From the corner of her eye Ella had not noticed Mr. Bauer approaching until he was next to her. “A very great surprise to see you here this morning, Miss Wilde. How kind of you to visit us.”
“Oh, I intend to do more than just visit, Mr. Bauer,” Ella offered cheerfully. “I’m eagerly anticipating your lecture.”
Mr. Bauer laughed heartily.
Unnerved at his response, she pressed her lips together and waited for the laughter to subside.
When he stopped, the smile on his long face faded. “The lecture?”
“Oh yes.” She raised her brows. “I’m eager to hear your presentation.”
Mr. Bauer’s countenance sobered. “I’m afraid my lectures, such as they are, are not suitable for women.”
“Not suitable? I don’t see how that could be,” she countered. “I saw your demonstration at the assembly rooms.”
He chuckled. “The demonstrations, yes, are suitable for ladies, but the lectures themselves, the insight into how and why phrenology works, are often considered uncomfortable for the more sensitive audiences. I’d prefer not to have any fainting or swooning.”
“If there is to be any fainting or swooning, Mr. Bauer, I can assure you that it will not be by me. I have studied my mother’s journals on the topic, and I consider myself quite informed.”
“I understand why you may think that, Miss Wilde. I really do, but I’ve given many lectures to many sorts of audiences, and I find that these topics are generally distressing to the fairer sex. I insist that no ladies be present, but I’m happy to converse with you later, privately, to address any questions you might have.”
Was this why Phoebe had suggested she not attend earlier that morning? She was about to protest yet again when a voice interrupted.
“Miss Wilde. Mr. Bauer.”
Ella pivoted to see Mr. Abernathy approaching. When at her side, he said, “You two seem quite engrossed in conversation.”
She stifled a groan. The sense that he’d been watching her—or worse, that he was attempting to intervene or even control the situation—irritated her.
“Mr. Abernathy.” Mr. Bauer bowed. “Miss Wilde said she wanted to attend the lecture, and I was just telling her that I did not think this a suitable topic for ladies.”
“I see.”
She held her breath. What would this man—who, according to her father, was willing to marry her—say? Would he stand up for her? Or, better yet, support her as she stood up for herself?
Mr. Abernathy’s face paled as if he was momentarily seized by panic. He forced a weak smile. “That does not sound unreasonable, does it?”
She could scarcely believe her ears. The disappointment at his insipid response vexed her nearly as much as Mr. Bauer’s suggestion that she would be too sensitive for the lecture. Since any sign of frustration would only add to the rumors about her, she smiled her sweetest smile. “I do appreciate the concern, gentlemen, but I intend to stay, just as I have for every symposium since the age of twelve. If you’ll excuse me, I will find a place to sit where I will be quite out of the way. You’ll not even notice I am here.”
Without a backward glance she made her way to the middle of one of the back rows. She knew exactly what she would see if she looked back: two men, who were likely shocked at her persistence, staring after her.
Perhaps she should be agreeable and sweet, as her father had requested. Perhaps she should have complied, but to comply would set a precedent. If Mr. Abernathy were to become her husband, she needed to establish firm boundaries and expectations.
Ella recalled her mother’s constant struggle to be seen as an equal. Had so little changed in the years that separated them?
Once Ella was seated, she adjusted her position on the chair when a flash of Pomona-green cambric muslin with ecru lace trim and fichu caught her eye.
Miss Sutton.
Seeing another feminine form in the room relieved Ella, andher interest in the guest intensified. Did Miss Sutton share the same types of hopes for the future—the idea that women should be considered far more equal than they were?
Curious, Ella abandoned her chair and approached Miss Sutton, who was speaking with Mr. Hawthorne and a handful of other guests. When she noticed Ella, she excused herself from the conversation.
“Miss Wilde! Isn’t this thrilling?” Miss Sutton’s dark eyes sparkled brightly with interest as she drew closer. “There is nothing I enjoy more than healthy banter.”
Optimism—and perhaps relief—rushed through Ella. “I’m glad to hear you say so, Miss Sutton. If only more women were to feel the same way. It is a shame that the gentlemen should be the only ones encouraged to form such opinions.”
“La, these men. They can be so stubborn and full of self-importance. They do not give us credit, do they?”
