Suffragette in the City (23 page)

“Well,” I said, turning around to see why Angus had been so quiet, “I guess we will have to look at the other end.”

“If you like,” Griffin replied, his voice noncommittal.

I blinked at him for a moment before demanding, “What have you done with Angus?”

“The gentleman was needed elsewhere,” he answered, frowning. He must have thought the horrified face I made was in response to his statement. “I realize he is
the only one you can turn to in a time of need
, but are you really that despondent at his departure?”

“Not in the least,” I replied truthfully. “I am concerned about the man standing behind you pointing a pistol at your head.”

Griffin
spun around and would have lunged had not a voice from behind me ordered him to halt. Something cold and sharp pricked my jaw. I turned my head slightly and saw the open gate and the furry white suit of a giant rabbit behind me.

“One move towards my friend there, Mr. Sheikh, and the lady loses more than a veil.”

Griffin
turned back slowly, his face impassive. The short, stocky man behind him reached around and removed the scimitar, then nudged Griffin with the pistol and ordered him to walk. A hand gripped my shoulder painfully, forcing me to follow, the knife moving to press up against my shoulder blades. Anger rose within me as we passed through the gate and towards a closed carriage parked a short way down the street.

“This is ridiculous,” I said as we were herded along. “Kidnapped in the middle of a masquerade ball. And by a giant white rabbit!”

Only the sight of the very real pistol held firmly against Griffin’s back kept me from saying more. We stopped next to the carriage.

“Get in.”  The man with the gun pushed Griffin.

“No,” he replied in a low voice.

I started forward as the thug shoved Griffin, slamming him with brutal force into the side of the carriage. The knife was back at my throat, digging in with a pain that cause me to gasp. Warmth trickled down my neck as the man in the rabbit suit pulled my head backwards, the wig loosening under his grip.

“Now, do you get in nicely or do we have to cut up the lady?” the rabbit asked Griffin, his voice striking a chord in my mind. I was sure I had heard it before.

Griffin
glanced at me. His eyes focused on the trickle of blood creeping down my neck onto my bosom before they lifted to meet mine. A second later he leaped on the man with the gun, sending him flying backwards. I had enough wits about me to push backwards and down, slipping out of the rabbit’s grip, leaving him staring in surprise his handful of long black wig and veils. Wishing I had my walking shoes on so I might impair him more effectively, I kicked him as hard as I could in an area that generally is known to disable gentlemen. It certainly did give the rabbit pause for thought.

 “Cassandra, get out of here!” Griffin bawled as he lunged onto the rabbit man. I looked around for some sort of weapon, and spied the man with the pistol pulling himself up to his feet. Without even a thought of what I was doing, I threw myself on him, knocking my head against his as we tumbled to the ground. Gasping with pain, I sat up, shaking my head. The man beneath me groaned and tried to sit up as well.

I struck him as hard as I could directly on the temple and watched with satisfaction as his head snapped back and hit the curb.

“I am beginning to see the value of taking the offensive stance, rather than the defensive,” I told the unconscious man.

Various oaths and strangled noises issued from the two men still locked in battle. Griffin had a hold of the knife, but the bunny-beclad thug was slowly turning it towards his face. Having successfully dealt with one man, I thought I’d assist Griffin with his. Sucking on a bleeding knuckle, I limped over to them and waved my fists at the attacker. Abruptly, the man released the knife, ducked down, and squirmed out of Griffin’s grasp. Grabbing his semi-conscious partner, he leaped into the carriage, whipped the horses, and sped off into the darkness.

Griffin
leaned against the wall, breathing heavily and holding his right shoulder.

“Well,” I said, straightening my costume as best I could, feeling especially pleased at the villain’s reaction to the threat I posed him, “there’s another one for Caleb.”

Griffin
looked at me as if I was insane.

“Caleb was my father’s stable boy. He taught me how to fight, and clearly that villainous rabbit saw that I knew what I was doing when I waved my fists at him,” I explained.

“Despite your prowess in brawling,” he replied grimly, peering under his hand, “I think the appearance of that bobby coming around the corner had more to do with them running than the terrifying thought of you attacking.”

The sight of blood on his shoulder distracted me from a sharp retort. “Are you injured?”

I pushed his hand off and examined the wound. He had a long but shallow cut running across his shoulder.

“No more than you,” he replied, straightening up to face the constable. I dabbed at his shoulder, then wiped off my own blood.

It took a good deal of explanation, but in the end we convinced the constable that we were not seriously hurt and couldn’t identify our attackers. Griffin promised to report the incident fully in the morning.

“Will you stand still for one moment and let me tell you about Robert?” I asked as we limped back to the house.

“No,” he snapped, and tugged me toward the stone stairs that led to the verandah.

“Of all the obstinate…fine, will you at least listen to my theory of the unwarranted attack upon us? I have a suspicion about the identity of the man in the white rabbit suit—”

“No,” he said, just as shortly, and refused to say another word until he deposited me next to Caroline.

