Unable to bide more, Ella pinched her cheeks for color, straightened her posture, and then stepped in from the corridor. Mrs. Parker, Mrs. Shiveley, and Mrs. Norton were all seated on the long sofa perpendicular to the fire. Miss Sutton and Phoebe occupied the two wingback chairs.
The talking stopped. The women turned toward her.
“At last!” cried Phoebe, lowering her needlework to her lap. “We were beginning to wonder if you were going to join us at all.”
“I envy your courage to join the men,” stated Miss Sutton, who also lowered her embroidery hoop. “I’ve admittedly been curious. It must have been fascinating!”
Mrs. Norton patted the open space on the sofa next to her. “Do join us.”
Ella accepted the invitation and moved to sit next to the woman, who, of the three of the members’ wives, had always behaved the softest toward Ella.
Mrs. Norton’s sparse brows drew together. “You’ve in my thoughts, my dear Miss Wilde. With all this talk of phrenology and the sort, I can’t help but think of your mother. She was so passionate about this topic! Wasn’t it just like her to be aware of it beforeeveryone else? What would she think now of these conversations if she were here sitting with us?”
Ella sighed as she settled in the empty space to Mrs. Norton’s left. “I’m not sure what she would think, to be honest. She was passionate about it, yes. You may not be aware, but she kept detailed journals of her research. In preparation for this symposium, I read them all. Toward the end of her life, she was beginning to doubt the theory and even spoke out against it.”
“Really?” Mrs. Shiveley’s gray eyes widened as she snipped an errant thread with her sewing scissors. “That’s surprising. I’d always heard she was such a proponent.”
Ella glanced over at Phoebe, whose pleading eyes and tightly pressed lips suggested that Ella remain silent on the matter. Yet she could not. “My mother was passionate, yes, but she was passionate about the truth and the advancement of knowledge. I would be happy to share her findings with you at any time you should like, but I fear you’d likely be disappointed if you expected her to share the same views as Mr. Bauer.”
There. She’d said it. In one fell swoop, she had done what she had told her father she would not do. She’d contradicted Mr. Bauer.
The ensuing shocked silence was deafening.
“Do you believe that the Society’s gathering is in vain then?” challenged Mrs. Parker.
“Not at all. I welcome the opportunity for everyone to learn as much as they can and come to their own conclusions. My mother’s opinion was but one woman’s opinion.”
“And you?” continued Mrs. Parker. “We all know you are not short on opinions. Do you share your mother’s view?”
“I am learning, just like everyone here, but I do hope that Mr. Bauer will convince me one way or the other.”
An awkward silence fell over the group until Mrs. Norton, with renewed energy and her kind ability to make others comfortable, sprang to life. “Do you know what I find so surprising? Mr. Gabriel Rowe! What a delight to see him here.”
A murmur circled the group, as if everyone welcomed a fresh topic.
“I spoke with him last night at dinner.” Mrs. Shiveley’s smile creased the lines around her mouth. “What an impressive young man. And so handsome! Such a pleasant conversationalist. If you ask me, that is what the Society requires for survival. Young blood.”
“Normally I would agree with you”—Mrs. Parker’s countenance darkened, and her graying head tilted to the side as if she was preparing to divulge a secret—“but we must be careful with what sorts of young men join the Society. You did hear about the scandal that befell his family a few years back, of course.”
A rustle of gasps and whispers ensued.
“I’ve not heard a thing!” Mrs. Norton’s ring-encrusted hand flew to her chest.
Mrs. Parker leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You all know how I hate to be the one to spread gossip, but by now this is common knowledge among many circles. Young Mr. Rowe’s sister, Mary, was accused of murdering a man when she and her husband were abroad. I believe it was in Scotland. It eventually was proven that her husband was indeed at fault, but what a mess it all was!”
Mrs. Norton gasped. “That is abominable! No wonder the Rowe family has all but disappeared from society.”
“Apparently the husband accused her of the act to avoid the consequence, and she was imprisoned. Can you imagine? A gentlewoman and a lady!”
Ella’s ears rang with what she’d just heard.
“How have we not heard of it?” prodded Mrs. Norton.
“If you were the Rowes, would you not go to any length to prevent such news from spreading? The older Mr. Rowe completely disowned her, and I believe Gabriel Rowe sided with his sister and was disowned as well.”
Ella picked up a basket of sewing and sorted through it for a project but tucked away in her mind what she’d just learned. If it was indeed true, she felt as if she understood him more. He, too, had been faced with an injustice to overcome.
Ella sat across from her father in his study.
