Hopefully the state would agree to the sale, if for no other reason than the possibility of greater economic stability.
“I think we can comfortably settle back and toast to our assured success,” Goelet added, drawing his coat around him. “Let’s get out of this cold. Care to join me at the hotel for a drink?”
“I’m in as long as it’s more than one.” James nodded. “Mrs. Preston is expecting me home but I’m probably safer here.”
Astor dismissed the lawyers and turned toward the carriages awaiting them across the street. “How is my cousin doing, James?” Maggie was an Astor cousin some degrees removed. “I’ve not seen her about for more than a week or so now. I hope she’s not ill.”
“No, only feverishly plotting the end of my single days,” James jested, drawing chuckles from the men who might have once hoped to welcome him as an in-law of some sort but were well satisfied by a different sort of relationship.
“I’d wish her success, but I know her success would be your downfall.”
“Aye, sir. And a hard fall it would be.”
The men laughed again as a series of shouts from the street corner to the far end of the capitol carried on the breeze, drawing their attention.
With a frown, Astor turned back to James. “Mother is holding a card party tomorrow night. I know she sent Mrs. Preston an invitation. Join her, if you will.”
James winced. An evening of cards sounded safe enough, but one never knew. “I’ll consider it.”
“You can let me know all about how Evelyn is faring as well.” Jack smiled wistfully. “I do miss her being about.”
Reminded that Jack and his sister-in-law had once been close friends, James started to speak to the topic, but the yells and chanting of the large crowd as they moved into the street made it nearly impossible. Several dozen were marching toward the front of the capitol, waving picket signs in the air. Almost an equal number of policeman were circling them, trying to keep them at bay, but the mob, which looked to be made up of women, pressed forward.
“What’s going on there, I wonder?” Goelet mused. “Looks like a demonstration of some sort,” he added, as they made their way across the wide boulevard in front of the oncoming parade.
“There’s always a protest of some sort going on,” Astor grumbled. “Always something to disagree with the government about. Especially in days like these.”
Nodding his agreement, James waited patiently while the two other men stepped up into the carriage. Then he grasped the doorframe to pull himself up, casting a final glance back to the protestors.
Or it would have been his final glance if something hadn’t caught his eye. His gaze snapped back. There was something familiar about the woman in the front row…
His eyes widened. Horror? A touch fascination?
It was.
The wee meek church mouse Primrose Eames, shouting with all her might as she raised her sign, waving it high in the air. Nose to nose with one of the many policeman, she spoke, of what he knew not, but it was a lengthy lecture.
“MacKintosh?” came the prompt from within the carriage, and he knew he should climb inside.
But he was too enthralled by the sight of Prim screeching like a harridan as two police caught her by each arm. They hauled her away, her heels dragging along the cobbles, looking indignant yet oddly triumphant.
A sign dropped at her feet reading, “VOTES FOR WOMEN.”
Layers, indeed.
CHAPTER 5
Ah, good conversation—there’s nothing like it, is there? The air of ideas is the only air worth breathing.
~ Edith Whartonfrom The Age of Innocence
The residence of Mrs. Caroline Astor
5th Ave & 65thSt.
Manhattan, New York
The following night
