Chapter 3 #2
Rory yelled the final words of the song instead of singing them.
“March, march, many as one! Shoulder to shoulder, and friend to friend!” A particularly burly looking policeman locked eyes with the working-class woman behind her, leering and smacking his baton in his hand.
Rory stepped forward to shield the woman.
She might not have a bayonet, but she had an umbrella and knew how to use it.
He made a move toward them, baton swinging.
“Don’t you touch her,” Rory said, positioning herself directly in front of the officer.
He narrowed his eyes and smirked without slowing his advance. “You’re a troublemaker, ain’t ya, princess?”
“I’m exercising my right as a citizen to protest unjust laws.” She grasped her umbrella, ready to raise it in defense, as her heart pounded so loudly she could hardly hear the crowd around her.
All her accumulated anger at her father, Edward, and her circumstances focused to a point as the world fell away and she stared the officer down.
She refused to let another man try to put her in her place, and she certainly wasn’t going to allow him to touch a hair on the heads of any of the women behind her.
If he was foolish enough to cross her, he would learn just how much fight she had left in her, despite the world’s attempts to put her down.
Aunt Alva pulled her back and stepped forward. “Come to the other side of me, right now,” she said, hauling Rory with a force that belied her age. “I promised your father you wouldn’t get in trouble, and I’ll thank you not to tempt fate.”
Rory kept her eyes locked on the officer.
For a long, tense moment, they stared each other down.
“If you touch one hair on the head of these women, I swear you will live to regret it.” Rory knew she shouldn’t goad the man, but she refused to be silenced.
“Let it go, Ernie. These birds ain’t worth it,” said the officer beside him, pulling him back. The man backed away slowly. “Go take a walk and cool off before you do something stupid.”
With one last resentful look, the man turned and disappeared.
A little burst of triumph welled in Rory’s heart. She had won. At least for now.
She let out her breath slowly, relaxing the death grip she had on her umbrella. Her pent-up fury receded slowly, leaving her on edge and spent. The sun beat down on her, and she gritted her teeth, grim determination replacing her earlier buoyancy.
As the march circled back to City Hall, she chanted until her voice grew hoarse, praying that their words didn’t fall on deaf ears.
But whether they changed any minds or not, the march stiffened her resolve to fight on.
For another hour, they sang and chanted in the heat, and Rory lost herself in the energy of the crowd, letting it inspire her and ignoring her aching feet and raw throat.
She thought about Hank’s daring landing earlier today and the way the cadets celebrated his safe return.
Nothing worth having was without risk. If he could face down death, then surely, she could fight on with these amazing women around her.
The struggle made her feel alive and connected to others in a way that nothing else did, even if the progress of the suffrage movement was agonizingly slow.
As Aunt Alva gave the call to disperse, and the women around her went their separate ways, Evelyn caught her arm. “You look like a woman in need of tea.”
Rory knew “tea” meant Manhattans and dancing at a secret club they both frequented. It sounded like heaven. “I wish I could, but I’m afraid I can’t. I’m supposed to accompany Edward to the opera.”
It was a grim prospect after the exhilaration of the march.
How was one supposed to go back to playing the socialite after the elation of freedom, even if it was only for a few hours?
And yet that was exactly what she would have to do.
After touching the sky, she had to set foot on the mundane ground once again.
“Too bad. Next time?” asked Evelyn.
“Definitely.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Aunt Alva, who had just finished announcing the details of the next march to a small group crowded around her. “Come now, Rory, my dear.” She gestured toward the car.
Rory kissed Evelyn on the cheek and said her goodbyes, then joined her aunt for the drive home.
When the car rolled up to the curb outside her mansion, Rory’s stomach clenched as she looked up at the gray stone.
Aunt Alva reached over and squeezed her hand. “You’ll be out of that house and away from your father soon enough, my dear.”
If only that gave her comfort.
Rory put on a smile and squeezed her aunt’s hand. “See you soon, Aunt Alva.”
Hurrying through the door, she was stopped by the butler. “Edward is in the drawing room, Miss, and wishes to see you.”
With a little sigh, she headed down the hall to see her fiancé. The last thing she wanted at that moment was to spend time with him.
Her father was talking in low tones with Edward as she entered the wood-paneled room, padding along the thick, hunter-green rug.
“There you are at last, Aurora,” Edward said, looking up from his conversation with her father with a pinched smile. “I’ve been waiting a rather long time.” The edge in his voice made Rory want to turn around and walk back out of the room.