Despite our disheveled appearances, no one paid attention to our return. I had lost my veils and cap, and had to pull my braid around front to hide the dried remnants of blood. Griffin was dirty, but his costume fared better than mine. He escorted me to my aunt’s side, then made a slight bow and excused himself. I was furious with him for refusing to speak on the subjects which weighed most on my mind.

“What a very dashing sheikh Mr. St. John makes. I take it from your frown that your disguise was not successful?” she asked.

“Not particularly, no,” I replied, picking at a spot of blood on the delicate gauze as I fumed to myself.

She nodded. “Ah. Did you have a pleasant stroll with him?”

I looked at the well-meaning twinkle in her eye, and couldn’t stop the words. “Not really. He still refuses to speak to me. Two men tried to abduct us, held a pistol to Griffin’s head, and a knife to my throat. We escaped. I am a little sore and believe I will go home. If you don’t mind me borrowing Geoffrey, I will wish you a good night.”

My aunt is seldom surprised by anything I say, so the look of astonishment on her face was almost worth suffering the attack. I limped off to find my coat and Geoffrey, my uncle’s coachman.

Chapter Seventeen

I met Helena the next morning outside of Westminster Abbey, since the library was only a few streets away. After my success with the Scheherazade costume of the past evening, I was convinced I could manage to look like something less than a rag-picker next to her, so I wore a new white suit with a blue and white striped vest, and a white bolero jacket trimmed with blue braid.

I felt very proud of my smart new ensemble until I observed her in a pretty blazer suit of sky blue with rows of dark blue tubular braid.

My lips pursed as she drew close, causing her to burst into laughter at my jaded look.

“Well, really, Helena, it is too bad!” I said indignantly, circling her to get the full effect of the charming outfit. “Here I sit in my new white duck dress thinking that at last I can hold my own with you, and you insist on floating over to me looking like a rain-washed summer sky.”

She raised her hand, still laughing. “I promise you, Cassandra, it is an old gown that I have had for two years.”

“Hrmph.”  It was hard to be disgruntled with her when she looked so charming, so I gave her only a brief lecture as to the horrors of the feather industry with regards to her hat, and we settled down on a nearby bench to chat.

“I have so much to tell you,” she said breathlessly, having giggled through most of the feather lecture. “Someone ransacked our house last night!”

I stared at her in amazement. “Good heavens!”

“They tore apart the study, stole my mother’s gold candlesticks, and made a terrible mess of Griffin’s room.”

“How awful! Did the servants not hear anything?”

She peeled off her gloves and wadded them into a ball. “They weren’t home, except for the under-kitchen maid. We were all gone, of course, to the ball, and the servants had been given the night off. Lucy, the kitchen maid, had a toothache and was upstairs in bed. She said she didn’t hear a thing.”

“Good heavens,” I repeated, shocked that such a thing could happen.

“Griffin came home—did you know he was at the ball last night? Well, he came home early, and found two men ripping his study apart.”

“That’s terrible! What did he do?”

She worried her gloves. “He tried to stop them, but they were too strong for him, and one of them struck him on the head.”

My stomach dropped into my boots as a wave of dizziness threatened to make me sick. I closed my eyes to stop the spinning.

“Cassandra, are you all right? You suddenly went pale. Do you feel well?”

“I am…it’s just the sun in my eyes,” I lied. “Is your brother badly hurt?”

She smiled, and I felt my stomach move back to its accustomed location. “He is in good health, thanks to Clairmore.”

“Clairmore?”

“Our butler. He returned home early, and heard a commotion. When he went to the front of the house to see what it was, he found two men standing over Griffin, who was lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs.”

“But…you said he was in good health?”

“He is, don’t fret. The concussion was a mild one, and he suffered no other injury, only a small cut to his shoulder. He had a slight headache this morning and no other bad effects.”

I admit that I heaved a sigh of relief. It was hard work trying to hide the love I felt for that obstinate man. “I am horrified, Helena. Do you know the miscreants’ motive for such an attack?”

She watched as a group of American tourists stroll by, reading aloud from their Baedeker. “Harold says they were out to rob us, but Griffin believes they were after something in particular.”

I considered this. “He might have a point. How would common burglars know that your family would be gone for the evening unless someone told them? Did the police question your servants?”

“Harold wouldn’t let us notify the police. He says it was just a random burglary, and that one of the servants must have told someone that the family was to be gone. Only…”  She looked puzzled.

“Yes?” I prompted her.

“I would agree, except Griffin said he would be home that evening, so the servants couldn’t have told anyone that the house would be empty.”

A dreadful thought occurred to me, but I felt it best to keep it to myself. “Perhaps the burglars thought he would be asleep and out of the way,” I suggested slowly.

“Yes, that would explain it! That must be what happened.”

It seemed to me that the crime had been committed with one particular victim in mind, but I felt it wise not to share that opinion, and instead changed the subject. “Is your brother still planning on leaving soon?”

She sighed. “Yes, he is. I tried to talk him into staying a little while longer as I thought he might have a reason to—” This last she said pointedly to me, which I ignored. “—but he seems adamant about leaving in two days. Cassandra, isn’t there anything you can do to keep him from leaving? I know he admires and respects you. Perhaps if you talked to him—”

I looked at the Abbey, the two magnificent spires, the colored windows, the warmth of the stones. It seemed so unmovable, so sturdy, so permanent. No doubt a great number of unhappy lovers had passed through its doors, and yet it had survived since Norman times.

