Secret Sisters

by Joy Callaway

  I closed my eyes as melancholy flooded through me. I looked back to the page. I could feel Lily’s gaze on my face, no doubt trying to deduce what he’d written.

  But, if you still feel for me, I beg you to reconsider. I meant what I said that night in the library. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for my actions. I thought about calling on you this evening. I wanted so badly to see your face, but didn’t think it best. So for now, I’ll say farewell my dear, and know that if you ever decide to forgive me, I’m yours.

  My greatest affections,

  Grant Richardson

  I folded the letter and tucked it beneath my book on the nightstand.

  “Thank you,” I said, looking up at Lily. “It was right of you to give it to me.”

  18

  The fire burned at my back, but the rest of the room was cold. I tried to pull my gray velvet sleeves down over my palms, but the fabric wouldn’t give, so I tugged my thin lace collar higher around my neck. At least it was a bit of cover from the chill. I rubbed the goosebumps from my arms, wishing for the warmth of a cloak. We’d decided to postpone wearing them until the end of the evening, until, in an act of sisterly solidarity, we’d put them on after helping our pledges into their ivory ones. It had been unintentional, the different color for the new sisters, but the only fabric Lily had been able to procure was the old winter tablecloths discarded from the dining hall. It would work for the time being—pledges were often set apart to begin with—but we’d have to find a way to craft matching cloaks upon initiation, wreath pins as well.

  I cast a quick glance at the open door of the sitting room of Patrick Everett’s estate. Where was Katherine?

  “I demand to know why we’re here,” Sarah Van Meier declared as she narrowed her thin eyes and fluffed her copper-red hair piled atop her head.

  None of us responded. I suppose we all figured it was best to try to buy time until Katherine would appear, though I was losing faith that she would. Mary said that she hadn’t been in their room all day.

  Miss Van Meier leaned forward, chin pointed up at me, waiting for my response. She was Katherine’s pledge and had nearly been left out of the evening as a result of Katherine’s absence, but at the last moment, Mary had talked her into attending the “opera” along with Collette Burns and Margaret Yance. I glanced at the five women sitting on the oriental rug in front of me. The others seemed almost frightened, with the exception of Miss Rilk, whose mouth had been contorted upward in a knowing grin since we’d arrived. Miss Simkins was visibly shivering with either cold or nerves—I guessed the latter—while Miss Burns ran her hand back and forth over the worn rug. Miss Yance was kneading her bottom lip so hard that I was shocked she hadn’t drawn blood.

  “I understand your concern,” I said, “but if you could be patient with us for a few more—”

  “Demand all you wish, Miss Van Meier, but it’ll get you nowhere,” Mary said, cutting me off. “The coaches aren’t scheduled to arrive back until nine-thirty and seeing as we’re not dependent on your father’s copper money, we aren’t beholden to you.”

  I glared at Mary, finding her response unlikely to foster a sisterly bond, but she only shrugged and ran a finger over the dark stones lining her high black neckline. She sat back against the settee adjacent to the girls.

  “I’ll walk back. I’ll not be insulted,” Miss Van Meier snapped at her, starting to rise from the rug. I put a hand on her shoulder as she stood, and coughed, inhaling a pungent cloud of rosewater perfume.

  “Please stay. Mary is only speaking in jest. She has a rather odd sense of humor.” And an untethered mouth, I thought.

  “I do,” Mary said. “I apologize, Miss Van Meier.”

  Mary kept looking out of the window beside me. She was worried about Katherine. I was too. She’d never miss a meeting, especially a meeting as monumental as this one, if she could help it.

  “We’re only waiting on one more.” Lily’s voice was soft, and she smiled at the women gathered on the floor. “I realize that you all want to know why you’re in Patrick Everett’s sitting room instead of doing whatever we promised you’d be doing, but please give us a few more moments. You won’t regret your patience.”

  Sarah was still standing, doubtless thinking of whether or not she’d continue humoring us.

