Chapter Eleven
When dinner was over and before the children needed their bedtime story, Kate did as Clara had asked and opened the side gate.
She carried out the night-time routines with half an ear to the front door.
From the children’s bedrooms, she heard voices calling good night and tried to hurry the story along so that she could check on whether Clara’s plan had worked.
No such luck! When she tried to shorten the crucial descriptions of Goldilocks visiting each chair, bed and porridge bowl either Sophie or Simon insisted she say it properly.
By the time she got down to the kitchen, Eliza and Mrs B were in full flow complaining about the amount of washing-up.
Their backs were turned and there was so much clattering of pans going on that Kate was able to open the back door very quietly, without being noticed, and creep outside.
Coming back in might not be the same story, she suspected.
Kate’s eyes took a while to adjust to the darkness.
The night air was cool and she shivered.
She waited and then heard Clara’s voice.
She moved silently along the stone path until she realized that they must be behind the pergola.
She daren’t go any closer for fear of being noticed.
She felt embarrassed about eavesdropping but she needed to know that everything was kept within the bounds of propriety, for Miss Clara’s sake.
Not that Mr Carnforth seemed to be the sort who would take advantage, at least she hoped not.
Clara’s voice carried through the night air.
‘Oh Edward. How will I ever be the woman I want to be? It’s all right for young men, they are given so much more freedom to make their own choices in life.
For us women, our lives are mapped out for us.
Piano playing, needlepoint and polite conversation.
I want so much more than finishing school and a good marriage. ’
‘So, marriage isn’t part of your plan?’ Carnforth asked.
‘I didn’t mean that. Of course, I want to marry, eventually. I meant it’s not the only thing I want and I don’t want my husband to be chosen for me.’
‘Is that the suffragette in you talking?’
‘I thought you were in support of women’s suffrage?’
‘I am,’ Carnforth replied. ‘I just don’t want you to get involved in something that you might regret. I don’t want anything to get in the way of us being together.’
‘Neither do I, Edward.’
The voices suddenly stopped and Kate didn’t know what to do. Had they moved? Where were they?
The gas light from the street came on, casting shadows across the garden and her question was answered.
Carnforth was holding Clara in an embrace, but she pulled away at the appearance of the light and, although Kate didn’t hear what passed between them, their hasty separation told her that they were fearful of being seen.
Carnforth turned and went through the gate and Clara returned indoors.
Kate locked the gate and placed the key in her apron pocket.
As she entered the kitchen she was asked by Mrs B where she’d been, and she said she’d been looking for a toy that Simon had thrown out of the nursery window and was desperate to have back.
It was only a little white lie. Simon was in the habit of doing such things at a whim, just not that particular evening.
‘And did you find it?’ Mrs B asked.
‘No, it was too dark,’ Kate replied.
‘Mmmph!’ Mrs B grunted. ‘Well, get over here now and help put this crockery away if you want to eat this side of midnight.’
* * *
When Kate wasn’t with the children, her time seemed to be taken up with many trips to the postbox and much talk of Clara wanting to be like Philip and further her education. She spoke of her wish to apply for a place at King’s College, London.
‘But I know what Father will say,’ she complained. ‘He’ll say what’s the point in paying for a university education just to walk down the aisle and bear children!’
Kate listened to Clara waver between wanting to go to university and learn more about women’s position in society and her attraction to Edward Carnforth.
‘But can’t you have both?’ Kate asked. ‘There are suffragettes who are married. Or is Mr Carnforth not a supporter of Votes for Women?’
‘Yes, he is . . . but, oh Kate, if only life were that simple.’ Clara sighed. ‘I’m caught in a Gordian knot and I can’t see any way out.’
‘I don’t know who or what Gordian is, but I know when knots need untying, the only way out is to work your way carefully through it. Hurrying only makes it worse. Either that or take a pair of scissors to it. Dot’s hair got in such a tangle with a briar once; I just had to cut it out.’
‘There are some things that cannot be mended, Kate. Mother and Father have been making plans for my future,’ Clara said.
‘I thought you wanted to go to London. I thought you had plans to—’
‘I do, I did, but my parents have other ideas,’ Clara began. ‘Father wishes me to meet one of his business partners, Mr Arthur Makepiece. I am told he would make a very good match for me.’
