Chapter Twelve
Kate and Clara walked up and down the street a few times until Clara decided that there were enough people to witness the protest. Kate still felt extremely nervous about the whole thing and it must have shown on her face for Clara said, ‘We must have the courage of our convictions, Kate. Be brave. There’s no point in doing the deed without making a public point about why it’s being done. ’
Kate hoped that they would not be recognized by anyone and reported to Mrs Winton, for although Dorothea Winton was a supporter, she did not approve of the more violent forms of protest.
‘Do you have the methylated spirits?’ Clara asked.
Kate lifted the cloth off her basket and removed a small bottle of the purple liquid and gave it to Clara.
‘And the matches?’
Kate nodded.
Clara took the bottle, removed the cap and began pouring the contents into the opening of the post box.
Kate stared at the lurid flow, as the bottle emptied.
There were several people on both sides of the road, couples out for a Sunday afternoon stroll and one or two automobiles were cruising past. Clara lit the match, threw it and they stepped back.
A child shouted from one of the vehicles, ‘Look, Mummy, a bonfire.’
Two or three men rushed towards the flames as Clara and Kate unfurled their banner and yelled, ‘Votes for women’ at the top of their voices.
‘Stand back,’ one of the men called out, frightened for their safety, Kate thought. But as the group neared them, she saw that their concern was not for her and Clara but for the other passers-by.
Two women stopped and looked on. The more elderly of the two held a handkerchief to cover her nose and mouth.
‘My goodness, Gwendoline, whatever is going on?’ she asked her companion.
‘It’s a protest, Votes for Women, Aunt,’ the younger woman replied.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ a bearded and bespectacled gentleman bellowed at them.
‘Destroying public property, that’s what,’ a younger man with too much pomade in his hair said, pointing his gloved hand at them.
‘They should be arrested,’ said a third looking about him for any passing policemen.
‘You should be ashamed of yourselves,’ the spectacled man added, raising his walking stick.
‘So, you’d beat a woman standing up for her rights, would you?’ Clara retaliated.
‘Stop,’ the elderly woman suddenly called out.
Kate wasn’t sure if the woman was talking to them or to the men.
The woman held on to her companion’s arm and raised her own stick.
‘This is abominable behaviour,’ the woman said addressing the group of men.
‘It’s precisely your kind that these two young women are protesting about.
If the men in the Houses of Parliament had listened to reason then women such as these would not have to resort to unreasonable behaviour. ’
Kate was astounded at the woman’s outburst in support of their actions, but she was becoming more uncomfortable and when she saw more people approaching, her nerve broke.
‘I think we should go now, Miss Clara,’ she said. ‘We’ve done what was necessary. Let’s go before . . .’
By now the flames had subsided but the smoke hung in the air along with a noxious smell.
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Clara said, rolling up their banner and placing it in the basket.
‘I believe that’s Mrs Hargraves coming this way. We don’t want to be seen by her. She’ll make it her business to inform Mother. We’ve achieved what we set out to do. The old lady was quite a surprise, wasn’t she? Good for her.’
* * *
‘Phew,’ Eliza said as Kate entered the kitchen. ‘Smells like you’ve been turning a spit over a roasting fire. What have you been up to?’
‘Sssh,’ Kate hissed indicating the sleeping form of Mrs B in her favourite chair. ‘Come upstairs and I’ll tell you.’
‘Well let’s hear it,’ Eliza said, unable to contain her curiosity. ‘Judging by your red cheeks I’d say you’ve been up to something.’
‘Promise you won’t tell a soul, for if you do I’ll be out on my ear,’ Kate said.
Kate related most of the story of the morning’s escapades but stopped short of telling how many people had seen them, especially she didn’t mention Mrs Hargraves.
‘Oh my God, Kate! You be careful. Those women who get caught end up in . . .’
‘I know,’ Kate replied. ‘I just couldn’t ignore what’s happening all around me. If we don’t do something, then the men will always have the upper hand. Why do you think so many of them get away with things? Get away with using us women for—’
‘All right, Kate, I see what you’re saying. I don’t need to be reminded of that.’
‘No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Eliza. Please forgive me. Let’s talk about something else. Any news of a position for you at “The Laurels” with Tommy?’