  “Do sit back down, Miss Van Meier,” Miss Rilk said, pulling at her gloved hand. “If my assumption is even close to correct, our being here is an honor and worth the wait.”

  “She’s right,” I said, as Miss Van Meier conceded and sunk to the floor. “That much I can tell you. You’ve all been noticed as exemplary women of your class. That’s why you’re here.”

  Somewhere in the house, the clattering notes of the Westminster chime sounded, echoing over us in a sinister out-of-tune manner that made me think of ghosts.

  “It’s eight o’clock, Beth.” Mary said. Her voice was much gentler than it had been moments earlier. “I think that we should proceed. She’ll understand.”

  “Very well.” I forced a smile at the girls and tried to stop imagining Katherine’s possible calamity. “Last month, I presented a proposal to the board to start a women’s fraternity.”

  Miss Rilk beamed at me, while Miss Van Meier leaned into Miss Burns and whispered something.

  “I see that you’ve already heard, Miss Rilk. Word travels easily through Whitsitt, doesn’t it?”

  She nodded, while Miss Yance and Miss Simkins stared at me blankly. “As you may know, the board turned it down because it was determined that we’d already organized,” I continued.

  “Thanks to Grant Richardson,” Mary added. I eyed her and she lifted her hand in apology.

  “Secret societies are forbidden,” Miss Van Meier said evenly. “And didn’t you get caught with illegal rye as well?”

  “They were right,” I continued, ignoring Mary and Miss Van Meier. “We had already begun.” I walked around the back of the settee to stand behind Lily and Mary. “We are Beta Xi Beta, the first women’s fraternity at Whitsitt. We formed late last year after finding that, regardless of our commendable contribution to our college, we are alienated from each other and often regarded with prejudice otherwise, as though we are second-class students, not equals.”

  I waited for the women to react, but they wore the same expressions they’d had on when they arrived. Perhaps we’d chosen the wrong women. They clearly didn’t see their selection as an honor.

  “We’re sisters, perhaps not by blood, but we might as well be,” I continued, hoping the latter part of my explanation would stoke their excitement, though Miss Van Meier’s glare was still burning a hole in the side of my face. I decided to address her concern, though I didn’t feel the need to share every detail. “And yes, Miss Van Meier is correct. We were in possession of rye, but we didn’t consume it. It was left in our chapter room. We believe that our time at Whitsitt shouldn’t be spent struggling to succeed alone. It’s hard to be the only woman in a room full of men. It’s difficult to make friends with our free time so limited. We need support. We need camaraderie. That’s what Beta Xi Beta is—a sisterhood, a family who stand together, who stand for what is right. When we formed, the four of us decided on a motto, Aequabilitas Intellegentia.”

  “Equality and Intellect,” Miss Burns said quietly.

  “That’s correct,” I said, and knelt in front of the women. “When Patrick Everett helped found this college, he wanted men and women to have the same professional and educational opportunities, to be treated as equals. Unfortunately, as valiant as his attempts were, he wasn’t successful. In the classroom, we’re still viewed as distractions without the mental competency of our male counterparts, and in the dormitory we’re completely overlooked since all the other girls know each other and are studying divinity.”

  Margaret Yance rose to her feet. Her nearly white blonde eyelashes blinked over widened lids.

  “I-I can’t do this,” she said. “I heard that President Wilson nearly expelled you and I
can’t . . . I can’t risk that.”

  “I’ll be turning all of you in,” Miss Van Meier’s shrill voice rang out in front of me.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you won’t,” Miss Rilk said, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m not,” she said. “This is wrong. It’s against the rules and—”

  “Kindly stop talking, Miss Van Meier,” Lily said, her voice bursting through the squabbling and silencing the room. The logs popped in the hearth. “Your participation is in no way required, but your confidence is. Unless, of course, you’d like your father to find out you’ve been getting a bit close to that older physician from Green Oaks.”

  Miss Van Meier’s face blanched.