‘Oh,’ replied Kate,’ I see.’ This was the first she’d heard of it and she could see why Clara was so distracted. Such a match would be the end of her and Mr Carnforth.
Kate could do nothing to lift Clara’s mood.
Days went by when Clara didn’t come to the nursery at all.
She had little appetite for walks and conversation but fell into routine occupations with little joy.
Clara would take her lessons in the morning and read, write, play piano or sew in the afternoons.
She seemed to retreat into herself. Kate gave up hope that their previous relationship would ever return and then, one day, Clara arrived in the nursery waving a newspaper.
‘Listen to this,’ she said reading out loud in a dramatic tone.
‘“A serious outbreak of fire was discovered at Alston Manor, an unoccupied house in Basingstoke, in the early hours of Sunday morning. The fire brigade succeeded in saving the house from complete destruction, though damage to the extent of about ￡400 or ￡500 was done. Suffragette literature was found in the vicinity.” And there’s more.
’ She continued reading. ‘“A woman has been arrested for breaking the glass cabinets in the Jewel House at the Tower of London—”’
‘What’s arrested?’ asked Sophie.
‘Taken to prison, locked up,’ Thomas replied. ‘Actually, she was already in a prison, that’s what the Tower is, I’ve read about it.’
‘There have been fires in post offices and banks,’ Clara continued.
‘Not in Daddy’s bank?’ Sophie asked.
‘No, not in Daddy’s bank,’ Clara replied.
‘When’s Daddy coming home?’ asked Simon.
‘Soon,’ Clara said, ‘but not too soon, I hope,’ she whispered to Kate. ‘We have things to do.’
Clara was so animated that Kate wondered what she had in mind, for this sudden return to her old self was to be welcomed but somehow Kate felt that she was about to be bowled along by a force that was running out of control.
Clara was planning something. It was only a matter of time before she disclosed her intentions.
Kate just hoped she wasn’t intending anything that might get them both into serious trouble.
* * *
Kate’s answer came a few days later when Clara came to the nursery door and beckoned for her to follow. Kate saw that the twins were playing happily in their opposite corners of the room and Thomas was carefully copying a drawing from one of his books on insects, so she followed Clara to her room.
‘Shut the door, Kate,’ Clara said. ‘First of all, I don’t think I thanked you properly for helping me to meet with Edward.
It was so good to really talk to him about important things, not just the quality of the cake and the changes in the weather.
Now, I know that you are as keen to show you support the suffragette cause as I am, so I am going to explain my plan to you and I’m sure you’ll want to be a part of it. ’
Kate wouldn’t have used the word sure. She wondered what Clara had to say.
‘I’ve read you the reports on the campaign of action. Deeds not words are the important thing. We need to show our willingness to act, Kate. So, I have decided that we will set fire to a post box.’
‘Which one?’ Kate asked trying not to show her alarm.
‘Does it matter which post box? The one just down the road, of course, the one you use to post our letters.’
‘But isn’t that rather close to home?’ Kate said. ‘Won’t we be recognized?’
‘We’ll go at a time of day when there are less people taking the air. Just around teatime. We can take a roundabout route from the park and wait until we can’t see anyone we know in the immediate vicinity.’
‘Oh, Miss Clara. You’ve written to the local MP. Shouldn’t you wait for a reply?’ Kate suggested.
‘Wait, wait. All I do is wait! Deeds not words, Kate. Well, are you with me or not? If you’re not then . . . then . . .’
Kate waited. Then what?
‘Then there’s no hope for any of us. We might as well stop now, give up. Accept that we are lesser beings than men. Is that what you think we should accept, Kate? We’re either suffragettes or we’re not.’
Kate thought about what might happen if Mr and Mrs Winton found out, if someone recognized them and told on them.
But then she recalled the rousing speeches that she had heard at the meetings.
She thought about what might be possible if women were able to influence decision-making at the highest levels of government.
For one brief moment she thought about her own ambitions to become a teacher which would never come to fruition unless young women like her were better educated.
The future might be different for her children or even for her own sister, Dot, if change could happen.
‘All right,’ Kate agreed.