She let out her breath slowly, forcing herself to smile. He was in a mood. That didn’t bode well for the rest of the evening.
“I only just got back. I need time to change into my dress for this evening,” she said, sweeping in and kissing him chastely on the cheek.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” her father said, looking between them with narrowed eyes and a touch of a smile. “Think about what I said, Edward. I’m counting on your vote to stop this nonsense,” he added as he left the room.
“You can count on me,” Edward called out as the door shut. “I wanted to speak to you, Aurora.”
She looked her fiancé up and down, trying to remind herself of all the reasons she had agreed to marry him.
From the outside, they looked like a match made in heaven.
He was handsome. She would give him that.
The man had an athletic build and thick silver hair, and he filled out his finely tailored suit rather well.
She might have found him attractive if only he were better behaved.
But this was hardly a love match. She was marrying him for practical reasons, and he was doing likewise.
Still, it rankled that he couldn’t be bothered to remember her preferred name.
“We’re engaged. Please call me Rory.”
He rolled his eyes. “Rory, Aurora—I really don’t care. I need you to come to Washington, D.C. tomorrow. There’s a fundraiser at the Wilkinson’s that I need you to accompany me to.”
“I have plans already.” Did he really expect her to drop everything and head to D.C. on no notice?
“Then cancel them.”
Apparently, he did. How could she get out of this? “Don’t you think it’s a bit improper for me to travel alone to D.C. and attend events with you before we’re wed?”
It was a stretch, but maybe it would work.
“What are you worried about? It’s not as if you have a reputation to protect.”
Her jaw dropped as fifty retorts spun through her head.
Would he dare say such a thing in front of Papa?
Not to mention the hypocrisy, given his own behavior.
She forced herself to take a deep breath.
Now, now. Be a practical girl, Rory. It’s not as if you don’t know exactly where you stand with him.
“How is the wedding planning going?” he asked lightly, as if he hadn’t just gravely insulted her.
She cleared her throat, struggling to maintain composure. “It would be going just fine if my stepmother didn’t interfere so much. You’d think it was her wedding, the way she orders me around. I wish we could keep things simple and small. I don’t even know half the people on the guest list.”
“Small would defeat the purpose.”
Breathe, Rory. She plastered a false smile on her face. “How so? I thought the purpose was to get married.”
“Of course, but the other purpose is the spectacle. I want my rivals to shake in their shoes, knowing I have the wealth and influence of August Belmont behind me.”
And there it was, stated in no uncertain terms. “I hope you and my father’s money live happily ever after.”
She shouldn’t have said it, but it was too late to take back.
“That’s not how I meant it, and you know it.” He looked at her as if she was an obstinate three-year-old. God, how insulting.
“Do I?”
Why was this bothering her so much today? Usually, she managed to be sensible.
“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart. You know I’m not just marrying you for your money.”
No, you’re also marrying me to have a pretty ornament for your arm, someone attractive to bear your children, someone to impress your peers and put your past scandals with women to rest. I knew what I was signing up for.
She shivered despite the heat in the room.
“Don’t worry, Edward,” she said, resolutely pulling her gaze back to her fiancé. “I haven’t suddenly developed any silly romantic notions. I’m a practical girl. But even practical girls like to think they are valued for more than their papa’s bank account.”
“Ah, so you’re fishing for compliments,” he said with a dismissive smirk. “How tiresome.”
She was about to explode and tell Edward exactly what she thought of him when they were interrupted by a noise at the door. Her father walked in. “I forgot my notebook,” he said, glancing around the room without looking at them.
“I should really go get ready for this evening,” she said, taking advantage of the momentary distraction to make her escape. It was best if she left before she said anything irrevocable.
She hurried to her room. As soon as the door closed behind her, she heaved a sigh of relief.
There were solid, rational reasons for marrying Edward.
But she couldn’t help but wish she could have flown away in one of the airplanes she visited the night before.
If only she knew how to fly! More than once she’d thought about simply running away, impossible though that would be, given her fame in the society pages.
But what would it have been like if she could have left her old life behind and simply become someone else?
What would it have been like to marry a man who cared for her wellbeing?
As she dressed, her imagination wandered once again to her mysterious pilot. He’d shown her more kindness in one evening than her fiancé had in their entire acquaintance. She smiled to herself and shook her head. Some things were not meant to be.
Putting the finishing touches on her makeup and pulling on a deep plum satin gown that fell to her calves, she headed downstairs back to Edward, dreading the night ahead.