If we wish to truly help anyone else, we must get the vote.
—FromLady’s Suffrage Society Times
“How is it,life as a married woman?” Julianna asked Helena over afternoon tea in the blue salon.
Up until this particular query, Helena had been certain her first attempt at playing hostess had gone swimmingly. She had extended the invitation to her friend following breakfast and Huntingdon’s departure. He had indicated she should not expect him until dinner, and since it was the wrong day of the week for her Lady’s Suffrage Society meeting, she had decided to fill the void of her empty day by catching up with her dear old friend once more.
Helena pondered her response to Julianna’s question.
Confusing.
Wonderful and terrible.
“It is hardly any different than my life as an unwed lady,” she fibbed.
Julianna issued an indelicate snort. “Liar.”
Honesty—raw, unapologetic honesty—was one of her friend’s most notable traits. Not always a boon.
Helena winced. “My response depends upon the hour of the day. There. Are you happier now?”
“If you are being honest with me, yes, I am happy. And if Huntingdon makes you happy, then I am as pleased as can be. However, I must admit that I cannot fathom the notion of being tied to a man forever.” Julianna settled her teacup into its saucer.
“With the right man, it is not so terrible a fate,” Helena countered softly.
For she had to admit, whilst she had considered marriage to Lord Hamish an impossible encroachment upon her liberty, she did not regard her union with Huntingdon in the same fashion.
“The right man,” Julianna repeated, a tinge of bitterness edging her tone. “That seems an impossibility. Similar to saying delicious aspic. Or delightful kippers. Or a lovely hailstorm.”
“What happened while you were abroad to so harden your heart?” Helena asked her friend. “You wrote to me of nothing but delightful social gatherings and a whirlwind of entertainment.”
“It was delightful,” Julianna agreed. “Until it was not. But nothing happened to harden my heart, I can assure you. It was already harder than a rock before I ever left London.”
There it was, the opportunity she had been meaning to seize.
Helena took a small sip of her tea, studying her friend. “And why did you leave London, my dear? I do not think you ever said.”
In truth, sheknewJulianna had never explained her sudden defection. She had simply been gone, in the midst of the Season, packed away on a steamer for New York City. Although her mother, an American by birth, had been living a separate life from her father for years in her home country, Julianna had never shown the slightest inclination toward venturing across the Atlantic.
Juliana avoided her gaze, fidgeting with her skirts. “There was no special reason. Need there have been one? I missed my mother.”
“You had not seen her in some years, and the two of you could never abide each other’s company.”
Her friend’s lips pinched. “You know the proverb. Absence sweeteneth the heart.”
“Hmm.” Helena sensed a deeper story there, something her friend did not wish to divulge. “If you shall not reveal the reason you left, mayhap you will explain your return.”
“Are you not glad to see me?” Julianna teased.
But there was a tenseness in her friend’s countenance that could not be ignored nor so easily dismissed.
“Of course I am,” she said. “You know, I quite feared you would marry some dashing American and never return.”
“Marriage.” Julianna shuddered. “Never.” Then she paused, appearing to think better of her dramatic reaction. “Oh, forgive me, dearest. Pray do not take insult to my dislike of the institution. I am sure it shall suit you and Huntingdon well, but I have only to look at my mother and father for all the reasons why I have no wish to ever take a husband.”
The Marquess and Marchioness of Leighton’s union had been marked by bitter contention. The scandal was old, yet well-known. Lord Leighton had publicly accused Lady Leighton of bedding the architect tasked with refurbishing one of their country homes—an American, like the marchioness—and nearly sued for a divorce. The matter had ended quietly, with Julianna’s mother returning to New York City and her father remaining in London. They had lived separate lives ever since.
“I understand your reticence,” she told Julianna. “Indeed, I share it. However, faced with the untenable fate of marrying Lord Hamish White or binding myself instead to Huntingdon, I chose the latter.”