  “How do you know about that?” she asked. “It’s not what you think. He is simply interesting and I—”

  Miss Rilk laughed out loud, interrupting Miss Van Meier’s explanation. “I’m honored, and I’ll join of course, but I can’t help but wonder—do you have something on each of us? What about me?”

  “Of course we do,” I said. “Though, you were by far the most difficult. I heard your conversation with your father’s former housekeeper earlier today.”

  “One has to do what she can to retain control of what she wants,” she said, pursing her lips. “I’m glad Father won’t be finding out.”

  She stared at me, as though she’d asked a question.

  “Of course he won’t,” I said. “We only had to find something to protect ourselves, you know.”

  Without another word, Miss Van Meier made a beeline for the door. “I’ll wait outside,” she said.

  Miss Yance alternated her gaze between me and the settee, as though one of us would force her to stay, before she followed Miss Van Meier.

  “I think I should like to be a part of this,” Miss Burns said. “Last week, I was made so uncomfortable in my constitutional law class that I walked out early. The professor said that women weren’t intended to be protected under the Constitution, that even though the word ‘persons’ is used, the document was written from British precedents that suggest ‘persons’ only meant men.” She sighed. “It wasn’t that he was being cruel in teaching it—I suppose it’s simple fact. After all, I may not even get to practice law after I graduate if the state doesn’t see me fit.”

  “That’s why this fraternity is so important,” I said, very aware of Miss Simkins beside Miss Burns. She’d said nothing all night and was still shivering. “I know all about the Bradwell versus Illinois decision, and it’s an abomination that the state has the power to deny women the right to practice. We must stand together to fight for change, to fight for each other. None of us can do it alone.”

  Miss Simkins looked down at her gloved hands, pinching the white embroidered wool across the top of her index finger.

  “What are your thoughts, Miss Simkins?” Lily asked.

  “I’d like to know what you’ve discovered about me.” Her voice shook as she spoke—so did the golden brown hair neatly fixed in a high coiffure.

  “Miss Simkins,” Katherine said as she materialized in the doorway and I startled, tipping back on my haunches.

  “Where did you come from? We’ve been looking all over,” Mary said.

  Katherine’s hair hung to the right side of her head in a disheveled mass. She shot a hawk-eyed glare at Mary—apparently, her absence wasn’t up for discussion with the larger group present—and knelt down next to me in front of the pledges.

  “Lily was kind enough to bring you here tonight, but I chose you,” Katherine said, wisely leaving out that we’d chosen all of the girls outside of the divinity school. “Do you know why?”

  Miss Simkins shook her head. “Last semester, we had a discussion in the library. You were reading a book on Mediterranean architecture. I’d just gone abroad over the summer, to Italy, and asked you what you were studying. Do you remember?” As Katherine talked, I glanced at her skirt, noticing that tiny bits of hay were stuck to the blue silk. Where had she been?

  Miss Simkins’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

  “I’ll take that as a no?” Katherine said.

  “I do . . . I suppose. I told you that . . . that I planned to travel to Greece after graduation.”

  “That’s correct. You also mentioned that you were planning to do it because traveling abroad was the only way that you’d be able to keep studying architecture with the hope of practicing some day. You said if you didn’t go away after graduation that your parents would force you into marriage before you had the chance to finish your studies and establish your profession,” Katherine went on. “You said that they allowed you to go to college so that you could find a husband.”

  Miss Simkins gasped. “I . . . I did? I told you that?”

  “Yes,” Katherine said. “It was rather late. We were both just talking to stay awake.”

  “We could help you, Miss Simkins. Even if your parents don’t come around to the idea of their daughter pursuing architecture, you’d have us,” I said.

  “I . . . I don’t know that I’m willing to risk my dreams for a fraternity,” she said.

  Miss Rilk blew air through her closed lips.

  “Traveling halfway across the world to hide your ambitions from your parents is hardly a life.”

  Miss Simkins whirled on her.

  “Doing whatever you’re doing in hopes that your father will come to his senses is just as pathetic,” she snapped.

