Chapter 32
THE LECTURE WAS by turns irritating, amusing, and inspiring.
Thompson spoke first, offering his conventional lecture on womens role as ordained by Godthat of a woman who can sing, dance, draw, walk well into a room, and be the pride of her parents and husband. As a physician and a man of science he also considered it his mission to bring the light of scientific objectivity to the Woman Question. A vast body of research, chiefly of brain weights, head sizes, and facial proportions,
proved
, he asserted, that women were much lower on the evolutionary scale than men and the differences between the sexes could be expected to widen even further as man evolved and specialized. According to Thompson, the more primitive female role concentrated on her animal function of reproduction, and the controlling influence of the ovaries on every aspect of a womans life, was evident in a full range of diseases from irritability to insanity. He spitefully added that the influence of the ovaries over the mind was particularly on display in womans artfulness and dissimulation.
After reciting his lengthy list of diseases to which women were prone due to the fact that the Almighty, in creating the female sex, had taken the uterus and built up a woman around it, Thompson concluded that the inequality of the sexes would only increase with the progress of civilization. He urged women to avoid too much reading or mental stimulation or they would risk permanent damage to their reproductive organs and in consequence the grand purpose of their lives: motherhood.
When he finished, he was roundly cheered by his proponents in the audience.
Coming to the podium to a chorus of boos, Maud Warren calmly waited for the catcalls to subside before speaking. She began by suggesting that it might be possible to view doctors determination to elaborate the nature of woman, the sources of her frailty, and the biological limits of her social role with a touch of cynicism since this newly discovered ill-health among women was scarcely imagined a hundred years ago. The increased attention to women and their ovaries (or at least those of more affluent women) could instead be the result of doctors functioning as businessman. The vague and all-inclusive symptoms supposedly originating in the ovaries had created a very lucrative new field of medicine.
In practice, Maud pointed out, the same doctors who zealously espoused the ills of wealthy,
delicate
women had no time to spare for the poor. Someone had to be well enough to do the work, and working-class women, according to these doctors, were
not
invalids of their ovaries. A very convenient logic, she noted.
The theory of innate female illness predicated on diseased ovaries was skewed to account for class differences with reference to ability to pay, she suggested. Since poor women couldnt pay for medical care, they were miraculously immune from the popular medical and evolutionary opinions.
Maud thoroughly rejected the sickly model of femininity and offered statistics showing how many women were beginning to carve out activist roles for themselves in society. These new women of robust health and independence were entering the universities in great numbers despite various popular manifestos warning that higher education caused womens uteruses to atrophy, induced women to insanity, and precipitously lowered the birth rate among college-trained women. She contrasted the thundering warnings of dire consequences to society by offering evidence of womens significant achievements in colleges and universities, and by so doing, managed to make Thompson apoplectic.
He thundered at her, accusing her of undermining the family and the God-given role of women. He fulminated against the womens movement that was sapping culture of its strength and destroying all those tender qualities of mind and disposition that make women so noble and admired.
When Thompson and his cohorts ceased their shouting, Maud quietly explained that the Woman Question was not in the end up to men to answer. It was a question of what women want and need and how best they can achieve their goals.
Ultimately, it was about equality between the sexes.
As the hall erupted in opposition cheers and jeers, with a wave to Violet and Christina who were enjoying the confrontation, Rosalind and Sofia slipped out into the summer night.
I prefer not waiting until the police start arresting people, Rosalind explained as they exited the hall. Although Maud is always so composed. I dont know how she does it. Thompson, in contrast, looks like a lunatic.
I agree. I wish I could behave with as much maturity. My tempers fierce.
Im not sure Im inclined to admit a failing after Mauds invigorating lecture, but if I were, my temper could be better controlled, too. Rosalind smiled. Not that Im in the mood for anything but assertive opinions at the moment. Mauds inspiring.
For all her achievementsdont forget she has a good marriage, a fine family, and a profession, Sofia observed, concerned Rosalind might be in an overly militant frame of mind to face a possible visitor at home.
Mauds lucky.
She works hard to balance her priorities.
I know, I knowits not all luck. Shes an amazing person.
The night was balmy, the streets still bustling with pedestrians and traffic now that the sultry heat of the day had dissipated.
When they reached the bookshop, Rosalind asked, Would you like to come up for tea? We can continue singing Mauds praises over a cuppa. She grinned. That lovely purple tinge on Thompsons face is etched in my memory.
And mine. The old goat is unbalanced. But its getting late, Sofia noted. So thanks for the invitation, but I think Ill go home. She had her instructions. I might bring over my new hollyhock painting tomorrow and hang it in the gallery, though.
Ill make room for it in the morning. Speaking of flowersRosalind sniffed the airdo you smell roses?
No, Sofia lied. Youre probably smelling my perfume.
Ah, no doubt, Rosalind murmured.
Ill see you tomorrow, Sofia hastily remarked, not wishing to be caught in the middle of Fitzs enterprise. It wont be too early; Lylas coming over with my new canvas. After a quick wave, she hurried away.
But the moment Rosalind entered her apartment, the intense scent of roses overwhelmed her. Turning on the light, she took off her straw bonnet and scanned the small parlor. Nothing was amiss. Discarding her hat, she moved through the room, walked into her bedroom, and followed her nose to the open windows, where the sweet fragrance was pungent in the air.
The moon was partially obscured by clouds or the haze that hung over the city in the summer. But even through the dimness and shadow, the contours and shapes in her small yard and garden looked different. As was the heady scent of roses and the faint outlines of a
fountain that hadnt been there when she left
! Along with the sound of
running water
!
