hurt my chances, but Mother was a cheerful and persuasive sort. If anyone could worm her way into Clarinda’s good graces, it would be Dorothy Henderson Carroll. “I have another obstacle closer to home.” I told Bertie about being eldered. “It’s not going to be easy, being expelled.”

  Mother gazed at me. “I’ll give this problem some thought, too.”

  A black runabout with gold striping pulled up across the street. A man handed the reins to his companion, jumped down, and strode to the ballot distributors, selecting a red one. I peered at the vehicle. A woman in an advanced stage of pregnancy sat looking over as us. I waved at Lyda Osgood and crossed the street.

  “Good afternoon, Lyda. Was that thy husband gone in to vote?” I hadn’t met him yet.

  “Yes, that was Mr. Osgood. I’d heard of this ladies’ demonstration and I wanted to see for myself.” She sniffed.

  “We have many supporters.” I gestured to the line behind me.

  “I don’t think it’s right. Elbridge and I share the same views, and he votes. It’s all a lady needs.”

  I hadn’t encountered many women with her opinion, but she was clearly one. “Many of us feel differently. We’d like to change the system as it stands, and soon. Think about it.” I smiled to cushion my words. “If thee could vote and didn’t care to, thee wouldn’t have to. But those who want to exercise their right to vote would be able to do so.”

  “I doubt ladies’ suffrage is going to come about any time soon.” She rubbed her belly.

  “How is thee feeling today?”

  “My back aches a little, but it’s not too bad.”

  “Thy labor could start at any time, now thee is in the final month. Be sure to send for me as soon as the pains begin. The length of a woman’s labor with second and subsequent babies often gets shorter and shorter.”

  “I will. There’s Mr. Osgood now. Let me introduce you,” she said. “Elbridge, this is Rose Carroll, my midwife. Rose, Mr. Osgood.”

  I shook his hand. “I’m pleased to meet thee, Elbridge.”

  He tucked his chin in surprise and Lyda laughed.

  “Quakers always use Christian names, Mr. Osgood,” she said. “You’ll get used to it.”

  He tipped his bowler. “Good to meet you, too, Miss Carroll.” He had a wide brow with a high receding hairline, and his trim red beard was sprinkled with gray.

  “Please call me Rose.” Although, no matter how many times I’d said those words to Kevin and Guy, they still insisted on compromising by addressing me as Miss Rose.

  “I shall address you as Miss Carroll as is only right and proper.” He glanced at my sash. “So you’re one of those woman suffragettes, are you?”

  “As thee can see. It’s a worthy cause and I believe in it.”

  “I told her we didn’t support such nonsense,” Lyda added.

  He shot her a quick glance both tender and grateful.

  “Thy wife told me of the loss of thy position in the law firm,” I said in what I hoped was a sympathetic tone. “I hope a new opportunity presents itself soon.”

  “Mrs. Osgood!” His voice was sharp. “What are you doing airing our dirty linen to a stranger?”

  “She’s not a stranger. She’s my midwife.” Lyda lifted her chin. “I’ve been seeing her for months. And it’s public knowledge, after all. Don’t be so fussy.”

  I watched their interaction. Lyda seemed to be a faithful and obedient wife to her husband in one moment and to assert herself in the next. Even though she didn’t care to support the choice of other women to vote their opinions, I was pleased to see she wasn’t completely under Elbridge’s thumb.

  He cleared his throat. “In fact, it’s true. I was asked to leave the firm. But it was one of these types who took my job.” He gestured to the line of women as he spoke, uttering the word types as if it was an obscenity.

  “Rowena Felch,” I said softly.

  “Yes.” He set his fists on his hips, glowering. “I’m glad she’s dead. I wish I’d thought to kill her myself.”

  “Mr. Osgood, don’t say such a thing!” Lyda’s mouth pulled down in horror.

  “Well, I do.” He climbed into the runabout, grabbing the reins from Lyda’s hands.

  “I guess we’re off.” Lyda hesitantly said good-bye. Elbridge didn’t utter a word nor even look at me.

  Uh-oh. I hoped the birth would go smoothly. It was always best if I was on good terms with the new father, and this exchange had not been an auspicious one.

  A maid in a crisp uniform hurried up to me. “Miss Rose Carroll?” she asked.

  “Yes?”

  She gave a brief curtsy. “Mrs. Hersey says to tell you she’s laboring and could you please come right away?”

  I knit my brows, thinking of our visit yesterday. True, the opening to her womb had been completely effaced, and I’d told her the birth could happen at any time. I hadn’t expected it today, though.

  “Please, miss?” The maid clasped her hands in front of her. “She said she thinks the babe is coming right along. We have the family’s carriage waiting just there.” She gestured to the side street.

  I’d better go with all due dispatch, since Emily’s last baby had arrived in the space of an hour. “I’m just coming. Give me one minute to tell my mother where I’m bound.” Of course I had to leave the demonstration. In my life, laboring mothers always took priority.

  seventeen

  I’d rejoined the demonstrators by half past four. Emily’s baby had indeed been well on its way when I arrived, after a brief stop at my house to pick up my birthing satchel. Emily’s older sister was in attendance, too. She seemed to provide just the right amount of care to the laboring mother without the n
ervous hovering I sometimes saw from kin. I’d had only enough time to wash my hands and lay out my kit when Emily began to groan. Four pushes later and I held a healthy baby boy in my hands, the family’s first son. Such was often—but not always—the case with second and subsequent babies. As the experienced Emily had had no issues with feeding her son, nor had he taking the breast, I’d cleaned up, and left, telling her I’d be back in two days’ time to see how they were doing. I gratefully accepted a ride retracing my steps to the demonstration. Would that all births were so easy and happy.

  A steady stream of men entered and left the Armory. Frederick had shown up, voted, and left with only a brief hello for us. Two young fellows in tweed caps strolled in front of the Armory, one taller and heavier, the other shorter and slight. The latter carried a silver flask, and they both sported flushed faces. They crossed the street toward the other end of our line and walked along its length, raking each woman up and down with their gaze. The officer guarding the polling place watched the men but didn’t intervene, just as he hadn’t earlier with Dunnsmore. I thought I might have a word with Kevin about him if I got the chance.

  When the men approached where I stood, I could hear rude commentary.

  “Here’s a pretty one,” the taller of the two said as he passed me, fumes of alcohol tainting the air.

  “Oh, yes. Hey, missy, you free tonight?” the other asked, then sniggered.

  I just watched them go. Engaging with such an insult could only make things worse, and I was glad Faith and Jasmine weren’t there. Being pretty and young, they surely would have been subjected to worse words and would be less well-equipped to handle them. Bertie folded her arms and stepped in front of the scoundrels.

  “Not so fast, boys,” she said. “You apologize to Miss Carroll and do it now. Did your mother teach you to be rude to ladies in public?”

  The one with the flask unscrewed it and took a drag. “You’re all putting yourselves on display like ladies of the night. We’re just treating you like we do them.”