‘No, but he says it will be soon. The cook and her husband are both getting too old to stand for long hours. They’ll be retiring to the countryside where they have family to look after them.’
Kate smiled and said Eliza would make a very good cook. She’d learned a lot about running a kitchen from Mrs B.
‘Talking of which, it’s time for me to wake her, the tea should be prepared by now. You know what the mistress is like if it’s late,’ Eliza said bustling out of the bedroom.
* * *
Every day since the letterbox burning, Kate had been expecting to be summoned to Mrs Winton to explain herself. She had been prepared for the reprimand. Clara had drilled her in what they must agree to say.
‘Just remember. Like true suffragettes we’re stronger when we stand together.’
It came as a complete surprise then, that nothing was said. Clara insisted they should relax and forget about it as she believed that Mrs Hargraves might not have recognized her.
‘She’s as blind as a bat, you know, too vain to wear glasses in public!’
When the mistress announced, a week later, that the master was coming home in three days’ time to deal with family matters, the whole house went into spasms of industrious preparations.
Silver was polished, floors were washed, bed linen was aired and sprinkled with rose water, special menus were agreed, orders placed and the kitchen became a constant production line of cakes, puddings and sweetmeats to satisfy the master’s sweet tooth.
The clatter of children’s feet running up and down the stairs added to the atmosphere of anticipation.
The need to gather everything together to show their father on his arrival sent the children into a bustle of activity.
Questions and demands were hurled at Kate.
‘Where’s my picture of Mamma in her green dress?
We can’t find our new colouring pencils.
My new shoes want cleaning.’ Even Thomas, usually so measured in his responses, became excited about showing his father his new microscope and collection of pinned butterflies.
The twins collected arms full of their drawings, none of which could be thrown away, and had practised their cup and ball skills to perform.
As soon as the initial excitement of Mr Winton’s arrival was over, Kate was shocked to receive a summons to the study almost straight away.
There was hardly time for the family to greet him properly before the children were packed off back to the nursery and Eliza told her that they had finished their tea and she was to report to the master immediately.
Clara was already in the room when Kate opened the study door.
There was no greeting from the master and Clara avoided looking at her, her head bowed.
Hanging loosely from her hand was a handkerchief which had clearly been needed, for Clara’s cheeks were wet with tears.
Mr Winton’s expression was severe. He told Kate to stand beside Clara and proceeded to wave a paper in front of them.
‘I’ve already read the contents of this letter to my daughter,’ he said, in a sharp, clipped tone.
‘Now I shall tell you that you are a very lucky, young woman, that both my wife and my daughter have pleaded for my mercy with regard to your punishment and I have listened. If I had my way I would be sending you packing, but they have said that your services are invaluable to them, so I have decided you will be allowed to stay. I don’t believe that either of you could have acted in such an irresponsible way if you hadn’t had your heads turned and filled with such nonsense as you have been subjected to by these misguided women. ’
Kate felt every word stab into her as Mr Winton’s anger surged through him. His attempts not to lose complete control made his lips tighten and his face redden as he spat the accusations at them. What would happen to her and Clara? What would their punishment be?
Kate noticed Clara’s head lift and she feared she was about to try to defend what they had done, but Clara simply looked at Kate with a sadness that made her shudder. If Clara was despairing then what chance had she?
‘My decision about what is to be done with you both in the long term must wait. You will both be told what my intentions are when I am ready. I will write to Mrs Hargraves and thank her for her concern but tell her she need no longer concern herself over your reputations. In the meantime, you will both keep away from these women and put this ridiculous idea of suffrage out of your minds. Your mother and I agree—’
‘But Mother believes—’ Clara began.
‘We will not discuss what your mother believes, Clara. That is a matter between your mother and myself. What this will do to your reputation and the proposed arrangement with . . .’ At this point Mr Winton gained control of his anger and stopped short although Kate knew what he was referring to.
‘Kate, you may leave us,’ Mr Winton said.
As she closed the door, Kate could hear Clara’s voice continuing to try to reason with her father, but Mr Winton had the last and most powerful word.
‘Enough!’ he shouted, and Clara emerged from the room to run upstairs. Kate stared at the open study door and wondered what Mr Winton would do. She worried for Clara, but she worried more for herself.