Her heart racing, she dashed back through her apartment, took the stairs at a run, and throwing the back door open, stood transfixed on the threshold as her backyard was suddenly flooded with light. Hundreds of fairy lights illuminated the garden, the twinkling bulbs twined through her small hawthorn tree, strung in graceful loops on the buildings rimming the garden, corded through low boxwood borders, offering up a dazzling spectacle of winding paths, symmetrical parterres, and roses by the score.
Do you like it?
The deep voice came out of the shadows and a moment later, Fitz emerged from the gloom, his twill trousers and linen shirt stained and smudged with dirt, the splendor of his face and form undiminished by the grime, his smile breathtaking.
Its very beautiful.
Like you
, she thought, when she shouldnt think anything of the kind. When she should be embracing independent womanhood. You shouldnt have done it, though. Nor should she allow herself to be captivated by him or his grand gesture.
I wanted to make amends. And I knew you didnt like jewelry. He approached her slowly, uncertain of his reception. Her reply had been decidedly neutral as was her expressionnot a scintilla of a smile graced her face.
Was Sofia in on your plan? Snippets of conversation from the evening suddenly made sense.
I hope you dont mind, he said to her terse query. I wanted to surprise you.
Im surprised.
He drew in a small breath, unable to decipher her mood, the pitch of her tone carefully modulated, minutely cool. If you dont like it, Ill change it.
Because you can do anything you want.
No, because I want to please you.
For how long? Part defiant, part sardonic; she would not be so easily charmed.
For as long as you wish. Notwithstanding his contemplative afternoon at Mertenside, hed not known until that very moment he aspired to the concept of forever. I mean it.
Until you dont mean it. She softly sighed. You just want what you want because you cant have it. Before longIll give you a weekyoull be appalled at your rash behavior.
He didnt want to argue. He didnt know how to logically or reasonably explain his feelings. He only knew he was vastly content and happy now that she was here with him. Come, look at the garden, he invited, wanting to avoid a contentious discussion. He held out his hand. Ive learned all the flower names today. Christ, sorryhe quickly wiped the dirt off his hands on his pants legs and offered his hand again.
She couldnt help but smile, the image of Londons most prodigal rake memorizing flower names and mucking in the dirt an unlikely picture. But vastly endearing. Then you know more than I do, she replied in a scrupulously bland tone, banishing the word
endearing
from her thoughts. But the moment she placed her hand in his and his fingers gently closed on hers, she was warmed heart and soul.
At the risk of offending you, he said with a small smile, drawing her down the flagstone path, I could tell you didnt know much about flowers from the state of your garden. Youll find it much improved.
I see that, and apparently, she noted, indicating his besmirched clothes with a sweep of her hand, you did more than supervise.
In the past that would have been his opening to suggest a shared bath, but he was walking on eggshells tonight. Actually, I learned quite a lot today, he politely said, carefully avoiding anything remotely suggestive of sex. Did you know each rose plant needs a banana peel under it for fertilizer?
I doubt very many people know that, Rosalind replied with utter sincerity.
Well, now we both do. Lets sit here. He pointed to a red Chinoiserie garden bench. You can see most of the garden from this spot and Ill point out the important roses. While she sat and he lounged in his usual way, his long legs stretched out before him, his dusty boots planted on the flagstone, his thigh lightly touching hers, an unwanted shiver raced up her spine.
Gratified to feel her small tremor but not about to jeopardize the occasion by pressing his advantage, Fitz said with well-mannered grace, If youre interested, I learned in the course of the day and evening that there are what are termed
important
roses. And its not just to do with rarity or expense. It has to do with duration of flowering, size of the blooms, the intensity of fragrance, the reputation of the hybridizerPernet-Ducher in Lyon is the best. That white over there is one of his called Aimée Vibert, and that pink is a bourbon rose called Souvenir de la Malmaison, and the lilac-colored cabbage rose is called Rose de la Reine. He grinned. Should I go on?
You amaze me. I doubt your reputation will survive such humble pursuits, she drolly said, having tamped down her treacherous desires.
I care nothing for my reputation. She looked like a schoolgirl in her white blouse and green-striped skirt. An enchantress despite her lack of finery.
But then you never did, I suppose.
If it bothers you, Ill begin to care, he quietly said.
You neednt concern yourself with what I wish.
On the contrary, nothing else matters.
Fitz, please. He was too close, too beautiful, too destructive to her peace of mind.
He liked that shed spoken his name so softly; he liked the uncertainty in her tone. He particularly liked that he was with her again no matter the circumstances. This afternoon at Mertenside, hed discovered that at least. Im only happy when Im with you, he said, husky and low. I dont know why; I know less why it matters, but it does. Im sorry in every possible way for what happened to you while I was in Scotland. I want you to take me back. Shocking words from a man who had never asked anything of a woman.
I cant take you back because I never had you.
You did. His long lashes drifted fractionally lower. I didnt know it, but you did.
If I were so daft and reckless as to agree, Id only be hurt in the end. You would vanish one day. You know you would.
I dont think so.
See. She nodded. I rest my case.
I wouldnt leave. Is that better?
Youre just being accommodating now; you do that well. She smiled wryly. Its your speciality, darling.
The word
darling
seared itself into his brain, gave him hope. Not that hed ever had to deal with repudiation before, and for that reason perhaps he chose to be audacious. Or maybe love made him say what hed been loath to say before. Id be more than willing to accommodate you for the next fifty years or more if youd let me, he said, sliding upright on the bench and holding her gaze. Marry me. Ill make you happy, my word on it.
Are you drunk? His proposal was ludicrous.
He shook his head. I havent had a drink since yesterday, and thats a record. We spoiled, self-indulgent debauchees are rarely sober. He smiled. You called me that the first time we met.
