Come Be My Love (21 page)

"I believe this little meeting has come to an end," she said. Grabbing her carpetbag, she turned and left the room, slamming the door behind her, which was followed by Jon's string of expletives and the sound of something crashing against the door and falling to the floor.

Narrow-minded, single-minded, infuriating man!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Three days later, Sarah marched out of the office of J. D.
Caravello
, Commission Agent, Mandi close behind. On the board walkway outside, Sarah rested her hands on her hips and glared at the closed door. "No buildings for lease, my foot! I know for a fact that there are two vacant buildings on Wharf Street and one on Yates. And I'm certain that the small warehouse on Waddington Alley is also available."

"Waddington Alley?" Mandi's eyes grew wide with apprehension.

Sarah stared at her. "What's wrong with Waddington Alley?"

"Plenty." Mandi's brows gathered in a worried frown. "You remember what Ida said 'bout the women
disappearin
'? Well, Wellington told me when ah was
tendin
' the table this
mornin
' that two nights ago another woman disappeared. It happened near Waddington Alley. He said the police came 'round
questionin
' all the folks up and down the street and that no one saw
nothin
'. He's real worried 'bout us
roamin
' around down here."

Sarah pursed her lips. "We wouldn't have to roam around if someone would lease me a store. Obviously, I'm being manipulated by the men here. Maybe we should pack our bags and leave."

"We can't do that!" exclaimed Mandi. "What about Miss Charlotte and Miss Elizabeth and Miss Flora and all the other folks who are
wantin
' to see your business get
goin
'?"

"And Mr. Wellington Brown?" Sarah looked askance.

"'Specially him." Mandi looked at Sarah in alarm. "You aren't
thinkin
' of
leavin
', are you?"

"No," Sarah assured her. "We've come too far to give up now. Although I suspect it would give Jon great pleasure if we did leave." She still felt angry over the quarrel they'd had three days ago. How could a man who was so perfect in every other way be so narrow-minded when it came to the issue of rights for women?

Mandi looked at her, baffled. "Why do you say the
guv'nor
would be pleased if you left? Seems to me like he's pretty sweet on you, him
walkin
' away from that highfalutin Windemere woman
so's
he could rescue you at the picnic. And
comin
' a-
courtin
' with flowers and all."

Sarah gathered her skirt and started walking down the street. "Well, perhaps he doesn't want me to leave," she said, "but he does want me to quit what I'm doing and be an ordinary woman engaged in ordinary activities, like Mary Letitia Windemere, I suppose."

Mandi scurried along. "She is that, all right. From what Ida said, when the
guv'nor
was
courtin
' her, she was always
flittin
' over to the house
doin
' this and that,
makin
' pretty things that pleased the
guv'nor
."

"I don't want to talk about her," Sarah snapped, determined to delegate thoughts of Mary Letitia and Jon to a lesser position of importance in her mind. "If you want to stay in Victoria, we'd better turn our attention to finding a building to lease..."

After four hours of walking, searching, and questioning every banker, merchant, and land agent in Victoria, Sarah gave up. Every available building was either too expensive, in too bad a state of disrepair, or too far from the mercantile district. It became evident that they'd have to come up with an alternative plan. When they stopped at a cross street for a large, ungainly produce wagon to pass, an idea came to Sarah quite suddenly.

"I could lease a delivery wagon and peddle my garments along the waterfront to the prospectors' wives," she said excitedly. "Living in tents and shanties as they do, they should be anxious to be rid of their cumbersome clothes. That way I'd be generating operating capital while waiting for a building to become available."

Mandi looked concerned. "Would we still keep the table at Wellington's store?"

Sarah gave Mandi a reassuring smile. "Of course. Now, let's go see about a wagon."