“Your brother insists on perpetuating a misunderstanding, blowing it greatly out of proportion,” I replied carefully. “When I tried to correct the error, he brushed me off in a very rude manner. Oh, Helena, I
have
tried to speak with him, but he refuses to listen.”

She gazed at me forlornly, and I felt ashamed for my part in driving away her beloved brother. Miserably, I steered the conversation into what I hoped would be happier thoughts. “Did you enjoy the ball last night?”

“Oh, I did. Wasn’t it wonderful? The dresses were so lovely, yours included. I must admit, I was jealous of your costume. It was so very daring! I didn’t see you later, though. Were you not feeling well?”

“I was fine, just tired trying to dodge Freddy. He would insist on dancing with me at every opportunity.”

“I thought he danced very nicely,” she replied absently, picking at a piece of trim.

I looked at her with astonishment. “You don’t mean to say that you danced with him as well?”

“Yes, I did. Shouldn’t I have?”

“Well, no, I guess there is no reason. I am just surprised that you would want to.”

“He was speaking with Harold and asked me if I would care to dance, and as he was your cousin…”

“Please, Helena, do not feel you must tolerate his attentions if you would rather not. He has become rather
intense
of late. It’s beginning to worry me.”

We were silent for a moment, watching as a couple strolled by.

“I would have never known who you were last night if you hadn’t approached me. It seems you fooled many people last night.”

“Indeed?”

She paused a moment, smoothing her gloves flat against her leg. “Griffin asked most particularly last night if you were going to be at the ball.”

“Did he.” I was oddly out of breath as I wondered at what point Griffin had determined who I was. Certainly he had seen through my disguise by the time he dismissed the amiable Angus, but what I badly wanted to know was to whom he believed he was speaking when we were dancing.

Helena
made a noncommittal noise, and I was finally forced to look at her. She grinned as I demanded impatiently, “And did you tell him who I was?”

“No, I did not. I thought it was better that he found out for himself.”

“Did he guess, do you know?”

Her smile faded a little. “He said later that he had seen you, but you were too busy with your many admirers.”

“Many admirers,” I repeated indignantly, remembering the Columbine. “That silly, misguided man. He knows full well that I—”

“Yes?” The curious expression on Helena’s face made me reconsider.

 “Never mind.”

“Griffin was dressed as an Arabian sheikh. Did you see him?”

“Yes, I believe I did,” I said slowly.

“It was a very good disguise as well.”

We sat for some minutes and enjoyed the spring sun. A sudden thought intruded upon my moody contemplation of Griffin’s character. “What on earth was Freddy doing speaking with Lord Sherringham?”

Helena
shrugged, and pulled on her gloves. “I have no idea.”

The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. Something was definitely not as it should be on the Freddy front.

“I apologize for not being able to meet you at home, but the family…well, I thought it best if we met here, instead.”

“Ah.”

“The reason I wanted to see you this morning,” Helena spoke slowly, “is because I have received a note from Maggie Greene. You have seen the newspapers, I am sure?”

“I have. Some of the Union members have not yet been released. To be truthful, I fear for the future of the Union with them in prison. What did Maggie want with you?”

“After my appalling behavior the other day, you must surely think me foolish to accept a letter from her, but she sounds so repentant that I cannot help but believe she has seen the error of her ways.”

I looked at Helena with a weary eye. “You endow Maggie with attributes I fear she lacks. Has she asked for your support in a campaign to take over the Union?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I thought she might make a play for control after Mrs. Heywood and other officers were arrested. This means the end of the Union. The conservative members will never accept Maggie’s leadership, while the militant faction will not accept otherwise. I wouldn’t be surprised if they formed their own society.”

Helena
opened her bag and handed me a note written on cheap paper. It was from Maggie, asking for Helena’s support, encouraging her to consider joining a new organization if the Union refused to endorse the militants.

I smiled grimly at Helena’s astonishment and handed her back the note. “What will you do?”

“I’m not sure.”  She looked at her hands for a moment before glancing up and noticing my obvious disappointment. “Dearest friend, of course I will do whatever you think best. Please tell me what to do!”

“It’s not for me to tell you what to do; you are a grown woman and must make your own choices. If you believe you can do some good by joining Maggie’s forces, then you must do so. If you find you cannot wholly support her program, then you must tell her so.”

We spent a long time debating the situation, and I believe she had convinced herself of Maggie’s unsuitability to run the Union by the time Robert strolled up. It was Helena’s turn to blush as she beheld my old friend.

“Ah, Robert, there you are. Helena, you remember Robert Hunter,” I said mischievously.

She shook hands with him in a self-conscious manner. For his part, Robert was unable to take his eyes from Helena.

“I asked Robert to meet me here so he could accompany me later with some shopping,” I explained, delighted with my foresight. “As you have a little time before you must go to the library, perhaps you will chat with Robert for a few minutes. I have the most overwhelming desire to visit the Abbey and see the crypt again.”