“Proceed with this courtship?” he asked, his brogue low and intense. “If the point is to show your brothers you can live your own life?”
The original point had been only to gain some freedom from the concentrated courtship of Mossman Leachman. However, Prim refrained from pointing that out now. James’s idea sounded like a far superior one.
Besides, if she did nothing more than merely create a temporary distraction, what would have changed in her life when James tired of the game and moved on? Mossman would step right back in, her family’s pestering would recommence, and she’d be right back where she started, none the better.
But if she began to stand up, take firm hold of her own life. If she showed them all she was determined enough to make her own decisions then, when James did turn her aside, she would be in a better place to do as she liked.
That was what she needed and what she should strive for. Her simple statement at breakfast regarding James’s suit had startled all her brothers into silence. It shouldn’t have. Wouldn’t have, if she’d taken some action before.
“Yes. I think so.”
“You’ll have to have a bit more conviction than that if we’re to succeed,” he chided and stepped closer until Prim had to tilt back her head to look at him.
The warmth of his body radiated outward, entreating her to move closer still. A slight shiver went through her that had nothing to do with the cold. With the excitement flowing, a measure of confidence accompanied it.
“Are you prepared to take back your life, Mrs. Eames?”
“Yes.” Then, more forcefully, “Yes, I am.”
“Good.” He nodded with satisfaction. “Then we’ll begin. I thought we’d start with the usual things. Ice skating in the park, a sleigh ride or two, perhaps? I assume you’re attending the Harkness Yule Ball Sunday evening?”
She was…with Shane, who was full of talk about how Leachman was looking forward to seeing her and dancing with her, despite the recent misguided association with James. Regardless of what Shane believed, Leachman never looked forward to dancing, not with his two left feet.
No, she needed to stop prioritizing what others demanded of her or even caring about what they thought. A shudder raked her at the thought. How terrifying but wonderfully liberating as well. The words of the NSWSA’s current president, Mrs. Anthony, filled her mind:
‘Forget conventionalisms; forget what the world thinks of you stepping out of your place; think your best thoughts, speak your best words, work your best works, looking to your own conscience for approval.’
Though invigorating at the time when she’d applied them to nothing more than the suffrage movement, they were positively inspirational now. She would step out of her “place.” And she’d be glad for it.
“That sounds lovely.” It did.
James nodded. “Good. Tomorrow afternoon then?”
“Oh, no. Not tomorrow.”
“Mrs. Eames,” he began to scold.
She bit her lip. “No, I’m not trying to put you off. I have a previous engagement.” Leaning toward him, she added in a whisper, “A meeting of the NAWSA. The National American Woman Suffrage Association,” she added when he appeared confused.”
“Ah.”
“We’re planning a rally for the governor’s visit next month, you see. We intend to picket his hotel.”
“You mean to storm the building?”
“If we must.”
James chuckled.
“Laugh as you might, Mr. MacKintosh,” she said with a frown. “But we must make our demands as publicly as possible if they continue to ignore us behind closed doors.”
James raised his hands defensively, though he appeared more amused than not. “You’ll get no chastisement from me. Do your brothers know?”
Prim gnawed at her lip, shaking her head.
“You should tell them,” he suggested. As if she didn’t already know that she should. “And why don’t you ask Mrs. Preston to join you?”
Margaret Preston? Surely not. Prim couldn’t have been more shocked by the idea.
