Chapter Seventeen #2
“I assume I am not the only one who has arrived under cloak of night,” she replied. “The Society would not have made it this far if everyone in the world knew of their whereabouts.”
“Too right you are,” Dr. Pinkton said, offering her his arm. She took it, some of the guilt of her lies dissipating as she returned to such a familiar order of things - her, sneaking around, doing what she loved.
He led her through the kitchen doors, past a few modest rooms, and finally into a dining room wherein half a dozen women were seated.
Augusta was not sure what she had expected the ladies of the Society to look like, but she had not expected them all to be so…
so…ordinary. All were done up in fashions not so far from her own, though most of them were plainer.
All seemed to be respectable, educated. All held their heads high as she entered the room, casting her curious glances.
It felt so similar to walking into a dinner in the ton, though Augusta suspected that her own heart would be beating slightly less rapidly if this were such an occasion.
“I see our guest has arrived,” came the high voice of one of the women - a blonde at the head of the table. She looked Augusta up and down with cunning, fox-like eyes.
“Yes,” Dr. Pinkton said quickly. “This is Lady Brightwater, previously Browning, whom you have all heard me speak of by an alias thus far.”
Augusta offered a small wave to the group, feeling supremely silly.
“Good evening,” she said, her voice cracking a bit. It hit her that, besides her own wedding, she had never been the guest of honor before. “It is lovely to meet you all.”
“Likewise,” said one of the women, a rail-thin woman with large spectacles. “We have heard lovely things from Dr. Pinkton. We almost believed he was inventing them himself, but here you are in the flesh. He may be many things, but I suppose he is not a liar.”
A soft titter rolled through the table, and Augusta felt that they were laughing with her rather than at her, so she joined them.
“Yes, well, he does exaggerate my abilities, I am sure.”
“Nonsense,” the bespectacled woman said. “Come, come, join us.”
She gestured to an open seat next to her, which Augusta took without hesitation. Her nerves, which she had kept under control only loosely until now, had left her without enough moxy to stand up much longer.
Dr. Pinkton took the seat across from her, beside the blonde woman who had spoken before.
“So, Lady Brightwater, you are recently married, correct?” the woman said.
“I am, yes, Miss…” she reached for a name, only then realizing that she had not received one.
“Amelia Jardin,” she filled in, her French pronunciation nearly perfect. “You may call me Amelia, of course. We are all on quite familiar terms at this table.”
“Amelia. Yes, I was married only six weeks ago.”
“Still on your honeymoon and dining with us?” said the girl next to Augusta. “That is quite generous of you.” After a short pause, she added, “Helene, by the way.”
“A pleasure,” Augusta said, and she meant it.
The food arrived then, brought in by an older woman.
“That is my great aunt,” Helene said quietly. “She was a midwife for decades after my uncle threw her out on the streets. She likes to cook for our dinners now, and she is at most of our events.”
Augusta nodded, realizing that she had assumed the woman to be a servant when, in fact, these ladies likely did not have many servants at all. Not only that, but the woman had survived something that sounded like a complete nightmare to Augusta - to be cast out, left completely on her own.
She made sure to say a gracious thank you as her food was placed in front of her.
With food and wine soon flowing freely, the table took on that tittering sound of a dinner party with good company.
Augusta spoke at length with Helene, but also with each of the other women at the table.
Each was wildly well-spoken and educated, even those from poor families.
Each had some wild tale of how they ended up as part of the Society.
At one point, during a lull in the conversation, Amelia spoke directly to Augusta again.
“So, you have worked with our Dr. Pinkton here a great deal. Why have I not seen you at any of our events?”
“Amelia,” Dr. Pinkton chided softly. “We talked about this.”
“No, I believe I would like to hear it from her myself, thank you.” Her voice was cutting, her gaze even moreso.
“I…” Augusta began, then realized that she had no idea what to say.
Sitting up straighter, she decided that a diplomatic version of the truth was likely best. “While I do admire the work that all of you ladies have done individually, I do sometimes find myself at odds with the methods that the Society uses to gain traction.”
As she said it, she thought that it was quite a fine turn of phrase. Feeling the sudden tension in the room, however, left her wondering if she ought to have stayed quiet.