At the livery, Sarah leased an elderly dray horse named Judd and a delivery wagon with the words,
Royal Pie Company
, scrawled in faded gold and green letters across its tall, broad side. It was the only wagon available that came close to satisfying Sarah's needs. She'd selected it from among three others—a timeworn milk wagon with missing floorboards, a huge two-horse furniture delivery wagon, and an undertaker's wagon that had been stripped of its accessories.

During the course of the afternoon, Sarah packed three footlockers with bloomers, shirtwaisters and overtunics, and she and Mandi lifted them into the pie wagon. After dropping Mandi off at Wellington's store to tend the table, Sarah set out along the waterfront. As she urged Judd onward, she pressed repeatedly on the foot-operated bell mounted under the toe board, and in a very short time a sizable crowd followed along beside her. After pulling Judd to a halt, she stood and faced the women, most of them drab, tired-looking women whom she surmised were prospectors' wives. Before she could speak, one woman waved a hand and shouted, "You're the lady in the newspaper. I heard about them things you're
wearin
'."

"They're called bloomers," Sarah said. "And yes, I'm the lady from the newspaper. I've come to relieve you of the burden of restrictive dress so you can tend to your duties in comfort. Any woman who spends more than four hours a day washing clothes, cleaning house and cooking should own a bloomer costume such as the one I'm wearing." She turned around slowly so that everyone could get a good look at her gray poplin outfit with its crocheted cuffs and collar. "The costume can be purchased in plain fabric and unadorned, or in ginghams and calicoes fancifully trimmed with crocheting at the collar and cuffs. And the price of these attractive, utilitarian garments is within reach of every woman here."

"How much for that outfit you're wearing?" one woman asked.

"This costume made of poplin, is two dollars if purchased without the crocheted cuffs and collar, and three dollars with the crocheted trim. But I have others in plain cotton for as little as one dollar and seventy-five cents."

While Sarah distributed handbills, a woman called out, "Can I get one of those outfits now?"

"Yes, you certainly can," Sarah said. "Step over here where I can estimate your size and I'll get you what you want." As the woman pressed her way through the gathering, Sarah scanned her briefly and ducked into the wagon. While crouched over a trunk, sorting through stacks of bloomers for the appropriate size, she was aware of a young woman's voice in the background.

"...not only do men dictate our fashion," the young woman was saying, "but they make laws that we must submit to, and for which we have no redress..."

Sarah ceased her rummaging and listened. No. It couldn't be. Not again...

"...if there must be rules by which the vote is cast, let the ignorant, drunken, and immoral be denied, and the educated, sober, and moral of both men and women be given the right—"

"Josephine Cromwell!" Harriet Galbraith's voice cracked like a whip. "Your father and grandmother will certainly hear of this!"

Sarah stood abruptly. "Oh, no!" Stepping out of the wagon, she saw Harriet Galbraith and Josephine squared off a short distance away. Climbing down, Sarah pushed her way through the crowd and arrived just as Harriet saying to Josephine, "If you had studied your Bible lessons, you would know that because woman was a sinner in the Garden of Eden, she must be excluded from oration and be subservient to man."

"If that is so," Josephine countered, "how is it that Queen Victoria sits on the throne of England ruling over men?"

Harriet looked at Josephine, aghast. "You are an impertinent, disrespectful young woman."

"And you are nothing but an old biddy—"

"Josephine!" Sarah shoved her way past two women. "Leave at once!"

Josephine looked at Sarah, her face displaying a blend of hurt and chagrin, and said, "But... I was only trying to help you. Why are you mad at me?"

"Because you should not be here. Why aren't you in school?"

"I am. My class is just over there—" she pointed toward the water "—on the beach. Madam
Pettibeau
brought us to gather rocks and shells for our science class."

"Then return to your classmates at once," Sarah demanded.

Josephine looked at Sarah. "I'll rejoin my classmates for you—" she glared at Harriet Galbraith "—not because she's going to rat on me to my father. I still say she's an old biddy."