  “We formed this fraternity to support each other,” I said, interrupting the argument while recalling the countless disagreements we’d overcome as sisters. “We may not always be of the same mind, but we’re a family. Together, we can transform the fabric of this college. We can campaign for a better way for ourselves and those following us. I don’t want to gamble my future either, but unless something changes, unless society starts to see us as equals, I won’t have much of one when I graduate anyway. Very few are confident enough to take advice from a female physician. I can’t even secure an apprenticeship.”

  Miss Simkins was staring at me, but her eyes looked blank, as though she couldn’t really see me.

  “What if I don’t want to do this?” she said finally.

  I shrugged.

  “Then I suppose you’ll go on alone.”

  “That is, unless you utter a peep about this fraternity, in which case we’ll be forced to let President Wilson know about your secret Greek lessons,” Mary said. She’d been altogether prickly throughout the meeting and I wished she’d show the girls a bit more of her compassion and loyalty. She was acting like Grant.

  “How did you—”

  “They clearly followed us,” Miss Burns whispered.

  Miss Rilk reached across her to grip Miss Simkins’s hand.

  “Don’t you want to be a part of something larger than yourself? And help other women too?”

  “Yes,” Miss Simkins whispered. “Yes. I’ll do it.”

  * * *

  Katherine shut the door of the coach, whistled to the driver, and turned back to wait with us. Only one of the coaches had arrived on time, and we’d decided it was best to send our pledges—and deserters—back to Everett Hall before us. Everyone but Miss Rilk had seemed worried about the consequences of joining Beta Xi Beta, and we didn’t want their nervousness augmented if Miss Zephaniah discovered they weren’t back before the witching hour of ten o’clock.

  Lily waved as the coach’s wheels hobbled over the uneven drive and disappeared through the stone pillars.

  “It’s entirely surreal,” she said, and turned to the rest of us, her face shadowed by the hood of her blue cloak. “We have three pledges now. Pledges. We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

  I grinned, basking in the silence of the early spring night interrupted only by the distant croaking of frogs. Mary wrapped her arm around me, and tucked her free one around Katherine’s back. I tipped my hooded head into hers and closed my eyes, trying to capture the moment in my memory—the four of us huddled in the arch of t
he ancient circular drive, the smell of our fire on the crisp air. I didn’t want to talk. Nothing I could say could capture the elation of the moment.

  “Now that they’re gone, perhaps it’s time I tell you why I was late,” Katherine said, her voice cutting through the quiet.

  “Finally. I was hoping you’d say,” Mary said.

  “I couldn’t. Not in front of the girls,” she said. Something in her tone made me nervous. She broke away from Mary and glanced around, as though someone could be eavesdropping from the thicket of ancient oaks.

  “Out with it. You’re worrying me,” Lily said.

  “James’s shipment to the Iota house was detained a few miles from the barn Daddy’s renting in Green Oaks,” Katherine said.

  “What?” Mary breathed.

  “Y’all know that he’d ordered seventy-five gallons for his pledging and—”

  “We know that. What did—” I said, but Mary cut me off.

  “Is he all right? Are you all right?” Her arm dropped from my back. Even in the darkness, I could tell that her face had paled.

  Katherine nodded.

  “So far.” She pushed her hood back and sighed.

  “Thank God,” Mary said.

  “So, everyone’s okay? You’re all right?” I asked, staring at Katherine, wondering if she’d finally woken up, if she’d finally realized that what she was doing could have serious consequences.

  She tore a few pins from her hair and thrust her hands through the strands at her crown, trying to straighten her ruined coiffure.

  “For now, but my driver came straight to find me after he delivered it to the Iotas. He was uneasy. He kept looking behind him as though he was sure he’d been followed. He said the agent had a strange way about him and kept making comments about how coming across this order could restore his life.” Katherine paused and tilted her head back to the stars. “Big Jim’s worked for us for ten years. He’s come in contact with dozens of agents and hasn’t ever reacted this way. It took me an hour to talk him into heading back to Daddy and he’s not even carrying any rye home.”