Everyone’s eyes flitted to Amelia, and Augusta had the feeling that they were bracing themselves for an execution.
“I see,” was all Amelia said for a moment, but those eyes…by God, they were icy. “And which methods are so egregious to your sensibilities?”
She should have stayed quiet. She should have stayed quiet.
She did not.
“Well, destruction of property, for one thing. I understand righteous anger and wanting to change things, but I could not let my family name be associated with an organization that breaks and burns. I am even more hesitant now that I am married.”
The silence - it could have cut stone.
Amelia’s subsequent smile held no humor in it. “Ah, yes. And how is your newest keeper, Lady Brightwater?”
“I’m sorry?” Augusta asked, confused.
“Your recent marriage means that you’ve changed hands. How is your new keeper? Lesser, greater? Does he let you out of your cage during the day?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Augusta saw Helene cringe against Amelia’s question.
“I…he is wonderful. I am quite lucky to have made a love match.” Even as she said it, her cheeks flushed at the admission. She had not said to many people that she was in love - she’d hardly even admitted it to herself.
“Lovely,” Amelia said, but her clipped voice told Augusta that she found it less than lovely, indeed. “Did you know that my husband beat me near to death when he discovered I wanted to attend university?”
Augusta went cold at the image. “I am truly sorry.”
Amelia cocked her head. “Not sorry enough to join the cause, though?”
There were no words that Augusta could choose which would get her out of this awkward conundrum. She looked at Dr. Pinkton for help, but he simply pursed his lips as if to say, “You are on your own here.”
There it was. If she was going to dig her way out of this hole, she was going to do it alone.
She cleared her throat.
“I simply don’t believe that we need to cast off all men. My own brother has been an excellent caregiver to me, and my husband is a good man.”
Amelia looked at her with a blunt expression. “And what if he wasn’t?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean precisely that - what if he was not a good man? What if he was cruel, or selfish, or simply believed you to be unworthy of his care? What recourse would you have, hm?”
The words stung Augusta in the way that only the truth could; deeply and without mercy.
“I…well, I do not know what I would do.”
Amelia narrowed her eyes at Augusta, who distinctly felt that she was about to receive the final blow. “You walk around as a lady of society with such proper airs because you have never known what it is like to be cast off.”
The room went so silent that Augusta was not sure anything could break through it. Then, finally, it was her own voice that managed to crack through the barrier.
“I…suppose you are right.”
She had not quite expected herself to say it, but it certainly made Amelia relax. Her shoulders dropped, and her expression softened toward Augusta.
“I only mean to say that if someone as fine as you were to speak for those as unwelcome as us, perhaps everything would be different.”
To that, Augusta could offer no denial.
Sensing that now, finally, it was time to let things cool off, Dr. Pinkton jumped in with some anecdote or another, which got the ladies focused on some topic that was no longer centered upon Augusta or titles.
The women laughed together, and it had such mirth that Augusta, too, was forced to participate.
But Amelia’s harsh truth sat with her the rest of the night, so that even as Dr. Pinkton walked her back out to the courtyard later on, she found herself as distracted as ever.
“Have much to think on, do you?” he asked.
“Yes. If I am being quite honest, I truly have not given your proposal for the speech as much thought as these women deserved from me. I have thought greatly of myself first and foremost. But…oh, it is just so different now that I am married.”
She rubbed along her brow, wishing she could stamp out her own thoughts.
“I understand,” Dr. Pinkton said, much softer than his usual business-like tone toward her. “Please know that, although I wish for you to speak at the rally, if you choose not to then it will not affect our working relationship. You would still be welcomed wholly as my apprentice.”
Augusta knew that the man meant for it to be a comfort. It was, in a way, but it also served as a reminder that a man as good as him deserved great commitment from her. He deserved that speech at the rally.
But Sebastian did not deserve the inevitable wreckage.
“I shall let you know soon,” she promised, resolved to make it so. “Formally, and whatever I choose, I swear I shall see it through. Is that enough for now?”
“Yes, of course.”
At the sound of the carriage approaching, Dr. Pinkton slipped back into the shadows of the courtyard garden, leaving Augusta to her swirling thoughts.