From the direction of the waterfront, a woman marched toward them, a scowl on her face, a willow stick in her hand. Josephine broke from the group and made her way toward the woman. "Madame
Pettibeau
—"

"
Qu'est-ce
que
c'est
?"

"I just stepped over here to—"

"
Mon
dieu
!" Raising her willow stick, she whacked it sharply across her own hand, then fluttered it at Josephine, who turned abruptly and left the scene.

As Josephine and Madame
Pettibeau
walked briskly from the gathering, Harriet pointed an accusing finger at Sarah, and said to the crowd, "That woman should be cast from respectable society. She has been lured by debase pleasures, and now she's luring you down the same path."

Deciding that she could not allow the woman to degrade her in front of these promising customers, Sarah said, "A woman does not break divine laws and commit grievous sin simply by reducing the unwieldy burden of present-day fashion."

Cheers and applause swept through the crowd.

Harriet's face turned as white as a bleached bone. Saying nothing more, she pivoted and strode off, her skirts whisking up a billow of dust. Shifting her gaze beyond Harriet, Sarah noted a small sternwheeler docked in the direction Harriet was marching. She eyed the steamer—a fancifully decorated vessel with cherubic gargoyles, ornate wooden scrollwork, and the name
Revelation
inscribed in gold letters on its stern—and wondered if it was some sort of church. Her view was soon obstructed as enthusiastic women gathered around the wagon once again...

An hour-and-a-half later, as she repacked her trunks to leave the waterfront, Sarah was elated. She'd sold more garments and collected more orders than she'd ever imagined she could. But with no building from which to operate, she'd have to set up her sewing machines at the cottage and make her garments there. She only hoped Flora had been serious about sewing for her because several of the women who'd ordered bloomer costumes would be moving on to the goldfields with their husbands, and she had little time to fill the orders.

Smiling with satisfaction, she'd just closed the last trunk and moved to the box to take the reins when she spotted Jon heading toward her, the fast clip of his. Jumping off his house, he fixed stormy eyes on her, and said, "Harriet Galbraith just paid me a visit. Where is Josephine?"

Sarah raised her hand in protest. "You have undoubtedly received from Harriet Galbraith a distorted picture of what happened."

"Given the fact that you are indeed peddling bloomers from a pie wagon, I believe I've received a very accurate picture. Now, where is Josephine?"

"I suppose with her classmates."

"You suppose!
You
you
don't know!?"

"Stop yelling!
Josephine rejoined her classmates. And it's not as bad as you've been led to believe. Josephine merely came to see what I was doing."

"Did she not stand here while delivering a lecture on giving women the right to vote?"

"Well, yes, actually she did... sort of. That is, she mentioned something about it."

"Mentioned it!
According to Harriet Galbraith, she delivered a lecture on it!"

"Josephine did not deliver a lecture. She merely made a few comments on the subject."

"And did not Josephine speak with total disrespect to Mrs. Galbraith?"

"For heaven's sake," Sarah said irritably. "You know how Harriet Galbraith is. She exaggerates."

"Did Josephine call her an old biddy?"

"Harriet Galbraith is an old biddy."

"That's beside the point."

"Frankly," Sarah said, "I think Josephine handled herself well. But really, you've overblown the incident, which hadn’t lasted more than a couple of minutes when Madame
Pettibeau
came for Josephine—"

"Madame
Pettibeau
!"

"Will you stop yelling as if I were deaf!"

Jon sucked in a breath and said in a tight voice, "Madam
Pettibeau
has strict rules regarding the young women at the seminary. If Josephine violates those rules, she could be expelled."

"What Josephine did hardly warrants expulsion. It was a trifling, insignificant incident that has undoubtedly been forgotten by now. And I did not encourage Josephine. As I said before, she's an independent young woman. You should be proud of her, and of the strength of her convictions. Were she a man she'd make an excellent governor." Jon cast her a sidelong glance, and Sarah was certain she saw laughter flicker across his features.